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fandomweekly2020-11-09 08:14 pm
peaked) wrote in fandomweekly2020-11-09 08:14 pm
Entry tags:
[#72] REAL (THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR)
Theme Prompt: #72—Unspoken Things.
Title: Real.
Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor.
Rating/Warnings: M. Spoilers for the series, mentions of death and ghosts.
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 992.
Summary: Hannah and Owen share a moment by the fire.
She finds him standing by the fire, the embers slowly beginning to dwindle down into nothing. The life within its belly isn’t as everlasting as it often looks. It’s disappointing to think such a formidable thing can let itself die so quickly.
He sighs as he sits down next to her. Owen is a beacon to which she can’t help but wander to. Even though the fire used to be warm to her, it’s his presence that summons her forward.
It’s been several hours since they had laid her to rest. Hannah had wondered if she would be able to leave the memory of Bly at all, and had found herself relieved and frightened by no longer feeling it’s sticky webbing attach itself aggressively to her. The Lady of the Lake was gone, but Hannah was not.
She had bid her body farewell and had refused to say goodbye to her life.
"How was it?" she asks, staring into the fire.
"Beautiful," he says. He studies her profile, brightly lit by the flames. She wonders if it looks ghostly or anything like the nose he had found attached to her body at the bottom of the well. She would like to think he sees her as whole. "You would’ve liked it."
"I did," she says with a smile, face flushing hotly.
He leans back, a big grin spreading across his mouth. "You were there?"
"Of course," she says, turning to look at him haughtily. "Where else would I be? I needed to make sure you had all sorted things properly, you know."
"Yes, yes, I know, I’m very hopeless," he says with a light laugh. His skin is a lovely shade of pink and the fire only makes it brighter. She wishes she had seen him blush more when she could feel the warmth of his skin burn against her fingertips.
"Very," she says with a loud bark of laughter. It echoes strangely, a burst of sound that makes her wonder if she’s truly here at all. But when she brushes her feet against the grass and finds her bare heels feel nothing of the damp earth, she’s reminded that she isn’t.
"You don’t have to say it," he says quietly. He sits beside her, body warm while hers isn’t. She wonders if he can feel anything coming from her.
"What?" she asks, looking at him. She smiles at him, knowing what he’s referring to. She wants to avoid it as much as possible. Perhaps if she forgets what she found at the bottom of the well, he will, too. "That you are utterly hopeless?"
"Yes, that," he says, still grinning. His face looks downcast, gaze cloudy. "And, well… The other thing. Is it so wrong I don’t want to talk about it? What we did today?"
"No," she says, shaking her head. She turns her body to face him, the ground and fire soundless in her movements. She once used to make so much noise. "Not at all. I’d like to pretend for a little while."
"That this is real," he says. His hand is on hers, burning hot. He squeezes hers, seemingly feeling the bones within her unbroken hand. It had broken when she had fallen, she remembers that. "That this can happen again and again."
"It will," she says with a smile. Determination blossoms searingly in her chest. "This is real. I’d like to think it’s a perfect dream."
He ducks his head, eyes wet. She wants to reach out and touch him, but his hand is on top of hers and she’s afraid of shaking it free.
"Perfectly splendid, yeah?" he says with a light chuckle. "I have to admit, this has baked my day, Hannah."
Her laughter tears out of her chest, loud and alive, and her hand grips his tightly as she tilts backwards by the sound. "You really need to give those puns a roast, Owen."
"Ah-ha!" His smile is big and wide. Hand squeezing hers, Hannah boldly places her other one on top of his. "You’re warm, like a nicely baked loaf of bread."
"I miss your meals," she says, closing her eyes. "I wish you could cook for me again."
"I will," he says with conviction. She opens her eyes to his kind and gentle smile. "I’ll cook for you until I have nothing left to cook with."
"Would you really do that for me?"
He nods. "I was actually thinking, that if I ever opened up my own restaurant… maybe I should call it Hannah’s."
It’s incredibly lovely, but it’s hardly right. She shakes her head. "No," she says. "It’s not mine at all."
He hums, pressing his lips together thoughtfully. "Perhaps I’ll call it something else… but your picture will be on the wall and I will insist your name be one of my food categories on the menu. 'Hannah’s Favourites' sounds plenty splendid to me."
Her body flushes and her face heats up, warmed by something other than the fire. It’s the first blossom of sensation she’s felt in several days since he had gently picked her up from the well.
"Do you think you can stay for a little while?" he asks. He leans back slightly, hand still trapped between the webbing of hers. He is a fly willing to sacrifice himself to the spider that’s Hannah Grose.
"Yes," she says, smiling brightly at him. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from hers as the fire flickers brightly, the flames weaving as if a hand has carded through it. "I will stay for as long as I’m able and then a second longer."
Owen doesn’t hesitate when he leans closer to her. His shoulder is a solid warmth against her arm and when he pulls his hand free from the glue trap of hers, he wraps it around her waist to tug her closer.
For just a moment, Hannah can pretend she’s as alive as she feels.
Title: Real.
Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor.
Rating/Warnings: M. Spoilers for the series, mentions of death and ghosts.
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 992.
Summary: Hannah and Owen share a moment by the fire.
She finds him standing by the fire, the embers slowly beginning to dwindle down into nothing. The life within its belly isn’t as everlasting as it often looks. It’s disappointing to think such a formidable thing can let itself die so quickly.
He sighs as he sits down next to her. Owen is a beacon to which she can’t help but wander to. Even though the fire used to be warm to her, it’s his presence that summons her forward.
It’s been several hours since they had laid her to rest. Hannah had wondered if she would be able to leave the memory of Bly at all, and had found herself relieved and frightened by no longer feeling it’s sticky webbing attach itself aggressively to her. The Lady of the Lake was gone, but Hannah was not.
She had bid her body farewell and had refused to say goodbye to her life.
"How was it?" she asks, staring into the fire.
"Beautiful," he says. He studies her profile, brightly lit by the flames. She wonders if it looks ghostly or anything like the nose he had found attached to her body at the bottom of the well. She would like to think he sees her as whole. "You would’ve liked it."
"I did," she says with a smile, face flushing hotly.
He leans back, a big grin spreading across his mouth. "You were there?"
"Of course," she says, turning to look at him haughtily. "Where else would I be? I needed to make sure you had all sorted things properly, you know."
"Yes, yes, I know, I’m very hopeless," he says with a light laugh. His skin is a lovely shade of pink and the fire only makes it brighter. She wishes she had seen him blush more when she could feel the warmth of his skin burn against her fingertips.
"Very," she says with a loud bark of laughter. It echoes strangely, a burst of sound that makes her wonder if she’s truly here at all. But when she brushes her feet against the grass and finds her bare heels feel nothing of the damp earth, she’s reminded that she isn’t.
"You don’t have to say it," he says quietly. He sits beside her, body warm while hers isn’t. She wonders if he can feel anything coming from her.
"What?" she asks, looking at him. She smiles at him, knowing what he’s referring to. She wants to avoid it as much as possible. Perhaps if she forgets what she found at the bottom of the well, he will, too. "That you are utterly hopeless?"
"Yes, that," he says, still grinning. His face looks downcast, gaze cloudy. "And, well… The other thing. Is it so wrong I don’t want to talk about it? What we did today?"
"No," she says, shaking her head. She turns her body to face him, the ground and fire soundless in her movements. She once used to make so much noise. "Not at all. I’d like to pretend for a little while."
"That this is real," he says. His hand is on hers, burning hot. He squeezes hers, seemingly feeling the bones within her unbroken hand. It had broken when she had fallen, she remembers that. "That this can happen again and again."
"It will," she says with a smile. Determination blossoms searingly in her chest. "This is real. I’d like to think it’s a perfect dream."
He ducks his head, eyes wet. She wants to reach out and touch him, but his hand is on top of hers and she’s afraid of shaking it free.
"Perfectly splendid, yeah?" he says with a light chuckle. "I have to admit, this has baked my day, Hannah."
Her laughter tears out of her chest, loud and alive, and her hand grips his tightly as she tilts backwards by the sound. "You really need to give those puns a roast, Owen."
"Ah-ha!" His smile is big and wide. Hand squeezing hers, Hannah boldly places her other one on top of his. "You’re warm, like a nicely baked loaf of bread."
"I miss your meals," she says, closing her eyes. "I wish you could cook for me again."
"I will," he says with conviction. She opens her eyes to his kind and gentle smile. "I’ll cook for you until I have nothing left to cook with."
"Would you really do that for me?"
He nods. "I was actually thinking, that if I ever opened up my own restaurant… maybe I should call it Hannah’s."
It’s incredibly lovely, but it’s hardly right. She shakes her head. "No," she says. "It’s not mine at all."
He hums, pressing his lips together thoughtfully. "Perhaps I’ll call it something else… but your picture will be on the wall and I will insist your name be one of my food categories on the menu. 'Hannah’s Favourites' sounds plenty splendid to me."
Her body flushes and her face heats up, warmed by something other than the fire. It’s the first blossom of sensation she’s felt in several days since he had gently picked her up from the well.
"Do you think you can stay for a little while?" he asks. He leans back slightly, hand still trapped between the webbing of hers. He is a fly willing to sacrifice himself to the spider that’s Hannah Grose.
"Yes," she says, smiling brightly at him. He doesn’t tear his gaze away from hers as the fire flickers brightly, the flames weaving as if a hand has carded through it. "I will stay for as long as I’m able and then a second longer."
Owen doesn’t hesitate when he leans closer to her. His shoulder is a solid warmth against her arm and when he pulls his hand free from the glue trap of hers, he wraps it around her waist to tug her closer.
For just a moment, Hannah can pretend she’s as alive as she feels.