Pumping Blood

[Cornelia Pendergast]

January 28, 1884

It had been nearly a week. Tullia Lestrange had been Tullia Pendergast for a week and been made no more keen on the idea. She wasn't entirely certain what she'd expected of their honeymoon - the suite they were in was nice, their rooms separate and time spent together largely out of necessity and mostly in silence. Needless to say, her honeymoon was far from typical. William had made no move to properly be her husband (which she neither expected nor wanted) and had spoken to her only when he was made to. Tullia was rather amused, she had to admit, that her intimidation tactics were working but that particular night she was feeling particularly devious and something her lady's maid had - rather out of turn - said had prompted a brilliant idea in her mind. Well, perhaps not brilliant but amusing at the very least.

So she was sat at the unfamiliar vanity, watching her reflection as Emma brushed her long, curly locks to perfection and adjusting the somewhat loose and entirely flimsy slip of fabric that was a night gown obviously meant to be more pretty than functional. The fabric was entirely soft and giving, sure to cling to her every curve with the motion of her swift steps. Not to mention how entirely thin the fabric was - were Tullia not a married woman she'd have felt quite the harlot but as it was she was meant to be appealing to her husband and this would surely not disappoint. She couldn't help the smile on her face but it was not one of joy - no, it was far more mischievous than that.

"That will do, Emma." She waved off her lady's maid, effectively dismissing her for the night and expecting that she would turn in for the night. While surely Emma was not so daft as to be unawares of Tullia's plans (her indication that she found it odd that William had not visited her in her room meant she was obviously not modest), she had absolutely no intention of making a spectacle of herself. As it was she'd already had Emma help her with her hair, leaving it down rather than the usual braid she wore to bed, and surely her lady's maid thought that Tullia had every intention of strutting into William's room in her rather scanty night dress to seduce him. While it was not entirely untrue, Tullia knew that her husband would deny her. That didn't mean, however, that she couldn't make him sweat a little so to speak.

Standing from the vanity she inspected her reflection in the mirror, turning this way and that to test how the fabric moved against her. It truly did leave much less to the imagination than the clothes in which William was used to seeing her but that was the point. She wanted to make him uncomfortable with attraction to her because there was nothing more fun than the idea of seeing him quite unsure how to act around her. It was amusing on a normal day and her mind was already quite full of various scenarios in which his discomfort would be apparent. For the slightest moment she wondered if she shouldn't feel terrible for taunting him so but it was quickly brushed aside because their hasty union was, after all, all his fault.

That thought was comfort enough to keep her from changing her mind - not that she was terribly close to doing so in the first place. Tullia could hardly be accused of being easily swayed once she'd set off to do something but even so she was not so arrogant as to not even wonder - somewhere in the recesses of her mind - if it were not prudent to tempt her husband in such ways. Of course it was a laughable thought that William should do anything to her at all - whether with her permission or without. So it was, she surmised as she left her room and walked along the hall towards his room, entirely pointless to even ponder such things. William was hardly a man at all aside from what his anatomy dictated. She was quite certain she was in no harm for her virtue in his company. After all, she wasn't to his debauched taste it would seem.

She pushed all of those thoughts aside, combing her fingers through her hair so that she could be sure the curls were tangle free. If she was going to walk in there and pretend to seduce him then she had better look the part. She adjusted the nightgown once more so that it showed an enticing amount of her pale shoulders before boldly reaching for the doorknob with little care - or perhaps even thought - that he could be indecent. After all she was no man. She would not become red-faced and excited at the site of someone of the opposite gender in any state of undress. "Good evening dear husband," She greeted in a voice that lacked the usual contempt it'd held towards him of late as she stepped into her husbands room.

I'm very very loosely imagining something like this for her nightdress just different sleeves I imagine but that's kind of an idea.

ALSO LOL THIS POST IS 859 WORDS AND TOOK ME TWELVE HOURS TO FINISH.

  

[William Pendergast]

It has been nearly a week since his wedding to Tullia had taken place, and although he tries his hardest to seem his usual, optimistic self, he was finding it a bit difficult to look on the brighter side of things. It could be worse, he often told himself on nights when his conscience was whirring with thoughts of self-doubt and inadequacy. I could have been disowned, but I suppose after ridding of one flawed child, getting rid of a second would create a bad image. Which he definitely knows to be true as Linaeve's public disowning had been quite a bit of a scandal, but fortunately, the hype surrounding his eldest sister's dishonorable actions seemed to have died down since then. Himself being disowned would only raise questionable assumptions as to whether or not the Pendergast name should remain respectable in the eyes of society.

However, as much as every fiber of his being yearned to lay himself down in the middle of the floor to further wallow in the guilt and self-pity he has endured since November of last year, he was aware that he could not - he was already useless enough as it was. Not to mention that part of the honeymooning process meant that he had to at least put forth the effort to seem interested in the wonders that the city of Rome held as well as become better acquainted with his wife. Unfortunately, with Tullia as displeased as she was with him, spending quality time with his wife was a challenge. A challenge that he was all too willing to conquer, but one that often left him bereft of energy afterwards.

With dinner having been eaten and a strong desire to retire to bed for the evening, Will presently found himself in his suite where his dinner jacket had been carelessly discarded on the back of the plush chair that he was sitting in as he stared unblinkingly into the hot flames of the fire. The first few buttons of his crisp, white dinner shirt had been undone and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, displaying lithe and lightly muscled arms from years of playing Quidditch. As exhausted as he was - more mentally than physically - he could not quite bring himself to dress for bed and crawl under the covers for a good night's sleep. All he could think about in that moment was that an innocent life could have been saved if he had just refrained from attending the Fall Festival. Of course, he could not have possibly known that he was going to be put under a curse in which would change his life forever, but if there was no denying that he (and Tullia) would not be in the unsatisfactory position they were in now if only he had avoided the festival's inviting allure.

Unfortunately, for better or for worse, he was now a married man. And whether or not he wished he could return to that moment in time to set things right, he and Tullia - mostly Tullia - would have to come to terms with their marriage and accept the premature position that they were suddenly thrown into. Sadly, however, his usual optimism was plummeting, and at that moment, he could hardly even think of his future without feeling a strange kind of dread within the pit of his stomach.

He was still sitting before the warmth of the fire when he suddenly heard the opening of the door and feet padding lightly upon the carpeted floor towards him, and he did not even need an announcement to know that it was his wife that had come to visit him - he no longer needed to be informed when Tullia entered a room, he just instantly knew. However, even as she spoke to him in a voice that rather surprised him, Will did not turn around to face her as he responded in a slight monotone, "Good evening, my dear. Is everything alright?"

Words: 665 | Tag: Tullia

  

[Cornelia Pendergast]

Tullia hadn't expected a warm welcome from her husband. After all, she'd hardly been kind to him in their week of marriage and handful of months engagement. That did not mean, however, that she didn't petulantly pout behind his back as she furthered into his bedroom. He didn't even look at her! Luckily, however, she was able to wipe the pout from her face before she approached the chair in which he was sitting. With renewed purpose - after all it was a shame to look so lovely and be paid so little attention - she walked up along the side of the chair, finger trailing along the top of it as she did so, looking at him with an almost innocent look on her face. "Must there be a reason for a wife to wish to visit her husband?" Her tone gave more innocence even than the look on her face did. She was not so naive as to think she could really fool him, but that did not mean she could not cause him to be flustered.

Were she not so thoroughly disgusted by him she might have felt the flutter of excitement upon seeing her new husband with his sleeves rolled up, looking so casual and - she hated to admit - handsome. But she was disgusted by him and no manner of lighting or state of undress could allow her to do more than begrudgingly admit that he was indeed good looking. Obviously that was due to his superior lineage that seemed - sadly - not to have saved him from having poor judgement. She had a slight moment of silence in her head for the man he could have and should have been before focusing instead on the man he had actually become. It such a shame, really - they'd had such potential had he not ruined everything by dallying with a mudblood of all things.

Walking around further she stood between him and the fire unthinking - or perhaps uncaring - of the way the light from the fire made her night dress leave even less to the imagination. She was, after all, quite confident that she was beautiful and desirable. And the whole reason for this little visit was to make him quite aware of that fact because, were she being honest, he'd been seeming to lose sight of how very lucky he was to be married to a beautiful young lady such as she. Young though she might have been in years, her body boasted lovely curves and her features were extremely comely, in her own opinion. He was a fool to lose sight of such things and so there she was, ready to remind him.

"It just occurred to me," She started with a fake - though very convincing - half frown, half pout, "that I've been very unkind to you." she finished it in a slightly apologetic tone. She was going for convincing, after all, and she was hardly one to apologize easily even when she meant it. "I've been quite cruel..." she went on as though she were quite uncertain what to say, "and I should hate for us to spend all of our honeymoon ill at ease with one another." She was quite proud of her performance, if she did say so herself. After all she'd been quite cunning in her execution, even going so far as not to be quite so snide that day and the day prior. She was quite certain he would be gullible enough to buy it.

  

[William Pendergast]

Will could feel her approaching from behind him, but he still did not turn his head to properly acknowledge her, his eyes still glued to the hot flames of the fire. He was positive that his lack of responsiveness would cause her some annoyance, and perhaps a part of him enjoyed making her angry as she had done to him on multiple occasions, but there was also another part that felt guilty for not paying her proper attention. She was his wife, after all, and if he could not be the worthy man in her eyes that he desired to be, then least he could strive for was to be a satisfactory husband -- though he was certain that he may fail in that endeavor, too. It was not as if he had too many accomplishments to boast of, so adding one more failed attempt would not hurt his pride too harshly.

However, Will had no choice but to face his vengeful wife as she was soon before him in nothing but white nightgown, the glow from the fire accentuating her lovely figure, and although Will was uncomfortable with such thoughts, he was no fool -- Tullia Lestrange (now Pendergast, he supposed) was a beautiful young lady, perhaps more lovely than many women of his acquaintance, but she was only fourteen. She had only just entered her teenage years a year prior, and now she was a young wife, and it was completely his own fault. Suffice to say, he could not help but inwardly admire his attractive wife, but his eyes -- dark green from the lighting of the room -- did not dare roam over her alluring curves or her pretty features for fear of giving her the wrong impression that perhaps he desired her. Which he did, but he would never admit it.

At her words, however, Will could not refrain from lifting his head to study her face as he rose an eyebrow. She was attempting to salvage their (nonexistent) relationship? Something's not right here..., Will thought as he thought back to earlier that morning in which she had pointedly given him the silent treatment and responded coldly to his attempts to be friendly, and he came to the conclusion that perhaps he was being tricked, but he had to commend her fairly convincing performance, and rather than immediately call her out on her bluff, Will decided that he would play along.

"I see," he responded, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into an imperceptible smile. "Pray tell," he continued as he leaned forward, feigning eagerness -- though he was quite interested in what she would have to say, "how do you mean to make reconciliations?"

Words: 451 | Tag: Tullia

  

[Cornelia Pendergast]

She could tell that he was skeptical. Much as she would like to say it shocked her, Tullia knew that William wasn't a complete idiot, contrary to what his seemingly constant poor decisions would imply. That didn't mean, however, that she wasn't certain she could lull him into a false sense of complacency. She had many things going in her favor - her cunning and beauty only being two of them. William was not the sort (at least she imagined) that would continue to doubt someone if they seemed earnest enough. And Tullia could most certainly put on a convincing face when the occasion called for it and the occasion certainly did call for it.

It was apparent that William did not believe her but if she was any good at playing pretend (and she most certainly was) then that would soon be untrue. At his words her eyes fell almost shyly and she gave him the most comely smile she could offer (which was very comely) that was as demure as could be believable for her usual disposition. She fought back the desire - rather easily - to laugh because the idea that she could be offering herself to her dear husband in earnest was truly hilarious. She'd put off letting him touch her in that way for as long as possible but he didn't have to know that. She knew better than to think he'd take her up on her offer, after all. He saw her as a child still which - while infinitely relieving in some ways - was irksome to no end.

But her face remained the same convincing facade she was putting forward and she looked up softly through her lashes, smile seeming a touch more nervous but still not overly so as to not be believable. This all hinged on William believing her and she was good at convincing people of things that were not true. If it failed ...well then she could just carry on the charade and get upset that he thought her a joke. Either way, she was confident that she could make him believe she was being truthful on some levels. She doubted it would take much convincing though.

So she went to speak, a bit hesitant at first but the words came with a sense of confidence while still holding some form of meekness. She imagined how she'd feel if she were doing such a thing in earnest and used that to fuel her little act. "I mean to show you that I can be a good wife." Her words were soft as she pulled her night dress up ever so slightly, revealing her ankles and just a bit more to make sure she got her point across. Not that he hadn't seen a woman before but he'd never seen her and she was rather confident that she was a great deal more attractive than the mudblood he'd sullied himself with.

  

[William Pendergast]

Will just simply looked at her as she spoke, observing how she seemed to meekly peer at him through dark lashes with those piercing blue eyes of hers that usually held fire within them -- the fire was still there, he noticed, but now it seemed rather subdued. In his opinion, she seemed a touch nervous, though he had never known Tullia to be anything but confident and self-assured. Will wanted nothing more than to believe her words, and he desired nothing more than to show her that he could be a good spouse to her, as well -- to pull her into his arms and gently place a kiss upon her forehead, and reassure her that, despite the unpleasant circumstances they found themselves in, they would survive and come out stronger in the end.

But he couldn't. A sudden intuition informed him that he should refrain taking any such action, and once again, Will was rather skeptical about his wife's motives, but he couldn't be certain of them. Fortunately, however, he gained a bit of insight as to what she had in store for the two of them that evening when she had subtly lifted the hem of her nightgown to reveal creamy-white ankles, which he had to admit were very nice ankles, but he suddenly felt slightly alarmed.

"I-indeed? And how do you mean to accomplish such a task?," he questioned, stammering a bit as he tore his eyes away from his wife's very lovely ankles (which made him wonder if other parts of her were as lovely to look at) to inspect her face, her eyes in particular.

Words: 272 | Tag: Tullia

  

[Cornelia Pendergast]

The vaguest idea that her plan was backfiring crossed her subconscious as she felt her cheeks warm and redden - in earnest! - at his attention to her ankles and his words. No! He wasn't supposed to ask that! He was supposed to be so stunned that he acted an imbecile! He was not supposed to look at her like he was looking at her and her cheeks most certainly were not supposed to redden in honest shyness. And that fluttering in her gut? That was not supposed to exist. But Tullia was far too proud to allow these thoughts and symptoms of her reaction to actually make a dent in her facade. She would not be undone by the fool before her and she certainly would not let him win in this little display of power.

And yet her eyes were slightly wide as if surprised, pale cheeks rosy in the most loveliest of fashions (she was sure of this because she was always lovely) and stomach feeling very much as though there were butterflies fluttering about within it. But she had to ignore it. She was getting a reaction and he was nervous and that meant she was winning! She was getting from him what she'd wanted - not exactly how she'd imagined - and whatever side effects it had on her had absolutely no meaning. Because she would not allow herself to be made to feel like some child full of fancy. She would not allow herself to be deluded by him just because he was handsome and she used to be quite fond of him. She had to remember that it was all his fault they were in this situation and she would not so easily forgive him.

"I..." She started, faltering and having to convince herself that it was all just part of her act - not that she was actually nervous or at a loss for words. "I wish to..." Her hands slowly let go of her gown, letting the fabric cover her exposed ankles once more and trying to gather her control that she could no longer deny was slipping. Damn him and his handsome face and his lack of hatred towards her despite how cruel she'd been. Why couldn't he just be easy to hate? Why did it have to be such a chore to give him what he deserved for doing what he'd done to her? "I wish to become your wife...properly." Her voice held no small amount of nervousness though they were spoken - mercifully - without stammering. She was trying to convince herself that she was still just toying with him. She couldn't accept that she wanted him to want her. She couldn't accept that she didn't hate him near as much as she wanted to.

  

[William Pendergast]

Will stared at her in stunned silence as he witnessed her eyes widening in surprise and her cheeks flushing a lovely shade of rosy pink, and a hint of smugness settled within his chest as he fought the urge to smile. So he had been correct. His wife did have some kind of motive that evening, and while it was not one that overly surprised him, he could not help but feel sympathetic towards her. Despite being adept at upholding a facade, Tullia suddenly seemed quite vulnerable in his eyes, and a part of him wished to reach out and console her, or at least give her what she desired so that she could return to the hardened young woman he knew her to be.

As she spoke, Will just simply stared at her as she gathered her words together, at a loss as to what to say or what action to take. Although he was no longer looking at her ankles, he observed that she allowed the fabric of her nightgown to recover them, now only revealing the tips of her toes. He was rather enjoying this unexpected reaction from her, relishing in the fact fact that he had such affect upon her. The pinkness of her cheeks illuminated her delicate facial features, and the widening of her eyes seemed to render her blue eyes to sparkle in the dying light of the fire.

Will's breath caught in his throat as Tullia finally muttered the words out, that she desired to be his wife in all ways. This was exactly what he had feared would happen one day, and unfortunately for him, this moment came a bit sooner than he had expected. Of course, it was not as if he didn't want to consummate their marriage -- in fact, by nature, he desired her as any sane man who could recognize her exceptional beauty would -- but she was young. She was only fourteen years of age -- it seemed immoral of him to claim her virtue before she was of wizarding age. He had already claimed the most important years of her childhood, and he did not desire to force her into her position before she was even prepared for it. Or maybe it was him that wasn't prepared? It was not as if he had much experience in this (uncomfortable) area of marriage either.

"I...," Will said in attempt to respond to her statement before clearing his throat, and it seemed as if no more words would be forthcoming, but Will soon surprised himself by hoisting himself from the chair, standing above his wife at his tall height of 5'6". Before he could even contemplate his actions, Will swooped down to place a chaste kiss upon her temple before gesturing towards the door, "It is getting dreadfully late. May I walk you back to your rooms, my dear?"

Words: 488 | Tag: Tullia

  

[Cornelia Pendergast]

No! No, no, no, no, no! He wasn't supposed to deny her. He wasn't supposed to change the subject and offer to see her to her room. Her cheeks flushed with more than just embarrassment this time around - there was anger behind her eyes that were just moments before almost vulnerable. She hated to admit it but she had been vulnerable. Despite her intentions, even she couldn't deny that it was an earnest offering - earnest request. If she was to be doomed to be Mrs. Pendergast then she wanted to be so properly. She was nothing if not dutiful and it was a wife's duty to please their husband and provide heirs. And he wouldn't even afford her that peace of mind!

She looked at him with her brows drawn together, expression angry as she side stepped away from him. She didn't want him kissing her forehead like she was some sort of child. Or offering to see her to her room as if creatures of the night would claim her were she to walk there on her own. She wanted to ... she didn't even know what she wanted anymore. To be desired? To be given at least some sense of purpose? To get it over and done with and pray she got a child out of it all? She didn't know and that only made her anger more rampant. She, of course, held her composure best as she could but her eyes were giving her away - her whole expression was. Why couldn't she just be enough for him? She averted her angry eyes from him, head turning to the side because she felt some sort of clarity that allowed her to see that all of the anger she felt was just because she'd felt betrayed. And he didn't even want to fix it. He didn't even want to pretend that he could want her.

In what was perhaps the most childish she'd felt in years, her emotions kept flip-flopping between hatred and anger and disappointment. She still wasn't entirely sure how she felt but when she looked at him again the anger was clear on her face. Anger she could deal with. "It's not late." She said it in a cold tone, glaring daggers at him - wishing it was literally so - before going on: "Are you suffering delusions that I am not good enough for you? What is it, hm? Is tainted blood what you like? Do you wish you could have some muggleborn harlot?" She was saying the words angrily, feeling ridiculous somewhere beneath the anger but she felt hurt and it was so easy to push away if she replaced it with angry. She just wanted to hate him completely. She didn't want to feel disappointment or pain in the fact that he obviously did not want her.

"I am ever so sorry that I am not to your liking, William, but I am your wife and you owe it to me to let me at least perform admirably in that field!" Her words were getting slightly less angry, giving way into something she didn't want to admit she was feeling. Her features softened slightly and she looked at him seriously. "Is it so much to ask? That you not treat me like a child? Whether you wanted me or not the fact remains that I am yours now." Her gaze fell from him once more. "To think, I used to wish to be your wife. And now here we are and you want nothing to do with me." She felt incredibly bare in that moment, just wanting to flee but her feet stayed firmly planted where they were. She just didn't know what she was feeling anymore.

  

[William Pendergast]

Will silently winced as she retreated from his touch, his lips meeting thin air as she turned her head away from his subtle indication of affection, and despite himself, he could feel the familiar sensation of annoyance bubbling up within him. She was so unpredictable! One moment she was calm and collected, being civil despite the coldness of her voice, and then in the next she was angry and spewing insults at him -- he never knew what to expect from her, and while he supposed that that meant his wife would never become dull to him, Tullia wasn't a source of entertainment. She was his wife, she was a human being with emotions and desires and aspirations, and she had every right to be angry with him, but of all the reasons to be infuriated with him for, he would have never expected that it was because he was a neglectful husband in the marriage bed, or at least not this early in the premature union.

Speechless, Will attempted to come up with a reasonable response that would not fuel her rage even more. Not good enough for him? Not to his liking? What the hell was that supposed to mean? In his opinion, she was being irrational about this entire situation. Of course, he desired her -- what mentally-sound and sensible man wouldn't? She was a beautiful woman with quick wit and a subdued fieriness that captivated more than disinterested others. But what enchanted him the most about her were her piercing blue eyes; they often intimidated him, certainly, but they danced with fire when she was angry, and gave him a clear insight as to her emotions.

At the mention of how she used to desire to be his wife and how he did not seem to want nothing to do with her, Will heaved a heavy sigh, suddenly feeling more exhausted by the minute. But he knew that he had to resolve this situation before he could rest, aware that he would not sleep soundly that night otherwise. "Tullia, listen to me," Will quietly pronounced, a few embers from the fire crackling as he did so, "Yes, you are my wife, but in many ways you are still young -- we are still young. We have a whole lifetime ahead of us, and it is because of this fact that I wish to wait to properly consummate our marriage, to wait for the right time to do so." Holding her gaze, light-green connecting with ice-blue, he continued, "I want to do this right, Tullia -- I've made plenty of mistakes in the last few months, but the consummation of our marriage won't be one of them -- because you're worth far more than a quick and simple tryst in order to fill an obligation."

Having gotten his confession out in the open, Will once again gestured towards the door, and once again inquired, this time with a bit of an edge in his voice indicating that he was quite done with this conversation and that he wished to sleep, "Now, shall I see you to your rooms, or would you prefer to walk alone?" He was fine with either option she chose, but it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and just because Tullia was now his spouse did not mean that he had to forsake being one.

Words: 565 | Tag: Tullia

  

[Cornelia Pendergast]

She scoffed at his words. In any other situation she'd have presence of mind enough to know it was ill mannered but she didn't care. "Do it right?" She seethed with anger. How foolish it was! What romantic nonsense was going on in his mind? There was no right or wrong in the situation - it was duty plain and simple. Any idle fancies he had of lovemaking with someone with whom he shared affection was direly misplaced. Any affection she'd felt towards him had long since vanished and she was finding it evermore difficult to remember why she'd ever liked him at all. Or maybe it was all just anger. Tullia was good at fooling herself, however, and in that moment she was certain that she positively loathed her husband.

"Our coupling will never be anything more than obligation." She said fiercely with a harsher edge to her voice, almost mocking at the idea that he could ever believe there was any alternative. It would never be anything more than duty. If he was waiting for her to feel any sort of affection for him then he would be waiting forever and they'd never have children. "Make no mistake - this is our duty to produce children. That's all it is. An obligation. The only right time to do it is soon lest everyone think my womb a wasteland!" She shook her head in a motion that gave the impression that she knew it wasn't worth her words. It wasn't. He was a foolish man - so very foolish.

Taking steps towards the door in a purposefully angry motion she whipped her head around to give him one last glare. "I don't need you to see me to my room. The only thing I need from you is to do your duty but you clearly aren't man enough to do so!" And with that she opened the door and all but slammed it shut as she entered the hallway, making hasty steps back to her room. She wanted to sleep and wash her hands of the whole conversation.