arescere ✿ xavier thorpe

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45 - the monster and it's master

the air burns his lungs, he feels the tips of his finger linger warm. the cold in his bones melting as he felt the tips of his ears light up. he watches the boy lift up the stairs, never saying another word. never looking back. the soft click of the door behind him. leaving peter stood empty. yet warm. his heart beat in his chest, he could feel it in his wrists and in his knees it was eating hard. his stomach flipped and fluttered almost. he turns to wednesday, who looks just as she always does. like his words were nothing. like xavier would hurt peter, which he had but not to physically to the touch. and a figure slides down the bookcase stairs. a very bald man who neck seem to have little to lift his head, draped in a long black cloak like coat.

"how long have you been lurking?" wednesday questions the man, and peter slots the pieces together. this was the said uncle fester.

"long enough to feel the tension between you three. yowza! seriously, you could cut it with an executioner's axe." he grins, yellow teeth matching his look as peter grimaced. a soft patter of fingertips danced in the room. pulling the uncle's attention of the two who stood before him.

"i'd recognize the pattern of those fingertips anywhere. hello thing! you can't still be mad about the kalamazoo job. it wasn't my fault. you said you could crack that safe in thirty seconds." he giggles as the hand appeared on one of the countertops of a mantle piece. melted candles making it look almost like an alter of sorts. hand clearly agitated by the sight of the man before starting to choke him out. causing peter to chuckle. and that's when the said uncle fester halted to a stop. spinning so fast on his heels peter could have swore he broke his ankles as his attention was directed back to the boy who stood by wednesday. his gaze lifted over him. he wasn't too tall a 5'7 at least, he was skinny fester could tell under the baggy shirt. he was pale, almost too pale he looked sick. piercing green eyes and soft brown hair. he was attractive, fester couldn't deny it. but he followed the boy up to the painting, the mirror image yet more sharpened stood in the photo. his blood ran cold.

"belfiore." he mumbled. and peter's eyes widened. why did everyone know his father. what kind of an impression did that man leave on this school. festers eyes snapped to the staircase which xavier had ascended up only recently. he lifts his finger, his limbs shaking.

"thorpe." he muttered again, his breath shaky. he looked horrified, terrified.

"show me the diary." wednesday spoke. not wanting her uncle to pester on anymore then he was. and he motions to one of the many painting on the walls. both teenagers realising the man fearful gaze flicking back to peter every so often.

"here we are iggy was faulkner's right hand. trained a generation of nightshades. and behind iggy itt." he stated, peter watching in confusion a the man hooked a finger under the side of the painting. the piece of art popping from the wall and swinging from the grooves. revealing a safe behind it.

"what's going on?" peter questions wednesday and usual she ignored his questions and stared forward at the safe as thing climbed up into the slot of the safe.

"do i have time for a snooze, or an you crack this quickly?" fester questioned, the hand looking unimpressed. peter wouldn't admit it but the thing freaked him out a little bit, how could a hand be so animated. so expressionful. it was a hand! they watched in silent anticipation as thing worked on the safe. the sound of the code turning and clicking occasionally. uncle fester makes another joke at thing but pete is too engrossed in his own thoughts to care. a shiver setting into his bones. why were they here? why didn't he run after xavier? would xavier warn ms weems about non nightshades in the library? when wednesday waves her hand in front of his face. a look of almost concern etched on her face. in her right hand she had a book. thing rested on her shoulder. she was asking if he was okay without asking.

"just tired." he hummed beforemotioning to the ook, she nods softly.

"it's a diary, uncle fester believe it will tell me more on the monster."

"not like he would need it." peter caught the mumble of fester from the stairs, and his blood ran cold. trying to ignore the comment. did uncle fester know something he didn't? thing taps his shoulder, bringing him back to reality one more. he follows wednesday up to her room, they were going to study the monster of hyde. her room is cold, like he expected. half the room shadowed by the night, the other lit up by the moon through the stained plastic window. seeing people's rooms was such a weird concept, a person's room can show you more then themselves ever will. for example, in peter's room at his dads. it's empty, it's grey and cold. he's never there, so he never has the intention of doing anything with it. his mothers room though, remains as she once had it. green walls, colourful pottery and tiny trinkets. wednesday had a board pushed against the wall. red strings dangling from the other side, he wondered what it was. why the need for red string? peter sits on her bed, it's softer than he expected it to be. he was expecting it to be rock hard, like wooden boards. but it was surprisingly comfy.

"here it is." she stats, flipping through the book, from the angle she's sat. he had see the drawings scribbled on pages, words etched with ink.

"faulkner describes hydes as artists by nature but equally inductie in temperament. born of mutation, the hyde lays dormant until unleashed by a traumatic event or unlocked through chemical inducement or hypnosis. this act causes the hyde to develop an immediate bond with its liberator. who the creature now sees as its master.. it becomes the willing instrument of whatever nefarious agenda this new master might propose."

"anyone willing to unlock a hyde is a next level sicko."

"that means i'm not looking for one killer. but two. the monster and it's master." and wednesday's gaze slowly shifts over to peter. she hated that her mind was doing this, she wouldn't admit it but she trusted him. she trusted peter belfiore. a belfiore, a person someone would lock her in chains and drag her to hell for trusting. yet she did, but it hung in her mind. his and xavier's bond that appeared from nowhere much like the hyde. peter's weakening and withering aura was almost hypnotising. it was scratching at her mind and she couldn't ignore it anymore.