Violent Words and Empty Threats [Samson]

[cressida primrose whitham]

She didn't know how much more of this she could take. It was killing her slowly, each painful blow, each hissed word. It was getting too much for her to bear, and there was always the fear that she wasn't fooling anyone with the "I fell down the stairs" or "I got hit by a door" like she'd been using for years. It was always attributed to clumsiness, never to the man she lived with. Oh, he made sure that she was well and truly silenced. She didn't dare mention it; the consequences were... well, she dreaded to think.

It'd been an hour, now. An hour since the door had slammed, since the screams had faded. He was gone, Gaia knew how long for. She hadn't dared to move, hardly dared to breathe, in case he would come walking through that door. It was unlikely that he would; there was a tavern not far from here. And, knowing him, he would come home drunk. It was the type of drunk that worried her. Sometimes, he would come home merry, kissing the marks he had made and making promises never to hurt her again. Other times? A broken bone was likely. Maybe a sprain, if Cressida was lucky.

She was still curled up against the wall, her body aching, her hand rubbing her left cheek, where his hand had been. It was almost an identifying mark. Clumsy Cressa and her array of bruises and cuts. She'd laughed at the name, laughed along with the jokes. But inside? She got closer and closer to breaking point with each remark. She wanted to scream, to cry, to tell them everything. But one look from him was all it took to quell any thoughts of dissent. And she was sick and tired of it.

But what could she do. He was a vampire, and a strong one at that. She hated being so helpless, so broken, so... isolated. Why was she sat on the floor feeling sorry for herself? It wouldn't help anything at all. She should just deal with the fact that she'd be subject to this until she died, as he would outlive her by several years. What was the point in crying about something that happened on a regular basis?

She slowly got up off of the floor, wiping away any stray tears and wincing in pain as her legs took her weight. It took everything not to just collapse back to where she was, but she somehow managed it. She looked in the wall mirror, to find one cheek blooming red, the other ghostly white. She sighed. It was going to bruise. One more thing to have to lie about.

[samson hannibal corvus]

It had been two years since he had died and yet, it felt like barely two months. His heightened senses were still something he had yet to completely adjust to and the hunger was constant, relentless in its need to be satiated. Samson knew this was a bad idea, coming to such a vastly populated area when he had this pang of hunger in his stomach that seemed to travel throughout his body. Like a sickness that had only one cure. But he needed to...see her. See how she was and find out what the fuck had been done to him from the mouth of the monster himself.

As he walked across the cobblestone streets and passed people…people with tantalising pulses that called out to him with the song of their heart beating, thoughts turned to the scarlet life source that flowed through their bodies. To piercing their skin with his fangs and tasting the warm copper flavoured ambrosia that waited within their veins on his tongue and taking the liquid in sharp pulls until the beat faded into silence.
His thoughts made his fangs elongate and the want even more prominent, driving him crazy until the next person he passed. He couldn’t stand it anymore, he finally gave in. She was a whore offering her ‘services’ across the street from a tavern and all he really registered was that she had dark hair and might’ve been beautiful but in the haze of bloodlust he didn’t quite register anything else but what he needed. He took the young woman into a nearby alleyway and answered their blood’s beckoning without hesitation. Closing his eyes, he lowered his mouth to her neck and sunk his pearly white fangs into her soft jugular until her blood began to pour into his mouth and the moment it started, something dark and animalistic in him took over. When she tried to scream, he opened his eyes, now wild with hunger and put his hand over her mouth with one hand, stifling the sound as he gripped onto her neck with his other hand and brought her close to his mouth as he took long, greedy pulls of her blood.

He wasn’t sure what exactly made him lift his eyes to look at the people leaving the tavern, but he did and as the pulse of the woman he was feeding on was starting to fade he saw him exiting the tavern with some woman on his arm. A woman that was not his wife but instead, some harlot.
It was enough to snap Samson out of his frenzy and he immediately removed himself from the woman he had been killing. She had passed out, and remained limp in his arms as he stared at her paled body in horror. Jesus Christ, what had he done? What kind of monster had he become? He checked her pulse with his index and middle fingers, to find that it was still there, thank God, just weak and slow.
He lowered the woman to the ground, propping her up against the wall as he ripped off some cloth from hem of her dress, just enough so that he could wrap the fabric around the puncture marks he had made to help, tight enough to stop anymore bleeding without causing discomfort and feeling guilty, he left her some money, tucking it into her dress. Much more than she would’ve received from her usual customer plus more for her now blood stained and ripped dress.

Then, he wiped his mouth using the handkerchief he had in his pocket and quickly stood back up to move closer to the mouth of the alleyway and peer at the man that had caught his attention. A deep anger filled him as he laid eyes on the man, so overwhelming that it took everything in his power not to go over and tear the man’s fucking heart out right here on the streets with many witnesses. But he knew the act would not be wise and likely would not go to plan because from what he remembered, the beast was very strong and even with Samson’s current superhuman strength, the person he was looking at was probably still far stronger than he.
One thing that crossed his mind then was…why was the thing with a harlot and not with his wife? Samson’s childhood…friend…the woman Samson, himself, loved above all others, Cressida? He couldn’t help but think that with a woman like her in his life even this monster before him would rather spend his time with her…wouldn’t he?
Unless...no, Cressida wasn’t...was she? No. He would know…

Before he knew it, instead of going for the male that ruined his life, he found himself going towards that old house his friend had found herself living in. He needed to know if she was okay to bring peace to his mind and just see her face one last time, even if it was just briefly. Knowing the creature he had become, Samson knew it was better if he just left her to live her life without him…but yes, he needed to see she was well once last time.
When he was standing in front of the door to the house, he felt nervous, anxious even, over the aspect of seeing Cressida again. Did she know what happened to him? Would she have cared that he had left? And more importantly, was she still happy?
Many questions swam through his mind as he lifted the brass door knocker and rapped it against the wooden door before taking a deep breath, taking one step backwards and waiting for someone to answer. Was she even home? Was this even her home still or had she moved somewhere else?

[cressida primrose whitham]

Was it even possible to feel this way? So... so purely forgiving, so easily trusting of the man who beat her, used her, abused her to within an inch of her life? She knew there was something there, something as loving as it had been previously. What had first attracted her to him in the first place. Yes, that was all she needed to remember. Why she loved him. Well, under all those layers of cold, bitter hatred... there was a heart of gold. There just had to be, or else she wouldn't have looked twice. Not past that pretty little face of his.

But what was more valuable? Her heart, or her health? She'd rather die tomorrow than get him into trouble, even if this was more out of fear than love. She was a woman anyway, not his social equal. She was merely there to be seen, not heard. Even if she did say something, she wouldn't have been listened to. Not now, not ever. She'd just have to live through it. Looking at his good points would help. No flaws, just perfections. It'd been her own choice. Divorcing him was not an option; this was just the price that Karma made her pay. And if it was up to Karma... what could she do? Nothing. Just nothing!

Anger sparked through her body then. What had she done?! Why was she so thoughtless?! She could have saved herself from this! She should have seen it coming! It'd been too good to be true right from the start. But she'd realized that too late. Far too late. He was her undoing. She'd been so happy, so full of life. Now? Now she was just a ghost of who she used to be. And it'd all been her fault. Every last blow, every last insult was down to her.

She didn't realize she was crying again until she heard the knock at the door. Quickly, she wiped her tears away, looked in the mirror and forced a brief smile. She could keep up appearances. She could keep this quiet. She had to. She didn't even dream of the consequences of revealing anything. Not to anyone. She would surely die. Or worse.

Sighing, finally satisfied with her outward appearance, she walked slowly over to the door and laid a hand on the handle. Taking a deep breath, she swung the door open to find... oh god. None other than Samson Corvus was standing on her doorstep. A man that she hadn't seen for a little under 5 years, although he was still easily recognizable. Who wouldn't remember their best friend? Not many.

She blinked at him in surprise, although a smile immediately and subconsciously split her lips. What was he doing here? This was... well, it was unexpected, to say the least. Especially when, on taking a breath in... she caught that scent. She instantaneously tensed slightly, although it was almost unnoticeable. That meant that Adam was... no. No he wasn't. It was... Samson. Samson was... oh god.

She swallowed nervously, before looking at him with smiling (yet questioning) emerald eyes. "Samson." she said calmly, almost casually as she leaned against the door frame. "It's been a while." Standing aside, she made a sweeping gesture with her arm. He wouldn't just be here for anything. Well, maybe he would be. But that didn't matter; Cressida's manners said she should invite him in, no matter what would happen as a result of that. "Would you like to come in? What're you doing here?"

Curiosity was taking over now. She couldn't help it. As she looked at him, that curious little spark in her eyes, she couldn't stop a million questions from running through her mind. Maybe they would be answered, maybe not. Only time would tell.

[samson hannibal corvus]

As soon as the door opened he was assaulted by an alluringly delicious scent that despite having only just having satiated his bloodlust moments ago brought back the hunger tenfold. Faery blood. Samson could feel his fangs elongating in his mouth and a dark, dangerous, need growing inside of him, an animal pacing and beginning to claw away at him from the inside. A feeling that set him on edge because of the carnage the feeling had often led to in the past. Even though a part of him still regretted it, he was suddenly thankful that he had given into the craving earlier because if he had not he was scared at the idea that he would not have had the will power he currently retained.

But then, he saw her. Cressida. If dead hearts could beat once again he had a feeling that his would be racing. Like a boy standing in front of a girl he fancied. The smell…the hunger…he had to resist, he would, because he could never hurt her.
The first thing that caught his eye was the smile that broke across her lips, only to falter for a moment as a flicker of realization crossed her features. Still, her familiar emerald eyes looked at him with a smile of their own, something he had missed but they also held withheld questions. “Cressida. Yes, it has indeed.” Samson spoke as he returned the smile.

However, something else about her caught his attention almost immediately. Her left cheek was a shade of raw shade of red that was a stark contrast to her porcelain skin. Concern overruled every other emotion as he subconsciously raised his hand to her face and ran the pad of his thumb as light as a feather across her cheek which was warmed by the pooling blood beneath her skin. A recent injury. “You’re hurt.” He looked into her bright eyes that were still full of curiosity with his own dark, worried, eyes.
“What happened?” Samson asked as he caught his inappropriate action and dropped his hand back to his side.

[cressida primrose whitham]

Of all people. Of all people that could have turned up at her door. It wasn't that she wasn't glad to see him. No, nothing of the sort. It was just... did he know how dangerous this could be? If Adam were to see him here with her... oh gosh. Both of them would be killed, surely. Before Cressida could even explain. Of course, Adam knew that she and Samson had been the best of friends. He even attended their wedding, for crying out loud. But it was just obvious how Adam felt towards the man, even if he didn't mean to make it obvious.

And... well. The vampirism. A little part of her was just... she didn't know how to describe it. How? How had that happened? And, well, why Samson, of all people? That just... her friend, her human friend, losing their mortal life in such a violent way. It saddened her, to a certain extent. Whoever had done that... if they had the misfortune to ever meet Cressida... Gaia be with them.

As he returned her smile, and responded to her comment, she nodded eagerly, standing aside to let him in. She knew this could be risky, but it wasn't like people didn't have anything better to do than look over their high garden fences. And, anyway, it was just this once. Just one time. It wouldn't hurt anyone. Well, no one except herself. It didn't matter to her much what would happen to her, just so long as no one else would be harmed by whatever action she'd taken. And no one would be. She would make sure of that.

However, he didn't come in, like she'd expected him to. He didn't even give her an answer to her questions. Just looked at her for a split second, an indistinguishable motion in his eyes. Well, it was to her, until it was just a moment too late. Her own eyes went wide with realization. Concern. There was concern in his eyes. Because... well. Her face. Her face. She hadn't... she hadn't done anything about it. She'd done nothing to hide it. It was just there. For the entire world to see.

A feeling of dread pooled in her stomach. She'd realized too late. She couldn't take any action now. He'd seen it. When his hand went to her cheek, almost subconsciously, so it seemed, hers also immediately went to it, touching his cool skin for just a moment before his hand dropped back to his side.

What could she do? What could she say? She knew Samson was smart, incredibly smart. But, then... Cressida had become a worryingly convincing liar. How else would she hide it all? The pain, the abuse... no one could ever know. No one. It would mean her death, or worse. Not even Samson, not even her best friend, could know about what that monster used her for. No matter how much she wanted to be honest, how much she wanted him to know... she couldn't. Never.

She rubbed her cheek for a second, before forcing a chuckle and looking at him. "Ah, don't worry," she said, tucking a loose strand of her golden hair behind her ear. "I just tripped. Adam leaves his things all over the place sometimes." The lie rolled far, far too easily off of her tongue. She would have cringed, had she not been desperately trying to cling to whatever carefree facade she had. That facade was all she had now. She wasn't letting go of it easily.

She still hated having to lie to him, though. It killed her. She didn't want to have to lie. She remembered when there'd not been one secret that they kept from one another, where they'd told each other everything. But time had changed her, at least. She knew that some things had to be kept secret. Yes, she knew that all too well.

[samson hannibal corvus]

When Cressida had put her warm, soft hand on his hand before he dropped it back to his side his skin automatically mourned the loss of her touch. Samson shook the thought from his mind and went on to watch as she rubbed her sore cheek and chuckled lightly, looking at him as she shrugged the matter off, tucking a loose strand of her golden hair behind her ear and explained to him what happened and all Samson got from her explanation? Adam. Of course. He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, her words and flippancy over the matter gave him no reason to doubt her and she seemed fine but something just felt wrong.
Was he just being foolish though? A wounded heart using the smallest concerning issue as a reason for foul play, covering more jealous feelings? No. He had good enough reason to doubt her words just because who she was married to. The very demon that ended Samson’s human life, who took everything from him. Call it jealously or whatever you like but Samson didn’t believe that there was a single good bone in Adam’s body. Why? What made him think such a thing? After he was beaten black, blue, bloody and broken Samson had looked into those lifeless eyes of that male years ago and there was nothing but a cold cruelty laying there before it viciously drained his blood from his body and buried him in the earth. Beneath the surface of that man was nothing but a cold, heartless being from the lowest, darkest pits of hell. It could be the imagination of a jealous, undead man but he remembered it as clear as he saw Cressida standing before him now.

The young new vampire tried not to think of Adam harming Cressida because his hatred for the man already ran deep and if he had dared laid a hand against her…already a building rage was threatening to blind him from all sense. Also, the idea of her lying to him on top of everything else that had happened between them and what had not was something that hurt. He grieved how far they had drifted apart enough as it was.

For now though, he would put aside such thoughts in case they were born out of paranoia “Ah, well, maybe someone should train that husband of yours to be more careful of where he places his ‘things’.” He replied, not meaning to sound as bitter as he did and so using his usual crooked smirk to cover his words as if he had not truly meant them.
He then finally, entered her house so that they were not just speaking outside in the cold. “So, Jonquille…where is Adam?” He asked casually, using his old pet name for her, as if it was just a passing question whereas in reality what he really wanted to know is that if she was…aware that her husband was with another woman? It was another thought that made him angry. If you had something as gorgeous, and lovely as Cressida in your life, as your wife, why would you turn to another woman? He didn’t understand it. Only a blind fool would not be able to see how fortunate they were to have someone like her in their life, to be loved by a woman like her. And they were a bigger fool if they were cast her aside for another.

[cressida primrose whitham]

Of course he knew her better than most did. Of course he knew she was lying. He had to know. He did, she knew it! She hadn't done well enough. Or was she just being paranoid? He didn't show any external sign of not believing her. But it was Samson. He wasn't one to freak out; in fact, he almost always remained stoic, calm. She would never know for certain, and that terrified her. For all she knew, she might not have covered it well enough. He could have gotten everything just from that one sentence.

It was when she saw his cobalt eyes narrow, even if it was just the tiniest bit, that she knew it. She hadn't done enough. She felt her heart pounding against her rib cage, terrified that he'd press it further, that she'd have to tell him. But, thank whatever god that was watching them, he didn't. It took all she had not to breathe a sigh of relief. All she did was smile, like she had been doing for a while. She was safe. She wasn't in trouble. For now.

She couldn't help but wince, albeit almost unnoticeable, at his tone, though. She was sure he didn't mean it to come out as purely bitter and harsh as it did, as he quickly gave the impish grin that she remembered so clearly, which made her genuinely laugh, and respond with a "Yes, maybe someone should." But it still put her on edge, especially accompanied by his words. He knew. He just knew. Why would have he had spoken that way if she had convinced him that none of this was related to her husband?

As he (finally) stepped inside, Cressida closed the door to the house and turned to face him, still smiling warmly. A little twinge of panic surged through her at his question, because... she didn't know exactly where he was. The tavern was a good guess, but she didn't know that for sure. And if she didn't know for sure, she couldn't spread false information - it was against her conscience to do so. So she merely laughed brightly again, with a quick shrug. "I... don't know," she snickered lightly. "He's a complex man, our Adam. I don't question where he goes. Must be off on a walk somewhere. He does that a lot, y'know. To 'clear his head'." That bit, in fact, wasn't a lie. He did go on walks. To the tavern. In the woods. Each time leaving Cressida to an empty house and an aching body.

She gave a sigh, pushing her hair over one shoulder, before asking "Where are my manners? Gosh. Did you want anything? To eat or drink or anything like that?" She hadn't seen the man for five years. She could at least make him feel welcome. And she probably would have sooner. It was still a bit of a shock, was seeing him. She just needed to calm down. Yes, that was all.

[samson hannibal corvus]

The genuine laugh that came from her mouth brought a smile to his face but also made him wonder what had caused the laughter? It certainly wasn’t laughing at his words or even tone judging by the small, almost unnoticeable wince when he had spoken but still, the familiar sound was one of the many things he had missed about her. Nevertheless, Samson noticed that she seemed slightly more…nervy? Than before, like if he were to make any sudden fast movement or too loud of a noise she was going to crumble into a panic.

She closed the door behind him and turned to face him, that beautiful warming smile still on her lips that was soon accompanied by a flicker of something within her emerald eyes that was so fleeting he barely caught it. Panic? Why would she be panicking? Was his presence the cause for her unsettled nerves? After all, he was no longer the man she had known. Not really, he had changed and he had seen the moment she opened that door and saw him that she knew.
Her words, although they should’ve been harmless, made his anger spike for a moment. She didn’t know. He knew that was the truth, he could see it on her face and in light of hearing and seeing the truth fall from her lips, he also knew she had lied to him before and the fact she felt she couldn’t tell him the truth hurt. But it also made him wonder, what was the reason for the lie? What could’ve caused the mark upon her face that was so great that she couldn’t tell him? Only one thing sprang to mind…his previous suspicions. Adam. If he had lain his fucking hand against her…red began to bleed into Samson’s vision as his anger spiked once again. Only, this time it took him a moment to gather himself, taking subtle deep breaths.

“Je vous remercie, mon cher…but I think we both know that there is only one thing I can ‘drink’ now” He replied with a small smile. Samson wasn’t quite sure what made him look over at one of the doors, the one leading to the drawing room he assumed but the moment he did his eyes landed on the fist-shaped dent there and that was it, he wasn’t one to jump to conclusions but there was too much evidence...the fist-shaped marking on the door was too large for Cressida’s own hand and suggested violence, the mark on her face and her lie to him…her absolute ignorance to the real whereabouts of her so called husband. As he let his eyes drop to the ground, the anger he felt before came flooding back in seemingly endless amounts. That demon…had hurt her physically and if she were to find out about the male’s infidelity…it’d break her heart and in doing so, break his own. All over again.
Samson looked up at her again, into those emerald depths, trying to keep all the anger he felt inside from his features, not wanting to scare her, but letting some of the pain he felt show on his otherwise cold and serious face “Cressida, why did you lie to me about how you got the mark on your cheek?” He asked. He wanted to hear the truth to his suspicions from her own lips, no more lies...he didn't want her to lie anymore. Not now…not to him.

[cressida primrose whitham]

She remained externally calm and cursory, she made certain of that. But it was as if every sense of hers was heightened, and her brain was on red alert. This was serious. One false move, and that facade that she'd built so carefully would come crumbling to its foundations around her. She wasn't about to let that happen. This was all she had now, and she wasn't having the last thing that was rightfully hers torn away from her like that. Not without a fight.

Just... why? Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds would have been all it took to hide it. Maybe not even that. But, oh no. Like the good little housewife that she was trying to be, she had to open the war straight away. This was probably the most stupid thing she had done, next to marry the monster in the first place. There was no going back. And now Samson knew. She just knew that he did. It might have been enough to fool her family. But she knew that she'd have trouble hiding it from him. And now... now that someone knew... who knew what would happen?

It hadn't been pursued for now, though. For now. That was... okay. It was something of a relief, actually. She didn't want to discuss what her daily life was like. She didn't want sympathy, namely because she didn't need it. She was alive and breathing. And that was okay. Sometimes, that was all a person could do. As long as she was alive. No, she wasn't giving up that easily. Even if she had contemplated it... she wasn't going to do that.

She weakly chuckled, shaking her head softly at herself. How had she forgotten that Samson was... a vampire now? It was one of the weirdest thing that'd happened to her. Then again... she'd had a lot on her mind just then... "Oh... oui," she laughed some. "Of course. Silly me." What else was she supposed to say, supposed to do?

...And now, she had a pretty good idea. She'd been called out on her lie. If he knew the truth, then he should have known why she'd lie. Did he know how hard it was to be honest when your life was at risk with every word you said? Did he know that she just couldn't tell him? That she couldn't risk it? That she'd risked enough by letting him into her house? Clearly not. He knew a lit, but he didn't know nearly as much as what he needed to know.

She stayed in silence for a long moment, unable to think, to breathe, to do anything. She just stood, not looking at him for a minute, before letting her eye line travel slowly back up to meet his. She cleared her throat. She hated having to lie. She couldn't stop herself, though. He didn't know yet. Maybe she could keep it that way. "...Why would I lie to you?" she said, hating the words that passed her lips. She knew why she had to lie... but, god, did she hate it.

[samson hannibal corvus]

Another lie. As if he was an imbécile that didn’t know any better. “Vous mentez si facilement aujourd'hui, Jonquille” He laughed hollowly as he looked away from her, moving his gaze to the wooden floor boards instead. “Ils tombent de tes lèvres comme si elle ne veut rien dire et pourtant, je me souviens d'une époque où il n'était pas toujours le cas ...” He trailed off.

Samson couldn’t begin to understand or relate to what exactly she was going through, of course he couldn’t and he knew that it must be hard for her…but she didn’t have to be alone. She didn’t have to put up with whatever shit that man who was meant to love and cherish her until death parted them like he vowed to was putting her through. That’s what he couldn’t fathom. Why she would choose to suffer in silence, why she would choose to stay with the man that was torturing her.
His solemn eyes rose to her once again "Don't talk to me about it then. If you feel you can't...I won't force the words from you...but I can't just turn a blind eye and take your words as if they were the truth. I can't. Not when the truth is screaming at me. I care too much about you to do that." He spoke.

“And you can’t live your life like this Cressida. Lying to the world. Playing pretend. Hiding behind sweet smiles and light laughter when behind closed doors…” he didn’t raise his voice but it had become sharper as the anger built even to the point where he could no longer even finish his sentence. He tried to calm himself, he really did, but it was difficult when thoughts and images of her husband hurting her plagued his mind, feeding the fire.
"You should leave him. You shouldn't put up with whatever grief he is causing you."
"I could take you away. Right now. Back to your family- the people that love you- and away from this before he breaks you beyond repair. Just say the word and I'll do it." He offered and hoped she would see sense take it. For her sake.

((translation: "You lie so easily now, Daffodil" "They fall from your lips as if it means nothing, and yet I remember a time when it was not always the case ..."))

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