heritiere: (♭ | Blanketfort)
Ever since Elliot had brought her to his room, she hadn't left. Not after the horrific night at the opera. After barely recovering from shock, she had tried to ask Elliot what had happened to that Leo who had hurt her. Elliot had only replied that he did not know - with a face too genuine for her to believe that he was lying.

But even if the Nightray didn't remember what had happened, he still let Leah stay in his room, using his clothes and bed and bathroom for all her needs, even bringing her meals whenever she actually felt like eating and some books to pass the time.

But other than that, she was left alone in the room for long, torturous hours. Every time she felt brave enough to place her hand on the doorknob, her feet would immediately backpedal and she'd find herself taking shelter under the covers, clutching at her neck. The Head Hunter's knife had opened a deep gash in her neck. She was certain she had died - but had she returned so soon? Every time she dwelt upon the answer, the buzzing and clicking of the Others reverberated in her mind, prompting her to clear her thoughts and mentally avoid the topic. Avoid all memory of that night, and hide the scar on her neck with wrapping one of Elliot's scarves around it.

In the present, Leah hasn't had any contact with the outside world, declining the paper when Elliot had offered it. If anyone was looking for her, she wasn't about to leave secret messages around for him. Not with that monster skulking about the halls.

Still, whenever Xani would make her entrance, she'd find the girl asleep in Elliot's bed, curled up like a rodent and getting her pillow wet from damp hair after leaving a long bath.
heritiere: (♭ | Unhappy again)
[It had been hardly more than fifteen minutes since Leah had been dead - exterminated from the slice in her throat and the snapped vertebrae that made her head hang in a precarious angle, until Elliot had cupped her body close against his own.

The disaster at the theatre was past. The Head Hunter was dead, culled by his Elliot's blade. Leah had missed the brutal execution, already dead at the foot of the stairs she had been thrown down. That Leo had called her a Baskerville. Elliot hadn't questioned it, but Leah had denied it until the knife had opened up her throat. The Nightray scion was carrying the dead girl in his arms, away from the nightmare.

Even now, her ancient bloodline was working for her benefit. While the blood did not seep back into her body, the flesh began to knit and heal together in her neck, closing the wound until nothing but a horizontal scar crossed over her trachea. One by one, her ribs extracted themselves from her punctured lung and ossified back into place to form that protective thoracic cage, followed soon by her wrist mending after it had snapped when she had tried to stop herself from falling.

With a staccato crackle of vertebrae rocking together, her neck straightened. There was uncomfortable groan from her before she squirmed in Elliot's arms and opened her eyes...]

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Leah

September 2012

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