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| | | When No Matter What You Do, It's Never Good Enough (Josh & Azalea) |  |
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Joshua Murray
Adult
Posts : 173
Birthday : 1996-11-25
Join date : 2017-07-26
| | Subject: When No Matter What You Do, It's Never Good Enough (Josh & Azalea) Mon Apr 09, 2018 9:07 pm | |
| 2 July 2024
Carmel by the Sea
The Lady Murray sat in the simplest of outfits as the car drove slowly away from the mansion that had accommodated her, her medical team and the Lord Murray the night before. Josh had insisted that when this moment came, his Azalea was to be wearing the clothes that she would have been comfortable in over a decade ago. The figure hugging jeans had been changed for something a little less constricting with his lady's current health, but Josh could not have been faulted for his choice.
The staff had been dismissed the night before after the last checks had been completed, and Josh had seen to getting his Azalea washed and dressed the next morning. Any other man of his station would not have sunk to such tasks, but Josh was going to savour these final moments, with the two of them alone, in one another's company.
His wand made short work of the light touches of makeup that she'd worn consistently through the last ten years, as the blonde carefully drew her hair up in to surgically tidy ponytail without so much as hurting her as he tied the bobble in to place. His Azalea looked barely a day older than when she'd left him at Hogwarts all those years ago, her reflection almost the perfect replica of how she would have tended her plants in the greenhouse.
Except for the dulled eyes, that showed no life there...
As the car continued down the road, Josh's eyes never left his Azalea, committing each and every part of her to memory as she gazed out of the window up at the sun that had captivated her so deeply every time it had come out to greet her. Her memory was all he would have for now...
Josh's jaw set, his hand curving around the folder that included all the notes of his Azalea's health, medical needs, and all records that would be necessary to relay on to the family that was about to take her on. Though, the medical team were just down the road, with the instructions to follow on later when this had been sorted.
To say he was not ready for this would have been an understatement, truthfully, the feeling in the bottom of his stomach was one he could not place, one that left him feeling very uncomfortable, but one that did not reach his eyes.
Temporary, that was all this was.
"A-Azalea?" Josh spoke softly, not wishing to make the witch jump from wherever her mind might have been in that moment. The car slowed off as Josh knew it would, the mid morning sun beating down upon their air conditioned vehicle as the head of the Murray household waited for his Lady to turn towards him. "I need you to hold this, and don't let it go, okay?" Josh told her softly as the car stopped across from the road from the driveway of the monstrosity of a home that he did not wish to see.
He waited for the witch to answer with the affirmative that he knew would come with his instructions, that always had come with his instructions.
The constricting feeling in Josh's throat made him pause for a moment. Regulating the function of breathing evenly and then swallowing. Reaching forth, Josh took his Azalea's hand in to his own, the softness of her fingers against his own making him pause for a moment, wish beyond the world that he could hold on and never let her go.
If you want them both alive...
Leaning in, Josh pressed a soft kiss to her lips, one that held for a moment, two, three... His heart was hammering against the confines of his ribcage, sensing that something was amiss and trying to alert it's master of the danger he was bout to create as he pulled away, taking in the perfection of the witch before him one last time.
"I need you to walk up to that door, A-Azalea..." Josh explained gently to the witch, pointing to the monstrosity at the top of the driveway without looking away from her. "Only that door, A-Azalea. And I need you to knock, three times and... and then I need you to wait, A-Azalea." He explained, voice thickened with an emotion that Josh could not recognise in that moment.
With a nod towards the front seat, the chauffeur got out from the car, and moved to his Azalea's door. He opened it carefully, and aided the Lady Murray from the car with undeniable care. Once the witch had been guided across the road, the chauffeur stopped in his aid of the witch, and allowed her to walk the rest of the way to the monstrosity, turning back to the car and getting inside once more.
Josh's eyes did not follow his Azalea, though.
His eyes remained straight forward, looking out towards the bay as his hands gripped on to his knees, fingernails digging in to the skin as he held on for dear life through the only medium he knew how.
Pain.
"Someone is opening the door, Lord Murray."
Silence.
"The woman you showed me, Lord Murray."
"Drive."
The car pulled away just as slowly as it had approached the Harrington household, not trying to raise any suspicion as it turned out of the road of the Harrington household.
Joshua Murray refused to look back, he would not look back.
And, if anyone tried to locate the suspicious looking car that had rolled through the streets of the Harrington household, they would find it not far off from Carmel by the Sea a few days later. Torched, with only one passenger, and no further information.________________________________________________~ Profile ~  Signature by the amazing Jess! <3 | |
| | | | Mimosa Harrington
Hogwarts Head Girl
Posts : 1500
Birthday : 2013-08-13
Join date : 2017-07-22
| | Subject: Re: When No Matter What You Do, It's Never Good Enough (Josh & Azalea) Wed Apr 11, 2018 4:32 am | |
|  Clara Kent
It wasn't often that Clara Kent saw ghosts, but she did see them from time to time. Of course, the fact that she saw them while asleep hardly mattered. So when the psychic woke up at 3 a.m. in a cold sweat, rationally she knew not to worry. It was simply a dream
The image of her little Azzie standing at their doorstep, looking as if she was devoid of all humanity, was nothing but a nightmare. Azalea would never have become a ghost, Clara knew that for certain. The girl she had raised as her own daughter was more courageous than to choose an existence as pitiful as that of a ghost in this world. Azalea would have found the next great adventure.
So why were there tears in Clara's eyes?
Reaching up to wipe the offending tears, Clara followed suit by throwing the covers off her body. It wasn't cold, it was never cold in Carmel and that was why she had missed it so much. The last few months of adjusting to English weather had sent the witch flying back to the US the moment Mimosa had left for India and Kit had announced some artsy trip to Paris. In his defense, the photographer had asked her to come along but Clara would rather vegetate by the beach than be around people who sniffed their own farts and then described the scent in great detail.
Art snobs, how had she ended up pledging her life to one?
Sleep was a lost cause, the psychic decided as she finally left her bed, padding softly on the carpeted floors to Mimosa's bedroom where, for the first time in ages, tidiness reigned - a clear sign that the little monster was currently not at home. More out of habit than anything else, the witch ran a hand over the furniture, clearing dust that wasn't there as her dark eyes landed on the wall of pictures Mimosa had full executive power over. The wall was probably the young witch's most prized possession at home, comprising of photographs, letters, decorations, all placed in no particular manner of organization. A few new additions had been made to the wall recently including the picture of a dark haired Ravenclaw with a gentle smile and a brochure of Kashmir.
Looking at the wall only made her miss the kido more, so after a few moments, Clara left the room in its pristine condition and headed towards her second favorite room in the house - Kit's Studio and Dark Room. For those who did not know the photographer well, they would assume his most private, intimate space would be his bedroom. They did not know that Kit merely used his bedroom as a place to occasionally sleep or fuck. His intimate place, the place he felt most at home, was where he worked.
Making her way up the stairs and out into the roof, the witch smiled to herself at the twinkling stars above. She had jokingly etched out the words on his studio door many years ago but they stood true.
"Adorned in Masters' loving art she lies
At last she rests beneath the starry skies"
Pushing the door open softly, Clara entered with more care this time. Going against her habit of tidying and straightening things, she merely looked at the works in progress. The Bondi pictures were done and now rested in one corner, Kit would never give them a second glance now that they were completed. A program from the art gallery in Paris where he was now alongside several black and white shots of the Azalea festival from April. How Kit could still bear to go there, she would never understand but she wasn't here to understand, merely support.
Heading towards Kit's easy chair, Clara curled up into it, pulling a thin blanket from behind that she had insisted Kit keep there for how often he fell asleep in the studio. Wrapping the thin material around herself, she inhaled deeply, taking in his comforting scent of his aftershave that still lingered here. She knew that if she reached across to the small coffee table, she could easily pop out the secret drawer underneath it. It would be child's play to reach the photographs from thirty years ago, and even easier to send them to newspaper and tabloids for a decent sum of money. Of course, the gold would not be as pleasant as ruining the Lady Clement's pristine reputation, not as satisfying as showing the world that she wasn't always the perfect, porcelain Barbie she now pretended to be.
But that would be betraying her best friend's trust in a way Clara could never be capable of. She knew why he still kept those pictures, those momentos, she knew everything whether Kit told her or not. So for now, Clara simply stayed curled up in his chair, surrounded by the best form of him, absent but comforting.
She must have dozed off because it was nearing sunrise when she noticed the knock, enchanted to reverberate around the house and be heard no matter where she was inside the giant structure. Wondering who it could be at this hour, the witch grudging got out from the chair, still keeping the blanket wrapped around her so she wouldn't have to locate a dressing gown. If it was Jake again, he would get a piece of her mind. Clara could forgive a man once for waking her up at an ungodly hour but her generosity did not extend to a repeat incident of the same nature.
Mumbling to herself, the witch stumbled her way down the stairs, wiping crusts of sleep from her eyes and muttering obscenities under her breath. The sun wasn't even up yet, who would have the audacity to beat it at its own game? "I'm coming, hold your horses," she called out as she cleared the bottom step only for the knock to sound again. "Granny Weatherwax, you'd think someone died and came back to life."
Fumbling with the locks and latches of the door, Clara finally managed to throw it open, only to freeze in her tracks upon laying eyes on what awaited her at the doorstep.
It hadn't been a dream, she realized as she stared blankly at the young woman in front of her.
It had been a vision.
Automatically, Clara's hands reached out to catch her little Azzie before the girl could collapse on the step.________________________________________________ | |
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