#‘and we shall dance on the day of her demise’ ended meaning nothing huh

[audiblehush]

If you are fine with the fact that the writers had Penelope doing a last minute, zero build-up, half-assed rebrand in order to remain Lady Whistledown (that can’t even logically function with her going public) i.e. her harmful coping mechanism instead of realizing she doesn’t need it anymore…

Sorry, but you don’t actually like Penelope. 🤷‍♀️

[ozymandiascezn]

schrei es in die winde ||3||

chapter three

fandom original

pairing original oc x original oc

-

“You failed to mention that this job was a masquerade ball,” Andrej murmurs, casting Victoria a sideways glance, “please tell me your plan extends past getting me to participate?”

“It’s like you don’t know me at all anymore.” She stares at him beneath her feathered mask. “You’re the distraction, get in, dance, keep the people’s eyes on you. No one can keep their eyes off a handsome rich man in a nicely tailored suit.”

Andrej elects to ignore a majority of that. “Is there anyone specific you’d like me to dance with, or shall I choose my own demise?”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” she warns, “pick whoever you like, preferably the rich lady in the blue dress over there. It’s her party. Serenade her or something. Just keep her from noticing too much.”

“If I had normal skin, you’d want me to seduce her, wouldn’t you?” He raises an amused eyebrow, but there's an emptiness to his words. If he had normal skin. “I’ll handle the distraction. You just do whatever it is you are supposed to be doing.”

She pats his arm, disappearing into the crowd not long after. Even in a brilliant purple dress and vitiligo, she managed to disappear amidst the crowd.

Andrej isn’t particularly fond of dancing, or masquerade balls. Though, he supposes it’s his own fault for not asking for more details when he ought to have. His mind had been on Jordie, it still is. She’s a clever mutant — that’s her thing. Though, many could argue she’s not a mutant at all, just advanced in her learning. But as far as Andrej knows, she’s been on the street too long to have that level of understanding of the world. She knew things even he didn’t, offered support on things he didn’t, appeared whenever he needed her most. Or maybe it was all a coincidence, he isn’t sure.

He decides not to serenade the woman. He can make other ways to distract them — shadows dancing along the walls, an accident of sorts. It’s a party. There’s endless ways to distract the rich.

“You don’t seem to like crowds, huh?” The voice startles him, but once he realizes it’s just Elizabeth, he calms to a slight bristle. “You don’t seem to like me much, huh?”

He eyes her through his own mask, and though he cares not for the masks, he’s grateful for them now. “No, I don’t.”

Her face falls, eyes glimmering as if she knows something he doesn’t. “Well, why not? You hardly even know me!”

“People dislike other people for less.” He remarks, frown set deep on his face. “I don’t like people, especially strangers. Victoria did you a favor by letting you stay, but do not think it was my idea.”

“You’re mean. I wonder what your missus would have to say about that attitude.” She clamps her mouth shut soon after, as if she hadn’t intended on saying it to begin with.

Andrej stares at her, and if looks could kill, the room would be coated in her blood. “There is no missus. Not anymore. If you want to keep your tongue, ratte, you best know when to speak.”

“Dance with me,” she steps in front of him, “clearly letting you brood isn’t working, so let’s try dancing.”

“I don’t dance. I observe. You, Victoria, and everyone else, dance. I do not.” He watches her closely, despising the feeling of familiarity that came from her unwavering gaze. “Dancing can make you vulnerable. I’m not looking for that.”

She pouts then says, “but it’s fun! And Victoria said you used to dance, so come on. We can’t let that talent go to waste!”

“Why are you so concerned with getting me to dance? It won’t end the world if I don’t, though, the idea that it would is very entertaining.” He watches her, eyeing the dress she wears. It’s red. He doesn’t like red. “Red suits you.”

Pursing her lips, she moves to stand idly beside him. “If you won’t dance with me, I’ll just sit here and bother you endlessly.”

“You are easy to ignore.” He remarks, although it strikes something in him to say it. Something vastly unpleasant, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “I just haven’t done so to be kind. Test my patience and you’ll be spending the evening alone.”

She remains quiet, standing near him as people pass by, hands going on the small of her back as if to ‘pardon’ themselves. “You’re wearing a ring…. Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Luck doesn’t exist,” he takes pity, moving so that she was more sheltered from the crowd, “but there isn’t one, not anymore. You meddle too much and luck won’t be there to save you.”

“Will you? Save me, I mean.” She looks up at him, glancing momentarily at his left hand. “I’m sure she loved you very much.”

“Perhaps, if you stop asking so many personal questions.” He muses, more so to himself than anything. Her last words spark a question in his mind, one that he voices, “what makes you so sure that she loved me?”

“For one, you still wear the ring and men don’t do that much unless the love was really there,” she chimes thoughtfully, “and secondly, Victoria told me about her, at least a little bit. I can tell she loved you a lot from that. Or it might be just how Victoria tells stories, but I’m not sure.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Are men not allowed to wear rings on their ring finger even after marriage?”

“No, no they are not.” She agrees, smiling softly. “Though, I suppose, they could if they didn’t mind assumptions being made about them. I’m also beginning to understand why you don’t like crowds. It’s beginning to feel rather claustrophobic in here.”

Andrej looks at her for a moment before he grabs her hand, tugging her towards the balcony. It’s quieter there, and cooler. The air is fresh and he can tell she enjoys the change of scenery just as much as he does.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “so you don’t dance, but you are a gentleman? Your hostility towards me begs to differ with that.”

“My hostility towards anyone begs to differ with a lot of things. I know when to pick my battles and fight my wars.” He pulls something out of his pocket, a cigarette, and lights it. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”

“There’s much to thank you for. Where would I even begin with it all?” She leans up against the balcony railing, hand tucked beneath her chin. “Were you always so hostile?”

“The world changes people, Elizabeth,” he takes a long drag from his cigarette, “not all of us have a pretty face like you.”

She raises an eyebrow, grinning. “You think I have a pretty face?”

“Perhaps,” he nods, “or I may have had a bit too much whiskey earlier when I drank to stomach this event.”

“You really don’t like social events, huh? It’s fair, though, a lot of gossip can ruin a reputation, especially one like yours.” She looks at him, watching as the smoke flows between his lips as if he were a dragon. “Smoking’s bad for you.”

“I live a vast majority of my existence in severe pain, I think I’m entitled to some sort of guilty pleasure.” He retorts, taking another drag of his cigarette. “If it kills me, we’ll see how long I stay dead.”

“You’re depressing, morbid, really. How’d your lady ever deal with you?” Elizabeth chuckles lightly, craning her neck to stare up at the night sky.

“She didn’t have to. With her, I am the highest I’ve ever been. Without her, I cease to exist.” He watches her face, watches how she goes from being surprised to sad — inexplicably sad, like she knew exactly what he was feeling. “You should stay out here, I have a distraction to attend to.”

When he moves, she grabs his arm. It’s not hard, but it makes him wince, like a sharp pain shoots up straight through his arm into his mind and heart.

“Dance with me,” she pleads, “it’s a safe alternative and I can help repay all that you’ve done for me.”

He pauses now, this time seriously entertaining the idea. “Very well, but don’t hold onto me that tight. Despite my best attempts, I can be quite delicate on the best of days.”

“And on the worst?” She queries, brows raised.

“Do you want to dance or not, Elizabeth? I’d be more than delighted to leave you here, alone, if not.” He purses his lips, evading the question like many would a cop. He puts out his cigarette, tossing it aside when it was out. He extends a hand to her, careful, hesitant.

“How does anyone put up with you?” She snickers playfully, taking his hand. “Victoria is the real hero here, putting up with your nonsense as often as she does.”

“My nonsense keeps us all alive,” he pulls her to the dancefloor, into a waltz, “hopefully my dashingly good dance skills keep Victoria out of trouble. If not, this’ll be a very fun party that will turn very violent very quick.”

“That’s a lot of very.” She awkwardly positions her hands to dance, the hand on his shoulder barely reaching where it usually might rest.

He cocks his head to the side, amused. “You’re very small, Elizabeth. Don’t worry about where you put your hands so much as how comfortable you are. But I might suggest getting taller.”

“I’ll kick you in the shins for that, maybe it’ll make you shorter.” She huffs lightly, narrowing her eyes at him. “You can see everyone from here… I’ve never danced before… Is it always like this?”

“I haven’t danced in a while, I wouldn’t be able to tell you if it is or not.” He admits, although, it comes as easily to him as breathing. “I like the music, it’s peaceful enough, calming. Easy to get lost in.”

Elizabeth eyes him curiously, a small smile on her lips. “How come the mutants are hunted like they are?”

“Such a serious topic to discuss while dancing,” he murmurs, “a topic for another time, I’m afraid.”

They dance in silence for a moment, a beautiful, wandering silence. It’s not too long after when a sudden noise erupts from upstairs and the hostess makes a move to investigate when Andrej breaks free from the dance.

The sound rumbles again, more like an explosion this time, and people begin running, left and right. Screams of terror, some of confusion. Elizabeth clings on to his arm, watching him to see what he might do next.

“Get upstairs, find Victoria.” He pushes her to the stairs, turning his back on her once he had seen her out of harm's way.

His hands are shaking — a black water-like substance flows down from his hands, his face, like a waterfall falling from the rocks. It spills from him, devours him whole, and the tendrils of it take on the room. It covers everything, the people, in darkness. It silences them and slowly puts them to sleep, erasing what monstrous event this had become from their minds. The black seeps from him, it’s in every exhale, every inhale, every movement.

It’s cold. The darkness is cold. It’s not suffocating, or else he would have been dead years ago, but it sends a chill through his body and settles deep into his bones. For a moment longer, the smoke comes, it drowns the room, and then it’s gone — receding back the way it had come.

“Andrej,” Victoria’s voice rings in his ears, barely audible amongst the steady thrum of his heartbeat. It takes him a moment longer to get his bearings.

“They won’t be asleep for much longer, we will talk about this mishap immediately.” He clears his throat, ignoring the stares he receives.

Roscoe clears his throat. “Boss, your, uh, your skin.”

Andrej pauses to look down at his hand, finding it to be smooth, like everyone else’s, like the skin he’s dreamed of having since he was seventeen. It lasts only for a moment longer, but when his skin comes back, he doesn’t hide how it hurts him to see it again.

“Let’s go home,” he mutters, “we’ve stayed here too long.”

—

Andrej sits at his desk, staring into the crackling fire that lights his study. His mind is absent, ever present on the night’s events. He danced, and then he did what he thought he’d never do again. It’s all a mess. It’s a complete and utter mess.

“It wasn’t her fault, Andrej,” Elizabeth murmurs, sitting off to the side on the couch. Her feet are hung over the back of the couch, feet dangling and swaying from side to side. “Accidents happen all the time!”

“It shouldn’t have happened at all, Elizabeth, whether she meant for it to be so or not, it happened.” He returns, eyes narrowed. He looks away from the fire, returning his eyes to the papers on his desk.

She sits upright, watching him. “What was that whole black smoke thing? You looked pretty spooky, you know. Smoke coming out of your eyes and all that.”

“I look ‘spooky’ even without smoke coming from my eyes.” He responds, frowning at her words and even his own. “Earlier, you asked me why mutants are hunted. Would you like to know now?”

“Well, yeah, but you can’t go around hopping back to questions and avoiding other ones!” She huffs, frustrated with him no doubt.

“People fear that which they do not know. If they do not know us, know how we are the way we are, how we have powers and they don’t, they fear us. It is human nature to fear the unknown, but not like this.” He says it easily, as if it’s something he’s told himself every day like a mantra. “They rule that all of us are monsters, though, I can only say some of us are. Others are often unsung sants.”

“Do you consider yourself a monster, Andrej?” Her voice is soft, too soft for someone like him. He meets her gaze and for once, he really sees her. Her eyes are full of worry, concern, and she rights herself on the couch with her legs presumably tucked beneath her as she leans up against the back. He expected malice, some sort of anger to be found in her tone, but her tone was entirely soft, entirely kind.

It takes him longer than it should’ve to answer her, but he thinks on it, he thinks long and hard on the answer to her question. The answer to many of his own questions. “I do. The mirror tells the tale of a monster, not a man. We’re all monsters one way or another, it just depends on perspective. The Gods know I have brought fear into the hearts of many.”

“Even monsters were men once,” she whispers, so quiet that he almost missed it, “do you believe in the Gods?”

“You have so many questions, Elizabeth. I only wish I had half as many for you, but unfortunately I haven’t got an inch of curiosity left in me.” He chuckles lightly, head tilting ever so slightly. “I don’t believe in the Gods. If they were, I might have to kill them myselfs for all the pain I’ve endured.”

She inhales sharply, suppressing a giggle. “You’re very, uh, cocky? I think that might be the word I want to use for you. I look forward to seeing you defeat the Gods if you ever find that they exist.”

“I think we all deserve to punch the Gods if we ever meet them. They’ve been awfully unfair.” He snickers, smiling lightly. “Any more questions? I might just retire early tonight. My head hurts after all that trouble.”

“I do have one more: what’s on the schedule tomorrow?” Elizabeth watches him, more alert to hear what more exciting things are in store for them.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself. We won’t be doing too much tomorrow other than resting, especially after tonight. Might have a game night or something, I don’t know.” He shrugs loosely, not really caring for what a more relaxed day could hold. Business never ends.