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Post by Hanna Squalor on Nov 10, 2006 20:37:59 GMT -5
Esme was still in her seat being very quiet and awaiting orders. She looked up at him expectantly. She was expecting him to instantly rush off to help his parents but he didn't. He seemed to stand rather still. So had B and B killed O's parents? It seemed so. Unbeknown to E and O at that time B and B were not responsible. But they would forever believe they were.
Esme couldn't stand the silence between them any longer. She needed to be spoken to even if it meant being yelled at. "Olaf?" she asked cautiously.
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Post by Jenny on Nov 11, 2006 8:29:26 GMT -5
Olaf was vaguely aware that someone was repeating his name in a rather annoying manner. He took a sideways glance at his girlfriend-- or whatever he could call her anymore, girlfriend hardly seemed fitting-- then up to the box the Snickets were sharing, before looking down to the stage. Many members of the audience were leaving and some offering to phone ambulances.
Some stayed for the excitement. This was more exciting than the opera.
Or some, like the Snickets, just didn't want to leave yet. Until he had left most of the volunteers probably wouldn't show themselves.
He straightened up, standing, and took her arm. 'Did you have a nice evening, darling?' he asked, aware of what an impossible question this was.
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Post by Jacques Snicket on Nov 11, 2006 10:31:33 GMT -5
Jacques and his siblings ran through the hallway, down a couple flights of stairs, and onto the floor where Beatrice and Bertrand were sitting at. Some people were leaving now, and some people were staying for the excitement of two actors being assassinated in the middle of a crucial opera. Jacques spotted the Baudelaires and his brother and sister followed him to them. “Beatrice! Bertrand! You have to get out of here. Now.” said Kit glancing around urgently. “Kit’s right,” said Lemony, “Olaf will think you two murdered his parents, but we know that you did not. Let’s go. We’ll explain on the way.”
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Post by freeeagle on Nov 11, 2006 10:38:00 GMT -5
Beatrice looked up at them in shock. "But I threw the darts. The darts that were supposed to tranquilize them so they couldn't do any damage. There was something wrong with the serum, but I killed them both." said Beatrice, tears running down her face.
"No Bea, that's not the way it happened at all." said Lemony. The next thing she knew he was kissing her right in front of Bertrand.
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Nov 11, 2006 11:21:53 GMT -5
Esme looked at him for a minute before answering. "Yes..." she answered slowly. She wanted to go home and sleep so she played along to whatever he was doing. Obviously he had to be mad what with his parents laying dead on the stage in front of him. they walked with smiles to the car and Esme found him closing her car door for her. She watched him climb into the car.
"I'm sorry." she whispered.
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Post by Jenny on Nov 11, 2006 12:01:57 GMT -5
The next thing she knew he was kissing her right in front of Bertrand. That's gotta be difficult to explain. Anyway... 'I had a nice time,' said Olaf to the steering wheel, before going anywhere. He felt as he usually did, no sadder no happier. Nothing was wrong. His parents would probably be fine. They'd get up later and tell everyone to stop making such a fuss. It was for this reason that he decided to leave for a bit, go home and relax, and then go and see them the next morning at home. Everything would probably be alright. Performing almost never went to plan. This was just a setback. And, for right now, denial didn't seem so bad. 'There's no need to be sorry,' he replied, smiling slightly but feeling it fade. 'They'll be alright.' Unfortunately, Olaf felt something inside him almost "pop", and nothing seemed so great anymore. 'I mean, you could have saved everyone all this worry and fuss by just being slightly competent this evening. You could have caught Beatrice. You could have stopped Kit. Could have kept Bertrand from getting the darts. You could have been a great assistance to me tonight, but you weren't. And some people could argue that in this situation you were largely to blame for tonights events and I should have sent you to that bleeding tap lesson instead of making the mistake of trusting you to do something right for once!' Oh, dear. Denial was certainly over..
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Nov 11, 2006 12:11:19 GMT -5
(Ahhh! *Cower* Jenny I love you! you are the best Olaf RPer I've seen in years! *HUG* Marry Me! ....Just kidding....I'm sorry I had candy..)
Esme couldn't stop the tears. She couldn't speak nor could she move. As the car pulled away she had only a few minutes to reflect on all that had happened before the car's engine was turning off in front of the run down house that was too familiar.
Esme couldn't bear to look at Olaf. Now they were alone. There was no one near. A sweet lady had a house across the street but once they were in the house there is no one close enough to come help her should she need it.
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Post by Jenny on Nov 11, 2006 12:17:36 GMT -5
(Aww. But it's the storyline not me. I'm actually really bad at this and for one thing have NO CLUE where to go now. Do I just go in now? Doesn't that seperate us from the rest of the rp? I'll maybe stop obsessively posting soon)
Olaf threw his keys vaguely at the hall table, slamming the door after Esmé had run in.
'Stop it, you're ugly when you cry. You make out like someone just died. Oh that's right, I remember now!'
Esmé flinched at his comments. He stormed off to the sitting room and she followed him, thinking she could make things better.
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Nov 11, 2006 13:13:12 GMT -5
(Nonsense you're doing SO good.)
Esme stood awkwardly in the room before sitting on the couch across from him. Thinking of what makes him feel better she got back up and poured him a drink. Hopefully she could do that one thing right.
She handed him a glass of wine, more like set it on the table next to him then backed away slowly.
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Post by Jenny on Nov 11, 2006 14:16:30 GMT -5
I might stop, seeing as this is getting strange again (unless I'm wanted to stay on.)
He observed the glass of wine in front of him, and then the girl who was standing close by looking as if he was about to throw it back at her. Olaf motioned to the seat in front of him irritably, seemingly annoyed at everything she did.
He felt as angry and vicious as he'd felt in a long time. He knew that violence wouldn't make him feel better. After all, violence only makes people angrier.
Olaf didn't honestly know the solution. But it wasn't tearing her .limb from limb and it wasn't getting so drunk he couldn't think either.
One thing he thought of was the thing he was doing now. Reminding her of all her insecurities and all the things she'd done wrong in his eyes while purposefully not raising his voice at her.
'Thank you,' he replied softly. He motioned to the seat in front of him. When she was about to sit he pretended to remember something.
'Before you do, change into something else. That dress looks awful on you. And wash off the make-up. See you in a minute.'
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Post by freeeagle on Nov 11, 2006 14:35:31 GMT -5
Bertrand pulled Beatrice back and behind him before punching Lemony square on the jaw. Beatrice moved to help him, but Bertrand grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the door. "Let his sister take care of him." he said bitterly.
Beatrice was afraid. She had never seen Bertrand hit anyone. But tonight was a night of firsts. Her first murder for instance. Beatrice took one last look in Lemony's direction and saw that he was bleeding.
They were in the car when Bertrand spoke. "You still love him don't you?" Beatrice stayed quiet. "Answer me!" he yelled, rage ringing in his voice.
"Yes." she finally said.
"I can't believe you've been lying to me all these years. I'm so, so disappointed."
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Nov 11, 2006 14:58:11 GMT -5
(PLEASE stay! Oh gosh I'll die if you leave.)
Esme ran up stairs. She stood in front of the mirror for a moment. She observed no problems with her appearance except where her crying had made her makeup run. "Olaf was acting strangely. She took off her dress and put on a different one. She put on her white night gown and brushed her hair. Wiping off her make up she took one last look at herself before descending the stairs.
she sat in the chair across from him. she didn't speak. Tonight was a very defining night in her life. the last night before she would ever feel like she did before. After this night she would stop having any feelings for her old friends. She would retreat within herself. dye her hair black and become something else. Have a love for fashion, a thing that could never love her back but it couldn't hurt her either.
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Post by Jenny on Nov 11, 2006 15:04:58 GMT -5
(Right ho, then.)
'Are you feeling alright? You look a bit pale. Maybe white isn't really your colour.'
He stood and poured her a glass of wine, ignoring the fact that she didn't usually drink it and wasn't (he was pretty sure) old enough to. He figured tonight she'd do as he said.
'What type of poison do you think those darts had in them, Esmé?' Now that he'd started with her name he figured he'd continue. He sat down across from her agiain and handed her the glass while drinking deeply from his. 'And what system do you think it attacks? I'm just curious as to your opinion.'
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Nov 11, 2006 15:14:18 GMT -5
"O, I really have no idea." she said looking into her glass. "I don't know the first thing about them really. I took theatre class not wepons and defenses." Esme informed. She looked at him then back to her wine and took a sip. The only possible reason for treating her like this would be to make her feel as bad as he does. The most hurtful things to tell a teenaged girl. Esme wore white a lot. It looked good on her.
Esme sighed and blinked several times then said "Actually, I don't think this was all my fault." she dared herself into saying it. as Olaf teared down all of her layers of self esteem she decieded to build one back up. She braced herself.
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Post by Jenny on Nov 11, 2006 15:20:19 GMT -5
(Please do tell me when i start to obsess.)
What the heck was it with her?
It seemed to Olaf through his clouded vision that she was practically spoiling for a fight. He wanted to make a snide comment about the darts and her obliviousness, but his other comment spilled over it before he could help himself.
'It wasn't your fault?' he mimicked nastily. 'Who else's fault was it then, kid? You can't dare to tell me it's theirs. They were doing a job. Like you should have been. So do go on. Who's fault was this, Esmé?'
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