Work Text:
Guerrero in Normality
by Norngirl "You ok?"
Guerrero came out of his trance of thought to meet the girls eyes, now he should feel like he should smack himself for letting business cloud with pleasure.
he was regretting the order a alcoholic drink instead of a virgin one. Tucking a hair behind his ear he smiled
"never better"
he sipped long on the drink but not hard: how could he lie to this lovely women? She had no idea what he did for a living, his past, his secrets.
All she knew was that he was a friend of her boss and was fun to hang out with, Abelena had no idea what waters should could be treading but Guerrero had to be around female company sometime. Abelena being young with no idea how the elements of the true world worked was pron to them and with Guerrero by her side she will be diving into the unknown.
the boss she worked for was a owner of a new age store selling all sorts herbs,books,practices for any other religion that wasn’t condemning
while at the same time selling illegal programs to hackers to decode, sell on the black market and giving him half the profits
he was glad to meet a girl like Abelena, didn’t care for technology, didn’t care for bling, didn’t care what other people thought of her
Guerrero didn’t understand how such an attractive girl be so care free yet so beautiful
She wore her natural brown hair, no piercing,no tattoos. Had her eyebrows respectively plucked with no mustache or arm pit hair shaved legs to boot….
Her teeth were perfect white to match her perfect smile, full lips and almond eyes,light skin and cute giggle that made him melt.
But such a thing must be held behind the wall of discipline bricks
“Have you’ve been hearing about the crazy stuff going on lately? A car chase, a local man poisoned, some grad held prisoner by the company works for? Sounds like some really dirty stuff ”
“haven’t these things always occur?”
“near the area of my work? I live within walking distance of the store. I’m seriously scared”
“nothing won’t happen to you.”
“I shouldn’t be telling you this…it’s probable boring you….my dabble…”
“nawww, I love it….better then listening to the thoughts in my head”
She cast down at her glass and looked back up to him.
“I got better drinks at my place…. wanna come over?”
“sure.”
The 2 walked hand in hand through the city, Guerrero couldn’t help but feel a little frisky with Abilene’s soft skin against his clause filled one, the brush of her arm hair, the smell of her skin as the city wind blew it towards his face.
Before he knew it he was in her apartment, he headed towards the bathroom while she went to the kitchen. He didn’t need to take a leak. He needed to soak his feet.
“remember where the towels are!!”
running the hot water in the tub up enough to soak his tired feet, ankles just the path of his calf's.
Slipping off his shoes, socks and rolled up his pants laying a towel for him to sit on. He planted his feet in the heated waters with a sigh of total bliss
“did you add some Epsom salt?”
Abelena came in with 2 apple cinders, setting one by the sink and one into Guerrero hand whom just admit dowse it down
“I think that should be your last beer for the night.”
“you call this a beer?.”
“what? You want me to pee in a glass for you?”
after the soak Guerrero just let his weak limps carry him to any random area which ended up being the bedroom. Tucking a pillow under his back. And slip off his glasses letting the second eyes just rest lazily on his chest as he pinch his nose.
“did we stop on paragraph 5?”
“Page 174”
“start over, I probable don’t remember.”
Abilene mix the mp3 to the place they stopped; plugging into the system she flopped herself on the bed as the music and words thunder
“High up, crowning the grassy summit of a swelling mound whose sides are wooded near the base with the gnarled trees of the primeval forest, stands the old chateau of my ancestors. For centuries its lofty battlements have frowned down upon the wild and rugged countryside about, serving as a home and stronghold for the proud house whose honored line is older even than the moss-grown castle walls. These ancient turrets, stained by the storms of generations and crumbling under the slow yet mighty pressure of time, formed in the ages of feudalism one of the most dreaded and formidable fortresses in all France. From its machicolated parapets and mounted battlements Barons, Counts, and even Kings had been defied, yet never had its spacious halls resounded to the footsteps of the invader.”
Guerrero felt his imagination unravel into the ceiling above not really paying attention to the body next to him. Thinking not of Chance,Winston or even his glasses which Abilene delicate plucked off and place on the side table.
It was in one of the vast and gloomy chambers of this remaining tower that I, Antoine, last of the unhappy and accursed Comtes de C——, first saw the light of day, ninety long years ago. Within these walls, and amongst the dark and shadowy forests, the wild ravines and grottoes of the hillside below, were spent the first years of my troubled life. My parents I never knew. My father had been killed at the age of thirty-two, a month before I was born, by the fall of a stone somehow dislodged from one of the deserted parapets of the castle; and my mother having died at my birth, my care and education devolved solely upon one remaining servitor, an old and trusted man of considerable intelligence, whose name I remember as Pierre. I was an only child, and the lack of companionship which this fact entailed upon me was augmented by the strange care exercised by my aged guardian in excluding me from the society of the peasant children whose abodes were scattered here and there upon the plains that surround the base of the hill. At the time, Pierre said that this restriction was imposed upon me because my noble birth placed me above association with such plebeian company. Now I know that its real object was to keep from my ears the idle tales of the dread curse upon our line, that were nightly told and magnified by the simple tenantry as they conversed in hushed accents in the glow of their cottage hearths.
It felt like it wasn’t just him and the lovely Abilene whom he pulled close to his side in warm gesture. Lovecraft and his haunting words were also in they’re wake, how it was creating a strange romantic feeling in him feeling his was within those walls of the chambers the narrator mutters.
Thus isolated, and thrown upon my own resources, I spent the hours of my childhood in poring over the ancient tomes that filled the shadow-haunted library of the chateau, and in roaming without aim or purpose through the perpetual dusk of the spectral wood that clothes the side of the hill near its foot. It was perhaps an effect of such surroundings that my mind early acquired a shade of melancholy. Those studies and pursuits which partake of the dark and occult in Nature most strongly claimed my attention.
The bed became a flying carpet for him as he descended to the images through his shut eyes became lenses for the story being told. He couldn’t control his hand from rubbing up and down Abilene’s arm as the music took in it’s spook
How he wish for control and understanding, with Abilen there was control as he could slowly go into refreshing dreams. She grasp his hand in comfort as sleep was taking a hold of her as well…
Of my own race I was permitted to learn singularly little, yet what small knowledge of it I was able to gain, seemed to depress me much. Perhaps it was at first only the manifest reluctance of my old preceptor to discuss with me my paternal ancestry that gave rise to the terror which I ever felt at the mention of my great house; yet as I grew out of childhood, I was able to piece together disconnected fragments of discourse, let slip from the unwilling tongue which had begun to falter in approaching senility, that had a sort of relation to a certain circumstance which I had always deemed strange, but which now became dimly terrible. The circumstance to which I allude is the early age at which all the Comtes of my line had met their end. Whilst I had hitherto considered this but a natural attribute of a family of short-lived men, I afterward pondered long upon these premature deaths, and began to connect them with the wanderings of the old man, who often spoke of a curse which for centuries had prevented the lives of the holders of my title from much exceeding the span of thirty-two years. Upon my twenty-first birthday, the aged Pierre gave to me a family document which he said had for many generations been handed down from father to son, and continued by each possessor. Its contents were of the most startling nature, and its perusal confirmed the gravest of my apprehensions. At this time, my belief in the supernatural was firm and deep-seated, else I should have dismissed with scorn the incredible narrative unfolded before my eyes.
The two lay asleep as story rolled on Guerrero on one side and Abilene on the other. Joined by the hand to slumberland as none would stir till morning when Guerrero got a call from Winston on some random case. Wishing how he could kiss Abilene as he wanted to lead into a job he personal needed. But his other impulses tungle and all there was was a hug and a see you later.
With his glasses he felt a mask again, a masked fool.
end