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| Matters Of Blood And Connection; Delia, Aaron | |
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| Topic Started: Dec 5 2010, 09:17 PM (211 Views) | |
| Kyle Van Leerson | Dec 5 2010, 09:17 PM Post #1 |
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December 25 (Christmas), 2010 7:00 PM Boston, Mass. Little had changed about the familiar brownstone as he pulled up the long driveway to his childhood home. It remained untouched he thought, by time, though he was certain if he looked closer he would see different flourishes in the grounds or in the place itself. His mother ran her home like a drill sergeant, decor was a statement, everything from the linens on her table to the rose bushes that lined the driveway had to be exact and perfect. If her husband, his father, was a master of his office then she was the woman behind the man, who saw that every tie matched every shirt that each room, each moment could appear as a center spread for Better Homes and Gardens. She had simply never been one to tolerate any sort of mess, anything that dared to shake the walls of her perfectly created kingdom. Kyle had understood this from as early as he could remember. He never doubted his mother's love but rather the capability of her love under the weight of opposition. She was a good woman so long as things went exactly according to her plan and as a child the X-man had went out of his way to fit into that manicured dream. It had been simply all he had ever known, Kyle could not remember a time in his life when he had not been conscious of his mother's eye or his father's approval. It was a mafioso mentality, except it reigned under appearance and words. Everything was for and about the family and for a long time he had more than accepted that regime he had been a willing and proud participant. And now he was back, only he wasn't the same kid who had fit so well in their designs and plans. He had become very much a part of the mess that they had so strongly been opposed to. He was proud of himself, proud of what he had accomplished and what he was a part of and he was proud of the woman sitting in the passenger seat beside him. She was his family now, maybe more so then the people inside the looming walls that to a different eye would look so warm and inviting but to Kyle looked oppressing and foreboding. He was afraid in a way he hadn't been for some time. No matter how much he had grown, how far he had traveled, these people still made him feel very much a child. Because a part of him, one he would be embarrassed to admit to, still very much wanted their love and approval. His mother's invitation had surprised him. They had spoken little since the news of his and Delia's drunken Las Vegas wedding had erupted through the tabloids created a media blitz and PR nightmare for the family. In the end it was always about the family never about the person in it, never about him and who he was or most importantly what he was. After the scandal had died down Martha Van Leerson had sent her condolences on missing his actual wedding, which he had been reluctant to tell his mother had ended with no taking of vows. He left out the more messy bits, about how he had switched minds with his self from another reality, how since then his and Delia's relationship had deeply started to mirror that of his parent's with each refusing to open up and talk about what had happened and how it had effected not just them as person's but them as a couple. Something had changed between them, a distance had formed that seemed to be growing more and more everyday. She had been hurt and he knew Delia was not someone who handled hurt very well. He loved her but he was tired of apologizing for things he had no control over. And his own experiences had brought with it it's own level of guilt and silence. He couldn't share with her what life in the other world had been like, what her other self had been like. So they moved in a sort of stasis unable to resolve what was happening between them. He didn't doubt that he loved her but lately he was wondering if she loved him or if she was only still with him out of an obligation that never had been sealed. However this night was not the night to resolve the issue that was becoming their relationship. He had other monsters to slay. He reached across the seat and placed a hand on hers. She said nothing. "I know things have been strained between us but this means a lot to me, you being here with me. Your the most important person in the world to me I hope you know that. But this is my family and as much as I've tried to say I don't need them they are a part of me. Not the same way you are but they are. Let's just.... let's just try to make this pleasant, okay?" He realized the last bit was as much for himself as it was for her benefit. He held no great idea as to how the night would end but he wanted it very much to go well. For months he had been a stranger in his own body, only to return to a life that he was scared had moved on without him. Maybe a bit desperately he was trying to tie off all the open wounds and heal hurts that had seemed to spring eternal. He opened Delia's door and walked with her to the front door. He took a deep breath, rang the bell and took Delia's hand in his. He smiled a bit weakly at her as the housekeeper opened the door and ushered the two inside the Van Leerson estate. His mother was the next sight he saw as he crossed the threshold of the door and into his past. "Kyle, darling. So lovely you could make it, and you brought... your friend. How lovely." The contempt in her voice was apparent and he shot her a look. "Mom, you know Delia. My fiance." he stressed the last word to drive the point home and with his eyes he pleaded with her Don't. "Yes, of course. The famous Delia Collins. I've read, I mean heard so much about you my dear. Dinner will be served shortly. Maria will help you with your coats and then why don't you join your father and I in the den for drinks. I'm sure I'll need a couple." She said the last bit while looking at Delia and without another word his mother turned on her heels and walked away from the couple. The eager housekeeper took their coats and Kyle sighed heavily as images of a massacre played in his mind. "I think I'm going to need a few myself." he muttered under his breath. |
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| Delia Colins | Dec 26 2010, 10:25 PM Post #2 |
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Matter Transformation
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There were few things Delia disliked more than the feeling of being out of place. Sure, maybe baths in acid or sticking bamboo shoots under your fingernails or, God forbid, baby showers, might rank as close seconds but there was something about the woman, about the way she grew up, that made the idea of fading into the background or being unwanted unendurable. Kyle, it seemed, was hellbent on making her kill him because not only had he fled from the altar on their wedding day (though he wasn't really in control of his actions), but he also somehow convinced her to join in on a family filled Christmas with the Van Leerson clan. This was not something Delia was very comfortable with, given the fact that she had hardly thought of, much less spoken to, her family since the untimely death of her sister. Christmas, as she saw it, was the time of year for shopping sprees and hours of careless drinking and fun, though that obviously wasn't an option anymore. ....Stupid sobriety. Kyle stopped in front of the Van Leerson house. It was much fancier than the simpler house Delia grew up in herself but, given the stories Kyle had told him about his upbringing, she doubted the families differed too much. He started on, telling her about how much this meant to him, how much she meant to him. "Yeah, I get it. You've got me here, no point in buttering me up darling." She understood what it meant, how hard it must have been for him, but she just wasn't at a point where she could let her defenses down yet. She had done that before and, his fault or not, it had blown up in her face. The duo walked into the den, invited in by the housekeepers. Delia shot them a polite but uninterested smile before they were met with his mother. Just as Delia suspected, Kyle's mother was the same type of WASP-y buttoned up shrew her own mother became after the the fame. Though Kyle's mother held that superior look of old money, of someone who had never imagined they would have to work for something. Delia knew these people. After she became a world class pianist they welcomed her in. When she became a socialite, they pretended she had never existed. She watched as the woman shred her son to bits with her words and then turned her attention back to Delia herself. "Yes, drinks," Delia replied, cutting a pair of blaming eyes toward Kyle. "You know, I read an article a while back about a couple whose drinks somehow got spiked with arson.....such a tragedy." She walked toward the dining room, grabbing Kyle's hand and squeezing it way too tightly. This was his fault...somehow. He muttered about how he needed a drink. So did she. Of course, that wasn't going to happen. .....Sobriety sucks. |
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7:25 PM Jul 11