Wounded Prey (July 17th 2050)

Eglantine awoke as the gentle morning light caressed her face and bathed the room in pale yellow. Her eyes blinked wearily as she shifted under the light comforter. The weather was far too warm for the normally heavy blankets that now sat folded and stacked within her linen closet. Just as Sevie's bed sheets sat beside them due to his staying that summer with his good friend George Blethyn. Ironically her current pillow happened to be a Blethyn himself... although he was hardly in any way related to young pudgy George, save through blood of course.

"Good morning, love." she whispered, propping herself up on an elbow and gently stroking his smooth cheek. The night before she had assisted him in shaving it, amid a few bottles of Petit Verdot and London cheesecake. It had led from the couch within the sitting room straight to the water closet where the wine and cheesecake had been exchanged for washcloths and the delightful rush of warm water and soothing company.

"Good night was better..." Felipe grumbled, pulling her on top of him and eagerly kissing her lips. Normally she would have melted against him, lost in the wonderful manner in which he expressed his love, but not now. When she failed to return the kiss, Felipe's eyebrows knitted together and he sat up, bringing her into his lap as he did so. "What's wrong?" It was more of an accusation than a comforting offer of condolence, but Felipe was not a man to whom kindness was second nature. He was not like Horatio; more as an evil twin than anything else and that had attracted and tethered Eglantine affection to him. The darkness that flitted within his stormy eyes. His masked hatred for the world he secretly loved... the lack of shown love showed a deeper feeling that she had felt lacking in her husband.

His hands trailed to touch her scarred back, although he had no idea where she had gotten such grievous wounds from. More scars marked her chest and in manner of ways left little of her body unmarked. A lifetime of danger and dark arts had painted its illustrations upon her.

"When is anything right?" Eglantine countered, kissing his cheek and then his chin. Her scarred hand touched his bare shoulder and a smirk signature to her animagus form rose from the ashes of her tired mind. "Who was Danielle?" she asked, teasingly as a fading tattoo became unglamoured by her whispered spell.
"Eh..." Felipe glanced at where her fingers touched and chuckled at the name. "In my teen years, for a dare I had her name etched on my shoulder..."

"Why didn't you remove it?" she asked, never having taken him as the nostalgic sort. He shrugged.
"It's magical... can't charm it off without taking my shoulder with it."
Eglantine chuckled, moving off his lap to stand beside the bed, pulling the sheet off the bed to wrap around her body.
"Breakfast?" she asked, moving to open the window.

Felipe ignored the question, instead his eyes straying to her lithe sheet-draped form. Her age had done nothing to in any way mare her physical beauty and with the morning light shining through the window, she looked ethereally angelic. Shaking his head, he grabbed his trousers and pulled them on, wondering where his robes had gone to...

"Felipe?" He glanced up from his dressing to find her standing a mere step away.
"What?" His snap only increased the amount of mirth in her green orbs and he bit his lip. How could anyone be so cute and yet such a damn annoyance.
"Breakfast." she repeated, her sharp nails tracing the red lines on his bare back.
"Anything is fine..." he managed to breath, his mind only able to grip onto the feeling of her cool touch. At his age, he would have thought that romance had been left far behind him... but that did not appear to be the case.

"Eglantine..."

Both the owner of the name and Felipe turned to see who had spoken, eyes leveling at the the worn figure of one Horatio McKevin. Felipe desired nothing more than to attack the man, who had all but abandoned the woman he now held in his arms. But then, thanking him, would also gain the desired reaction...

"Horatio..." Eglantine returned, looking hardly shamed for having been caught in the very definition of adultery. To his surprise, Felipe found her nails continued to stroke his back... and his muddled mind gathered that she was enjoying the brief moment of victory over her likewise unfaithful spouse.

For his credit, Horatio took the scene quite well, although the lines around his eyes deepened and his mouth tightened. Gnarled hands remained stiffly at his sides and his voice, when he did speak, was level... confident. He looked haggard, his belly no longer holding the slightly pudge that most his age assorted with hot chocolate, candy, biscuits and cakes...

"I have returned." he stated, looking more at Felipe than Eglantine.
"So I see." Eglantine chuckled, moving from Felipe's embrace to walk up to Horatio. The sheet trailed after her and she looked every bit the lustful temptress that Horatio had once claimed her to be.

Teeth clenching tightly, Felipe watched as Horatio took her marred hand and kissed it. The man was a gentleman, down to his cursed toes and it only increased the hatred Felipe felt against him. He'd already claimed Eglantine as his own and Horatio's return was not wanted in any way. Truth would be revealed and he knew she would 'return' to her husband, regardless of her love for him. Of all things her family was more important to her than his or her heart.

"And what do you want of me, Horatio?" she asked, her head tipped back to meet his blue eyes.
"Only your forgiveness." the older man murmured, tears glistening to add to his reply.
Charmer... Felipe fumed inwardly. A line like that would make nearly any woman melt against his broad chest. And even though Eglantine was not like most... she would succumb to it in time.
"You already were given it." she returned, eyes stone-like against his deep pain.
"Indeed... but neither of us truly forgave or apologized." he murmured.

Eglantine laughed softly, turning from Horatio to go to her closet. A wave of her hand clothed her in her black robes and the sheet was tucked neatly upon the bed.
"How shallow..." she hissed, her laughter morphing into a blanket fury of which Felipe had never been witness to before. "I forgave you... and you left me." her tone was such that Felipe found himself swallowing even as Horatio looked only further shamed. "I do not want you... I regret every moment we ever spent together."
Pain flared through Horatio's chest as her words sunk like the daggers they were into his heart.

"Surely you can find but a streak of love remaining for me." Horatio murmured.
Eglantine shrugged, pulling her gloves on.
"No... not this time." she replied, although the fury had lessened and the stone calm had reasserted itself.

For the first time, Felipe thought about leaving them alone to discuss their failed marriage. Summoning his robes, he slipped them on and made his way to the bedroom door.
"I'll make breakfast." he murmured, leaving.

Silence remained the unspoken conversing as neither Horatio nor Eglantine continued what had so long ago been left unfinished. Last time... it had been Horatio to wound Eglantine with his words. Now... it was Eglantine's turn to write barbs upon his heart. It was fitting and by definition, most poetic.

"I do not care about him." Horatio whispered, taking a step closer to Eglantine's stiff form. Her scent, so long ago smelt, filled his mind and he sighed, longing for the days in which he would have pulled her against him, burying his face in her soft hair. Back when her soft laughter would heal the wounds others had given him. Almost subconsciously, he reached out for her, and whether by accident or simple distraction, she allowed his touch against her robed arm.

He hated to see her enshrouded in black. It was too similar to the shrouds one wrapped a corpse in. With equal loathing, he viewed her gloves, knowing why the material guarded her delicate hands. Black... she surrounded herself with it... even to the man who had apparently taken his place within her bed... and heart. Her views and practices into the dark arts were not on trial at the moment and he forced himself to come back to just her and him. It was difficult; as she appeared to have changed horrifically from the pure woman he had once known.

"I do..." she whispered, pale hair still loose around her shoulders, framing her equally pale face and black attire. She was a paradox within herself. The face of an angel with the soul of a devil. And then it returned to him, just as his hatred of her attire had. The reasons that he had left her in the first place... his continual belief that the woman he loved was gone; dead as Excessum's bitter name. Releasing her arm, Horatio moved to grip her shoulders with both of his larger hands. With a thought he could crush her like a twig. But the thought passed.

"We both have sinned." he sighed, his thumb stroking her soft cheek. She leaned into his touch, shocking him.
"I more so than you." she agreed, the smooth material of her gloves feeling foreign against his roughly shaven cheeks.
"So far... we have come so far, my dear." Horatio embraced her fully, enveloping her smaller frame within his arms.
"But all good things come to an end." Eglantine whispered, her face buried against his chest. She had missed him so... but would not give in... not this time.

"Not all good things end in death." he countered, tilting her head back so they're eyes met. "I love you, Eglantine Rosier-McKevin and I will do everything and anything to win you back." She knew he spoke the truth; his very being there told her that much.
"What if loving me is to let me go?" she was being cruel and she knew it. Thirty-one years ago they had made marriage vows to love and cherish until death parted them... Seven years ago they had fought and nearly killed one another... And even long before that time, Eglantine had come to the realization that she had never been good enough for him. Felipe; yes, she could be enough for him... because he did not want her to change in anyway. But Horatio wanted a pure woman who needed him and although she did believe she needed him... truthfully she did not and pure by any stretch of the definition didn't touch her.

"Then I will change to be the man you would go to. Please... even if you only give me the chance to attempt to win you."
Horatio's pleading eyes were so much like Sevie's puppy eyes... so much like Ewan and Ean's... so much like Ara's...
"You do not have to win me..." she whispered, burying her face against his robes once again and embracing him tightly. "You did so long ago."

Horatio sighed, smiling as she confessed her love.
"...But that was long ago." Eglantine continued, pulling back from him.
The twinge of pain ripped afresh within his chest, branching out down his arms and settling within his spinal cord.
How could she lift him up only to tear him down like that. Where was her compassion, her love, her former mercy?

A hand moved to cover his lacerated heart and he staggered back. They played their parts well... the wounded stag and the priestess hunter. The room spun into a swirl of white and gold; white from the ceiling, gold from the soft light of Eglantine's hair as it fell over him in washing waves.

He was drowning... she was plunging her already struck dagger into his soul and laughing...

No not laughing, he strained to hear what her blurry form was saying...

No words, only sounds... muffled by the thunder echoing through his mind.

His lips strained to make sensible movements, to say something... anything.

The laughing child lifted her head up from the rose bushes and the thorns from her arms stabbed his heart... His sweet briar had slain him.

Eglantine caught him as he fell, cushioning his white head in her lap.
"Horatio!" she begged, fear surfacing. "Look at me." he did, but his eyes were unfocused and his breathing was in shallow rasps. Hands shaking violently, she checked his pulse; it was lessening, paling, fading. "I'm sorry... Es tut mir leid..." she whispered.
"Felipe!" Hoping that the man would hear her and be able to assist, Eglantine looked toward the door. After he didn't respond, she checked the wards and began to softly cry as she found he'd left... She was alone.

Lowering her head, she sobbed against Horatio's neck, regretting everything she'd said to him, everything she'd ever done to him. All she had desired to do was reap but a small amount of the pain he'd given her; and yet deeply she'd wanted him to leave, so that he would not be fettered to her... she wasn't good enough, her thought repeated. And now, she'd killed him.

With a sudden cry, Eglantine lurched back to reality, glancing over at the fireplace and running through those who could/would assist her...no... him. Kiara instantly came to mind, but she didn't want her daughter to see this. She'd seen it once before and it would be too much to have her watch Horatio die, with her own mother's words forming the sword in his chest.

"Kaminski Office." she stammered, pulling herself from under Horatio's body and scrambling to the fireplace. The floo powder had barely made it possible for her speak through it when she looked into Sevastyan Kaminski Hogwart's office.
"Sevastyan!" her voice shook violently and her face was ghostly white. "H-Horatio, er liegt im Sterben!" (Horatio, he is dying) In her haste to gain assistance for her husband, her words came in German and she blinked, spots appearing in her vision as she attempted to think in English. "il est mourant." She repeated in French. It did not occur to her that her disheveled appearance alone would most likely alert Sevastyan to something being amiss.