#ugh children are so impressionable keep the countess AWAY

[embodies]

truthfully, the countess doesn't know why she cares so deeply. the juxtaposition is clear to anyone around her, for so often she cares very little if at all. there is room there for very little, so what still fits inside means more to me than ever. it means everything. it is as instinctual as breathing to her, the need to safeguard the vulnerable and take them under the wing. there is no immediate connection to why she yearns to protect these ugly ducklings : she was no outcast in society in her prime, was in fact moderately successful, beautiful, admired. but inside she housed her ugly truth, has maybe always related more to the trolls than the starlets. hollywood is not immune from taboo, perhaps more of a secret cesspool of scandal at its core. she has seen the affairs, the assaults, the lies. she has been a thread in the fabric of debauchery. let it unravel.

the echo of her mantra permits for a pang of pride, warm and sticky in the cavity of her chest. a salve to years of abuse. she has known what it is like to pick up the pieces of one's self, shattered and irreparable one makes oneself anew. when the artistic process is complete, the masterpiece one's left with is not recognisable to its previous parts. elizabeth and the countess are two sides of one thoroughly rusted coin. she can only hope jane finds her counterpart in the walls of the cortez. ❛ that's it. ❜ gentle susurrations of encouragement, barely a breath on the wind, a nod of the head, a squeeze of the arm. she senses the girl's cup filling to the brim, close to overwhelming from the revelations beheld unto her. poor thing.

she thinks of the girl's questions, considers who hurt her — james is shackled to this hotel as tightly as she. not a day passes where she doesn't wish he could be extinguished, snuffed out as simply as blowing out a candle. she has looked at spells and incantations, entertaining any and all rumoured solutions to her vermin problem. that man has taken everything she has loved away from her and built his empire on top of it, trapped her in like a bird in a cage before taking away her light. maybe chasing your assailants for vengeance is not always as glorious as it initially seems.

❛ it certainly might. sometimes it's enough just to be rid of them in your . . . presence. ❜ life is too sensitive a word. they are both dead as leaves crisped in fall's wake, as cobwebs in neglected ceiling corners. their only solace is one another. ❛ you must be exhausted. think not on it for now. you've done well. ❜ praise is warm and enveloping, eyes seizing the child's once more. ❛ we've got all the time in the world. ❜ don't they just.

@shadowedvales.

she was supposed to inherit her mother's glee and father's compassion. she succeeded terry's incomparable grief and andrew's doomed fate, instead. the womb was barren, the child buried, the name janessa alexandra ives bore a birth and death certificate at a mere thirteen years. a weaker descendant may have crumpled, but she'd grasped her afflictions before, burned them in her body and continued carrying. she would prevail as long as it took. assumption rots in the mouth, similar to the seeds of a pomegranate; lost inside suffocating shadows seeking clarity that her battle forth proposed triumph. it did, jane realised [now more than ever, with this guardian hovering, welcoming her in], but it was akin to a flame facing a jarring breeze than any provided stability. look to the right, look to the left: never assume nor allow perception to lose its clutch on the horrors of reality.

she watched elizabeth carefully, the way she investigated, cradled her arm under profound tenderness; it sent a chill down her spine, merciful and unfamiliar. unaccustomed to touch so cautious, she became the lifeboat that jane clung onto in the ocean of her rocky, uncertain memories. held so very tight, anchoring to a better place. it's why she didn't shy back, why she allowed her skin to be explored, why her gaze didn't leave the bewitching face peering upon her as if she were worth the attention. she even offered a smile, small and not quite representing her emotions, but there. it failed to send the infested tragedy astray, but it existed, and that was enough. "yes." she is quick in admittance, feeling like she'd be caught in the lie if she denied the pain. "not always. just sometimes. it is okay, i am used to it."

hesitation tempted her, but that stammering heart of hers resisted. people like him? jane scarcely remembered fragments of his malevolence, and somehow more like him roamed about? walked amongst the world she was so horribly deprived? "we..." the woman's voice vibrated throughout her rotting framework, a demanded mantra, laying a claim of strength, refusing release. jane pulled in a harsh breath, [the night was forever, its terrors ceaseless; best remove yourself quickly as possible, little one. she is offering you power, take it!], jutting her chin in some weak challenge of capability. "we possess," she repeated. tone lacked true demand of control, but her shoulders squared a fraction, and her glance no longer faltered. it mightn't last, but it was a start.

why did she care so dearly? there's a devotion present which jane hadn't experienced before. the air is thick, heavy, sticks to her flesh, to her lungs— for the first time in decades something seemed to be churning to life in the disintegration of her being. a kind of confidence proven by her features narrowing, her grip in elizabeth's losing its intensity, slowly relaxing. "maybe. i do not— i think—" far too much to mull over. with this newfound simmer of assertiveness, she turned her eyes directly into her companion's, daring to speak out. "would you?" all that was happening around her, recognition placed by such an intelligent, beautiful figure had jane fumbling, speech not stringing together in the way she wished. "if. if somebody bad hurt you. would finding them... help?"