gabriel l. corner (coverstory) wrote in valesco,
@ 2009-12-30 12:18:00

Entry tags:

adelaide jordan, amery wilkes, arcturus macmillan, bertram aubrey, bess fawcett, braith selwyn, cecilia hooke, chester scabior, christopher loftus, donovan rookwood, drystan fawcett, edward pennifold, erin kirke, euan abercrombie, gabriel corner, giada dorny, graeme dorny, grayson wilkes, greta catchlove, group, isobel macmillan, jonas ackerly, kingsley shacklebolt, kobe ackerly, mackenzie goldstein, magnolia mattias, prisca loftus, rafe kirke, rebecca abercrombie, sebastian goldstein, winnifred llewellyn

Corner/Englewood Wedding! For New Year's Eve!
Getting married was absolutely terrifying. No matter how smoothly Gabriel proceeded through the planning, the discussions, and the actual event, he was holding back getting sick the second he could catch a moment to himself. He knew he didn't love Rachel yet, which might be the reason why he was finding himself so nervous as they sat at the head table of their reception, but he did honestly---he did honestly believe that he could fall in love with this woman. She was fiery with a mind of her own, and though some people might be irritated by it, Gabriel actually appreciated the way she took control of things. He had always been a bit of a follower, and it was easy to agree with Rachel because her reasoning simply made sense.

The reception did look fantastic. Gabriel couldn't believe it was all put together within two short months, but then again he was learning that Rachel was a woman who set her goals and refused to leave them unfinished. Maybe he should look at that as a good thing; surely someone who did not want to get married would not have put so much effort into the ceremony? Or she simply wanted to throw the most beautiful wedding of them all, simply because she could. He didn't know, and didn't mind not finding out as long as they remained content with each other.

He did find her very interesting, however, and that was the first thing a Ravenclaw looked for in a spouse. Maybe all of his concerns were for naught, and it was simply wedding day jitters. His parents had been arranged in a similar manner, and they were still quite happily married (and sometimes nauseatingly sweet about it, too). Gabriel turned and smiled at Rachel, pushing his chair out and offering his hand, "Would you like to dance?"

A chorus of glasses clinging supported Gabriel, and he flushed slightly at all the attention that was on them, once again.

ooc: guest list! We did our best, but if we missed someone let us know!

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glovesmandatory
2010-01-04 12:25 am UTC (link)

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Yes, he could agree on some points -- but that was just a sacrifice for the cause, something to be expected. If Amery was too selfish to see that -- no. He wasn't going to fight about this or get Amery to rile him up.

"You may continue to think that for as long as you wish, Amery. The fact is that this ... is the easier way." For the both of them, but (at least in his opinion) for Amery especially. "You know what they'll do to you."

The fact that Grayson always sounded so angry, so calm about things, should have made the concern and hurt in his voice extremely obvious to Amery. "Do you honestly think that He would hesitate in hurting our sisters over this, Amery? If he found out..." It would be over for all of them.

"Don't worry, brother. I will make it quick." He didn't want to think about this any longer or he was going to lose his nerve. He stepped forward, hand still in his pocket, and pressed hard against Amery's shoulder to usher him back into the secluded room.

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otets
2010-01-04 01:03 am UTC (link)

He did not fight the shoulder on his hand. Half of him knew that what Grayson said was the truth—it was to his great fortune that no one besides his own brother had discovered his secret. As for the other half, it refused to accept defeat, to accept death, and one he was certain would be in vain—everything he'd been doing for the last few months would be for naught, and his attempt at retribution would be pitiful. One thing was for certain, and that was that there would be that a Wilkes boy was dying that day, the only question remaining which one. So, would he fight for his life, like a coward? Or would he accept the hand that had been dealt to him, that hand which resulted from his cold, unthinking fury, simply bent on revenge—more importantly, would he endanger the lives of his family, so that he might live?

No.

And in that moment, the fight left him. He would not, he could not. If, in a moment of weakness, he'd allow his sisters, his nieces and nephews, even his brother, to be harmed because of his foolishness, Grayson would stop him. He liked to think that, were the roles reversed, he'd be strong enough to do the same.

Amery took a step back, of his own volition, surveying the room. It was a sorry place to die, indeed, grand in its own right, but hardly poetic. Perhaps it was fitting. Lifting his arms in an open display, as if asking to be embraced, he clenched his teeth tightly.

"So be it," he said, simply.

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glovesmandatory
2010-01-04 01:23 am UTC (link)

He was oh-so glad that Amery wasn't going to fight - it would make things easier. And although they weren't an especially affectionate family, it seemed altogether too appropriate right now to wrap his arm around Amery's shoulder as he brought the dagger from his pocket, plunging it into the other man's thigh. Perhaps a strange place to stab someone, but puncturing the right artery meant that he could bleed to death as quickly as possible.

Grayson held on tightly to the other man despite the fact that the blood would stain his clothes, unwilling to pull away from Amery in these last moments.

Family was ... important when direct, when they relied on you for things. Like now.

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otets
2010-01-04 01:37 am UTC (link)

The sea of calm Amery had been afloat in throughout the entire encounter was broken, as time was now passing twice as fast. He could plainly hear the gay noise of the reception, beyond the door and outside the small courtyard, just as the light seemed to intensify, blinding him. His own heartbeat was like a rapid drum in his head, the gasps and wheezes and half-groans thunderous in their own right.

He clung to Grayson's shoulders, trying to still his desire to thrash, to keep the pain at bay. Only then did he realize how much death made him want to stay with his family, with his brother, and just when it was too late. Amery had never seen just how much he valued his place in the family, his so-called "obligation," until it was being taken away. Suddenly, he thought he'd do anything to bring it back. But while that was impossible, there was one thing, he thought, that might suffice.

"Not here," he gasped suddenly, trying to jerk away from Grayson's grasp. "Not—take me—to Louisa—please, brother—"

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glovesmandatory
2010-01-04 01:44 am UTC (link)

He supposed it made sense that Amery wanted to go to his sister, even if she was something of a traitor and a little ... odd. They had been twins, after all. It was a reasonable request. Grayson gritted his teeth and held Amery tighter against him as he apparated.

Funny that he even knew where it was, considering he'd gone only to the funeral and not to see her since then. It was starting to get dark and it seemed ... calm. That was good, since witnesses would just mean more people to take care of and clean up.

"I'm here. We're here."

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otets
2010-01-04 02:23 am UTC (link)

Apparating, even Side-Along, used the last vestige of his strength. As soon as Grayson had spoke, Amery knew they'd arrived, and he crumpled. This was where he belonged, after everything. It was like coming home to someone who'd always accept him—even if that was the last thing Louisa would ever have done before she died. Now, she'd take him home, flaws and all.

He looked down at the fatal wound for the first time, noticing the crimson was less blooming so much as it was flowing down his front. It was a spot that was not unacquainted with his brother's blade, now that he thought of it. While black spots dotted his vision, Amery gazed at Grayson's robes with a certain amount of sorrow, deliriously phasing in and out. "Your front—" he murmured. "It's ruined."

Taking one deep breath, Amery gazed up with an intent look at Grayson's eyes, alert for the last time. "Thank you—," meaning not for his resting site, nor even for the mercy of the kill, but merely as a means of asking for forgiveness, and for the gift of family, even if he had not realized its worth as he thought he had.

Closing his eyes, he thought not of the Dark Lord, or his transgressions, the war, or even of the end of his life. Instead, he remembered his family, as they were children, and contented himself on returning to those days.

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