Running (Jackson Blake - TW: Sexual Themes)

Subject: Running (Jackson Blake - TW: Sexual Themes) Wed Apr 25, 2018 4:44 pm

Running away from life's problems was never the way forward, Victoria Newbury knew that quite well. The witch was not stupid, despite her naïve nature, many people had underestimated her on that front, but she had run out of answers to the world's problems. Or, more specifically, her own.

The last three years had been fulfilling, moving from her job at the Ministry to Darby International had been a wise move. It brought her growth in the industry, one she'd thrived in, earned much more than the Ministry of Magic (which had still been a sizeable wage) could offer her. But it had never been the money that pushed Victoria to law, it was the desire to help. The Bachams had been an example of that much, helping an elderly couple with an issue on inheritance after their son's untimely demise had been something Victoria had found truly fulfilling, but the fates had never been with her.

After the dismissal from Darby International, Victoria had fallen in to a rut. One she had clawed and scraped to try to get herself out of, only to fall back to the ground below. Door after door had been closed upon the witch, and no matter how much Grayson tried to console her, no matter how much Jake insisted she would find something, no matter how much her mom tried to hide the worry in her voice, Victoria was coming around to the truth.

Her career in law had been stunted.

It had not been an easy idea to come around with, but the talk with Odysseas on the beach in July had set the witch's brain to thinking through the idea that... possibly, greater forces were at work here.

Many women might not have been able to cast their mind to the conversation held whilst somewhat drunk on the island, in the arms of a man who was Godlike in every manner of the word. Many women might have stuck to the thoughts of the encounters with the man the few nights that they had spent with him, but Victoria... Victoria had not found the art of sex freeing. This was not to say Odysseas hadn't been good, quite the contrary, but the witch had not found the freeness with which she had anticipated from the engagement.

They had parted on good terms, though, friends, Victoria would say if asked. Whether or not they would meet again, Victoria would not speculate, but she knew that she owed the man for teaching her something about herself in the time they'd spent together.

From there, it was back to England. Her emails filled with rejections to her CV and job applications waiting. There was so little Victoria could do with her time, the slump only grew bigger with time.

Her friends frequented her flat though, old colleagues checking up on her, a graduate who'd taken her law class had found her address and dropped by to get advice on pursuing a career in law. Victoria had played host with the pretence of someone under a lot less stress, waving to her neighbours as she saw her guests out of her flat each day.

Which had been the second mistake on her part.

Alfred had come by in late July under the pretence of check up on the flat. Victoria had let him in without second thought, never one to have anything much to clean up. Alfred had checked the flat over much too quickly, not really looking anywhere for very long except her bedroom. Victoria had been confused, but remained polite as Alfred informed her everything seemed to be in order, before handing her a letter.

After Alfred had left, the witch had opened the envelope, reading through the letter, and feeling her legs collapse, managed to drop on to the sofa. The witch's hands shook as she read the letter, the letter witch was giving her notice to move from the place she'd called home by the end of the month due to complaints being made over the number of male visitors she'd been receiving recently.

She could have fought it, Victoria knew that much, but the idea that her neighbours believed her guests were of something of a sexual nature made her skin crawl. She was not that kind of person -- not that there was a problem with those who were like it -- and to be removed from the building for such reasons...

Victoria had texted Grayson, asking if she could store her belongings with him for a short period -- she did not wish to tell her mom and dad, nor tell Jake of this -- knowing he would not question her more than she wished to explain. The small box -- magic was beautiful that way -- had been dropped to Grayson's on the first, before Victoria had left for Heathrow, and a plane to the States.

America would always be home, Victoria was born in the beautiful country, she loved her country, but she had left it too long. Her destination? Lake Michigan. The lakes of the States held a lot of value to Victoria, Jake had always taken her during the holidays, and she needed the familiarity of the lakes to calm down.

Milwaukee was a city she'd never visited, it had a lot to offer, a lot to keep her occupied, and that was precisely why she'd booked a holiday there. Her savings were a godsend in these moments, Victoria reflected as she changed for the evening after spending the day in the Milwaukee Public Museum that boasted a vast collection of Natural History displays. She'd learned a lot from her trip, and spend the afternoon reading her book from the museum by the lake, digesting more details than would ever be necessary.

Tonight, though, Victoria needed to get away.

The clubs of Milwaukee had been calling to her that evening, her dress was relatively figure hugging, and shorter than Victoria normally wore, but she didn't care as she paid her entry fee to the club and moved quickly to the bar. Two Tequila shots later, and then a Vodka and coke in hand, Victoria was heading in to the dancefloor to get lost in the crowd.

Two hours later -- and a number of drinks that made Victoria less than aware of her surroundings -- the witch was dancing with four men. Carefree, happy, and unaware of any danger lurking in her vicinity. Robert, Moretz, Gale and Simon were nice, buying her drinks and genuinely interested in her and her stay. Victoria had been happy to share that she was here on holiday, on her own, for an undetermined amount of time, and they'd been happy -- especially Moretz, to offer to show her around. Sweet boys, Victoria had called them as she admitted she needed a break from the dancing to rest her feet.

Moretz, et al, had followed Victoria to the bar. Moretz helping her on to a stool at the end of the bar, his arm naturally wrapping around her on the chair in a manner that was relaxing to Victoria. The alcohol had dimmed her senses vastly, but the witch didn't care as Moretz leaned down to whisper in her ear how beautiful she was tonight.

The blush crept along Victoria's cheeks, her smile a little too wide as she looked up at the man, almost ready to return the compliment in her own manner when his lips caught hers, catching her off guard, but not negatively. His hand had moved to her thigh, just above the knee, but Victoria's hand moved to stop that advance.

"Not here," she replied, giggling softly at the groan that came from Moretz's lips as she entwined her fingers with his, and turned away slightly to get her drink. Alarm bells should have been ringing as Moretz looked to his companions atop Victoria's head, but Victoria Newbury was blissfully unaware in her drunken state, only worried about her aching calves in the killer heels she'd sported all evening.

The fact that the room was spinning past Robert, Moretz, Gale and Simon was another matter entirely. One that Victoria refused to focus on.

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Running (Jackson Blake - TW: Sexual Themes) C-sidarth-2-feb-2

After leaving Sasha's house over two weeks ago, all Jackson had wanted to do as drown himself in alcohol, and not in the metaphorical sense. He wanted to fill a giant tub with all kinds of booze and then lie in said tub, and then sink, dunking his head below water, opening his mouth and inhaling deep until every orifice in his body burned with the raw alcohol content, bleaching him from the inside.

And even that might not be enough to make him feel clean again.

Sasha's betrayal had reminded him exactly how good alcohol tasted, how intoxication it smelt, how it took the edge off the world and made things easier to bear. As someone who still regularly attended AA meting when he could, the young wizard knew this was a sign. he should call his sponsor, or a sober companion, or go to a friend's. He certainly should not be walking down London'd well lit pub scene with tantalizing neon signs advertising magical drinks that would make everything okay.

And yet here he was, a stranger in a sea of strangers, walking with no destination in mind, looking around paranoid as if everyoen kne what he had unknowingly done.

"Hey Mister, watch where you're going," a girl squealed as he bumped into her. Before he could apologize however her ire turned into a big, inviting smile. "Or maybe don't, won't mind bumping into you again." On a normal occasion, her flirtatious advances would have been returned, he would have been happy with a bit of back and forth before he informed her he was a taken man. Today, he only scrutinized her face, wondered how old the face beneath that make up was. She couldn't have been older than nineteen.

"Never mind, you're creepy," the kid changed her mind, clearly put off by his intent stare and silent demeanor. Jackson watched her go, noting the pink plastic bracelet she wore. Was it a fashion choice or the tastes of a child? He could no longer tell.

And ingesting alcohol would certainly not help him make the distinction between minor and consenting adult. So Jackson stood where he was, trying to make the hardest decision he'd had to make all week. Perhaps his entire life. He stood where he was and contemplated how apparition worked, and if he could perform it in his current state.

In the end, it was the girl that made up his mind for him, because she was back after informing him he was creepy, and this time she had a friend with her. "Look Mister, I don't know your damage but my friend is into it. And we're here for some fun, so what do you say the three of us head on-"

Crack!

It didn't matter that he was almost at the verge of throwing up again, or that he had no clear destination in mind. if he stayed longer and fucked those girls, he would be the thing he was desperately denying that he was.

He had done it wrong, instead of aiming for his studio in America, he had landed in his office at Milwaukee city hall, hours behind and thankfully to an empty room. His clothes stank of London, and the wetness on his face back red upon touch. A moment later, Jackson noticed the deep gash on his shoulder, slowly staining his white shirt. He had splinched himself in his haste to get away from those young woman, a splinch he deserved in every way.

The next two weeks had been excruciating as he attempted to keep it together for the Vice President's visit. The first thing on the list had been to reach out to the mysterious blackmailer and wire her the ten thousand dollars she had demanded for the time being. He needed her quiet while he figured out what to do next. Never in his life had the politician wished so hard for Merida to be here. She would make everything okay.

But roping Merida into this mess was not an option. So after fending off the hateful cunt, Jackson called to make an appointment with Michael Bloomberg, a man born to do business and business alone. Originally Jackson's Godfather in the political game, he had not changed his opinion of the young man at all when his daughter and Jackson had broken up. Michael would know all about blackmailing bitches and how to deal with them.

So he had stood beside Madam Fiorina the day she had landed via Air Force 2 to endorse him, smiled generally at the crowd gathered, shook her hands and even given her a polite kiss on the cheek, all the while wondering when someone from the crowd would yell out his true crimes. No one had though, the visit had gone off without a hitch, the scummy blackmailer was keeping her word but only because she had found herself a cash cow. The next payment would be bigger. And if he made it into office by some miracle, the payment would take the form of a lot more than dollar bills.

And then there was his urge to drink. Almost every night, the temptation returned and nothing seemed to keep it at bay. Jackson tried exercising in his home gym, watching porn for hours on end, he even called up Merida to try and distract him but in the end, the tiny voice in his head always had the same advice. "Take a drink, it can't be that bad now." It was out of sheer desperation that he finally reached out to his group of scumbag friends from Salem. Friends who had conveniently forgotten him after he left, pretended to remember him at Miss Azalea's funeral and then forgotten him again until he started appearing in the local news. Jackson didn't really blame them, the easiest way to discover long lost family and friends was to get rich in America. But he also didn't want anything to do with them.

His go to friend would have been Damien, but Damien had a little girl... Jackson would never be able to look little Dominique in the eye again.

So he had reached out to the notorious lot. Metz, Gale, Si, Robb, the quartet that he had been sort of a part of back in school. Back when life had been decent and there had been a sliver of hope disguised as soemthing pink around the horizon. It had been surprisingly easy. Jackson had Si's number and Si had immediately created the "StrangeTamers" group on whatsapp, tagging the old gang in. Everyone had been delighted to hear from Jackson and tonight was supposed to be their first official neuron, a night of soft drinks, video games, poker and pure guy talk.

Jackson was over or undressed for a Saturday night, wearing his usual jeans but teaming it with a thin grey t shirt that really was an undershirt but would suffice for tonight's festivities. The bowls of chips and salsa were laid out beside the small mountain of Mountain Dews and he had even made the halfhearted effort to get a dart board. The poker set lay to one side, game consoles dominating the scene more than anything else.

Ping

His phone blinked from where it sat on the couch arm. Jackson ignored it. It was probably an email from work.

Ping, Ping, Ping.

Annoyed, the raven haired young man moved an arm to reach the phone, scowling as he saw Metz's message on the home sreen.

Can't make it tonight bro, gonna get lucky.

Hissing in frustration, Jackson swiped to unlock his phone, reading the full message in the texting app before typing a quick reply.

How lucky?

In response, he received the ample bosom of some woman who was either unaware she was being photographed from such an angle or very liberal with her body. Whatever the case, Jackson supposed he couldn't compete with tits that perky. He would try though.

What about the bro code? Bros before hos?

Having sent his query, the politician tossed his sleek ebony device aside. The game was lost, the best he could hope for was to now make them feel guilty enough tomorrow to reschedule their game night. His phone pinged several more times but Jackson didn't look. Once again, he didn't blame them, simply wanted nothing to do with them.

It was as he was clearing away the bowls of snacks that hi eyes landed on the lock screen of his phone again, the messages blinking at him. Picking up the device, Jackson called up whatsapp once more. There were more photos as he read from latest to oldest, scrolling upwards. A picture of Metz' hand on a creamy thigh (did she not notice his wedding ring or didn't care?), a shot of her bosom once again, this time drenched from an"accidental" drink spill, a shot up the skirt of her dress she clearly had to be unaware of or she deserved this lot.

It was the initial reply to his message of the bro code that stunned Jackson Blake, The words "He's not leaving the bros behind, we're all getting lucky" followed by "Wanna join, she's near passed out?". But the words, repulsive as they were, was not what stunned him.

It was the picture they were captioned on, the picture of a princess with her eyes closed, leaning on the bar with one hand reaching between Metz's knee...

Jackson hit dial button with one hand as his other grabbed a jacket from the coat hanger. Robb picked up on the seventh ring as Jackson was turning the key into the ignition.

"Lo?"

"Don't you fucking touch her, I'll be right there."

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Running (Jackson Blake - TW: Sexual Themes) Rsz_mi10

Running (Jackson Blake - TW: Sexual Themes) Rsz_ja12

Running (Jackson Blake - TW: Sexual Themes) Rsz_rs13

Even as Victoria's hand moved to stop Moretz's from his administrations, the man was not playing ball with him. Victoria did her best to try to keep him from doing that, they were in public, it wasn't right, she didn't want this to happen. But, her mind was fuzzy from the alcohol, and he was insisting that she was beautiful, that he needed her to finish her drink so they could get out of her as his hand touched her thigh once more.

The witch's attention had been on Moretz for some time now, trying to keep his hands at bay as the other men in their small party took their phones out and took pictures of her that she was unaware of. The spillage of Simon's drink had brought Victoria up off of her chair, looking thoroughly flustered as her dress found a new, tighter purchase around her breasts that made her feel vastly uncomfortable. The material was not supposed to cling so much to her skin, making her feel constricted once more in an evening where she was trying to feel free from the world at large.

"Come on, darling, lets get you on home then we can get you out of these clothes." Moretz said in a voice Victoria found much too welcoming, much too friendly as she held on to him to keep herself up straight. How many drinks had she had? Victoria couldn't have counted if she tried in that moment, knowing only that she had to hold on to Moretz or else she was going to fall over.

Why would the room not just stay still?

"Just a minute..." Victoria told him softly, her grip on his arm growing slightly tighter as she tried to focus. Moretz turned towards her, his hands upon her backside as he enveloped her in his arms. The naivety of the Newbury witch was clear in that moment as she rested her head upon his chest, closing her eyes to stop the whole room from spinning, blissfully unaware of the continued taking of pictures, and the grotesque comments and mimes of the men around her.

It lasted a few moments, before Moretz pulled away enough and propped her against the bar, her small frame barely capable of holding itself now the vast quantity of alcohol had taken it's course, and poisoned her body in to a manner that lacked any functionality.

Too many... Victoria thought to herself in that moment.

Words were being passed around her that she couldn't focus on, and Victoria's hand moved forth to seek purchase on something. Anything. They found Moretz once more, unknowingly holding the man's leg just above the knee.

For a few moments, Victoria sat trying to focus, but it was no good.

"I need to go back to my room..." She told the men, speech slightly slurred in that moment. The young witch tried to stand up, but found herself dizzy, reliant on Moretz's aid to keep her upright once more.

"Hold on a minute baby." Moretz insisted, sending a conspiring look to Robb who just got off the telephone.

Victoria remained oblivious, to it all.

"My room..." She insisted once more, trying to move forth, to cross the dance floor to get out of the club, because this was not right. She needed her bed...

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Even with all the red lights he ran, emergency bike routes he brazenly took over and bigger cars he cut in front of, it took Jackson fifteen more minutes to get the to the club he knew the guys were at. How could he have possibly thought they'd changed after all these years? As the wizard honked impatiently at a student driver in front of him, cursing the inability to apperate for a few weeks due to his recent injury, Jackson couldn't help the sense of deja vu.

This was not the first time she had been cornered by this lot, and this was not the first time he had found himself in the unique position of not wanting to give a shit but rushing to her rescue regardless. This time, the break it would cause between him and the guys would be permanent.

Not that he cared about that of course. They were the scum of the earth, Jackson thought angrily as he pressed down on the accelerator, cutting sharply across three lanes and sending a volley of blaring horns in his wake. If he got a ticket later, he would deal with it. He could probably charge it to the princess's account since she was a fancy doctor or banker or something last he checked. And if she was now married and unemployed, her brother still had the millions to pay off a small fine at the DMV.

"Sir, you can't park-" a valet approached the vehicular coming to a screeching stop at the door of the club. Before the uniformed man could say another word, Jackson tossed his wallet towards the valet.

"Bar my license, take whatever you want and keep the car running," he instructed. The valet immediately stepped out of the way, discretely going through the wallet and picking out the highest numbered bills. Jackson didn't even give the man a second thought, pushing the bouncer aside and dashing in, jumping over the velvet ropes and into the strobe lights.

It took almost too long to find her, she was barely more than a child in this crowd. What did help in the end was the crowd of drunken horny men gathered by the bar, some hooting while others with their hands busy elsewhere. Someone - and if Jackson had to bet on it, he would say Si - had propped the princess up on the bar. Her head lolled forwards, dark brown tresses covering her face while her legs were being spread open. Metz let out a cheer to one side, holding up what looked like a red lace bra in one hand. The spectators cheered like he'd made a goal.

"Go for her underwear next," a guy beside Jackson yelled, one of his own hands in a similar area.

"Already on it," Gale hooted back, nudging the girl's legs further apart. how she was even managing to sit up Jackson didn't know. What he did know was this his left hook went into the masturbating fucker's face and his feet pushed him forwards. He was at the bar before Gale succeeded in his quest, the man's hairy arm slapped away.

"Hey Jax, come to join the fun. You can go for it if you like," Gale had the time to say before Jackson reached out to punch him soundly in the face. Many years later, the politician would still take pride in the fact that he heard the bastard's nose crunch and break even above all the club noise.

The confusion and the size of the childlike woman was in his favor. It took barely a swing of his arm to snap her legs closed and pop her head back. Her eyes were blank, glossy, she was completely out of it. In a quick, smooth motion, Jackson removed his jacket, wrapping it over the stupid witch before lifting her off the bar in a fireman's carry.

Had he stayed longer, he was sure someone would have come out of their shocked state enough to get the bouncer or challenge him for the drunken, unconscious prize. Fortunately, no one messed with a guy who had already punched two people unprovoked and still had one hand free.

The valet, to his credit, had kept the car running and Jackson had just enough time to shove the princess into the front seat, buckle her in and get himself into the driving seat before the noise started. Swiping his wallet back from the uniformed attendant, Jackson tossed it into the back seat and high tailed it out of there.

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The dizziness had not allowed Victoria to get far, or perhaps it was the hands that were upon her body. Victoria wasn't sure who's hands they were, they weren't Moretz's, of that much she was sure as she was pushed back in to the bar a little too sharply for her own comfort. The jolt of pain it sent up her back was one that should have registered more but for the dullness of her senses rendering the action less that a niggle.

Lips came to hers, different to the one before, before the witch was hoisted on to the bar. The room span once more, and then the focus completely left from the witch's mind. The strobe lights flashed around her eyes, but they didn't see them as they had before, the music grew so loud in her ears that it ended up in a muffled state in her subconscious in that moment.

The world kept moving, but Victoria felt nothing as she was used as nothing short of a rag doll to the men she'd befriended that evening.

Their hands would leave bruises upon her pale skin.

Their nails would leave marks where they roughly pulled her bra from her person, her dress now both damp and torn as she sat limply on the bar, legs spread for the world to witness.

Nothing registered in the witch's mind, though.

Nothing, this was how it was to stop feeling...

***

The weightlessness brought Victoria back to some kind of sense.

She didn't know where she was anymore. She didn't know why she felt weightless to the world, but she knew that she did. But with the weightlessness of the world came the pressure of something on her stomach that made it feel like the contents was swishing around inside her. Discomfort plagued the witch in the weightlessness, and she moaned softly in an attempt to get the feeling to stop.

It didn't relent, though, only making her feel more sick with each movement.

The acidic taste of bile rose in the witch's throat, burning as it moved up, but not yet expelling itself from her system.

And then the weightlessness stopped. The pressure stopped.

Instead the whole world moved. Swaying left and right with the movement of something bigger than before. The pressure on her stomach had disappeared, but the sickness hadn't subsided. Victoria pushed her eyes open enough to see that things were moving around her much quicker than they had any right to be doing. Another groan left her lips, bordering on a whimper for help.

In the same moment, as flashing lights from signs outside met her senses, and the bile stayed in place no longer.

Vomit emitted from the witch's mouth, down on to herself, the car seat and the floor of the car that she had be placed in to. It splatted against the dashboard, and rebounded on to the door panel. Had the witch known herself from the world, she would have passed a sorry to whomever's car this was, but the witch was not aware of her surroundings at all.

No, Victoria Newbury was far gone, and her head hit the window with a soft thunk! as she passed out cold.

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Had Jackson not known the circumstances during which the young woman in his car had lost consciousness, he would have imagined she looked almost peaceful, buckled tightly to the seat and wrapped almost completely in his jacket. The princess hadn't moved since he'd deposited her into the car and that was how Jackson intended to keep her until he reached home. If she had a phone or wallet on her, it was long gone now and the only place he could bring her to was his own little studio. Oh well, if it had been good enough for Luce, it would have to suffice for the Wormwood royalty.

But of course, a quiet, uneventful drive back was not what he would be getting. It was as they passed through a sharp bend in the road that the princess woke up, looking around her without seeing much. Jackson merely grunted, something along the lines of "go back to sleep" but when had she ever done as he asked her to. When she opened her mouth, he almost expected that annoying trilling voice from twelve years ago.

Instead what came out of her tiny mouth went everywhere. Jackson hadn't seen this bad a case of projectile vomiting since... Actually he'd never seen one this bad up close. It went all over her, all over him and the windshield where it splashed back on her and him.

"Fuck," the wizard cursed under his breath, afraid to open his mouth because there was something on his face and he did not need it sliding into any open orifices. Pulling the car to a stop on the side of the road, he waited for her convulsions to be over. It didn't take long and after a few tense moments, he was able to pick up the rhythmic breathing of her sleep once again. She hadn't choked on her own sick at least.

Letting out a few more choice words, the young wizard unbuckled his seat belt and proceeded to remove his shirt, wadding it up so the cleanest side could be used to wipe his face and then be applied to the windshield. It wasn't ideal but then again what was? Tossing the shirt beneath his seat, the male started driving once more, the seat belt now cutting into his bare abs, his mouth set in a scowl.

They reached the studio well after one thanks to Jackson feeling the need to take the more remote route back. People suspected you were up to no good when you drove half naked with an unconscious woman in the passenger seat. Upon finally parking the vehicle and reminding himself to send it for cleaning first thing tomorrow, he exited the car and popped the latch on the princess's side. She was covered from head to two in sick and, wrinkling his nose, he picked up her, carrying her across his arms and into the small apartment that will probably smell like puke for days now.

Carrying the unconscious woman straight to the tub, he set her down gently on the porcelain, making sure she didn't slip or hurt herself. Once she was settled, he hosed her down as best he could. propping the shower head from it stand and spraying her through the clothes with warm water. It took almost ten minutes to get rid of the smell and sick but in the end, she seemed cleaned enough. Taking the opportunity to clean up his own body of her expulsions, Jackson retrieved a large towel, scooping her back up from the tub and into it before depositing her on the couch outside where she dripped unconsciously - damaging even more of his stuff.

Grumbling to himself, he fetched his wand, transfiguring her clothes dry as best he could before summoning a large blanket to wrap around her body. She had lost any shoes she had been wearing too during the night's events. Though he hoped that wouldn't be her biggest concern. You could never tell with women and their shoes though.

Jackson left the childlike woman sleeping on the couch that night, retiring to his bedroom with the less cozy blanket and the harder pillow. Of course, that was only to be expected. When had his life ever been easy around the Wormwood princess anyway?

And he was willing to bet a hundred percent that she would wake up tomorrow and not even realize what he had done for her. It was just how she was, oblivious, ungrateful and righteous in her convictions.

She was very firmly one of "them".

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For the rest of the car journey Victoria didn't stir. The expelling of toxic liquid from her stomach had been enough to allow her to remain unmoved even as her head rattled against the pain of glass.The weightlessness didn't stir her as Jackson lifted her from the car, nor did the warm spray of the shower that was used to clean her off.

The first time that Victoria regained consciousness was shortly before four in the morning, her stomach was churning once more, and the witch managed to find the towel that had fallen to the floor and direct the action in to soft folds of the fabric. If she'd missed at all, Victoria didn't have time to check. Almost as soon as she'd thrown up the second load of toxic liquid, she was passed out again.

The second coming round was not so pleasant for Victoria.

Light streamed in from a window that she couldn't make out, her head hurt in a manner that she had never experienced before. Every movement hurt as she brought her hand up to her head to try to protect it. Her ears rang from the music of the night before, and her nose was assaulted by the smell of vomit that was either close to her, or had been.

The witch reached out to find the bedside table of her hotel room, but found nothing. She inched up the bed and tried again, to find nothing. Victoria forced her eyes open, pain assaulting them as the light infiltrated once more. It took three attempts before they would stay open, and that was when the panic set in.

This, this was not her hotel room.

And this was not her bed.

Alertness would not be something you could put to someone in a lot of pain from a mightily strong hangover, but Victoria felt herself come to her senses a little more quickly than anything. Her eyes took in the small abode in which she'd found herself, trying to find something that would explain where she was, but came up short with the lack of personalisation of the place.

As she moved slightly to look around, a sharp pain went up her back, making whimper softly as her hand moved to the affected spot. Her dress was still on, but... the distinct lack of support around her breasts told Victoria that she was not in possession of that article of clothing anymore, and on closer inspection, moving the covers, Victoria found her dress ripped at the top, and what looked like the faintest trace of a scrape and bruise from where it had been removed.

Panic.

Victoria's body moved on it's own accord as her eyes found the door to the bathroom opposite her. It found strength of it's own, ignoring anything else in the place, to get her in to the bathroom. The door snapped shut behind the witch, and Victoria locked it sharply behind her before moving to stand before the mirror.

Her makeup -- light as it always was -- was a mess, from sweat she imagined, or perhaps... The light lipstick she'd been wearing smudged away from her lips, denoting she'd been kissing someone last night. The mascara upon her lashes no longer stuck, instead washed out around her eyes, and trailing her cheeks. The light foundation she'd applied to her skin was all but gone, leaving only patches of colour upon her face. The mess of her makeup gave off the suggestion it had been half washed away, but Victoria could not tell as she looked herself over in the mirror. Her reddened eyes were from the tiredness of the evening before, but it was not her face that worried her.

The dress was definitely torn, and the witch thumbed the light marks that had been left upon her skin with the softest of whimpers.

She didn't remember...

She didn't know where she was.

Her hand moved beneath the hem of her dress, praying to the world-

Yes, they were still there.

Her legs buckled beneath her, and unceremoniously Victoria sat on the floor, beneath the sink, arms hugging around herself.

She didn't remember...

She didn't know where she was.

The tears started softly, helpless in that moment because she didn't know where she was, or where any of her things were. Her body ached all over, and her head span with the possibility. Had she done something... Who was outside the door, waiting for her? Where was her phone? Her purse? Her wand?

She was trapped, until she had answers.

But all she did was sit on the bathroom floor, curled in to herself, crying softly as she tried to piece it together.

She didn't remember...

She didn't know where she was...

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~ Profile ~ Vickson Playlist ~
~ Slender ~ 30 ~ Bookworm ~ 5' ~ American ~

Sleep did not come easy to Jackson Blake that night. Not least because he could hear ehr sleeping soundly outside. Of course it would be very like her to sleep her troubles away while others cleaned up after her. He had no doubt everyone had done it for her throughout her life, and though she looked like a child, she was certainly old and set enough in her ways to change now. the dark hours brought with it thoughts of ehr final letter to him, of ehr "forgiving" him for calling her out and it made Jackson even more angry than he had been at the time.

Probably because he knew for certain that no matter what happened to her, she would bounce back. If not Jackson than someone else would clean her up. Her brother, her father, her potentially existing boyfriend or husband, and if none of those came in handy, the wads of cash she had would come to her aid and bail her out in any situations. Some people were just above the world like that, and their lives were perfect. They could afford to go around forgiving people because they genuinely could not see their own flaws.

He wondered what sort of Gods you had to sacrifice to if you wanted that life.

His anger fueled him more and more as he lay in bed, chasing away sleep with thoughts of derision and scorn at the little woman sleeping on his couch, until he heard her wake up and throw up. Great, of course it hadn't been enough to ruin just his car. She had to mess his living space too. The anger kept him from checking up on her right away but when he heard for sounds of movements afterwords there were none. Padding softly across the carpeted floor to the living room, he flinches at the smell of sick that hit him once more. How could one miniature person have so much puke in her? Seeing her asleep once more, he left her as she was, picking up the towel and tossing it in the bathroom sink before realizing it was his only spare.

"Jesus, God and Mary," he cursed softly, turning on the tap and letting the water drain away the bodily waste as much as it could. After five minutes of rinsing, the towel still wasn't completely clean but it would do. Drying it with his wand, he left it by the sleeping Princess's side once more in case she needed it whenever she decided to grace the world by waking up. At this rate, he would need his studio fumigated after she left.

Jackson returned to his bed around five in the morning, falling into a fitful sleep, waking up at seven thirty sharp as if an alarm had gone of in his head. Hearing for sounds outside, the man did not make any out, concluding that his "guest" was still deep in dreamland. Pulling on a pair of running shorts and his last t shirt (it was getting close to laundry time) and left the apartment. He had fully intended to go fro his morning run but the farthest Jackson made it to was the doorman.

"Hey George, my main man."

"Good morning, Mr. Blake."

"Hey George could you do me a favour. My car.. is in a bad way, could you see that it gets cleaned... now?"

"The cleaners open at nine sir."

"I'm sure they'll open early if you ask them nicely," Jackson insisted, reaching out to shake the doorman's hand and slipping him a hundred from the emergency stash at home. The valet from last night had helped himself to all the notes, coins and even Jackson's Jamba Juice punch card. He was so close to getting a free drink.

Jogging back to his apartment, and seeing the princess still fast asleep, Jackson retreated to his bedroom once more, restless but unable to exert that energy elsewhere. Fifteen minutes later, he heard George start his car and take it away. It was brought back an hour and a half later but by then, Jackson had fallen asleep once more.

When he woke next, it was closer to one than noon, and the sunlight had gotten way past annoying despite his curtains. Groaning, he turned to his other side, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep when he realized there were sounds coming from outside. It only took a few seconds for his foggy brain to dredge up the memories of last night and this morning, and the sound that came out of his mouth this time was definitely not a groan.

Pulling himself up into a sitting position, he looked around. It didn't look like she'd entered his room while he was sleeping. Thank fuck for small favors. Though it was time to face the music now. Running a hand through his sleep tousled hair, he got to his feet, still wearing his running clothes. Walking out cautiously, he peeled through he door to see the couch empty.

The sound was coming from the bathroom.

Making his way tot he bathroom door, he knocked one. Then a second time in case the first one had gone noticed.

"Princ- Miss," he called out, trying to remember her first name. Veronica? Virginia? He could only recall her infamous last name, not her first. "Hello?" No reply, and belatedly Jackson realized why that might be. "Hang on, I'll be right back," he called out before dashing to his room and throwing open his closet. All his casual clothes were way past ready for the laundry which simply left the sweatshirts he never wore. Pulling out his old university sweatshirt, he looked around for a pair of pants that might work on her. Too bad little Dominique wans't around, her pants would fit the girl probably being sick in his bathroom right now.

Giving up on his quest to find some pants, he settled on a set of clean boxers, bringing the items to the bathroom once more. Another knock announced his return before he spoke. "Uh, there are some clean clothes here, I'm hanging them on the door handle. You can... get dressed whenever you're ready. I'll be in the other room."

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Come Plot With Me <3

Victoria kept herself curled in on herself, letting out soft, pathetic sounds as she tried to get her head around the events of the evening before. What had happened? Where was she? The witch kept repeating those words in her head as she willed herself to remember last night, but she couldn't.

She was terrified, unsure of who was on the other side of the door.

Was it that person who had left her in such a mess?

But even the naive young witch knew that if the person responsible for her lack of clothing , her disheveled state... that was not the person who had brought her here. The witch whimpered softly as she tried to draw a breath at the thought of what might have happened to her. She was scared, ashamed of her actions even though she could not remember. Somewhere, last night, she had given the wrong impression. It did not take a genius to work that much out.

The knock that came at the door brought a squeak of surprise from Victoria's lips as she pushed herself back against the sink for protection from the person outside the door. A male, the witch noted as he spoke, trying to rise a response from her but she sat stunned. Shaking despite the warmth of the August morning, Victoria held herself tighter, feeling a renewed need to vomit once more.

Whoever the man was, Victoria couldn't help but wonder what he wanted from her. Did he? Or was he the kind of man who didn't have an assumption of a woman and what she would give to him in this hour of need.

His retreating could be heard and Victoria let out a small breath of relief, tears still trailing down her cheeks as she tried to piece it all together.

Not a few moments later, though, the man was back, denoting he had found her some clothes and that he would be in the other room. Victoria only watched the door, more specifically the lock, scared it might start to move as the man stood outside the door for another moment. Then, the shadow moved, denoting the man was true to his word.

Still, Victoria did not move, though, waiting. Listening.

Ten minutes -- Victoria would guess -- later, she pushed herself from the floor, gently unlocking the door and pulling the clothes blindly in to the bathroom and locking the door behind her once more. She was trembling as she moved to the sink again, whether it was fear, weakness from expelling so much from her system, or a mixture of the two, Victoria couldn't have said. The witch managed to run the tap, filling the sink with water and then gently rubbing the remains of her makeup from her face until she was makeup free.

A slow process, but one Victoria managed as she then slowly took her dress off and repeated the action of cleaning herself up. After a few moments, she found the soap of the man and used the smallest amount to clean herself off.

Half an hour later, more than a little red from the scrubbing of her skin to try to make the smell of vomit and trying to clean her skin that felt dirty as she looked at herself in the mirror, Victoria was dressed in the shirt that touched her knees, the boxers she'd pulled on over her own underwear for safety.

She'd balled the dress up, and cleaned the bathroom of any sign of her being there, and stood behind the door, looking at it blankly as he tried to decide what to do now.

Her hands moved to the door, opening it carefully and stepping through it. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to locate the man, but not managing.

"H-Hello?" Victoria called out softly, timidly. Her back pressed lightly against the closed door of the bathroom, defensive, ready to flee in to the lockable room as she held on tightly to her ruined dress.

The only possession she had in this moment. The only familiarity.

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~ Profile ~ Vickson Playlist ~
~ Slender ~ 30 ~ Bookworm ~ 5' ~ American ~

After leaving the clothes for the princess, Jackson once again sought refuge in the safety of his room. Raising a critical eye to his surroundings, the wizard had the decently to admit it wasn't exactly in the best shape. The pile of laundry in the corner was more than overflowing, his sheets were creased and crumpled from where he had tossed and turned. The blanket on them of course did not match seeing as the nice one that did had gone to his guest last night.

But it wasn't just the aesthetics, his room lacked a certain sense of homeliness because it hadn't been used as a home these last few weeks. In Jackson's attempts to avoid the need for a drink, he had kept himself so busy, he had only came in here to sleep and shed used clothes to put on new ones.

It was just a room now, and one he would have to give up soon anyway because the frigging house deal had now gone through. Owning a mansion had seemed a dream come true not a month ago, which went to show how much time it took to turn a life upside down.

Reaching for the remote on his bedside, Jackson turned on the flat screen in front of his bed. The late night shows from last night had been recorded and the male thumbed through them until he found one with a host whose' face he could stand. Hitting the mute button, Jackson simply watched. It was a lot more interesting when he tried to guess the liberal propaganda each of them spouted instead of hearing it outright.

He was halfway through the show, the taglines "Republicans Cripple the Next Generation" flashing ominously when he heard the sound, a tentative hello from the direction of the bathroom. "I'm in here," he called out, not making a move. Who knew what kind of head space the princes was in, any move on his part could land him in prison if she felt like it.

"You were pretty zoned out at the club last night," he continued, not even sure if she could hear him from where she was. "I couldn't get an address or an emergency contact out of you so I brought you here. You'd lost your purse and... shoes?" Yeah, she should be able to palate that version of the story. There was no point in telling her what condition she'd been in.

"I have a phone outside if you want to use to call someone? Your brother?" Yes, her big brother would come get her in a few minutes and that would be the end of this whole ordeal. He would never see the princess again and good riddance to that.

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Come Plot With Me <3

» Jackson Blake
» Keep Holding On (Jackson Blake)
» Shards of Trust (Jackson(Aza NPC)) [Warning: swearing, sexual themes]
» Blake Mason
» Superman ain't savin' shit (Josh - violent themes)