houseofpast_rp | Entries tagged with c: edgar eicheln

It's the good sort of trickiness. It's absolutely the sort of thing that has Rachel and Elliot whispering together in moments they can steal alone and without Edgar. It's absolutely the sort of thing that will have Rachel doing her level best to distract Edgar while Elliot sneaks off-Deck and takes the time needed for the tattoo to heal up properly.

It's absolutely something that, when Elliot returns home and they haven't quite made it back to bed yet, will have the two meeting eyes as they all sit in the living room and hiding grins.

Maybe Edgar will notice their mischievous aura. Maybe Edgar won't.

theunpressuredclub

It's not the first time she's been sent away on a mission. It's the first time she's been away quite this long-- a whole month-- but they've adjusted, somewhat, to having to be away from one another for more extended periods of time.

Coming back, of course, always has them caught up in moments of passion as soon as they have a moment alone. She begs off fully taking her shirt off the first week back, says her shoulder's healing. She knows he worries about it, but she's gotten very good at using kisses and her hands as distraction techniques.

And then, towards the end of her second week back, Edgar will come back to find his girlfriend most certainly shirtless and waiting contentedly in his bed for him. Her lips will curl up in a somewhat wanton smile as she holds a hand out to him.

"Surprise, mon lion."

theunpressuredclub

She'd skipped training today, and she was certain she was going to pay for it later, as Pierre was liking paying for it now. But walking to the Spades Castle had had her running into Elliot, and Elliot had clearly been in need of some kind of help. It wasn't until he'd turned away from her and she saw the blood that had seeped through the back of his shirt that she'd even begun to figure out the problem.

Encouraging him back to the Clubs Castle was rough, but he was ultimately in too much agony to argue otherwise. Had half-collapsed onto her bed after shrugging off his shirt with a low groan of pain.

Really, it was impressive that it was only a groan, Rachel had determined once she'd gotten proper look at the obvious lashes across his back. It had turned her stomach more than anything she'd seen yet had-- and there'd been a lot she had seen, now. Had had her asking a Two to call for Edgar when the Spade had passed out-- from the exhaustion or the pain her delicate cleaning of the wounds had been, she couldn't tell-- asking him to come as soon as he was able.

There's worry clear in her features when she answers the door, along with a small bit of uncertainty. By now she knew that Edgar suspected there was more to her 'training' situation than she'd let on, but she wasn't sure he knew to what extent. And even though she was fairly certain Elliot's situation wasn't related to their shared experience, she couldn't help the fretting when she was still so obviously healing from the session that had left bruises all along her arms.

theunpressuredclub

She's doing her best to see things from his perspective: Really, she is. He's been right, after all, about a few important things that have happened in both their lives of late.

But this is different. This feels, somehow, like more than the struggle to keep her from continuing to suffer Shea's abuses. Like more than the push for her to get out from under her father's roof so the healing she had been starting to make could properly start to take place.

This is a more proper cutting herself off from Caleb Caustello. This is completely turning her back on her father-- her father who, yes, neglected her when she needed it most, who had left his own share of bruises on her more times than she cared to admit-- but her father, still. Stopping even the rare visits she does make seems so entirely inconceivable, even if of late they've only ended up with her being shouted from the room or worse.

So Edgar's vehement insistence that she stop her visits has been a sticking point. Has been something that has gotten them to the point of raised voices. To the point of-- in Edgar's case-- arms waving about insistently and hands hitting walls and tables, and-- in Rachel's case-- her face going pale and her entire body instinctively curling in on itself.

Taking a breath and stepping back just slightly helps to focus. Lets her find the words they agreed she should use when his anger was frightening her like this.

"Ed." It takes another deep breath before she can get it out. "N-need you to-- bring it down a notch, okay? P-please?"

It always gets her hands shaking to say it, but at least she's been starting to manage to.

theunpressuredclub

There's just a little bit of a chill in the air that's starting to touch the waters. That's what Rachel's using as a partial excuse for the long-sleeved nature of her swimsuit, at least. Andrew had accepted the statement with a smile that only just hinted at the worry behind it-- he was just glad she was coming out with them at all, at this point. She'd been cooped up and more than a little withdrawn from the for too long.

But she's easing out of the heartache, now. She's stopping short of making her way all the way to the shoreline because she's too busy taking in the beauty of the water.

"Oh, it's beautiful."

"Told you so," Andrew says with a rough kiss to her cheek, "C'mon. Let's go play."

faithfulclublet

He isn't sure why it's something that happens. Isn't sure why things can get so absolutely overwhelming when everyone and everything else is still so sunny. It's likely at least partially to do with the same hormones that are having him grow like a weed, but he doesn't think that's all.

He especially doesn't think that's all today, when he wakes up from a nightmare he can't remember to a sense of dread that lingers the rest of the day.

It's got him moving in a haze. It's got him not really paying attention when people are talking to him.

It has him struggling to string the words together when he finally realizes he needs to answer a question he didn't hear, "--Sorry. What was that, again?"

ofthecubs

It isn't going to last forever.

Summer doesn't last forever, after all. Yes, it's only June, but it'll be September again before he blinks. Being a child, his father often tells him with rough affection, doesn't last forever either. Yes, he's only ten, but in the blink of an eye, he'll be twelve and he'll be sixteen and he'll be twenty and if he doesn't start working now, he won't be King of anything. It had gotten much harder to disregard when he thought about the fact Max was already half-way to twelve as well; that Toby was up and about and very much his own person when he'd just moments ago been too small for his brothers to be allowed to hold.

It isn't going to last forever. That means they need to make the best of it.

And he does have vague plans for the afternoon. Some time will be for Andrew and for running like lunatics through the fields. Some time will be for Rachel and Argine, for building on the hesitant sort of truce they've come upon as 'cooties' stop being such a pressing concern. Some time will be for his brothers, for watching them play, for keeping them safe; for just being close before he blinks and they're all too grown up for fun.

But for now, Edgar Eicheln is making the best of being sprawled, entirely comfortably, on the side of a small hill near the lake. The sky's blue, the wind's cool, and the contentment in his heart is fairly complete.

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House of Past;

Entries tagged with c: edgar eicheln

matching hearts

on my heart (just like a tattoo) [1990]

January 1987; what you can't carry

an open ear; an open heart [Winter 1987]

Late Summer/Early Autumn 1987 || let's go to the beach beach

June 4, 1986 - Like Someone's Walking on My Grave

summer 1981 - it's half timing and the other half's luck

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