7 DAYS LATER "... and that's how it split to be both the Black Saints and the Green Hounds." "Heuk!" Isadora gasps as Felicity drags the corset strings, compressing her waistline even tighter. Telling the same story for the nth time today. "Take it easy with your dress-up guinea pig, Felicity. Any tighter and she won't be able to breathe." Imelda sets the vast array of makeup products on the vanity. "I'm just so excited. I haven't seen Isadora in a formal dress before, I can wait to shove her into the dress the lord sent." Felicity gushed, finally securing the strings into a knot. "I'll appreciate it more if you are less didactic, I've heard that story so much at this point I can recite it in my sleep." Isadora sounded weary. "Great, it fits right this time." Felicity stood admiring her work, one hand akimbo; Isadora's words definitely flew past her ears. "Ugh." Isadora groans. She made a bet with Felicity about how many muffins she could fit in her mouth and lost. Who knew a
For the remainder of the four-hour journey, silence ensued, bringing with it a ponderous load.It was the kind of quietness that descends, following the accidental crash of a glass object after being tossed around to taunt a peer, only this time both participating persons each had that glass and broke it in fault of each other; ultimately burdened by their irreversible mistakes.The daunting calm from the realization of how greatly one has screwed up… the one that challenges everything you think you know, igniting an internal battle between reason and self-betrayal. This soundless lull held a tight grip on both Isadora's and Vincent's minds.Still, both failed to address it… unable to believe their own deeds for fear of breaking the last rein on their carnal cravings and lingering desire, threatening to snap. Admitting it made it real… that reality was never meant to exist.Desperately in need of a distraction, Isadora rested her head against the window, consciously peeking into the
Nirvana's opening dance paved the way for the guests to join in with their partners, following tradition.Vincent stretched out a gentlemanly hand, offering Isadora a dance which she took nervously. Of all the ways she thought the day would turn out she never imagined sharing a dance with her master.Very tense, she stumbled a bit but Vincent's hand found her waist, steadying her and that was when she finally realized how close they'd gotten.She mutters abashedly, "I'm sorry, I….""Shhh" His voice was very quiet, only reaching her ears, "Don't speak if you don't want what happened in the car to happen again, there's only so much I can restrain." Vincent groaned, as his breath fanned her ears.Isadora shuddered, feeling his hand slide further down her waist to the small of her back as he gently brought her closer, eliminating even the smallest gaps as he subconsciously sought to monopolize her essence around him, canceling every foreign scent of the guests around.Subdued by his selfi
Isadora didn't know where she got the courage to question Vincent's actions. Maybe it's all the wine she's downed in the past hours that gave her extra strength. Vincent held a bemused expression under his mask. Has he been too lenient lately? "Yes." He admitted. "Why?" Isadora asked immediately. Feeling the electric collar on her neck, Isadora found it difficult to accept that the one thing that bound her in endless pain, actually saved her life. "What if I just felt like it? You sound like you are upset about it, shouldn't you be thanking me?" Vincent asked coldly. Isadora was silent for a while and they could only hear the howl of the increasing wind currents. She smirks as hair blows across her face. "Thank you?" Isadora grinded her teeth, "You put me in that situation. Why should I thank my prosecutor for saving me from a punishment he created and decided?" Saving her after placing her in the frontlines of danger, what a twisted carrot and stick scenario! She regretted a
It all made sense now. The dead spy's familiar crest, Viktor's words on the dance floor, the uncomfortable feeling of being around him… everything pieced together in an instant. Sitting so close to Vincent, the pressuring aura emanating from him made Isadora restless. Mateo frowned deeply as he glanced at Vincent's slightly quavering hand, startled by his sharp rise in hostility. Noticing the signs, he mused, 'This can't be happening right now.' "Fiance?" Vincent's voice was flat… unaffected. Yet he asked like he needed confirmation from Isadora to believe. Leaning on the path of denial. "I've never been involved with him. We were engaged by my father." Isadora quickly added. She didn't know why she was desperate to explain it clearly, so Viktor's words aren't misconstrued. She could have simply said yes. Why does she care what he thought? However, Vincent's next question reminded her of why she should care. "Your father?" The room dropped a few more degrees and Mateo watched
There car ride of almost four hours took only two hours back; a result of how much the driver was speeding whilst taking the shortest route back to the mansion.Throughout the journey, Isadora carried the burden of being kept in the dark. She received the silent treatment after asking her partners about what the hell was going on. They only exchanged uncomfortable looks and kept silent.She could tell whatever happened was bad… very bad.As soon as Isadora alighted the car at the main gates, Zeta who had been awaiting her arrival approached her immediately.She looked very jumpy, "You are finally back. Lord Vincent requests your presence, you must follow me immediately!"As Zeta spoke she avoided eye contact with Isadora, who found it very suspicious. Zeta was always very bold around her especially when she delivered insults, perhaps the current unspoken situation also affected the people back in the Black Saints mansion.She nodded and followed Zeta's lead, used to Vincent's unpredic
Backed against the door, his struggling figure reflected in her eyes.Vincent knelt on the ground, restrained by chains on both arms, wound so tightly it made red ligature impressions around his wrists.His dreadlocks, down from its usual updo, stuck to the sweat of his bare chest and back. In the darkness, his light gray eyes shone crimson red. They had no life in them; like his soul had disappeared, replaced by an empty shell. Out of his mind, Vincent jilted aggressively.His piercing cries of pain and the shifting of metal against metal saturated the air as he tried with all his might to be free of them. The torture of his body rebelling against itself was too much to bear. A monthly consequence for his abstinence from Lance's formulas. Each second in this state brought him an insurmountable amount of pain. At that moment, his body craved the drug formulas so badly that it attacked itself without mercy. It was like he had been thrown in a lake of fire and knives. He oozed with
Vincent woke up to the softness of Isadora's body against his. He eased off from her, sitting on the edge of the bed.Outside the blowing gray sky from the heavy rain of the previous night shone cerulean and the faint smell of petrichor lingered in the air.Vincent clutched his stomach as a pang of hunger hit him severely. This feeling was alien to him, he's never felt so famished in years.He groaned, running a hand through his hair as he glanced at the still sleeping Isadora. He remembered the deeds of the past night as clear as day. The feeling of how perfectly she fit under him and her bashful face while she cried from both pain and pleasure, lingered in his mind Isadora squirmed as if in search of something until she felt contact with Vincent's body and relaxed. Her chest slightly rose and fell as she snoozed some more.Vincent frowned, noticing how pale her olive skin had gotten. Had he been too demanding of her last night? It was quite difficult to control himself in his state