The Butterfly Effect.

[kou]

|Iris Mason|

-The Caterpillar-

{It's alright babes, I love all of your gifs.}

"I'm a bad woman to keep. Make me mad, I'm not here to please."

Spoiler

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Iris could feel the clarity wash over her as Mordecai kissed her, her hands briefly wrapping around his shoulders in order to support herself before he was suddenly pulling away much too soon. She was rendered speechless as Mordecai promised that he would not adhere to Rosaline, feeling a distant euphoria as he kissed the top of her head before exiting the car. She watched him make his retreat before she felt a smile spread across her face, still being able to taste the essence of what Mordecai was the last time they kissed. The feeling only lasted for a second before Iris fiddled inside of her coat pocket and pulled out the phone, opening up her inbox before frowning at the message which seemed to be mocking her. She locked the screen and startled as the passenger seat door opened, wondering if Mordecai had somehow changed his mind and had decided the meeting wasn't worth it.





"I must say that was quic--"


It was not Mordecai, far from it in face. The extravagantly dressed man sat upon the seat as if he owned it, gently closing the door behind him before pale blue eyes fixated on her and a smirk slid across the psychologist's face. "I found waiting to be a bit of bore so I decided that it would be best to cut our appointment briefly and meet Mr. Lester upon his return." Iris had lost what little of her hope remained as she stared dazedly at Miles Jackson, resisting the primal urge to reach over and wipe the smirk off of his face before feigning some form of civility.


"It would have been better for you to have waited, then." A flash of anger made itself known on the man's mousy features before it disappeared altogether, Iris swore inwardly as the man settled back on the seat and laughed quietly. He irked her to no extent but he had connections and Mordecai's criminal record wasn't exactly spotless, Miles would certainly use this to his advantage and Iris would slice his throat should something unwanted happen. "I'm sure I could've however it was dull and do you know what I saw that was so intriguing on my way here?" The woman could feel her insides churning as a unnerving smile was directed towards here before she shook her head, her hand beginning to shake as if some part buried within her knew what was going to be said and had acknowledged that it wouldn't be pleasant. Miles seemed to notice the quiver in her hand and placed his upon it, it was intended to be a companionable gesture but Iris knew it was just a way to get under her skin even more.


"I saw none other than Ms. Iris exchanging formalities of the more intimate nature with the man she had been intent on incriminating. I suppose his charm must be quite convincing seeing as he's got you wrapped around his finger and bending to his every whim, I must admit that I had expected better and I'm sure your mother raised you better than that." It was a statement that was meant to harm and mangle Iris, it seemed to have its effect and Iris knew that it would take all of her willpower to not throw the man out of his car. Instead of answering, she switched on the radio once more and allowed it to drown out the sounds of Miles before making herself as comfortable as she could in her seat. If they were going to play this game, Iris was intent on winning.

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester


{The Butterfly}

He found her seated at a table in the back of the building, looking as perky as ever. She smiled brightly and waved with an enthusiastic energy as he took his seat across from her, not even offering her so much as a nod in return. It was best to set the necessary boundaries from the get-go. Mordecai refused to give Rosaline so much as an inch; as soon as he did, she would surely take more than the usual mile.





"So glad you could make it!" the young woman chirped, setting aside the menu that she'd been holding in her hands, and Mordecai resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Bullshit. He'd had no choice but to show up; Rosaline herself had made sure of that. "Oh! Before I forget, I brought something for you!" At this, she paused briefly to reach inside her purse, producing a clear plastic box tied up neatly with a violet ribbon. "It's those fruit-shaped marzipan candies you always loved. I saw them in a little candy store this morning and I instantly thought of you."





She held the box out to him, but he made no attempt to take it, instead fixing her with a carefully measured stare. "Why are you here, Rosaline?"





Without missing a single beat, the aforementioned woman set the offering down on the table and replied with an amused shake of her head. "Straight to the point, as usual. It's always business with you, I swear. What's wrong with taking a little time to catch up? How have you been? What have you been up to? Set any good fires lately?" The last question was whispered in a low voice, the speaker leaning across the table towards her companion as a smirk graced her delicate lips. Her brother glared darkly back at her.





"Answer the question."





Rosaline shrugged. "I've missed you, Mordecai. So when I got the chance to finally see you again, of course I took it."





"How did you find me?"





"Oh, you know. A couple of college friends were researching a small town that's been experiencing a strange increase in arsonist activity as of late. And if that didn't scream Mordecai Lester, well, then I don't know what would."





Mordecai grimaced. It made sense, at least. And after he'd been so careful...





"Hey, are those the same clothes that you were wearing last night?" Before Mordecai could complete a solid thought, Rosaline was already off on a tangent, her expression now one of disapproval. "We're going to need to find you some new ones. And preferably nothing feminine, like those dresses that you always used to insist on wearing. You have no need for that type of self-preservation anymore, do you?"





"Iris already has it taken care of." It was a low blow, even in her case, but Mordecai honestly could have cared less. Rosaline herself had dressed up for the occasion, donning a pale pink sundress and a pair of stilettos of the same color. She had even curled her hair.


Rosaline's eyes noticeably darkened. "You really need to stay away from that woman, Mordecai. She only wants to hurt you. I can't believe you can't see it, perceptive as you are."





He could not contain a snort of derision at the pure obsurdity of her words. "I have no doubt in my mind that Iris Mason is completely and undeniably deserving of my trust. You, on the other hand, are a very different story."





"I'm your sister, Mordecai, and I love you. I just want what's best for you, that's all."





"Oh, I know what you want, Rosaline. Believe you me."





"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about."





"Your eyes are transparent."





"So are yours."





Shocked registered on his face before being replaced with stone-cold indifference, but the sparkle in her eyes told him that she had noticed. The sudden feeling of a gentle hand running along his thigh, to his great distain, caused Mordecai to jump three feet in the air.





"You don't need to be so afraid, Mordecai. Just come home with me. I promise I'll treat you well and keep you safe, and happy." Rosaline's voice was sweet and honeyed, like the song of a siren, luring a sailor to his untimely death. Bile rose up in Mordecai's throat. Thankfully, at that moment, a waitress approached them, and Rosaline withdrew her invasive hand.





"Can I get anything for you?" she asked cordially, completely unaware of the current immoral goings-on between the man and woman seated at the table before her. Mordecai quickly dismissed her.





"No thank you, love. We won't be staying long." The waitress shot him a strange look before glancing at Rosaline, who nodded her agreement, and the woman glided off to deal with another customer. "As a response to your offer, dear sister, I'd sooner remove my own intestines with a plastic fork."





Rosaline sighed at the biting remark, a rueful look spreading over her features. "I figured you'd say that. That's why I went and took a few extra precautions."





"Which are?" Dread settled in Mordecai's stomach. He didn't much like the sound of that.





"I took the liberty of calling in a team of architects to come and fix up your house. I know that you have insurance, but I felt like the insurance company just wouldn't do an adequate job. They're really good, and I think you'll really love the end result. Oh, but that's not even the best part. I spoke to the state's attorney, and, long story short, I now share joint custody of you home. So I'll be moving in with you as soon as it's finished. Isn't that exciting?"





Wait. What? What was that? A ringing started up in Mordecai's ears as he stared at his sister in disbelief. How had she acquired the funds to - Oh. Right. He'd nearly forgotten. Since he had no doubt been removed from all legal documents as the heir to his parents' fortune, all of their copious amounts of money must have gone to Rosaline after their death. Fuck. Anger flared up within the man. Who the hell did she think she was? She couldn't do this, could she? But he knew full well that she could. Money could buy anything these days, a truth that Mordecai had never so greatly abhorred as he did in that moment. Standing, he pushed back his chair, trying his hardest not to slam it against the side of the table as he pushed it back into place.





"We're done here," he growled out through clenched teeth. There was no way. There was no way in hell. He would burn the house to the ground all over again before he would move in with her. And she must have known that as well, if the words that followed him out of the café were of any indication.





"Oh, Mordecai, one more thing. I know who set that fire in your kitchen. And that person happens to know exactly where your dear Iris lives. So...think it over, will you? I really don't want to hurt you. Please, just make the right decision and come home to your sister, and everything will be ok. I promise."





He was going to kill her. Next time he saw Rosaline, he was going to fucking rip her heart out of her chest. But for now, he would not give her the satisfaction of a response. Instead, he hurried out of the café, unable to refrain from slamming the door shut on his way out. His head was pounding, and he felt sick, so much so that he would have vomited, had it not been for the fact that he hadn't eaten a solid meal in nearly twenty-four hours. Staggering back to the car was an ordeal in itself. He needed to see Iris, to see that she was alright, still breathing. It was a nonsensical desire, but one that he had to fulfill to expel the sickness that Rosaline had implanted in him. What was he going to do? What was he -


When he reached the car, Mordecai was further disconcerted to find another man occupying the passenger seat of Iris's car. Fearing in a moment of lack of reasoning that this was the one of whom his sister had been speaking, he pulled open the door with a ferocity that would have surprised even himself on any regular day, and pulled the man out by the front of his shirt.





"What business do you have with Iris Mason?" he snarled, eyes boring into those of his victim.

 

[kou]

:Miles Jackson:

"The Worm"

"Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth and taste; stuck around for a long, long year and stole many a man's soul and faith."

Spoiler

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Spoiler

It seemed as if Miles had unintentionally awoken the capricious beast lying within the man he had very much wanted to meet, the psychologist composed himself before readjusting his tie and carefully removing the hand which was still gripped in his shirt. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, albeit it had not gone the way he had expected but that was only natural. Nothing ever went the way Miles expected but it seemed that life was fixing its mistakes and placing everything in its rightful place, things had been set on track once more and finally Miles had caught some form of a break. The man was rude and primal, Miles didn't want anything else. It had taken so long but he had finally managed to find the source of his unraveling obsession and it had been in the very clutch of the woman he considered a close companion. A self-assured smirk appeared on Miles's face as he cleared his throat before speaking:

"It would appear Iris has not told you much of me, a shame really. Allow me to introduce myself formally, I am Dr. Miles Jackson and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am afraid I had to come quite early, Iris has a knack for being late when she does not wish to show up." If anyone knew the woman's habits better, it had to be Jackson himself. It was due to the fact that he had instilled all of his knowledge into Iris and then some, he had shown her the way when others had abandoned her. She owed him and this was her payment; Mordecai Lester. Oh, this was just glorious! Everything was aligning and nothing seemed to be going wrong for the doctor, he had confidence that he could study the insanity which lay in such a troubled man as Mordecai Lester.


Iris had just started a chess game she didn't know she was playing, Miles was intent on winning.

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester


{The Butterfly}

Oh. Miles. Right.


Why was he even surprised?


Mordecai felt his rage give way to cold annoyance as the man introduced himself. Miles Jackson was a confident bastard, to be sure. He held himself with the regal uprightness of a European King, and his blue eyes glimmered like he had the entire world on a string. Annoying. So very annoying.





"Dr. Mason has told me enough of you for me to deduce that speaking with you for prolonged periods of times would be exceedingly tedious. Your flagrantly pompous stature has validated my hypothesis." As Mordecai spoke, he crossed his arms over his chest, attempting to regain his composure. The last thing that one wanted to be when faced with a man such as Miles Jackson was out of control. The use of Iris's formal title was a method to distance himself from the woman as far as Jackson was concerned. To Mordecai's knowledge, the psychiatrist knew nothing of their more...intimate relations, and it was best to keep it that way. "Now, I regret to inform you, but this conversation happens to be the last thing that I wish to deal with after the day that I've been having. So, unfortunately, it seems that we will have to reschedule our meeting for another date. I'm sure that Dr. Mason would agree."





It wasn't a request. It was a demand. Mordecai had no patience for dealing with worms.

 

[kou]

:Miles Jackson:


"The Worm"

"There's a man goin' round' takin' names and he decides who to free and who to blame."

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Miles felt a brief flicker of anger before it dissipated, the smile upon his face only serving to grow wider as he leaned in towards the man. Pompous? Yes, he was. Who wasn't when they had become so successful? When everything they had done had placed them at the top of the throne? Miles had every rhyme and reason to be pompous, it had worked for him so far. The man clicked his teeth in mocking disapproval before wiggling a finger at Mordecai who seemed to tower over him due to his height; Miles was not intimidated due simply to the fact that he knew the cards up the arsonist's sleeve, he knew everything.

"It would do you best to revert your statement seeing as it isn't quite ethical for a doctor to be seen locking lips with her patient. There has been a bit of increase in house fires lately, has there not? I am equally sure that the police would love to know whom had been causing them. You see Mordecai, it isn't going to fall in your favor at the end of the day because you're not a hero; we're all villains. I am simply playing my hand when it needs to be shown and, believe me, I know all of your bluffs. You are attracted to Iris, are you not? She is intelligent, is she not? Who do you think made her that way? I did, it was me. Listen and listen closely, I am neither your friend nor your foe but if you think that I won't bring you down to your knees begging for mercy then you are severely mistaken. How about we go through the formalities first? I want to do this once more, I am only giving you this one chance and if you don't take it then you'll never see the light of day again. I want you to meet me alongside Ms. Iris on Friday at my office, she knows where it has been seeing as she been there quite often. Until then, goodbye Lester."


Miles tapped the man's shoulder before withdrawing, whistling loftily as he strolled away from Mordecai before abruptly stopping and turning to face the man once more. "By the way, perhaps it would be best to reconsider your love interest; Ms. Iris has others. I believe there is one for you if you would have her." Miles refrained from laughing aloud before turning back and walking in the direction of his vehicle, the smile never leaving his face.

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester


{The Butterfly}

Mordecai was absolutely livid. The wrath that built up inside of him, both at himself and Jackson, as he watched the psychiatrist strut off across the parking lot with that infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face was so great that he may as well have been letting off steam. It appeared that he had underestimated the man, greatly underestimated him, and that was his first grave mistake. His second would be letting him walk away.


Miles truly knew everything. From his affections for Iris to his involvement in the fires that had been popping up around town, the man had left nothing up to the imagination. Jackson had insulted him, threatened him, and stripped him completely bare of every facade that he had taken such great care to manifest, and had spared Mordecai no pain in doing so. How could a man whom he had never even met know him so throughly? How was he able to pick him apart at the seams with just a single glance? It was chilling and enraging at the same time, both feelings that Mordecai could have very well done without.


There was one thing that Lester was absolutely certain of, however. This was far from over. No, when he met with Jackson again, he would be more in control, not flustered by the aftermath of a confrontation with his nightmare of a sister. Next time, he would show Miles Jackson once and for all that he wasn't one to be taken so lightly. It was going to take more than a few biting words to make Mordecai Lester beg.


Perhaps Jackson's greatest sin was in accusing Mordecai of thinking himself a hero, of all things. Lester was more than a commonplace villain. He was evil itself, a demon trapped in a human's body. He was a force of destruction with no remorse, a ravaging storm that could not be stopped by means such as morality or emotion. This was the way it had always been, the way in which Lester had always viewed himself. At least, until Iris had -


Iris.


A sudden burst of intense concern melted away within mere seconds to be supplanted by a mix of more anger and betrayal. Jackson's warning came rushing back to Mordecai as he turned to peer into the car's interior, gazing at the woman with an expression that was eerily calm. The man had advised him to seek affection elsewhere. He had mentioned "others." What "others"? Iris had no friends or close acquaintances; at least, that was what she had claimed.





I told you so.





It was Rosaline's voice again, ringing through his head and causing his teeth to clench. Sickeningly enough, the thought that he may have been just one interest out of many in Iris's life wasn't what bothered him: it was the fact that this notion only made him crave her attention to a greater extent, made him want to prove to her that he was worth her love despite his many imperfections.


Except that he wasn't. He was pitiful, a hopeless disgrace of a man and a shell of his former self. It was because of Iris that he'd let himself grow soft, fallen from the high horse upon which he'd sat for the majority of his life. Suddenly, a thought struck him. All this time, he had been worried about dragging Iris into trouble, about her getting hurt on his account, but had it not been she that had come looking for him? Who had visited his prison cell with the intention of maneuvering her way into his life? Furthermore, how many enemies had he made since meeting her? How many people had honed in on his trail and attempted to break into what was once a stronghold of a mind, visible to no one but himself? Emelia, Miles...and how many more? How many times would he allow himself to be screwed over before he finally learned?


Love was a useless emotion. It made one feeble and careless and nothing more. Mordecai knew that Jackson had implanted this notion into his head, but that didn't make it any less true. Nevertheless, without a word, staring straight ahead, the man reclaimed his position in the passenger seat of Iris's car, his mind working a mile a minute. He couldn't look at Iris. He just couldn't. Instead, he focused his attention on formulating a plan of action. More than anything, he needed an outlet through which to let out every bit of the turmoil that was building up inside of him. That night, something was going to burn.

 

[kou]

|Iris Mason|

-The Caterpillar-

"If I lose myself, I lose it all."

Spoiler

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Iris was unable to prevent the tidal wave that happened to be Miles Jackson, her eyes widening as he was pulled abruptly out of the car by an out-of-sorts Mordecai and a surprised expression permanently residing on her face as the scene she had dreaded so much played out. She watched as Mordecai was left to have his self-esteem and pride ripped open like a bleeding wound and then watched as Jackson walked away from the scene as if he was on top of the world, it was when Mordecai looked at her that Iris knew something had drastically changed. It had never been an expression which had ever been directed at her but she knew that something had clicked inside of Mordecai that had the potential to damage everything they had built. He refused to even look at her as she struggled to make eye contact, too afraid to touch the man based on the angered demeanor he had had earlier. The meeting with Rosaline possibly had not gone well and Miles had only made it worse.


Iris had not protected him, had not spoken up when Miles had toyed with the man she loved, she had not done anything and that seemed to kill her more than the sudden thought that this was over. Iris started the car without speaking before driving out into traffic, not looking at Mordecai once for fear of seeing that unnervingly calm gaze. The woman straightened up considerably and ignored the thoughts which seemed to be piling up in her head, threatening to spill out and wreck what little was left. Iris had not heard everything but she hadn't missed Miles's remark on Mordecai's apparent "love interest", it was her fault that he knew of that and she felt as if she had somehow destroyed everything Mordecai had struggled to keep hidden. Iris drove wherever home was not and found herself pulling into the quaint little shop that belonged to an elderly Italian man by the name of Gespa, stopping the car immediately and resting her head on the steering wheel. They would have to address this, she would have to address this. Iris felt guilt welling up inside of her at the thought of Miles being able to abuse his authority as openly as he had.





"I'm sorry. I am so sorry I allowed Miles to do that, I should have done something and I didn't because I was scared. I just want you to be happy Mordecai and I was hoping this would be avoided." Iris was going to despise herself for this, she was already regretting the need to say it seeing as it was obvious that Mordecai would take up the offer. She had screwed up and let Miles in and now everything was going to be destroyed. She had seen it happen before.





"If you want, I can put in a recommendation for a psychologist that I trust and we could end our association. You wouldn't have to worry about Miles, I can take care of that and my mother would never bother you again. I can help you with your home and we can go in this shop and get you what you need and then you can pretend that I never existed, that I had never spoken to you, that none of this ever occurred. Once more, I am so sorry and I was so stupid to believe that this could work."

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester


{The Butterfly}

No. Don't say that, please.





"What's done is done." The words fell from his lips in a distant monotone, devoid of feeling or any connection to the woman for whom they were meant. "I should have been able to handle him myself."





A long pause, an excruciating lapse of silence passed before the man spoke again.





"It perplexes me, Dr. Mason, how you can still speak of happiness. Tell me, what am I to you? What am I really? A psychological experiment? A deranged man whom you find to be a great game? An unfeeling monster whom you decided would be fun to toy with until it either broke or you became bored with it? Perhaps the target of the thrill-seeker's folly; did you want to see how close you could get before you got burned?"





Stop this. You know she loves you. Dammit, you love her, too. Don't do this.


It was true. There was no doubt in Mordecai's mind that Iris still loved him. Although he refused to look upon her face, the sorrow and desperation that saturated her so normally steady, calming voice was enough to tell him everything. And he loved her, too. The pain that exploded in his chest at her final statement was so great that he could scarcely breathe, his lungs replaced with leaden weights at the thought of leaving her behind. So why couldn't he stop? Why didn't he? Why didn't he apologize to her and tell her everything that he was feeling so that maybe, just maybe the two of them could work through everything and come out better on the other side. Maybe it was the result of stress, or fear, or outright confusion caused by the must tumultuous day that he'd ever had the misfortune of experiencing. Maybe it was self-defense, an attempt to fix what had been broken. Maybe he was just tired. But whatever the case, Mordecai Lester could not - or would not -stop the flow of cutting, dismembering syllables flowing forth from his mouth.





"How many "others" are there, Iris? Have you told them of me? Do they laugh along with you at the notion of a cold, ruthless killer finally getting what's coming to him? Well, allow me to share something with you, my dear. Sometimes, monsters are human, and sometimes, the one who started the fire gets hurt just as badly as the one who stokes it."





He was human, yes, he was human. The one to show him that was the woman who was sitting beside him at that very moment. This was the first time he had admitted to it out loud, and the sound felt strange against his eardrums. Needless to say, Mordecai wasn't much enjoying being human.


Love. Love was a dangerous emotion. It made one vulnerable and careless and stupid. Mordecai loved Iris. Because of this, he had been all-too willing to tear himself open and give to her everything that was inside. Next time, he would remember just how much it hurt to sew oneself up again.





"Do not apologize to me. We both know that it's not worth the breath. Such courtesies are lost with an animal such as myself. You are right, this was bound to be a disaster from the very beginning. I require no further psychological "help." I'm tired of people who find it an enjoyable challenge to try and get inside my head. I simply wish to be left alone."





He would never be able to forget that she existed. The thought of her would follow him through every waking moment of his life, followed by regret at what he had lost in her. And where would he stay? He had no home, hardly any money to speak of. One option only came into his mind, and the sickness instantly returned. No, he wasn't desperate. He would figure something else out. For now, he didn't want to deal with any of it. Without giving Iris a chance to speak, he stepped out into the open air.





Promises are made to be broken.

 

[kou]

|Iris Mason|

-The Caterpillar-

"These blood red eyes don't see so good, but what's worse is if they could would I change my ways?"


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Every. Single. Word. Hurt. It tore through Iris like a bullet and shattered what was left of her, it tumbled down walls which had been built to reduce the pain, and it destroyed her state of mind. The woman clutched onto the steering wheel as if it were her life she was holding in her hands, her head bowed in order to keep the emotions at bay and her eyes shut tightly to avoid looking towards the man who had just managed to break her heart. Dear God, did it hurt and Iris knew that no hit her mother had ever delivered was as painful as what Mordecai had just said. There had never been any others, Iris hadn't loved anyone but the man who had just taken his leave and she knew that no one would ever manage to make her feel as happy. Iris did what she did best when under duress and struggled to rationalize the situation, whispering recollections of the various stages of acceptance dealing with the human psyche as she was reduced to quiet sobbing and muffled pleas for Mordecai to return.


Still, after all of this Iris was concerned about where the man was going and how he would be able to get there but she was unable to move. Her mother had been right, the fucking witch had been right, she had put her hands in a raging fire and had gotten flayed alive. Never had someone so thoroughly wrung her out as Mordecai had and she loathed herself for allowing him to do so, still she wanted to scream out that she cared for him like no other and had never meant to harm him. Some nagging part of her seemed to take residence within her mind and whisper bittersweet lies in her ear, telling her that her mother had been the only one to ever care and perhaps it would have been best to stay with her.





'Mama's girl.'


Iris whispered the words over and over until they seemed to collide with each other and incoherent noises were the only sound which flowed from her mouth, she knew that Mordecai was never going to return and she also knew that there would never be another.





Never.


Iris could feel her heart being torn, could feel everything within her crumbling, and she could feel herself slowly wasting away. How had he done it? Had it been his intention? Had this all been a meticulously crafted lie made to prove he was a monster?





Iris did not want to believe that the man who had fallen asleep in her arms would be capable of such things. Iris hugged her knees to her chest and rocked slowly, the noises dying down to choked reassurances that everything was going to return to normal.





It wasn't. Iris was still hurt and Mordecai was still gone. The colors of the world seemed to fade.

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester


{The Butterfly}

The glass was emptied yet again. How many times had he seen the bottom already? Too many times to count, was the sad reality of it. But it still wasn't enough. Mordecai was still coherent enough to remember, his guilt still all too tangible.


He wanted it gone. All of it.





Rather unceremoniously, he slammed the glass down on the counter once more, motioning to the bartender for another. The bartender, a balding man with an army tattoo on his left shoulder who looked to be in his late forties, gave Mordecai a skeptical look, but said nothing and did as instructed. Almost as soon as the glass was placed back in front of the man, its contents was downed as quickly as that of its predecessor.


Hollow. Mordecai felt so very hollow. It was as if everything within him - bones, organs, thoughts, emotions - had been torn brutally from his body, leaving behind an empty cavity that not even copious amounts of alcohol seemed to be able to fill. Except, that was, for guilt. And regret. It was pathetic, really. Throughout his entire life, with all of the horrible things that he'd done and all of the lives that he'd ended, Mordecai had never felt remorse for a single thing. Not one. But he did now. All it had taken was a single bad day, and a single woman - the one person - whom he had never intended to hurt. The vacancy in his chest was something else that Mordecai was going to need to thank Iris for. If he ever saw her again. Just the mere thought of the woman caused another wave of lament to erupt from within him.


He knew that he should go back and apologize. Nothing would have meant more to him, made him any more ecstatic than to go back to Iris, to beg her forgiveness and tell her that he hadn't meant any of it. He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and never let her go, to promise once more that he would never leave her side and actually make good on it. But such notions were mere folly, impossible hopes from a sentimental, half-drunk man that could never and would never be fulfilled. Even if he were to go back now, who was to say that she would take him in? No, if she were smart, and he knew that she was, she would treat him just as coldly as he had treated her. Having one's heart broken once was a tradgedy; having it broken a second time was the marking of a fool. Iris Mason was no fool, and Mordecai did not very much desire to have his own words thrown back into his face. He could never see her again; that much was blatantly clear. He'd had his chance, and he'd ruined it, just as he had been bound to from the start. Besides, things were better this way, were they not? If anything, he could view the entire thing as an eye-opening ordeal, a painful reminder of what would happen if he ever placed his soul into the hands of another.


Lies. Why was he even trying to convince himself that this might be even the slightest bit true? The wound that Iris had unintentionally left behind was one that would never heal. Because of it, he would have to become colder, crueler, even more distant than before...


Truly, the intense anguish that Mordecai was feeling was something that not even alcohol could cure.


But that didn't mean he wouldn't keep trying. He beckoned for another drink.

 

[kou]

=Laila=

*The Cricket*

"You keep on crying, baby I'll bleed you dry."


[media]

[/media]
***

He was really such a pretty face. Laila peered at the man from where she was shoved into the back of the corner by two people she had happened to meet on the road, a leather jacket wrapped around her as she gazed at the beauty whom happened to be particularly close to her. His baby blues looked haunted although Laila had always gone for the more damaged type, she was intrigued by his blatant need for the alcohol and the way he clutched it like he was a dying man in a desert. The younger woman tilted her head in curiosity as he slammed his hand down on the counter for another drink, a smile gracing her lips as the bartender unquestioningly provided him with more.


Laila had happened to be making a pit stop here and she had been lucky enough to be blessed with an angel such as the stranger, this was truly her lucky night. The woman tapped her nails upon the wooden surface which had an imprint embedded into it from various mugs being placed there, she wasn't really looking for sex or whatever it was people looked for when they were lonely in a bar. It was the mere excitement of being able to be desired by someone who could not have her which left the woman reeling, she was a drug addict in need of a fix and she had just found her temporary solution. Laila pardoned herself from the rowdy chatter of the two bikers before adjusting her boots and gliding over towards the unfamiliar man, demurely smirking at the bartender who seemed to be unabashedly staring before placing a hand on the blue-eyed angel and leaning in towards his ear. Her lips barely brushed his hair as she did so, her brown tresses spilling over her shoulder before she tightened her grip.


"You know hon', the bar will be here forever. I think Louie is close to kicking you out if you keep on chuggin' em' down." Her voice was the equivalent of a child's, alarmingly close to what most would consider to be a teenager although it was layered in sugary undertones and it usually did the job when men (or women for that matter) weren't fooled by her appearance. Laila couldn't stop herself from leaning in even more, ignoring the stench of alcohol in turn for getting closer.





This was so much fun.

​

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester


{The Butterfly}

The hand on his shoulder was unexpected, so much so that Mordecai may have jumped if he hadn't been feeling so sluggish. She'd snuck up on him, and the fact that he hadn't noticed was a clear sign to just how far he was slipping. A woman's voice reached him through the thin haze that was finally beginning to cloud his mind. It was young in pitch and overall sound, almost like that of a small girl, but the sickly sweet intonations gave it away as belonging to someone with much greater cunning and intellect than a mere child. Involuntary shivers shot through Mordecai's body at the foreign feeling of her breath on his ear and, to his horror, he found himself leaning closer to the source. His breathing picked up in tempo as he squeezed his eyes shut. Desperate. He was drunk and desperate for human contact, and it was disgraceful.





Go away, he should have told her. Leave me be. Can't you tell that I have enough of my own problems to deal with already? Mordecai should have asked her what the hell it was that she wanted and chased her off with a hardened glare and a few well-aimed insults. That would have done the trick. She was obviously dangerous, or at least formidable, and he was tired of dealing with dangerous women. But his judgement was clouded by alcohol and desperation, and the enticing tone of her voice really didn't help matters. What did he have to lose, anyways? He had already lost everything. He was a broken man in need of a makeshift repair, and as such he was prone to making bad decisions. So instead of telling her to beat it, he kept his eyes trained on the glass in his hand and asked, in a voice that was ever-so-minutely slurred, "What do you propose I do about it, then? A man has to forget somehow."

 

[kou]

=Laila=

*The Cricket*

"The look of the cake, it ain't always the taste; my ex girl she had such a beautiful face."


[media]

[/media]
***

Drinking to forget, huh? Laila had done that quite a lot when she had resided in Brooklyn. Here in Michigan, she wouldn't have suspected that people carried the same burden as the city-goers but it seemed that she was proven wrong. Laila roved her eyes over the man's clearly intoxicated state and took advantage of his apparent alcohol-induced mindset, a hand running through his hair as she grasped his face and tilted it towards hers. Blue eyes mirrored hers except his pupils were dilated and alarmingly glassy, any other person would have taken the hint and left the man to his own devices but Laila did not happen to be among what most would consider angelic. That was usually the first mistake people seemed to make.





Laila removed herself from the stool and relocated to the counter top, people were blissfully unaware of the scene and most chose to mind their own business. One leg hooked itself around the back of the man's stool and the other dangled about before Laila cautiously removed the glass from the man's hand and allowed herself to be the center of attention before she once more focused on the drunkard. The man could have just murdered someone and Laila would still be no less ecstatic than she had before, men happened to think with their lower regions rather than using their heads and she hoped that this one would hold to her expectations. A bubblegum scent wafted off of the woman as she neared the stranger, purposefully skimming a hand against his cheekbone.





"Depends on what you are tryin' to forget, Doll. Tell me, can I make you forget for just one night? Trust me, I'm much better than alcohol."

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester


{The Butterfly}

Once again, Mordecai found himself leaning into the woman's touch, craving the deceptively gentle warmth that it provided. Her face was just as youthful as her voice; she possessed a pale white complexion and artfully arched eyebrows over a pair of shrewd, sparkling brown eyes. Yes, Mordecai may have mistaken her for a teenager, if it wasn't for the fact that they were in a bar and that United States law stated that she would need to be at least twenty-one to even enter the premises. Either that, or she was very skilled in the art of forged identification. The second notion floated up from the fuzziness deep in his brain just long enough for him to consider that what he was doing may just a been a great deal more unsavory than he had originally imagined.


Don't do this. You're better than this.


Mesmorized, he watched as she perched upon the counter in front of him and slipped the glass from his now slightly shaking hands. His resolve nearly dissipated as her hand brushed over his cheek as she moved still closer, gradually closing any distance between them. He was beginning to forget already, and that was truly horrifying. He didn't want to forget Iris. It was stupid and would only serve to harm him in the long run, as it was possibly doing now, but he didn't want to let go of her memory. The sound of her voice, the softness of her hair, the kindness of her touch...


No, I'm not. Can't you see that? I never was anything but weak.





Oh, he was desperate. Oh so desperate. He would pose an objection, that he would, but it was mostly to satisfy what little bit of conscience was still present within him. In all honestly, he knew that this woman had the power to do whatever she wanted with him, and, if it came down to it, he was going to let her, though he was sure to regret it later, when he was sober and has his wits about him. Her scent was more intoxicating than all of the alcohol that he had previously consumed. "I appreciate the offer, love, but I shouldn't like to make a habit out of having my way with children."

 

[kou]

=Laila=

*The Cricket*

"Nights like these, I become afraid of the darkness in my heart."


[media]

[/media]
***

Child?


Laila was many things; a liar, a whore, and a cheat but she was not a child. It had always irked her, the audacity of others to demean her appearance when they knew nothing of the things she had to do to survive in such a lonely and cruel world. A sudden urge to make this man understand her pain was aroused within Laila and the hand on his face tightened before her nail dug into his skin.





Perhaps he was one of the types who enjoyed being in agony, the type who would love to be bound to a chair, perhaps she could make him scream. The thought of this caused Laila to giggle childishly as she surveyed the man, her lips stretching back to reveal rows of white teeth as her eyes gleamed with a subtle tint of danger. He was intriguing, surely, Laila was already enraptured by how he had resisted her but he wouldn't for long.





She was going to make the little piggie squeal. "A child? No, I am anything but a kid..only if you want me to be, of course. Whatever you want, I promise I can give it to you."

​

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester


{The Butterfly}

Pain, sudden and sharp, although very mild in its intensity, shocked Mordecai partially back to his senses. In his hazy state of mind, it took him a moment to process the source as the woman's fingernail digging into the side of his face, but once he did he was seized by a new alertness that he had not possessed only seconds before. It appeared that he had said something wrong.


So the little girl despised the label, did she?





Where desperation alone had been present, there was now a hint of amusement, and a faint glimmer of light returned to Mordecai's dull and glassy eyes. Matching her wide, toothy grin with one of his own, he reached out and touched the woman for the first time, resting one of his own hands upon her cheek - an action which, admittedly, required a great deal of concentration to perform under the influence of so much alcohol. He caught the danger in her eyes, and his smile only grew wider. Yes, he needed this. This woman was a mystery, and an intriguing one at that, just the distraction that he needed from his innermost lamentations. It was not erasure, just mere distraction. Thoughts of Iris could not touch this woman, who did not even know his name and whose name, in turn, he did not know, a scenario which Mordecai greatly preferred to any alternative. No connection would be formed between them in that way. When he was done with her, he could easily slip away. The sickness and the sorrow would undoubtedly return upon that happening, but for now it didn't matter.





Though his approach had changed, Mordecai was far from a sober state of mind. If the woman so chose to, she could still play him like a drum, but some of his old confidence had returned as the whisky kicked in, and he was feeling optimistic in his abilities to take her on. "Such confidence for one so young. But I highly, highly doubt that, darling. Unless, of course, you believe yourself to be a miracle worker."

 

[kou]

=Laila=

*The Cricket*

"Headed towards a fucked up holiday"


[media]

[/media]
***

It was moments like these where Laila knew she had prevailed, she had come out victorious like no other and was destined to do amazing things. This wasn't exactly paradise but it happened to be close enough, the young woman was gazing down at the stranger she had met at the bar last night and a smile was present on her face as she surveyed the work she had done. She had bitten where she could, had scratched as much as possible, and she had even managed to get a kick in although it hadn't been nearly as effective. Laila knew the man was going to be horrified by what he saw but she could care less about his well-being as long as she had managed to gain from the encounter.


Laila had decided to be modest and had dressed as quickly as possible upon her awakening, returning to the dirtied bed silently and perching upon the top of the bedspread. If she had been conscious enough last night, she would have suggested another motel but the man had been too drunken to walk and it had been a momentous feat even getting him here. There was a conflict though, the man happened to have no money whatsoever which was what Laila needed the most. She would have to address that sooner or later, consent was not an issue.


The woman reached over, sharp nails combing through fine hair as she gazed upon a bruise which was now a deep shade of purple directly under his eye. She had done as much damage as possible, this would have to do.

​

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester


{The Butterfly}

"Iris."





Her name was the first word on Mordecai's lips when he awoke with a start from a nightmare of which he couldn't quite recall the details. The hand in his hair was deceptive, and upon realizing his mistake, he pushed it away in a burst of panicked confusion. Where was he? How had he gotten there? Who was the woman who was looking down on him, a look of triumph in her eyes? When no immediate answer came to him, the man attempted to sit up only to fall right back down again. Everything hurt. Everything. His arms, his chest, his head, which was pounding to no end, so much so that he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut to block out any light coming in through the grimy windows.


It was then that everything came back to him: the previous morning, waking up in the arms of a woman whom he loved; his visit with his sister; Miles; the fire; his own harsh words and the breaking weighted promise; drinking himself into a stupor; and finally, leaving the bar with a strange and formidable woman, the one who was sitting beside him now. The rest of the previous night's activities were lost on him, but the implications of waking up in a shithole motel room in the same bed as a stranger were highly explicit.


Forcing composure upon himself, Mordecai went about the business of sitting up once more, this time succeeding after a great deal of effort. No sooner had he done so, however, then he was struck by a crippling wave of nausea, and, pulling the bedsheet around his person, rushed into the tiny, mostly likely roach-infested bathroom, where he knelt beside the toilet bowl and emptied the contents of his stomach. Bile and the bitter taste of the previous night's drink burned the inside of his throat. Drinking on an empty stomach was something that he had no desire to do again any time soon. He grasped his head in his hands as rage seized him. How utterly pathetic was he? What great depths he had sunk to, what degradation he had allowed that woman to inflict on him, all because he couldn't handle a few negative emotions! It was disgraceful, disgusting, and totally unlike himself. What on earth was he becoming? The man once feared by all as a theoretical killer and monster in human form had now lost every ounce of dignity that he had once possessed, and all at the prospect of losing a woman named Iris Mason.


Mordecai wanted to break something, to send a fist crashing through the wall to relieve himself of the insurmountable anger that had taken hold of him, but was somehow able to convince himself that that wouldn't solve anything. Instead, he pulled himself to his feet and staggered back out into the main section of the room. "I see that you have left your mark, love." Or several of them.

 

[kou]

=Laila=

*The Cricket*

Iris. Hm, that was such a strange name. Then again, Laila had suspected that there had been a hand involved in the man's alcoholic tendencies. No one was a drinker if they didn't have a cause. Laila had learned that from her father. The woman did not move an inch from where she sat, her lips puckered in what could easily be mistaken for a look of desperation.





She had left her mark, all over his body. He hadn't even fought back, it was quite appalling. Finally, she moved albeit slowly, Laila preferred to be gracious although her outfits suggested otherwise. The man was extremely tall, practically towering over her and she smiled sweetly as she neared him.





She didn't touch him, the affection she had shown last night had been replaced with cruel indifference. Laila had no need for such actions.





"I did what you wanted me to do, Doll. I made you forget if only temporary, could your little Iris do that? No, you were drinking like a fish. It was better this way."

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester


{The Butterfly}

The name sounded wrong coming from her lips. It was as if something meant to be held as sacred and beautiful, more so than anything else, had been desecrated, soiled by her flippant tone and her blatant indifference. Iris and the contents of that room, that filthy, sinful room, were two drastically divergent concepts that did not belong mixing, and hearing this...this whore utter the name of such a good, respectable woman awakened within Mordecai a new breed of fury, one that he had never known before.


He took a deep breath to center himself as he turned from the woman and went about the painful business of dressing himself - there was no room for shame when she had already seen every part of him. The same clothes that he had donned for the past two days. The scent of smoke had finally faded away. Now they smelled of alcohol. Lovely.





"You will not speak her name again...or I will kill you."





Blunt. So very blunt that it surprised even the man who spoke the words. But he meant it. By the devil himself, he meant it. Mordecai didn't snap often. Self-control had always come naturally to him. (The beagle incident had been an example of a very rare occurrence.) Lately, however, he had been slipping, and this woman was wearing dangerously close to the end of his rope. After all, he was not just a broken alcoholic. He was not helpless, or feeble, despite all of the fresh marks and bruises that covered his body. He was, at heart, a cold-blooded killer. It was a side that, for her sake, he hoped that the woman wouldn't try and provoke.

 

[kou]

=Laila=

*The Cricket*

"I won't soothe your pain, I won't ease your strain, you'll be waiting in vain; I got nothing for you to gain."


[media]

[/media]
***

Kill her? Such dramatics for such a wounded man which was somehow funny to Laila. She knew that for now she had an advantage, the man was hungover and reeked of alcohol and it would not take long to make it to the door before he was falling to the floor and emptying what little remained of his stomach. Laila knew all of this and more however she kept it to herself and played obedient for now, a mock expression of horror across her face as she faced the man.





"Oh my, I seem to have hit a soft spot. Tell me, do you make it a habit of threatening the people you bed? It is quite rude to be honest, have some southern hospitality." Laila skimmed a hand through her hair before quickly making her way over to the doorway and grabbing her boots before slipping them on, the night was over and she would have to take her leave soon.





Of course, most would still be reeling from the sudden revelation that a stranger had just threatened them but Laila had encountered her fair share of dangerous men and this didn't appear to be any different. She had seen enough last night to know that the thing lurking underneath the man's mask was not to be awakened and the sudden outburst of anger was enough for her to keep quiet about the woman again.

 

[Angst]

Mordecai Lester


{The Butterfly}

"If you want the truth, love, I generally prefer not to engage in conversation of any form with my one night stands. As for being hospitable, your impression of me is far from my greatest concern."





Mordecai hadn't expected her to be afraid; not with him in his current...impaired state. No, she was much too self-assured for that, and she had good reason to be. Even in the throes of a hangover, Lester could still read people quite fluently, and by what he had seen and was still seeing, this woman was more than capable of holding her own. But a man enraged harbored the capacity to do appalling things despite minor hindrances, and he was glad that she had been intelligent enough to drop the subject.


His eyes followed her to the door as he slid his sweater on over his head, suppressing a grunt of pain to save her the satisfaction. It struck him that he himself should be getting on his way, but there was one minor issue: namely, paying for the room. After a few moments of internal debate on the matter, he decided that he would have them charge it to Rosaline's account. If she was going to follow him around like a virtual stalker, then the least she could do was provide for his personal vices.





"We have no further business here, I assume? If not, then I should like to be rid of yourself and this wretched place." He didn't exactly know where he would go, but anything was better than where he was now. The scent of mold and must was getting to him, and he needed to clear his head.

​

 

[kou]

|Iris Mason|

-The Caterpillar-

"It don't matter who you are, it's so simple..a feeling but it's everything."


[media]

[/media]
---

Iris had never been much of a woman to place her trust with something that didn't truly exist, this still remained to be the same even as she sat on the wooden pew facing the glass-stained windows which featured a crying Mary as she knelt against the lifeless body of Jesus hung upon a crucifix. The tears had dried long ago but the pain still remained and Iris had spent a good portion of her night in the car before stumbling towards the first location she could think of, she did not wish to go home because she would have to face the upsetting cycle of moving on from the event. Mordecai had left and as the Sun rose, Iris was left to herself in the quiet of her surroundings.


The church had always been open even throughout the night which was something that Iris greatly appreciated, shuffling slightly as the wood dug into her thigh before bowing her head and muttering a prayer half-heartedly. Her voice was slightly cracked from the countless hours of usage and her throat throbbed with a dull ache that annoyed her. She was sure Mordecai had spared no thoughts towards her and it was pathetic to even assume that he would find her, a bitterness seemed to overtake Iris before she felt her hand slamming against the pew in front of her. Why did everything have to be so complicated? The pain seemed to rapidly appear in her fingers but the woman ignored it, her eyes fixating on the sunlight which filtered through the glass before she stood. The stiffness in her legs was manageable and Iris knew that it was time to face her apartment and go back to the way things had been before Mordecai had arrived.


Cold.


Empty.


Lifeless.


Iris despised the way she felt, despised herself for being so naive, and despised Mordecai for being able to manipulate her so easily. Iris adjusted her coat before starting off towards the door and exiting the building, flinching slightly at the soft breeze which winded throughout her. It was such a beautiful day and Iris could find no solace in it, not when everything she had considered beautiful had been ripped away from her so abruptly and she was left with bitter words and misplaced faith.


She hated him, she loved him, it was all so horrible.

​

 

[Angst]

Mitchell Owens


(The Moth)

Tradgedy was often the breeding grounds for opportunity. This principle was one that an investigative journalist like Mitchell Owens knew very well to be true and of which the recent burning of the town's oldest Church was certainly a grave testament. The fire had indeed been a heartrending disaster, one to which Mitchell felt a personal connection. He had been Baptized in that Church and had attended mass there his entire life, up until a year before when a job promotion had started taking over his Sunday mornings. Many of those who had died in the fire, from sacristans to the pastor himself, had been close acquaintances, and the funeral count of the coming month would be very high. But despite all of the negative points and the grief that he had experienced upon hearing the names of the dead (Thankfully, no service had been going on, but those who worked there had still been present), Mitchell knew that the event could also serve to be a great chance to prove his talents and escape the state of Michigan once and for all. Especially after he'd gotten word of the man responsible.


The infamous Mordecai Lester. Having covered numerous stories regarding the man's previous indictments, Mordecai's background was one that Mitchell knew well. From this knowledge had arisen a theory, one that he was hell-bent on proving. The authorities considered Lester's arrest to be a great stroke of luck, a shining example of how greatly their force had grown over the past two years, but Mitchell knew better. Up until this point, Lester had been excruciatingly thorough in covering his tracks. Slip-ups as grand as this did not just occur out of the blue. No. The only feasible explanation, in Mitchell's mind, was that Lester had allowed himself to be caught. Why, he didn't know, but his superiors had expressed great interest in his line of thinking - the reason for which he had been assigned to this particular story - and thus, he had set out to find some answers.





Primarily, he had, of course, gone down to the police station (Television reporters were already handling the details down at the scene of the crime.), where he had obtained from the officers involved the details of Lester's arrest and had even attempted to speak with the man in question. But the information that he had received from the man was very little compared with the sarcastic comments and disconcerting smiles, and the look in his eyes had been admittedly...disturbing. So Mitchell had decided upon trying the next best thing: Lester's psychiatrist, a woman by the name of Iris Mason. Her name and address he had gotten from the man's personal file down at the station, and now, as he stood at her front door, he ran the questions that he planned to ask her over in his head. Surely she would have to know something, but as far as he knew, she hadn't yet heard the news. He hoped that she wouldn't take it too personally that her patient had set a Church on fire.


After taking a moment to pull his thoughts together, the journalist reached out to the wooden door and knocked three times.

 

[kou]

|Iris Mason|


-The Caterpillar-

"When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride, when you need directions then I'll be your guide."


[media]

[/media]
---

Iris had taken up residence on her couch, cleaning herself up when she had arrived before retiring to the living room. It was much too quiet for her liking although it had always been like this, it had taken a certain man to liven the place up and now that he was no longer here...


Iris forced herself to stop thinking about such things and stared disinterestedly at the television where a reporter was recounting the details of some fire in a church. It took her a moment to realize that it was the same exact church she had just been to and the woman stood quickly only to fall down once more, a distraught expression on her face. Churches did not just burn down and it took no genius to put the pieces of the puzzle together, was the man really that intent on being rid of her? The three raps upon her door was a welcome interruption and Iris immediately set off towards the entrance, her mind feeling slightly hazy as she pondered over where Lester could possibly be at this moment.


If there was any doubt in her mind that the man still held feelings for her it had been vanquished entirely by what she had happened to see on the television and that thought was more alarming than it had to be any right to be. Iris had dealt with threats toward her person often but the fact that if she had stayed any longer in the sanctuary..


'Stop.'


The woman came to stand in front of the door, reaching towards the door before carefully opening it to reveal a man she had never met standing in the entryway. "May I help you?

​