#muse; siobhan rose haverford

[rebelthree]

@everythingheard (lucas) continued from x

fidget. fidget. hands grip at her sleeves in a less than calm manner, worrying the fabric in a stark contrast to the meditative position they are sitting in; it’s the only indication of her unease as she works to mask her expression. siobhan has worn a blind fold a total of three times in her life (not counting the taking on an off of the item multiple times during the first instance)– two of which had been negative experiences, the third yet to be determined. perhaps that’s why she jokes about it– false confidence. the feel of the fabric around her eyes as young hands and feet scratch and kick outward can be recalled as if it is yesterday– the family of a diplomat kidnapped. the second time had been when she was much older and dorian had asked her, siobhan initially refusing until she’d allowed him to wear her down, feeling as if she’d done something wrong. the blind fold had lasted less than five minutes before she’d pulled away from him, choosing to spend the night watching television on the couch. he’d spent the next week at his friend’s place, seemingly punishing her with his lack of presence. (was it any wonder things hadn’t worked out between them?) the third time, well, while siobhan was fairly confident cassie would find a way to haunt his arse if he hurt her, she was somewhat in awe of herself for her agreement to wearing one now. why did she feel confident enough to allow it with lucas (even if she was fidgeting up a storm) when, despite it being an extremely different kind of situation, she wasn’t with dorian?

siobhan has little time to ponder this further when lucas speaks, a frown now creasing her features. “i shouldn’t have called you creepy before.” it was a statement which would appear to haunt her. “i don’t really think you’re creepy. i just– i’m not good with blindfolds, i don’t like feeling so…” she trails off a moment before speaking again. “ah, so that’s it! shame on those meddling ghosts for putting a damper on your serial killer desires.” her voice is lighter now, teasing as her tone steadies, though her hands seem to maintain a firm grip on her sleeves, nerves still eating away at her. “i’ll grant you, dexter is kind of attractive. you have more of the tall, dark, and handsome vibe going for you.” was it ill-taste to be joking about serial killers, all things considered? if anything it proved she was less calm than she outwardly seemed; at this rate, she would never fully relax.

“it would definitely be less frightening at times.” siobhan agrees. “that makes sense. it does.” she adds, working to steady her heartrate. “bloody hell, if the doctor can save the planet with a screwdriver i can handle a blindfold.” she isn’t entirely sure if she’s speaking to him or trying to psych herself up. “how does this work if cassie’s the only ghost in the building? do i try to sense her?” as she speaks, determination seems to cross siobhan’s features… she can feel the way the fabric rubs against her hair, remembers her sister crying next to her… breath is taken and then released, siobhan reaching her hands outward until they find his as if a decision has been made even if her own mind hasn’t caught up to her actions yet. somehow, she’s chosen him to become her lifeline in this situation instead of her now stretched sleeves. “can you just let me hold your hands?” did she really just ask him that?

[historiestold-a]

@everythingheard (for lucas) | GHOST ENCOUNTERS

     soft shuffling on the staircase can be heard at half past two in the morning as siobhan returns home the first night of the newest resident moving into the flat below her. she’s been informed by the landlord about it being lent though, as siobhan peers at his door in passing, she remains unsure why her father had seemed so displeased when the subject of her building had come up days prior. (she’ll later surmise through cassie that it was due to him uncovering the resident’s previous dabble into occult house calls.) voice tired and frustrated rises, muffled through the floor siobhan seems to argue though no other voice is heard. at a quarter past four in the morning a piece of classical music-- that cassie often played-- pierces the night loudly through siobhan’s speakers, footfalls darting across the upper floor as siobhan turns it off and narrows her eyes at someone. the same happens an hour later and siobhan had half a mind to chew cassie out if it hadn’t been for the fact she understood--at least on some level-- her desperation to reach out. siobhan just didn’t want to be the mediator for which it happened. 

     the next day there is a brief encounter in the stairwell as she’s dashing out, bare arm brushing against the man as they pass each other and siobhan offers a quick introduction and apologies both for bumping into him and the music he may have heard hours prior. however, siobhan is out the door before much else can be expressed which prompts a series of loud radio bursts to emit from her apartment when she’s gone as if someone was venting out their frustrations. a stalemate occurs for the next two days after her father leaves her a half-veiled message that if she's feeling stressed it might be good for her to talk to ‘someone’ again (namely a doctor who has been vetted by him). siobhan had only slipped up once in mentioning a friend named cassie during dinner but that appeared enough to set his radar off (she’d been stupid to think he hadn’t looked into her apartment’s history before she’d moved in). call her paranoid but somehow his all too easily given support in her moving into the flat suddenly seemed more test than pride in his daughter beginning the next stage of her life. 

     it’s the day following that features soft pacing from upstairs and siobhan's voice on the stairs stating something along the lines of ‘that’s easy for you to say, you’re not the one he’s going to think went mental’. siobhan doesn’t like feeling as exposed as she’s about to make herself. doesn’t like the feeling that wells up inside her and twists her insides as she moves down the stairs. (failed auditions would hurt less than this.) the fact she could see ghosts like cassie was a part of herself she didn’t share with anyone except when it had been practically forced from her by dorian after an incident, let alone a stranger, so why was she knocking on his door? if siobhan was honest, it came with a rather simple answer: it wasn’t fair to cassie for her not to do this for her-- not after cassie had lost everything she’d known and siobhan had taken over her home. and so, when the man answers, siobhan’s quick to get to the point though no acting talent could hide her awkwardness and perhaps slight fear. “so i fully understand that this is going to sound quite mad-- though if what she told me is true, which i have no reason to doubt her, it won’t sound that strange.. but as you know, i live upstairs... and cassie wants to speak with you.” the fact that cassie calls down the stairs that ‘that wasn’t so hard, now was it?’ helps matters about as much as can be expected. 

[rebelthree]

@everythingheard​​ asked: ❛ I said Renaissance era, not Renaissance festival. ❜ (Lucas to Siobhan)

while the entirety of the day had been long (her engaging in two shakespearian stage performances rather than the typical one) siobhan does not feel exceptionally tired, rather the crisp night air as it blows through her hair– still styled as hamlet’s ophelia– grants her energy as they walk. or was it the company? it had certainly been a surprise to see him in the audience as the house lights were raised, a kind of energized flutter within her at the realization his presence there had made her smile just a little bit brighter as she bowed to the crowd. she’d been quick to ask one of the ushers to bring him back stage, apologizing for the wait as she changed. then, they’d exited the theater leading them into their current conversation, her sometimes at his side and sometimes walking backward as they talked as if their everyday lives weren’t filled with ghosts and serial killers. it was as if.. as if a switch had been flicked somewhere in the middle of blind-folded training sessions and the hunt for a murderer where they had gone from quasi-work acquaintances to.. could it be friends? and she couldn’t pin-point the exact moment it happened. it couldn’t be denied, she enjoyed spending time with him and certainly didn’t think him creepy any longer, or, in the least, he was her brand of creepy.

“that’s too bad, here i thought you were asking me on a date. it certainly could have been fun.” dark hues linger for a moment, body tilted slightly toward him as she allows her meaning to wash over him before turning on her heel and jogging away from him to look over the railing of the queen’s walk. almost as if the water was drawing her in like her character in the play. while she did enjoy nature, it was nights like this, with the lights of the city reflecting in the river, she loved london. “i hate the way i feel when my father looks at me as if something is wrong with me. but– i think i finally understand his point of view now.” she comments when lucas joins her, a kind of sad expression creasing her features; she wasn’t excusing her father’s behavior but she could understand it better now. “dorian used to do it too, though that was different.” she lets her dark hues meet his gaze again, a breath is exhaled as if she’s washing something from her mind, ridding it from her and casting it into the water below.  then her features brighten. “but i don’t feel that way with you. i feel.. normal. i feel like myself.” she’s not entirely sure what’s prompting this sudden urge of honesty to spill out of her. perhaps she was more tired than she realized, or perhaps.. it was truly the first time she’d felt able to be at least a little carefree, felt able to just be herself without worrying about perceptions or a litany of other things. strangely enough, it made her feel brave. “are you sure you don’t want to go to a renaissance festival? i look wicked in medieval clothing.”

[rebelthree]

@everythingheard​​ asked: “…i’m here if you need anything, okay?” (for siobhan from lucas)

the day has been rough in that way which makes one’s shoulders hunch slightly and features look worn. headache radiates throughout her head causing a pause upon staircase outside lucas’ apartment. it’s only one more flight to hers and yet it feels as if she’s been asked to climb the eiffel tower only to find a chatterbox at the top. she loves cassie almost like a sister which often causes an ache in siobhan’s chest when she remembers that while she can see the woman, cassie had been murdered just as her own sister had been. that said, cassie’s animated nature was not something siobhan could easily handle after half a day with her father and his fishing questions. and so she lets herself slide onto the stair, a breath in and out as hands travel to her temples completely unaware of the fact someone has entered the hallway and is speaking to her. or had he been there the whole time and she just been oblivious? oh, how she must look! frown creases features as she stands up quickly, a pain in her head causing her lips to part as she reaches out for the railing only to find she grabs his arm instead. she doesn’t let go though.

no, when lucas’ words wash over her, hazel hues blink once and then twice as if siobhan was one of the androids in two souls. she hadn’t entirely been sure what made her start watching it that night she’d returned after their first meeting– perhaps it had been curiosity over the newest resident she’d almost run over in the hall (he’d made more of an impression in that brief exchange than she’d let on at the time, something unshakable about him as the scene played out in her mind later that night. and now they’d found themselves in this strange and undefined middle ground with a ghost best friend between them and a serial killer on the loose. grip tightens slightly, lips parting again in an almost shocked expression as if she’s been suddenly drenched by a bucket of water. ‘i’m here if you need anything’ he tells her and she’s not quite sure she’s ever heard someone say that before– at least not with the same level of sincerity behind it which his voice evokes. if nothing else, she believed there were no ulterior motives with him. being around lucas felt.. simple, natural, comfortable in a way she’s never quite experienced.

“you’re far too nice to someone you barely know. what if i don’t deserve a knight in shining armor?“ free hand rises up to touch the side of his face before fingers curl back into her palm as if the action had surprised even her; a part of her hadn’t wanted to move at all though she pushes that urge down. “if you mean that, i could use a cuppa–” ‘something strong’ is left unsaid but implied by her tone before a pause lingers when music seems to play from the upstairs radio; siobhan hasn’t let go of his arm yet. “i love her but–” she wasn’t sure she’d be able to go upstairs without snapping at her– of no fault of the cassie’s, but rather, the day siobhan’s had.

[historiestold-a]

@everythingheard​ (for lucas)

     “you know, if you wanted me in a blind-fold there were less creepy and more fun ways to go about it.” words emit in an effort to calm her uneasiness as almost-silence continues to permeate the flat; in the wake of her voice only sounds of the other’s soft footfalls and the rainfall outside hitting the windows with a tap tap tap are heard. it’s too quiet, teeth biting at her lip as she feels cloth pulled into a knot against her hair. to be honest, he’s lucky she even allowed it considering siobhan isn’t fully sure why she trusted him so firmly to begin with. she supposed it had something to do with him being cassie’s friend for what else could explain it? 

     “what exactly is this blindfold meant to achieve? i merely see the dead, it’s not as if i can do what you do.” mild frustration emits in tone, fingers beginning to fidget with the long-sleeves she so loved to wear. this wasn’t a role where she stepped into a character’s life and then stepped out of it. this was her life. her abilities. her senses and the man who had just tied the blindfold was still a relative stranger.. well, acquaintance.. no, friend of a friend. he was something! a something that she had no business allowing to blindly blindfold her in his apartment. wasn’t this how horror movies began?! (she hadn’t even been cast in one yet!) “--and how is this going to help us catch a killer? i swear, if you murder me i will haunt you.” she doesn’t like feeling so exposed even if it was only her eyesight which was temporarily obscured.

[historiestold-a]

@everythingheard​ asked: ❛ I said Renaissance era, not Renaissance festival. ❜ (Lucas to Siobhan)

while the entirety of the day had been long (her engaging in two shakespearian stage performances rather than the typical one) siobhan does not feel exceptionally tired, rather the crisp night air as it blows through her hair-- still styled as hamlet’s ophelia-- grants her energy as they walk. or was it the company? it had certainly been a surprise to see him in the audience as the house lights were raised, a kind of energized flutter within her at the realization his presence there had made her smile just a little bit brighter as she bowed to the crowd. she’d been quick to ask one of the ushers to bring him back stage, apologizing for the wait as she changed. then, they’d exited the theater leading them into their current conversation, her sometimes at his side and sometimes walking backward as they talked as if their everyday lives weren’t filled with ghosts and serial killers. it was as if.. as if a switch had been flicked somewhere in the middle of blind-folded training sessions and the hunt for a murderer where they had gone from quasi-work acquaintances to.. could it be friends? and she couldn’t pin-point the exact moment it happened. it couldn’t be denied, she enjoyed spending time with him and certainly didn’t think him creepy any longer, or, in the least, he was her brand of creepy. 

“that’s too bad, here i thought you were asking me on a date. it certainly could have been fun.” dark hues linger for a moment, body tilted slightly toward him as she allows her meaning to wash over him before turning on her heel and jogging away from him to look over the railing of the queen’s walk. almost as if the water was drawing her in like her character in the play. while she did enjoy nature, it was nights like this, with the lights of the city reflecting in the river, she loved london. “i hate the way i feel when my father looks at me as if something is wrong with me. but-- i think i finally understand his point of view now.” she comments when lucas joins her, a kind of sad expression creasing her features; she wasn’t excusing her father’s behavior but she could understand it better now. “dorian used to do it too, though that was different.” she lets her dark hues meet his gaze again, a breath is exhaled as if she’s washing something from her mind, ridding it from her and casting it into the water below.  then her features brighten. “but i don’t feel that way with you. i feel.. normal. i feel like myself.” she’s not entirely sure what’s prompting this sudden urge of honesty to spill out of her. perhaps she was more tired than she realized, or perhaps.. it was truly the first time she’d felt able to be at least a little carefree, felt able to just be herself without worrying about perceptions or a litany of other things. strangely enough, it made her feel brave. “are you sure you don’t want to go to a renaissance festival? i look wicked in medieval clothing.”

[historiestold-a]

@everythingheard​ asked: “...i’m here if you need anything, okay?” (for siobhan from lucas)

the day has been rough in that way which makes one’s shoulders hunch slightly and features look worn. headache radiates throughout her head causing a pause upon staircase outside lucas’ apartment. it’s only one more flight to hers and yet it feels as if she’s been asked to climb the eiffel tower only to find a chatterbox at the top. she loves cassie almost like a sister which often causes an ache in siobhan’s chest when she remembers that while she can see the woman, cassie had been murdered just as her own sister had been. that said, cassie’s animated nature was not something siobhan could easily handle after half a day with her father and his fishing questions. and so she lets herself slide onto the stair, a breath in and out as hands travel to her temples completely unaware of the fact someone has entered the hallway and is speaking to her. or had he been there the whole time and she just been oblivious? oh, how she must look! frown creases features as she stands up quickly, a pain in her head causing her lips to part as she reaches out for the railing only to find she grabs his arm instead. she doesn’t let go though. 

no, when lucas’ words wash over her, hazel hues blink once and then twice as if siobhan was one of the androids in two souls. she hadn't entirely been sure what made her start watching it that night she’d returned after their first meeting-- perhaps it had been curiosity over the newest resident she’d almost run over in the hall (he’d made more of an impression in that brief exchange than she’d let on at the time, something unshakable about him as the scene played out in her mind later that night. and now they’d found themselves in this strange and undefined middle ground with a ghost best friend between them and a serial killer on the loose. grip tightens slightly, lips parting again in an almost shocked expression as if she’s been suddenly drenched by a bucket of water. ‘i’m here if you need anything’ he tells her and she’s not quite sure she’s ever heard someone say that before-- at least not with the same level of sincerity behind it which his voice evokes. if nothing else, she believed there were no ulterior motives with him. being around lucas felt.. simple, natural, comfortable in a way she’s never quite experienced. 

“you're far too nice to someone you barely know. what if i don't deserve a knight in shining armor?" free hand rises up to touch the side of his face before before fingers curl back into her palm as if the action had surprised even her; a part of her hadn't wanted to move at all though she pushes that urge down. “if you mean that, i could use a cuppa--” 'something strong' is left unsaid but implied by her tone before a pause lingers when music seems to play from the upstairs radio; siobhan hasn't let go of his arm yet. “i love her but--” she wasn't sure she'd be able to go upstairs without snapping at her-- of no fault of the cassie's, but rather, the day siobhan's had.