Having spent a great deal of time listening to Connor over the course of their day together, it wasn't uncomfortable to do the same then; quietly taking in his words while her body winced and fidgeted with each poke and prod. Fingers found nooks and sloping curves, down patterned harshness towards swollen flesh. Piper was almost statuesque throughout the process, having receded back to a more placid mentality in her best attempt not to panic. This whole ordeal was a test on panic, and on remaining calm, though neither of these traits were inherently natural for the woman. On the contrary, even having Connor so close during his lecture had earned a tense shift from her. Lips pursing, Piper's lashes fluttered for a moment or two before she commented quietly, "I didn't mean to say that."
Perhaps she hadn't. She didn't linger on what was intentional, given how quick to anger her host seemed at times. Left to chew on his threat when Connor finally wandered away from the bed to fume, Piper scooted once again to the center and settled. Covers were coveted, and her slender figure curled small and delicate beneath the weight of the down comforter. Only freckled features remained available to see, staring off in the general direction of Connor, though not too closely to his current state of anger. Men, as Piper knew them, always had a temper - though to what extent was always in question. That was why she stared so broadly. If she was caught doing it, there was a chance of recourse, and that simply wasn't an option. Piper hadn't wanted to start a fight with Connor, despite instigating this one, and pale greens ventured across the suite several times over before settled on a shameful spot to the far flooring.
Likely some of her blood, spilled. Tragic.
"They can be concerned if they want." Ginger brows furrowed and bunched while the woman worked on explaining what she meant. Less abrasively, with less intent to make him angry, because that goal had already been achieved. "But you can't treat me like trash as a response for you feeling like I wronged them." Piper's voice wavered ever so slightly as her face rested against the pillow, presenting her profile while shaky words were shared slightly louder this time. "You're going to send me back to your father for calling someone gay? Alright. Tell me fucking more about the correlation between the two. An insult made in private, and bodily injuries to someone. That's what you just did, right? Compared me to the men who raped me? Compared calling someone a faggot to rape? Is that it, Connor? That's what makes me so fucking worthless to you?"
Piper stopped because her voice was straining through a newfound tightness of her throat, and a horrid flash of heat had spread to her cheeks. She felt engulfed in that hodge podge of mixed emotions, and her expression bordered on one pain might induce, and she didn't dare move, save to curl back into herself as a false means of security. Nothing about the suite felt safe. Connor wasn't safe. His staff wasn't safe. Piper's eyes snapped shut while she managed a deep breath, her figure shaking beneath layers of bedding she thought equally foreign and panic worthy. Piece by piece, it was all weighing heavily on an incredibly delicate psyche, but there had been no way to express this to Connor without his anger showing itself. He wasn't a listener; this became apparent over time.
Unfortunately, Piper couldn't pretend to be okay for his sake. His broken heart wasn't her concern, given the extent of her injuries, and he was making comments far worse than what she could manage to spit. His venom was toxic, and she suffered from it at the distance he had left her in, buried. "My only issue with you is how you want to call this a partnership when you're a fucking dictator. This world you're in, where you have all the money in the world and power over other people, isn't fucking normal. This is a fantasy that you get to enjoy because you've exalted yourself away from the rest of humanity, in a tower, with a cast of people you hand picked." Clearing her throat, the woman sat up and continued with, "But you didn't get to pick me, and now you see what it's like to have someone with you who isn't hand fucking picked."
Exhaling deeply through widened nostrils, Piper added bitterly at the end, "And maybe you'll trash me because we don't get along- but don't fucking sit there and think you were a hero for doing so. If you weren't Richie Rich, you'd be in jail. Keep that in mind before you ride your high horse my way, Connor."
Perhaps she hadn't. She didn't linger on what was intentional, given how quick to anger her host seemed at times. Left to chew on his threat when Connor finally wandered away from the bed to fume, Piper scooted once again to the center and settled. Covers were coveted, and her slender figure curled small and delicate beneath the weight of the down comforter. Only freckled features remained available to see, staring off in the general direction of Connor, though not too closely to his current state of anger. Men, as Piper knew them, always had a temper - though to what extent was always in question. That was why she stared so broadly. If she was caught doing it, there was a chance of recourse, and that simply wasn't an option. Piper hadn't wanted to start a fight with Connor, despite instigating this one, and pale greens ventured across the suite several times over before settled on a shameful spot to the far flooring.
Likely some of her blood, spilled. Tragic.
"They can be concerned if they want." Ginger brows furrowed and bunched while the woman worked on explaining what she meant. Less abrasively, with less intent to make him angry, because that goal had already been achieved. "But you can't treat me like trash as a response for you feeling like I wronged them." Piper's voice wavered ever so slightly as her face rested against the pillow, presenting her profile while shaky words were shared slightly louder this time. "You're going to send me back to your father for calling someone gay? Alright. Tell me fucking more about the correlation between the two. An insult made in private, and bodily injuries to someone. That's what you just did, right? Compared me to the men who raped me? Compared calling someone a faggot to rape? Is that it, Connor? That's what makes me so fucking worthless to you?"
Piper stopped because her voice was straining through a newfound tightness of her throat, and a horrid flash of heat had spread to her cheeks. She felt engulfed in that hodge podge of mixed emotions, and her expression bordered on one pain might induce, and she didn't dare move, save to curl back into herself as a false means of security. Nothing about the suite felt safe. Connor wasn't safe. His staff wasn't safe. Piper's eyes snapped shut while she managed a deep breath, her figure shaking beneath layers of bedding she thought equally foreign and panic worthy. Piece by piece, it was all weighing heavily on an incredibly delicate psyche, but there had been no way to express this to Connor without his anger showing itself. He wasn't a listener; this became apparent over time.
Unfortunately, Piper couldn't pretend to be okay for his sake. His broken heart wasn't her concern, given the extent of her injuries, and he was making comments far worse than what she could manage to spit. His venom was toxic, and she suffered from it at the distance he had left her in, buried. "My only issue with you is how you want to call this a partnership when you're a fucking dictator. This world you're in, where you have all the money in the world and power over other people, isn't fucking normal. This is a fantasy that you get to enjoy because you've exalted yourself away from the rest of humanity, in a tower, with a cast of people you hand picked." Clearing her throat, the woman sat up and continued with, "But you didn't get to pick me, and now you see what it's like to have someone with you who isn't hand fucking picked."
Exhaling deeply through widened nostrils, Piper added bitterly at the end, "And maybe you'll trash me because we don't get along- but don't fucking sit there and think you were a hero for doing so. If you weren't Richie Rich, you'd be in jail. Keep that in mind before you ride your high horse my way, Connor."
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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