#No game can ever come close to replacing those relationships if you maintain them correctly.

[sercphs]

Limbus... Tomorrow.

[emeraldtawny]

Edgar x OC (Eleanor): Masquerade (Pt. 2/5)

Not gonna lie, I’m writing this quicker than I thought woo~! :3

Now we know her name and we get a taste of who she might be and how her relationship with Edgar will play out. If I continue at this rate, I might have another part out tomorrow which will be neat but for now....enjoy part numero dos~

Secrets still remain, questions still remain unanswered. The mask concealing her face stops him from knowing her true face, the only notable point of reference being her striking lavender irises. Finding out who this woman is with just her eyes alone is a tough ask for anybody, even someone as skilled as Edgar. But he is far from deterred, the impulse to find this elusive woman driving him. Every spare second of his free time is spent hunting the smallest leads and every patrol his eyes are searching for her.

He is still confused with himself as to why he is so invested in this woman’s identity. Sure, she knows about him and his duties as the Jack of Hearts and that's enough of a reason to hunt her down, but he knows that's not the only factor in play. The feeling stirring inside him that maybe they're not so different from one another plagues his thoughts whenever he leaves them to run wild. He reins them back in, scolding himself for even considering there is someone who could even come close to understanding him, or knowing of the demons he has had to suppress from the world around him for fear of being discarded and left alone.

Little did he know how wrong he was to dismiss the thoughts so quickly.

Another day patrolling in the Central Quarter and another day of Edgar’s eyes drifting from person to person in the hopes of catching those purple hues in his line of sight. Beside him, Zero notices his superior’s wandering eyes, heaving a short sigh.

��You looking for something?”

Edgar grins, continuing to scan the crowd of people as he responds, “Not particularly. Just normal patrols for any less than acceptable behaviour.”

“You’re never this invested in patrols, Edgar. You’re looking for someone, aren't you? I can help if you tell me.”

Edgar chuckles under his breath, “My dear sweet Zero. You’re really asking to help me? I knew I could count on you being such a good boy.”

Zero meets Edgar’s gaze with distaste, “...On second thought, I don’t think I want to know. This seems like something I don’t want to get dragged into.”

(Very good, Zero. I don’t want you getting involved either, just in case this woman holds more cards up her sleeves than I would like her to.)

The conversation stills as both men return to their patrol. The quiet bustle of neutral territory is calm and peaceful, people going about their day with relative peace, the exceptions being those rushing through the streets for one reason or another. A subtle breeze blows past, bringing with it the smell of freshly baked pastries from one of the many bakeries littered throughout the town. The sweet scent beckoning him, Edgar turns towards the bakery and immediately his façade breaks and his mask drops, eyes widening.

There she is, sitting picturesquely outside a cafe, her legs crossed in a reserved yet elegant fashion as she leans her elbow on the table with her chin in her hand. Her hair is tucked back in a low chignon bun, loose waves of hair framing her face and leaving only the lobes of her ears poking through and revealing her subtle gold hoop earrings. She looks as disinterested as Edgar remembers from that night nearly two weeks back, her light purple eyes gazing almost listlessly at everything and nothing simultaneously. His feet move before he comprehends what he’s doing, Zero looking at him in slight bewilderment.

“Edgar?”

Silently cursing his protege being with him, he turns back to Zero, his perfectly crafted smile leaving nothing to be suspicious of, even to someone like Zero who as known of Edgar’s antics for years.

“Go back to headquarters without me, Zero. I may have found the person I was looking for and wish to have a proper catch up with them.”

His deep blue eyes narrow, before he eventually sighs, “Alright. Just don’t forget about running drills this evening.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now, run along.”

With a roll of his eyes, Zero turns and heads back to the Red Army barracks. Edgar turns towards the cafe, eyeing the woman still sitting at the table, her hand tapping idly against the glass. His smile falling into a neutral impassive wall, he approaches her with a resolve to get the answers he so desperately seeks.

As he gets closer, the smaller details of her reignite his memory of that night; her delicate hands with her nails painted jet black to match her mask, her lips coated in a gloss to catch your eye but not distract from the overall beauty of her symmetrical face. Yet one thing was missing - the piercing concentration in her bright eyes, now seemingly unfocused as she stares without purpose across the masses of people. Re-establishing his mask, Edgar’s eyes gleam as he sidles up next to her table.

“Pardon me, miss. Is this seat of yours taken?”

The haze in her vague eyes disperses and is replaced with focused laser precision in the blink of an eye, her head snapping around to look at him and his amused smile. Her lips purse in a look of disbelief before she heaves a heavy sigh, turning her face away to prop her chin upon her hand once again.

“The one day I decide not to wear bloody contact lenses…”

Edgar hums as he picks up on her hushed words, his lips spreading to reveal his teeth in a grin, “Now it all makes sense why I couldn’t find you as quickly as I would have liked. How awfully sly of you.”

His last sentence holds venom in his words, yet his face remains jovial. She hardly flinches, turning back to meet his jade eyes, her lavender hues narrowing.

“I wasn’t going to make it easy for you now, was I? The aim is to, y’know, not be found.” She sighs again, readjusting in her seat to face Edgar fully, “Well, I knew it was going to happen with time, I just wasn’t ready for it to be now.”

“You knew I’d find you?”

“I’m not an idiot. I gave the esteemed Jack of Hearts information involving something that’s supposed to be so confidential, I’d be six feet under if I didn’t play my cards right. All without ever letting slip who I was. So yeah, you’d be a right dumbass if you didn’t follow the lead. Glad to see you’re not.”

Edgar frowns as he analyses her, their eyes locked in a staring match as they both attempt to pierce the other’s defences and find holes in their armour. Both are impenetrable, leaving them at a stalemate and in a situation that is undesirable in such a crowded area - using the art of discussion.

“You never answered my question. Is the seat taken?”

She glances at the seat, her head tilting towards it in a motion that clearly says “go ahead”. Sitting down and leaning his forearms against the table, Edgar watches as she positions herself to mimic his pose, leaning against the table and meeting his gaze. With an outwardly innocent smile, Edgar asks the obvious question,

“Now then, let us start from the beginning. Who are you?”

A slight pause, before she ultimately speaks, “Eleanor. Eleanor Lancaster.”

His eyebrows raise almost imperceptibly, “Lancaster? As in that Lancaster family?”

A haze of emotion passes briefly over her eyes, Edgar sensing a nerve being struck. He presses his lips together, mulling over his thoughts.

(If I remember correctly, the Lancasters were a Black Army family running one of the largest con scams in all of Cradle. They were apprehended without warning and now their reign is through. So how does she fit into this if that is indeed her bloodline?)

Eleanor frowns, creases lining her delicate face, “I can tell what you’re thinking. I’m not telling you shit about my life if I don’t have to. I’ll tell you how I know about your “family business”,” those specific words are spoken more quietly amidst the potentially eavesdropping passers-by, “And then I’ll be on my way. Sound like a fair deal?”

“I’m afraid that won’t be enough for me.”

Edgar’s eyes harden in a way that shows it’s clear he is not joking. Eleanor mirrors his exact expression, lips scrunching together in a slight pout as she studies him, letting his words sink in.

“Care to elaborate on that leadingly vague statement?” Eleanor says, reducing the building tension immensely.

“Gladly,” Edgar leans in closer so their faces are no more than a handspan apart, a tiny flicker of a smile ghosting his lips at the subtle look of shock lighting up her eyes, “You’re going to tell me everything: how you know about my duties, how you knew why I was there that night, and what exactly your end goal is for interfering with my affairs.”

(If I can deal with this myself, the aftermath will be much less severe than if I were to involve Uncle in this. It’s in both our interests if she cooperates, so I hope she does.)

Immediately cutting off his thought at the sympathy creeping in, he maintains his poker face, watching for a flicker in her eyes. She holds his eye contact, her tongue poking out between her lips as she bites down lightly, a subconscious action from her deep thoughts, Edgar concludes. After a moment, she closes her eyes as a ghost of a sigh escapes into the air around them.

“It’s going to take more than one afternoon to tell you everything.”

“I can make time for the things that interest me. And you certainly do.”

Her eyes dart away, the subtlest shade of pink dusting over her high cheekbones causing Edgar to grin and chuckle amiably. With a “tch” sound leaving her lips in annoyance, Eleanor returns her gaze to his, her frown dominating her features.

“Couldn’t be any more on the nose could you, you shameless bastard?” She sighs, leaning back to re-establish distance between the two of them, “Fine. I can’t deny that you interest me too, so I’ll play your game as long as you play mine.”

Edgar grins, feeling oddly delighted by her agreeing to his demands. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. I have a feeling that we’re playing the same game so, if we both abide by the rules, we should both get what we want from this.”

It’s at this point that a waiter approaches the table, setting a pain au chocolat in front of Eleanor with a professional smile.

“Here you are, ma’am,” His gaze flicks to Edgar before asking, “Anything for you, sir?”

With a smile in return, Edgar looks to Eleanor, his demeanour more relaxed than intended as he responds, “A hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, if you would.”

With a nod, the waiter dashes off, leaving the two alone once again. Their discussion begins simply, speaking as if they are old friends catching up after a long time apart, their interaction civil and yet oddly exciting to both participants. Their words are carefully chosen so as not to arouse suspicion from the general public, unknowingly tightening the tether that binds them together; the tether of their unspeakable experiences from their upbringings, while the truly terrible feelings both have repressed for years threaten to break free with the oddly comforting feeling that the other knows of their struggle.