thedispatch | Forgiven

[ Grell could have travelled very nearly anywhere by then-- and yet, she decided to stay in London. She might've been very nearly broke, but money is easy to come by when you've no qualms against violence. There was also the option of teleporting onto any given vessel, or using the same methods to steal what was needed. Instead, she had this masochistic need to remain where ghosts her of memories could haunt her.

It would be easier to find her, of course. But she welcomed them to try. It made her otherwise pointless life a bit more interesting.

The reaper hasn't been able to go out much, since they last found her, as healing has been a chore. When she does, it's in disguise, for sake of ease; humans are much more compliant when faced with the familiar. She's back to wearing the round spectacles, hair a blackened brown and worn tied back - although, it's much shorter now, barely brushing her shoulders. ]

Good evening, Gertrude.

[ Grell heaves a sigh as closes the door behinds her, barring out the cold winds. The woman's flat is rather small and dreary, illuminated only be the overcast skies poking through the curtains.

Setting down her bagged food, she takes a seat across from Gertrude at the small table, exhaling a pained sigh. ]

I didn't bring you anything. I'm sure you understand.

[ It wasn't as though Gertrude needed to eat. She's dead, and has been since Grell found the place a week ago. Already reaped, by the looks of it.

Gingerly removing her coat, Grell gives a groan as she shrugs it from her shoulders. Unbuttoning her shirt, stained through, she sighs. ]

Really, I'm too sore to bother covering you. We're both ladies, anyhow, aren't we? It's fine.

[ As she thought, her stitching popped again. Puffing her cheeks with frustration, she stands to hobble herself over to the bed, where she's left her medical supplies at the nightstand. Used bandages litter the floor at her feet, beside a bloodied basin of water. Even the sheets are stained. ]

I'm not doing to a doctor. There's no point. [ She mutters begrudgingly, uncorking the hefty bottle of alcohol to take a swig. Then, eyes pressed shut with dreaded anticipation, pours some over the gasp at her chest. ]

[ The office officials may have lost track of her again, but William's more knowledgeable of where she frequents and flees to in the city. And, as good an actress as she believes herself to be, William knows her mannerisms far too well. And so he watches her for awhile, observing how she's getting by, and most importantly, where she's taken up residence.

That night, he watches her return to the flat, giving her some time to settle down before he raps at the door. ]

[ Having only just shouted in pain, Grell's breath hisses through her teeth whilst she attempts to gather her composure. She can only assume it's some concerned passerby, or less likely, a neighbour. ]

We're fine, thank you! Good day--!

[ Ooh, that made her rather light-headed! Best to take one more drink and set the bottle aside, before she loses hold on it! ]

[ The response she gets is another knock. This one louder and far more forceful. He'll open it himself if she insists on making this difficult, but he's attempting to hold back his frustration with her already. ]

[ Groaning, Grell grasps at the end of the bed, eyes pressing shut as she wills herself to stand. Grabbing a throw draped across the footboard, she pulls it across her shoulders to cover herself while making for the door - gait heavy and clumsy.

Had she more sense, she'd just tell the stranger to sod off. Instead, she opens the door a crack, intending to keep them from seeing the rather concerning setting behind her.

Immediately, her expression snaps from murderous irritation to near horror. Reeling back, she stumbles over her own feet, falling to the floor and leaving the door to sway free.

She doesn't get up, instead pulling the blanket up around herself with a whimper. ]

[ As William looks down at her on the floor, quite a few things are different about him. His glasses are gone, and rather than vibrant yellow-green eyes behind them, an almost iridescent violet pair glare down at her. Somehow, despite the cold look that remains on his face, there's a luminosity to his skin that almost brightens the dreary room as he steps over Grell to enter.

He'd already seen the state her body was in while he watched her, but the flat was another matter. A stench that can only be associate with death lingers in the air - something he didn't miss in the slightest. He scrunches up his nose, moving his glare from her, to survey the room. ]

You've been living with a corpse? I honestly hope you didn't take the woman's life just for a place to stay.

[ Shaken, laboured breathing wracks her body as she listens to him. Having seen him, in what she assumes to be a ghostly appearance, is jarring enough-- but to hear his voice so clearly in her ears is an entirely other matter! She actually whimpers in fear for her sanity.

It's one thing to be called insane, but to actually face the realisation that it may be true is an entirely different matter. Visions of things that aren't there could be attributed to the pain, the alcohol, the fatigue... murmurs of conversation could be the nights without sleep... not this. This is more real that she's used to. ]

N-no, she was--... [ Why is she talking back to it? Goodness, she's hopeless! ] No, nonono.......

[ Rolling over, she keeps the blanket draped over her head as she scoots along the floor, to swing the door closed. ]

Just ignore it... It will pass...

[ Collapsing back to the floor, she stays curled onto her side, closing her eyes to steady her breathing. She murmurs to herself. ]

What may this mean, that thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel, revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon. Making night hideous; and we, fools of nature, so horridly to shake our disposition, with thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this? . . .

[ He pays little mind to the mantra she's reciting, instead stepping further into the room to observe things. He kicks at the bandages that litter the floor, then picks up the bottle of alcohol from the night stand, reading its label. ]

Is this all you're treating your wound with? You received that injury days ago. Obviously it hasn't healed in the slightest. [ Regarding the stain that reddens the bed sheets. ] You need to see the doctors and get it stitched up properly.

Of course it hasn't. [ She mumbles. ] It's a deathscythe wound.

[ The apparition - or whatever she should call her imaginary friend - still speaks, despite her attempts to will it away. Despite how resolute she'd been moments before, this falls in line with what she'd been thinking before he appeared. It's easier to go along with. ]

The doctor would wonder why I'm still walking... It will heal, anyway. Eventually.

[ Her voice is small, tired. As though she's merely muttering to herself. ]

Not that it matters.

[ Replacing the bottle, he paces over, stopping at her side to look down. She really is a pathetic sight there on the ground, but what's most concerning is the way she's speaking. They're both all too familiar with those sorts of phrases. ]

Stop. Get that idea out of your head. You've lived that part of your life already, we don't need it resurfacing. Now, get up. I'm taking you back to headquarters.

[ He'd normally kick her to get her to pay attention and do what she's told, but that wouldn't help her wound. So for now, he extends a hand. ]

[ Blearily, she peers up at him from beneath her throw. While her focus shifts to his hand, she doesn't take it, believing it won't actually do anything to help her up, all considered. ]

I'm not going back there.

[ Torso teetering back, she cups a hand over her wound, eye travelling wayward and settling nowhere in particular amongst the expanse of the ceiling. ]

This is much more preferable. And that's saying something, I imagine.

Yes, you are.

[ Huffing, he takes a firm hold of her upper harm, yanking hard enough to pull her to her knees. ]

I didn't come here to deal with your uncooperative attitude or back talk. We're going, now.

[ Grell's shriek of surprise dulls into a groaning whimper, her free hand clutching the material over her chest. Her eyes are a mixture of confusion and terror, as she cowers under him-- and yet, she clutches onto him. ]

Yo--you're real...? [ Shaking, she reaches out to lay her hand over his. ] No-- no, I can't be imagining this...

You aren't imagining anything. I am really here, and that should be saying something. Now, get up.

[ Another tug, and a bit of help hoisting her up by the back of her shirt and she's on her feet. He immediately lets go of her arm, and gives a slightly concerned look at her wound. ]

[ The blanket's fallen from her shoulder and pooled onto the floor, leaving her hair messy and half-pulled from her ponytail. It's doing her no favours, considering the state she's in-- she's a right mess.

Her wound has been stitched up no better than that old red coat she'd kept around, and it's apparent that isn't the only one she has, just the worst of them.

That's the furthest thing from Grell's mind right now, though. Despite being hoisted up like a dumb pup, she's looking at him with some incredible wonder. Reaching up, she cautiously touches her fingertips to his cheek, just below his eye. ]

I-- don't understand what in Death's name is going on.

Edited 2019-04-24 04:23 (UTC)

[ His violet eyes look into her's, ever so slightly less cold than a moment before. With a gentler touch he removes her hand from his face and leaves her to balance there. Finding where a spare clean bandage is on the table, he grabs it and makes his way back over. ]

I was asked to come back and get you under control. Since, apparently, no one else is capable.

[ Why no one else can figure out how to tame her is beyond him. It just comes so naturally, after all. ]

Move your shirt. You shouldn't leave this uncovered, you can still get sick as a reaper.

[ Grell's hand is left hovering, her breath baited. She doesn't want him to go - albeit only a few steps away, but it makes her heart still, even so. ]

I see. [ Looking away, her mouth works in place just so. Of course, he wasn't back of his own volition. It was a work thing. ] They could've just let me go. But of course, they wouldn't allow it to be so simple.

[ She pulls at the cuffs of her shirt to slip it off her shoulders. Might as well let him help. ]

This isn't going to persuade me any more, you know.

[ He steps away again after he sees the state of the wound, apparently to find a cloth to dampen and clean it. ]

I am not here to persuade you. You're going to do what I tell you to do.

[ He presses the dampened cloth to the wound long enough to loosen the dried blood. Then he carefully cleans up the edges. ]

[ With a stubborn frown more characteristic of her nature, she drapes her hands about her waist as she waits for him. ]

No, I'm not.

[ Wincing, she sways on her legs - enough to make her reach out and grasp his sleeve. Her breathing is struggled with the pain. Perhaps she had let it go for too long. She's managed with worse. ]

I'm not having this argument with you. I gave management two choices on how to deal with you. Both of which require you to do as I say.

Now stay still while I bandage you properly.

[ His arms extend around her middle as he wraps the bandaging tightly enough to restrict any further bleeding. ]

[ Closing her eyes, her brows furrow as she tries to suck it up. ]

What choices would those be?

[ At least she's willing to listen to that much. ]

Either they allow you to cross back over with me, essentially giving you a free pass - which I highly doubt they will agree to. Or, I stay.

[ Tying a tight knot in the bandage he fetches her shirt from the ground, handing it back to her to put on. ]

[ William won't witness her jaw drop, but he'll certainly catch sight of her gaping at him with absolute bewilderment. ]

There is positively no chance of this happening. I've truly lost it.

[ She says, even as she takes her shirt, too numb to put it on just yet. Instead, she makes her way over to the bed to sit down, staring at her shoes for a moment as she recollects herself. ]

Either you believe me and play along or I will simply leave again, if you'd prefer that. But make your mind up, the stench of that corpse is not something I ever wanted to endure again.

[ He glances towards Gertrude, before sighing and shaking his head. ]

[ That certainly gets her to look at him again! It seems that she wants anything BUT that. ]

I'll try to, but I need you to explain it to me, so that it makes sense. Why would you do such a thing?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject