The Keepers' Evil: The Shattered Star

I won't be a bother

Selwyn Manor belonged to him, as the heir, the only male to inherit the wealth, everything belonged to him. He vowed in that moment as his feet slumped onto the ground with a click, that he would clean the name he was built on, rid their status of the blood money, and he would make the world a safer place so that she didn't have to hide for the rest of her life from her own blood.

Somewhere in the tunnels of apparition he had let Celeste's wrist go, and as the cloud of black spat them out like centrepieces in the middle of his home, he felt disoriented without knowing where she was. It was all momentary, but the moment was telling enough for his mind to understand how serious his promise to protect her had been. Gabriel turned to find her silence, and his heart almost regretted it.

Hemera had her cradled, her arms struggling to hold Celeste upright as her eyes failed to blink, her tears scattered amongst the blood that stroked her cheek in an exaggerated violence against the pale of her skin. Her dress was torn and pieces of her skin were lacerated, and Gabriel realised that he hadn't noticed the true extent of how injured she had been, inside and out.

"Hemera, go and get me something to clean this blood from her," Hemera struggled to leave Celeste's broken frame with Gabriel, to let someone so vulnerable be held by someone so incapable of feeling such a thing. Hemera had known Celeste for as long as she could remember, and whilst the skeleton of their friendship had grown tired and stiff with the lack of movement, she would protect her against the unknown desires of the world.

"Hemera, now." Hemera flinched against the snatch of Gabriel's demand, his tone choked with an anxiety-driven anger for the pain behind Celeste's eyes. He had never seen a living soul so lost from consciousness, so alive but internally dying. As Hemera let Celeste's body go, she faltered to the floor into a crumple of bloodied clothes and silently shed tears, her head leant against the tall arm of the armchair they had apparated beside.

Gabriel froze momentarily, assailed by the insecurity they faced by being present within somewhere so obvious without any wards, besieged by the responsibility he had just taken for this girl and her safety. Her emotional trauma was now far more extensive than he had anticipated, yet it wasn't fear for her that he felt; it was fear for himself. Gabriel was unsure of how long his own heart could withstand watching the girl he had set himself out to protect weep for people he should've saved.

Celeste had never felt such a confused, such a raw, pain. Her mother had been no angel, but the sound of her scream still sounded in her ears as though she was still right there. She felt as though her mind wanted to drag her relentlessly back to the moment that she had been convinced that Gabriel was to kill her, the moment that the regret began to lace her mind for sharing her father's plan to end him. Yet, his hands reminded her that she wasn't there, that he had taken her away with him to be safe.

"Selwyn-" she choked on the salt of her own tears, her fingers reaching from his suit jacket for him as he knelt before her once more. It always seemed to come back to them on the floor, he thought, someone hurt or pained somehow, their tears always mixed with spoken or silent apologies.

Celeste's fingers grasped the white fabric of his buttoned shirt, wincing with small hums of hurt as she pulled herself towards his slumped figure before her. She was draped in his jacket, and it seemed to bring her part of the comfort she was after, yet it wasn't enough. She needed to be sure that he was no threat to her, that she could allow herself to sleep and know that he would not hurt her when the shadows danced around her.

Gabriel watched his shirt stain in crimson fingerprints as she held onto him, tugging herself closer in a strange sort of determination, until her cheek pressed to his heart and her eyes found a close against the quickness of his chest. She seemed uncomfortable, her eyes blinking too fast for someone that sought touch for peace. Fear had a compelling way of bringing strangers into the realms of acquaintances and friendship, yet she was not after either of those. She was doing what her father had done, gauging a reaction to determine her next move.