11calls | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Alex Reagan is fairly certain that this just happens to be the smallest elevator in existence. She’s been a lot of places in the world, but the one at the Usher Foundation that leads to the archive is the smallest modern one for sure. It’s barely big enough for three people honestly and that normally doesn’t bother her in the slightest. While Alex has a fair amount of fear for the things that she’d discovered over the last few months (the hunt for example is the one that sticks out the most considering it’s why she’s here) but the Buried wasn’t one of them. Alex was the sort of person who turned her bed into swaddling nests and burrowed into them. Honestly that buried blanket nest is where she felt the safest.

No. The elevator itself wasn’t the issue here. Alex Reagan has ridden it more than a few times since she’d started working in the archives a month or so ago. While she would rather be out there being a reporter, Alex had blown out all of the credibility that she’d ever had when she’d told people that the things that went bump in the night were real. In the end Tannis Braun was right about how her skills would be valuable here investigating the validity of the statements. In some ways it was almost freeing—when she was working for Usher, Alex didn’t need to worry about pesky things like journalism ethics. Instead she could lie and make someone believe whatever they wanted in order to get their story from them.

In a way it was all kind of freeing.

So if it wasn’t the elevator itself, and it wasn’t the confined space that bothered her what didn’t bother her exactly was the man who she was currently sharing the elevator with. His size in it, with the foot of height that he had on her, the more bulk that he’d had on his frame (not that Alex was calling him fat by any means) instead it was just the way that he loomed over her and seemed far larger in the space than he actually was. And the fact that he was attractive and god was he attractive. Alex has said hello when she’d gotten into the elevator with him, and saw that he’d already pushed the floor for the sub basement level archives.

But the problem was that somewhere between the archives and the first floor, the elevator had just decided to stop. Not just stopping which would be bad enough, but stopping and losing all power. Normally the dark wouldn’t have been a thing, because Alex would have just pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight app or call someone even if her phone didn’t have great service here. That was part of the reason it was still plugged in at her desk. Artifact storage was only three elevator stops away, and Alex was delivering some information she’d had on a statement. But now here they were in the small and dark with the extremely attractive man she doesn’t know.

This is fine. This is all fine.

But Alex just gives a grin that she knows that he wouldn’t be able to see in the pitch blackness so deep that it feels like she could hold it in her hands like dirt. “Well, I guess this is one way to avoid that meeting with my boss.” There isn’t fear in her, just the bad joking tone that Alex makes to lighten a situation. The meeting with Tannis was supposed to be in half an hour and she was supposed to be meeting someone important to the Foundation.

The fact that it could be the person in the elevator never even crosses Alex’s mind. After all, that man had been described to her as being ‘Old Man Strand’ and this man definitely wasn’t old in the slightest.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Alex tilts her head to study it for a moment, trying to fit what he'd said what the theme was with what he'd said. Because even with knowing that it was what it was supposed to be, Alex doesn't see it. Of course art is entirely subjective and all of that, so Alex just forcefully pushes the statue from her mind as she instead focuses on entering Richard Strand's house. On a reflex, Alex just inhales, feeling the richness of the smells burrow into her lungs. It reminds her of what the depths of the archives feel like, and he can see why he felt so at home down here with her. And of course she can also see why Richard thought that Alex herself could feel at home here.

With her fingers hooked against his arm, Alex doesn't stop looking around for a moment, before her attention shifts to him and she gives him a broad grin that honestly Alex can't help. "Oh, I'd definitely rather explore than to rest. It's like I'm not even tired anymore!" Because now there were things to look into and to try and see and Know, and in some ways, Alex Reagan is as excitable as a puppy at the prospect of all of it.

Downstairs is his foyer, his library of decent size. The city is bright despite the faded fog of the windows. The books are twisted in strange spirals up an actual wrought iron stair case.

The walls themselves are covered with more strange paintings. Figures being buried, animals fighting other animals. They are strong, evocative of certain emotions others might not want to study.

Turning away from her he moves to turn on a lamp, "There are three floors. I sleep on the ground floor, but my labs and offices are downstairs. The attic is mostly empty.

...Where do you want to start?"

For a moment, Alex just looks around. It’s obvious what draws her attention first. “Wow. You really have a wrought iron spiral staircase. I didn’t think those really existed in people’s homes unless it was like a hipster adding one to their loft or something.” Alex can see that Richard’s is original, of course and she just traces her fingers along it, looking at the books that are scattered on it so. There is a part of Alex Reagan (that’s not small exactly, but perhaps smaller than the rest) that wants to stay here and go over the books and the fascinating topics within them, but considering Richard wants her to stay here for the week before they go to London, she imagines that she’s going to get the chance for them. At some point.

Yes, Alex is still not over that he wants her to be practically living with him for the next three weeks and to go to London with him. She doesn’t know if she will ever be used to that.

But of course there’s far more of his house to see than just the library. “Why is the attic empty? I would have thought you’d have it chock full of stuff considering the Foundation and the storage there.” It’s a little weird that everything for him is down.

For all of that, Alex can’t help but to start with: “the labs maybe? What do you do in them that you’ve got more than one?”

"Don't laugh but I don't like heights." He shakes his head, "That's why I spend as little time in my office as possible."

His smile however is genuine and he can light up a room with that, gesturing, "My father has some rare statues from the-"

The office phone cuts through the conversation and he frowns, "...Excuse me. Feel free to explore."

“Okay.” Alex would have preferred to stay in and explored the office, but instead she walked out and gave him some privacy as she revenged down into the basement and started to look for the labs. Honestly, it seems way bigger than what should be down here even given the size of his house, and she keeps going further and further into it.

The buried had that effect. Listening to the phone call requesting him be present for a ritual with another Buried avatar in the city. He pushed it off, thinking that he could do something here...

Yes.

That would be good. He could do something here. The only problem was...

Well. Time to see how Alex would react to this sort of thing.

Following her into the labs he undid his tie and took off his jacket, "...Did you find your way in here by yourself?"

Alex just looks at him with a grin and a very easy shrug, her eyes bright in the dimness of the room. Letting out a little laugh she adds: “well, how else would I have found it, love?” The word just kind of slips out without Alex meaning it too and honestly she didn’t even notice that she said it and still doesn’t now.

Instead she just asks softly: “is everything okay?”

There is a personality to every entity. A shape. They have observed for so long. They have been imprinting on humans. Human fear is the most primal, the most animal emotion. The Hunt, the oldest of them all knows this well but the others are still learning. What the hunt also knows, and why it, Terminus, and their newest sibling the extinction knew, that there was no ultimate endgame or story where they won. No matter what some might think.

The Buried, if it had a shape, was a desperate grasping man. A mysterious figure who locked himself away, Mr. Rochester, Mr. Darcy. And so it whispers. She is a worthy sacrifice.

Yes she. Bury she. In the cold good earth wrap her up soft and warm in the earth's pressing embrace and he-

Something unreadable passes over his features, something inhuman, as he takes her hand and kisses it.

"I have something I have to do, so I'm afraid the tour of the lower levels can wait. Would you be willing to head upstairs? I won't be long."

For a moment Alex looks confused, even as she smiles when he kisses her hand like that. There’s the part of her that is entirely foolhardy that wants to ask what it is and stay, but somehow in this moment and the inhuman look in his eyes Alex isn’t about to test the newness of their relationship. So, instead she just presses a light kiss to the corner of his lip.

He was asking her to do something and Alex would—it’s both as easy and difficult as that honestly. She gives him a smile and inclines her head.

“I’ll meet you in the bedroom then? It’ll give me some time to shower and brush my teeth.”

She's so soft.

take her, kill her, take her down to crypts below and- His body trembles with lust as he runs his fingers through her hair but he has to-

"...I'll see you shortly. My bedroom is the first door on the right."

His smile is positively wicked as he leaves. A quick hunt. A body, a single body to feed his patron...
---

Richard's bedroom is elegant. It also looks barely used, though there are a few scattered objects on a bedside table and a few books open on the floor with symbols and glyphs relating to the hunt and the eye and the corruption scrawled across them.

Go farther in there are a few other signs - a shirt folded neatly on a chair, and a picture of two children holding each other and a blonde woman hanging between the two of them.

Beside it is an open box filled with dirt.

And a single strand of pearls.

"Okay." There's a little bit of confusion in her smile, but Alex takes her bags into Richard's bedroom. She looks around, because of coarse she does. It's not in Alex not anyway if she's not nosy. Honestly, it's one of Alex's defining characteristics. Setting her bag down on the floor near the foot of the bed, she removes her coat and settles it on the bench at the end of the bed.

The room is definitely more empty than she would have pictured for Richard's bedroom honestly, considering his office and the things in the basement that she'd already seen. Alex can tell he doesn't sleep in it very much, and she wonders if he sleeps more downstairs than up here, no matter how nice it actually happens to be. The pictures capture her attention easily, and Alex spends a long time staring at them. As she searches them for familiar features, and people, Alex just tilts her head a bit. That almost looks like--is that Richard?

But then the familiar scent of dirt hits her nose and instead, she can't help but to stare at the jewelry-sized box of it. Letting her fingers just brush the edge of the box, but not the dirt itself, Alex finds herself staring at it, and the string of pearls that go along with it in a fashion that is decidedly confused.

"Those were my sister's."

His voice is firm and he has a sandwich in his hands - a wrapped sub and a drink, "The pearls."

Setting the sandwich down he reaches for her fingers, smiling softly and sadly, "My great grandmother gave them to her. They've been in the Strand family for hundreds of years."

He pauses, "Do you want a sandwich? It's turkey and tomato. I had it delivered."

But his hands haven't let go of the pearls.

Alex just startles when she hears him speak and her eyes are wide. Honesty she hadn’t expected that he would be done so quickly with whatever it was that he was doing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to like. Intrude on them or anything. I was just very surprised to see them in the dirt. That’s.” Weird. “Unexpected I guess. I mean it’s dirt.” The question about it is implicit but she doesn’t ask about the dirt directly.

Instead Alex focuses on: “did you get done what you needed to do, love?”

"This isn't just dirt." He sets the sandwich aside, "This is from our summer house she- She liked it."

That was where his birth happened. Closing it gently he moved to take her hands, "It might seem silly but my family is very old and we...land matters. Ridiculously sometimes. At least I used to think so but putting roots down? Building a legacy can only come with a firm foundation."

He kisses her fingers after taking them, "...I may need to leave, but shall we continue our tour?"

He's already leading her from the room to a second place behind a very rich looking door, "I'm afraid of most of is bedrooms but I'm told the brocade is nice."

“You may have to leave?” Alex can’t keep the soft sound of protest in her voice and she just moves along with him. Alex isn’t an idiot and she knows that he’d lost his sister when they were kids, so she understands the needing to have roots even if she doesn’t quite understand the reason behind the dirt itself. Honestly it’s not for her to understand and she’s self aware enough to know that it’s alright that she doesn’t.

“How many bedrooms does this house have? I mean it definitely seems bigger on the inside than the out.” Even if it’s also small in its own way: penned in by the history of it and everything that goes along with it. It reminds her of the archives with its hidden treasures in a lot of way. Richard does feel more at home here, to Alex’s eye which makes sense considering it is his home.

Opening the door to the bedroom she'll be greeted by real gold brocade and a sense of dust and age there. It's rich and dark colored.

"...6. But I could just jump to my -"

And here he flushes.

"...Well. Come with me." Moving her from the room he takes her to a room down the hall.

What am I doing what am I doing what am I doing

"...You've become very special to me." His voice squeaks out before he can direct it, "So I think perhaps I ought to show you something ...personal. I mean my bedroom is just that, a bedroom, but this is -"

Another dusty room - but it's painted like a forest. There are tall trees and a mine painted on one wall with fake gems peering out of the wall like eyes. In each corner are beds, one light faded pink, the other dark red and brown. A tree climbs out of the corner and there are toys carefully laid about.

"This is...my childhood bedroom."

“Hey.” Alex’s voice is soft and she stops and draws in front of him, her hand moving to rest on his cheek as she gives him a bright smile. There’s love there, that’s for certain, in the corners of it and shining out from the dark eyes behind her glasses. “You’re very special to me too, you know. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before. And definitely not ever so fast you and I. We have a—“ A connection, a love. A something that Alex isn’t quite sure how to describe really. She does know that she is definitely in far too deep to ever back out now. It makes Alex wonder if being Buried in a feeling counts.

Funny how she’d never thought about that before. Maybe it was the dirt or the mine.

“Your room is gorgeous though. I can’t even imagine what it was like to grow up in here.”

"Watch this."

Stepping to the side of her, moving toward the mine. Pressing a gem in the wall the doors creak open to reveal an empty closet.

"This was mine and Cheryl's secret space. And our closet."

And she likes it. She doesn't think it's strange.

"...None of this really bothers you does it. Being buried in my family's strangeness and our secrets."

“Wow. Can I...?” Alex starts to ask before she steps into the closet without waiting for an answer because she’s Alex Reagan and she always leaps before she looks honestly and more than that she trusts him and trusts that she’s safe even buried here among everything that was his family and his house and just him, himself.

Standing in the doorway of the closet, Alex just asks softly, “I mean why would it? Family is important. This, all this stuff...” Alex just makes a broad gesture with her hand when she says it, her eyes locking with his own.

“I mean it really is just you. And considering everything why would it bother me?” Alex doesn’t say that she loves him, not outright but the tone of her voice implies it without a doubt.

Edited 2020-12-11 05:27 (UTC)

It really is just you. Why would it bother me?

His gaze slides to the door, "...Come on. Let me make you something to eat." Despite the sandwich, reposing in his room, his focus wholly is on her.

The moment they're out of his bedroom however something has clearly changed in the downstairs foyer. There's an oppressive air, "I think some sort of pasta perhaps."

He smiles thinly, but when they get into the kitchen the oppressive air - for those who aren't used to it - would be terrifying.

Alex isn’t terrified, not exactly but she can feel it. She can feel the change in the air and it reminds her of the way that the elevator felt when she had first met him and how the two of them had talked in there. How it had dropped.

There’s confusion on her face, but she doesn’t run screaming or anything. Instead she just stands near him and asks in a voice that is very serious. “What’s going on?”

"Nothing." He smiles, but his features look a little drained, "I just had to take care of something I..."

He pauses, "I'm not feeling well. I'll be all right but sometimes it just hits you. Has that ever happened to you?"

Leading her into the kitchen, Alex might note there's a soda cup on the counter.

"Just sudden fatigue. I think making something might help."

Alex’s expression just shifts into concern for him, even as she can feel the oppressive air slipping and pressing around her. It’s still present, but a manageable annoyance like a seam at the wrong angle on a sock that’s twisted in your shoe.

“Okay. If you’re sure I mean. We can always just get some sleep if you’re tired. You did just fly like halfway around the world a few hours ago. It’s probably the jet lag and stuff just catching up with you.” Compounded by the fact that they’d had some fairly energetic sex back in her office at the foundation too.

"I-" His hands flutter, "...Yes. Perhaps you're right."

He frowns. Even his hands appear pale, staring down at them she might see fear cross his features. Fear and shame. It's gone in an instant.

"...I'm not used to having people take care of me. My ex-wife was not..."

He shrugs, "She wasn't. Are you all right with that? Not hungry?"

Alex just frowns when she catches the fear and shame, and she can't help but wonder if it's because of her. Had she done something? Was he regretting this? She hopes not. But honestly she's so focused on him that she misses the soda glass that's there in the kitchen with them. Focusing on a person she cares about is always something that Alex has done to the exclusion of everything else--she's got singlemindedness when it comes to some things like people and stories. Richard Strand right now isn't an exception to this point at all.

"I'm okay with that if you are, love." Her voice is soft, and she just cups his cheek with her hand once more, brushing her thumb against the line of his lip there in slow but reassuring circles.

"There's always breakfast, you know."