2019-09-11 - Sacrifice and Strangle Knots

With the towels rinsed and squeezed out, Byron drapes them over the sink to dry. Drying his hands off against the front of his pants, he feels the soreness there, where he was bruised from a flying piece of wood. He knows that Lilith had to live in worse conditions than this for a time, but even as he putters around the loft, he just has this feeling that he really should help clean this mess up. Still, he'll leave it for now. Only because he's not quite sure what would happen if he moved anything in regards on whether she could fix it. Not that all the pieces are clearly visible or would ever be found.

"If de la Vega isn't there, then let me know, alright?" Byron calls out to Erin. He means it.

Slowly, he wanders over to where Lilith is, a hand nudging at her in a quiet gesture asking to for hit of her cigarette. He's been known to be a stress smoker as well, but it's tempting now, watching her do it. And while his own emotions and stress levels have not spiked, there's something soothing about a good smoke. "Roen told me to put trust in you and Erin. That you both would be able to work this out together."

"Yeah. I'm not sure where I'm needed now, but... I did what I could. It has to be enough." Lilith tells Byron quietly, not even looking at the door as it closes, her features a bit of a cosmetic-accented, picturesque mask of stoicism. She hands the smoke out with the nudging and continues to stare out after the exhale, keeping in her shoulder lean against the edge of the wall next to the opened window. Her eyes rove the street below, then the neighborhood beyond, then the sky for a moment and she doesn't look at the remaining company.

After a passing moment, she says, "I will text August and let him know what was decided and how I took time to prepare her. We'll see if the others decide we're needed to help ensure others aren't hurt during the exorcism or burial. Isabella was going to ask Minerva about how violent it could get."

Byron takes a long drag of the cigarette given him, letting that smoke fill his lungs, before he takes a hard exhale out. Another, shorter intake follows and then a polite borrower, he hands the smoke back to Lilith. "I wonder if I can try to get those bones back from the Collector." That's another thing that's been on his mind since it was revealed that they really should have buried them. Not cremated. Not donated to some creature on the other side's collection."

Licking at his lips, tasting that cigarette residue, he turns so that his back rests fully against the wall, his head tilted back. "You've done enough. It's all up to Erin and the others for now." With the back of his head pressed against the wall, he turns to quietly watch Lilith, his voice cutting the silence after a moment or two, "You don't need to do anything else, Lil. No need to give up anything for this. There are others who will do just that, those most affected by everything that's happened so far."

"Yeah. Except... when you inevitably give a piece of us up to get the job done now that it's an option for you, who lives with the truth? Who lives the actuality and sacrifices and watches you change into someone you might not recognize or understand? That's the fucking stupidest shit I've ever heard out of Isabella's fucking mouth. For ANYONE. It's like being made of lies. I might as well take the double hit if it keeps people alive, hm? The fuck does it matter. We're just going to die the tiny deaths instead of the quick one those ways, might as well start collecting." Lilith tells Byron while still looking out of the window at the street below, dropping the cursing like wildfire, even though she really doesn't do it in natural conversation that much. In fact, it's so downright venomous, she looks like she could chase the woman down and throttle her once it's out for telling Byron such a thing, to offer that much damage to not just him, but her in potential, at least in her eyes.

She knows exactly how likely she is to be tied up in things that made him what he is, for better or worse and she looks completely ill there for a wave of nauseating moment before she draws hard on the smoke and flicks it straight out of the window to turn away and go toward her wine glass once more, still not looking at Byron. And she still hasn't even mentioned what it is she's willing to give over. But it's clear what it won't be.

"Is that what you're worried about?" Byron asks, his head still tilted in her direction. "The first thing that I'd thought of was to dig up my father's bones and rebury them where they were needed, but I'm not even sure if that would count. I don't own his bones, no matter how great a contribution it would be." He'll continue with this observation as he speaks. "Or anything to do with my father. Do I need to pick just one memory out of an entire photo album filled with them?" Only once this is said does he shift, his head turning to face forward.

"What would happen if I forgot everything about Stephen Thorne." There's an oddly amused expression that creeps upon his features, those lifted brows, that tiny smile. "Things were so much better without him, but would anything change if I forgot him now? After I'd already survived that. Would just not remembering him bring me some peace of mind?"

Yes, the other memories did come to mind, some hurtful ones regarding Lilith as well. It's not just something that he felt he should bring up right now. "How much time did they say we had? I'll continue digging through everything I own. Everything in the apartment, but I don't think my possessions fit the bill. I mean, will they accept the very first luxury watch that I ever purchased using money that I'd earned?"

"I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. Even if it isn't ours, I still watch you change. You don't even know what would change, how could you gamble who you are for this? That's far out of league to the point that's damn near equal to death. It's just a different kind of death. Say you have a hundred butterflies all beating their wings to make the perfect storm that is your life. You poke a hole in one of those wings, the whole rhythm changes. You love control and knowing who you are, why you are, and yes, the things that made us how we are, they hurt but it's what we know. What if all that drive to prove yourself goes away? Who are you then, Byron?"

Lilith pours herself another glass of wine once at the counter edge and shakes her head some at Byron, practically seething before she calms down to drink and swallow thickly when the wine tumbles down her throat, eyes on the mess in the room instead of him, still anywhere but on him. You'd think the man were planning to lop off a body part or something, but for her, even nipping off one of his fingers would almost be preferable when compared to watching him... be... who knows? And to know what's missing, herself, to carry it for him instead while he lives remolded and foreign by a hole and a lie to fill it? She sounds... horrified, deep down, more than angry, even without her apparent dread over being one of the things he removes factored in.

"I'm sure you'll think of something, or find it." She's killed the bottle with her third glass, taking another hard drink afterwards, "Though... we could both let them all handle it just fine. Like you told me... there's plenty of people involved and willing to sacrifice with the names that entrench them. Neither of us has to do a thing now that it's in line, hm? You've done so much already, they probably wouldn't be this far without you. But because of that, you don't like the idea of refraining and letting others try to close it on principle and having it out of hands. And I don't like the idea that you could die trying to keep your foot in. That's where my foot comes in. That's just how this works."

Finally, she turns to look at Byron and breathes in a slow breath, "I love you. I don't want you to be anything else. I want you to be real through and through, every flaw, every scar."

He knows that he shouldn't be making light of any of this, but Byron often hid his own insecurities and negative emotions behind humor if he could, "What? You won't be able to handle a well-adjusted version of me?" His brows raise, lips, there's this smile that can be seen within his eyes even if his mouth is twisted. This is punctuated but a lift of his shoulders, which he regrets doing, having forgotten all about the wound on his arm.

He'll drift behind her when she pours herself another glass, though pausing at the cabinets to grab a glass of his own. The amused look has mostly faded, even if there's this softness to his expression now. "I wish that I could just walk away from this Lily, I really do." With her finishing off one bottle of wine, he reaches for the out and begins to pour. "We-- The group who retrieved the bones sent them to the mortuary to burn, thinking that was the best thing to do rather than bury them. I had the brilliant idea to stop that from happening-- and, I guess, it was the best call to make, from everything we've learned so far." He puts the top back on. The stem of glass slips between his fingers while he cradles the base. "We really should have buried it then, but how were we supposed to know? And what did we do?"

He takes a sip from his glass, "We separate them, giving several to each person present that day. Thinking that keeping the bones apart would," There's a shake of his head, "Stop the bad from happening? Prevent the person who was searching for them from finding them? All of the above." He sighs, "Clayton turned one bone over to the Archivist. A single tiny bone. Isabella had burned some previously, which is how we learned that whatever you did to those bones, happened to Alexander Clayton. Anyway, she handed over some of her bones and I gave them /all/ of mine." He takes another sip after saying that. "If I hadn't done that, if I'd given just one bone or none, they only asked for one of Gohl's bones... we wouldn't have to make such a huge sacrifice right now."

Falling silent when he hears Lilith's heart-felt words, his gaze lowers briefly. He then steps in towards her, setting his glass on the counter before taking her up in his arms. "I'll try to find another way. Even if that means paying a visit to the Archivist again to ask for those bones back." If she doesn't resist to much, he pulls her in close to him to rest his chin against her hair.

"Oh Byron. We could drown ourselves in what-if, you know I'm good at it. I distinctly remember us both wondering at the beginning why the hell they didn't bury them to begin with since it seemed the logical path to sate a run of the mill haunting. But right now just... isn't one of those times." Lilith tells Byron with relenting exhale as she's drawn into his hold and steps against him, setting her half-finished wine glass down on the edge of the counter while moving. She's a little flushed with the drink and temper or adrenaline and a slender slip of curves and heat against his suited form, arms raising to wrap around tightly.

She stays like that a long moment before drawing back just enough to look up at him, his features, his dark eyes, then her hand pulls around to reach and start unknotting his tie, other hand coming around to meet and change the knotting into a very controlled slow slip of knot that pressures and catches like loop leashing to push up snug at the throat. And while doing that, she decides aloud, "And no. I couldn't handle you being a boring, well-adjusted rich cunt anymore than you could handle me being turned into a shallow, boring cunt of a Stepford wife. Someone tampering with me would drive you mad. Time to leash you, naturally, to keep you away from Hyacinth."

Is she kidding? She sure is leashing him.

"They didn't bury him because..." Byron tries to remember that conversation now, "Because the bones were taunting them. Telling them that he wanted to the dark men to descend upon them And because of that, because it tried to influence them in that way, force those present to bury the bones, out of spite... they didn't. I can't blame them for it Lilith. Even after I'd stopped the cremation and Doctor Faust examined the bones, I had a mind to have the burned too. But we didn't."

But she was sort of right. The decision to not bury or burn the bones were made by the group. Though it was his decision to donate them all to the Collector. His mind still goes back to that now. Could he get them back?

When Lilith shifts within his embrace, his arms loosen, giving her the space to look on his features; there's a smile waiting for her when their gaze meet. He's too entranced by those amazing eyes, that once he feels a tug at his tie, he just assumes that she was working to undo it. There is some loosening briefly, which is only followed by a tighter grip when it's reknotted, feeling that sudden pressure pressing against his throat. "Boring? Who said the well-adjusted version of me would be boring?" He's grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Any version of me would be funny, witty, intelligent... sexy. It just wouldn't be all... pretend now." That smile is still plastered on his lips, though the edges slowly fade after the thoughtful faltering in his words. He does have to ask, "Which version of Lilith Winslow would ever be a rich cunt? Not if you've got your start on Elm, you won't be." It's a joke that kids probably used to say. Growing up on Elm St. will get you nowhere. He in no way means it.

There's a moment of reprieve from the joking, becoming more aware of this 'leash' that she has him in. "What would I ever do with Hyacinth? You know she's my cousin right?"

"We all pretend, Mister Oh-So-Humble. You think you're special in that regard? And you know, that version of me would be the kind that posts up with a rich rat bastard and settles. Think I haven't had my offers to be kept? Tch." Lilith tugs on Byron's tie edge to bid him down toward her, face tilted upward with small rise on her bare toes to speak the next words near his lips if he comes down. Of course, that pressure she applies to the slack of the tie, it's somewhat convincing with response tightening at the throat if he doesn't lean into it, and even a little bit as he does, allowing for a press of nose tip to nose tip. It's not a choke of any sort so much as it's making him aware of breath.

"And is she? Well. So long as you're not going to be sneaky and have her scrub your brain, I can let you go. But if you're going to be sneaky, I'm going to cheat and give you pleasure and pain and satiation of every single thing you've imagined since your pants learned to rise... all to take her way with tingles and regret when it's done." Strange threat. But maybe an effective one to make him second guess if he's actually inclined and hiding it where she and their memories are concerned. It's hard to tell when Lilith is serious sometimes when her voice cuts somewhat dry and low, "It'd at least leave me with something bittersweet."

It's hard not to be aware of his breathing when feeling the tie knot pressing up against his trachea. It showed that she was in control now. Every so often, he'd feel the subtle tightening at his throat, nothing too jarring. It's so subtle, in fact, that it's almost difficult to detect when the vise begins to loosen, because she always keeps that bit of needed pressure there as a reminder. Byron is fully aware of this. "It depends which version of Lilith we're talking about." He knows he's playing a dangerous game and yet he still attempts to taunt, "Is this the Lilith who has blocked out every time she was hungry or lonely?" He doesn't go and add on 'Because your dad was never there for you'. He knows that's crossing the line, though it's what he insinuates. "Or the Lilith who doesn't remember that she hung out with a bunch of nerds?" Himself excluded, probably!

The rest of what she says takes him aback and she can catch that initial surprise on his face. One that is followed by a curiously raised brow and this slight open smile. He really wants to say something right now and is taking the time to form his words. "But if I'm going to be sneaky? Are you suddenly a mind reader too?" The threat definitely gets a rise out of him, bringing his lips close enough to brush over hers before closing them down in a gentle nibble, his heated breath warming her skin. "The only way to make sure is to go through with it. There's no telling what I'd do."

"Nah. I need those damages to make me cling to money and men as a life answer to compensate while I'm still young and good looking enough to pull it off. I imagine that version loses all the guilt that makes her... feel too much about the way things are. Much more shallow and ruthless. Convenient way to be, wouldn't you think?" Then suddenly Lilith grins with a slant of her lips to one side and it's almost a hint of smirk, like she's accusing him, perhaps, of being the same here and there in reverse taunt.

In fact, the woman starts to spill with a huff of breath against Byron's lips and a hint of laughter low in her throat when he asks if she's a mind reader on top of everything else and she starts to formulate wit of reply. Then his lips are brushing and closing over hers. Her grip on the tie winds the slack around her wrist to tighten it just a fraction of pressure right as his brush turns into a nibble down and she parts her lips to mime a kiss in slow motion shiver of brush against his lips in return. She traps his bottom lip on closure right between her teeth, like punctuation before releasing, "No. Just me fishing around to make you tattle on yourself. Kill me if I am, though, I don't like people enough for mindbanging."

Then she lays on a full kiss to test Byron's response, murmuring, right after her tongue takes path of lash and draw back just enough to speak, "Terribly logical, see. Make a new memory to give away to a Ghoul. Too recent to fuck you up and change you, but still far too precious to want to give away. So many years in the making all... coming together like fireworks. But then... there's no telling what'd you'd do. Makes us masochistic, at that."

There's very little talking on Byron's part now, being drawn into this slow intimate dance of lips and teeth, the heat of their mouths. She still held the leash, but that doesn't keep his hands from wandering down her back and sides, exploring her every curve beneath this desperate touch. This was like Freshmen year all over again, but different. So much different.

With a tilt of his head, his mouth presses firmly against hers, enjoying the taste of her lips. His mind may be more attentive elsewhere, but some of her words penetrate through his skull. She can feel those strong hands gripping at her side tightly. "Then we can just do it all over again, like it was the very first time." He hasn't thought his plan through, it would be the very first time for one of them, the other would remember each and every twisted passionate experience. That wouldn't be a terrible thing would it?

Lilith makes a drone of noise and bodily flexes with roll in against Byron's frame when his hands start to wander, her breath accelerating and hitching into the kiss when he actually returns it with equal vigor. She wasn't quite expecting that, and for as much edge and wit and exchange of back and forth she went initiating and playing through, and when her free hand comes up, it grips at his side, then drags around the flat of his stomach while she tightens the grip on his cleverly slipknotted tie to make him gasp right as she does with breathlessness on breaking the kiss. Hers is far more natural, but she times it for dramatics and... need out of the pair of them in matching moment.

"Mmm. You can only take my virginity once, you know." Lilith is clearly fucking with Byron because she's definitely not that, but in a sense... maybe it's like that. Because now she's weighing and thinking about all the times she's ever been with a man and not a one of them was even comparably intimate with her in the way they can be with each other without even sating this urge at all. Presumably it hasn't been bad those other times, necessarily, but there is a difference between everyone else... and him.

She kisses more gently with the passion, suddenly, despite the same wine-soaked lips and tongue and teeth and hot breath at work. Something in her shifts to softness instead of control, like contrast dance, and she works a finger up between his throat and the tie tension to gradually loosen a gap before murmuring, "But you still have an apartment to search, now don't you? Let's not make..." Oh, she seems loathe to say it, but she knows what they might regret, suddenly, even though everything that's been building between them is at full crescendo now. She pauses instead of finishing initially, drinking in the last vestiges of his kiss before finishing right after his phone starts to not just notify, but go off back to back.

"... hasty and sweet decisions to throw away. Those are better as Plan B. Your phone is going mad. Go be Byron. It's what people need right now. But when you're done being Byron for everyone else... come be Byron with me."

There's some definite delay in disentangling and a lot of wild eyes and heavy breath, but... life is moving fast right now. Maybe they'll be able to get some food and slow down and revisit this tomorrow.