One Breath At A Time. (Mathilda&Silas)

[Mathilda Juliette St. James]

Outfit<3: www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=98634073

A groan escaped a cocoon of down and fleece as the eighteen year old awoke from her night of snoozing, her alarm clock ringing wildly on her bedside table. Reaching a long pale arm out, her fingers searched for the clock, missing twice before hitting the snooze button.

Sitting up, Mathilda brought all of her blankets with her, not yet ready to leave the warm comfort of her bed. She rubbed at her eyes and her mouth to get rid of the evidence of a long night of rest, something that she needed, she simply worked herself to exhaustion every day. Finally, her feet hit the cold floor and she shed her layers of blankets and began to count steps.

“One, two, three…” she could hear a symphony in her head over the counting, she sometimes needed the distraction, “four, five, six…” the soft patter of her feet tapping the beat, “seven, eight, nine, and te-aurgh, goddammit,” she muttered as she went face first into the doorframe with a thud, a sure sign that it was going to be a hard day. Sometimes, she got distracted with the music she was making out of her situation and forgot she was counting steps, not beats.

Using her hands to crawl around the wall and into the bathroom, she rubbed her face, scrunching up her nose a bit to ensure that everything was still working fine. She moved up to the sink and finally, opened her eyes, directing them toward the mirror that she was aware hung there.

Still nothing.

Mathilda often woke up feeling as though she’d been dreaming her whole life and when she opened her eyes, she’d just be a normal girl with eyesight. She wasn’t asking for perfect vision or anything, she had no room to be picky at this point, just vision. The ability to see…

What she would have seen was a scrawny girl with a small frame and not many curves. A girl with jet black hair, icy blue eyes, and pale as a ghost skin. Her hair was all on top of her head in a ratted mess after having slept on it and she could feel it. After heaving a sigh, she reached for her brush, it was right where she always left it and began plugging away at getting her hair back to normal again.

Madison wouldn’t be over this morning, so she’d have to get ready solo. She could have asked Silas, but she decided that she’d wait until breakfast to ask for any kind of help, Mattie felt as though she asked enough of him as it was.

Once her hair was tangle free, she felt to make sure her part was in the right spot, before turning from the bathroom and heading back into her room, tripping over Darshan, who had followed her to the bathroom and laid outside to protect her and promptly continued his snooze. \

There was another thud as Mattie hit the floor.

“Ow. You lazy heap of fur, this is exactly what you’re supposed to prevent,” she quipped at the animal, though she only got sloppy apologetic kisses in return, he was making sure that she was alright.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I won’t tell Silas…this time.” She sighed, giving the golden retriever an affectionate kiss on the nose, knowing the dog was getting old and not in his prime anymore. Mathilda knew that if she told Silas of these mistakes her trusty guide had been making, he’d insist on getting her a new one, which tore her up inside.

Only after she was satisfied with the ruffling and loving that she gave Darshan did she rise again to her feet and continue her way to the closet. She felt around, everything was very organized. Usually Maddie did it for her, but sometimes Silas would help, too. She decided to go with a dress, it was hard to mess up a dress. It was black with pinkish-red floral patterns, and she only knew that because of the elaborate organizational system they had in place which she had grown up with and thus had memorized, though in a new apartment there were slight changes that she was still getting used to. Everything had to be organized precisely with her or she just wouldn’t be able to function.

Shimmying out of her pajamas and into the dress, she pulled a black cardigan off of a hanger and shrugged it onto her shoulders. Next was tights…tights, tights…she hesitated as she searched her thoughts for which direction to move herself.

Oh, right…

It was always the most discouraging thing to forget. For someone who was blind, it was a moment of panic, even for something as small as tights or which direction you were facing. If she could forget something so simple…then she could forget anything.

Finding a pair of deep red tights she pulled them on over legs, being careful not to snag them and then running her hand over them once they were on to make sure there were no folds in them and they were secured to her legs.

She’d always dressed conservatively, probably because her parents, and then Silas, were trying to protect her, so she always was covering herself. Maddie had tried to get her dressed up in something more revealing before, which had them both excited, but ended up with a disappointed Mathilda when she didn’t feel any different by wearing whatever it was that Madison had dressed her up in. It just felt like clothes. It was the visual that made it so appealing and that was an ability that Mathilda did not possess.

Next were shoes, those were easy, they were in nice neat rows under her clothes by color. Flats and then tennis shoes, she never wore anything with a heel and opened toed shoes were out of the question, including sandals. They were too risky, she’d be more prone to hurting herself that way. When they went to the beach and sometimes to the park, they’d let her go barefoot so she could feel the sand and the grass, those were always her favorite days, the days she could extend her limbs and imagination and pretend that she could see by the way everything felt.

A nice pair of black flats would do today.

About ready for the day, she started for the door before feeling the bare area at the top of her chest. A necklace...she twirled her necklace carousel around, feeling each pendant until she found the one shaped like an owl and secured it around her neck. The ones that were in shapes were her favorite, because when she ran her fingers over their shape she felt as though she got a better understanding of the world and the way it looked.

Okay, good to go.

Heading for the door, she grabbed up her cane and whistled for Darshan to follow in case he’d dosed off again, and he followed digilently. “Good boy…” she muttered under her breath to assure the panting beast that she still loved him and wasn't mad.

Getting around the apartment was becoming a routine for her and she could do so quite well now. It had been a struggle at first, but she’d worked at it a lot, and with Silas’ help it had been rather easy to get used to, as it wasn’t that large. She didn’t even have to use her cane any longer inside and Darshan usually nudged her when she was getting too close to a wall or table, when he wasn't having his senile slip-ups.

Stumbling into the kitchen, she smiled and called out, “Silas? Are you up yet? I’m going to make breakfast.” Of course, when she made breakfast it usually consisted of cereal, toast if she was feeling lucky, maybe some yogurt, a piece of fruit, and some juice. Snatching an apple out of the fruit bowl they kept on the counter for easy snacks, she crunched into the fruit, savoring the taste.

Just one thing at a time, Mattie, you got yourself up and dressed, now just concentrate on eating and getting out the door.

[silas maverick st. james]

A deep-voiced groan came from the lips of the tall young man beneath his miriad of sheets and comforters, tossing his pillow violently at the screaming alarm clock. Another day of melodrama and misery, he huffed. He so did not want to deal with this shit today. It was just too early for college. With another huff, he cast his blankets aside, shivering as the cold hit his bare chest, the cold of the floors seeping into his feet. His bleary eyes fell onto his trembling fingers, causing him to swear under his breath. Everything was moving in slow motion, as if he were underwater. He reached under his bed slowly for his mirror, razor and the pure white powder that was his best friend and worst enemy all rolled into one convenient, expensive drug.

Silas took a shaky, anxious breath, fingers trembling violently as his body screamed at him, begging him mercilessly for that first hit. He poured some of the cocaine onto the mirror, using his razor to chop up the clumps and cut it into his two lines of the day. Rarely did he do more than that -- only on a bad day would he consider it, or if the high lasted less than an hour. Finally he grabbed his tube, inhaling the powdered drug. Instantly, he could feel the morning pick-me-up pick him up, a rush of excitement and joy running through his electrified veins, finishing his other line. He immediately jumped up from his place on the bed, just barely remembering to put his toys back where they belonged. The brunette rushed into his own personal bathroom, taking the fastest shower of his life. A quick shave (oops, cut yourself there), brush of his hair and spritz of his cologne later, followed by his jeans, tee, hoodie and trainers, and he was ready to go.

The young male ran down his stairs, distracted only momentarily by the sound of a thud. "Whatwasthat?" he said, voice rapid as his eyes darted to the upper landing, only to skirt to the side where the window was. He quickly went over to the window and stared out, grinning at the tinyness of the people. He felt amazing -- like everything would be alright and perfect. He had no idea how long he stayed there, next thing he knew his sister was calling his name. His blue eyes darted towards the kitchen, his body following. "Well hello there beautiful sister of mine." he grinned, sniffling a little and wiping his nose. His toes tapped rapidly as a song hummed through his head, "Same breakfast as always?"

OUTFIT HERE

[Mathilda Juliette St. James]

Mathilda could hear Silas as he moved across the apartment and into the kitchen to find her. She picked up rather quickly on the pace of his gait and the way it sounded as his feet hit the floor. "Morning, Silas," she greeted him when he was near her, giving him a smile. The way he was acting, she knew that he was still on the drugs. It was impossible for her to express just how much it broke her heart that he did that. How much it scared her that maybe someday she'd stumble upon him and he wouldn't be breathing because of it. How was she supposed to help him if that happened?

Mathilda, of course, blamed herself. She caused him so much stress, stress that he would never admit to, but she was afraid it was her that kept him on the vice. And though she felt this way, she would never admit to him either. She supposed it would be selfish of her to ask him to stop if it actually helped him in some way. Though, she felt guilty everyday for not doing more to try to help him in his addiction.

When she heard him coming closer to her, she reached out and caught him in her arms, burying her face in his chest for a moment and taking a deep breath of his scent. It was comforting to her, to know it was him, that he was there, and he was okay. She gave him a small squeeze before letting him go, it was one of the small things in her day that helped her through.

After releasing him, she took a deep breath, trying to push any worry for her brother out of her mind. "Yeah, what do you want?" she asked, her fingers next moving to the boxes of cereal lined up in the pantry in alphabetical order, they always had the same thing. Or else, if Silas bought other things, he put them somewhere else where they wouldn't confuse Mathilda.

Grabbing out the Cheerios for herself and setting on the counter, she looked in his direction, though she never really every looked in the right spot. Sometimes it almost seemed as if she was searching for him through the nothingness she saw.

After grabbing the cereal she made sure to find bowls and spoons, being extra careful as she poured the cereal and milk in the bowls so that she did not spill them and make a mess for Silas. It took her a little longer to do, but she got it done, and she preferred being able to do something for Silas now and then and she knew he didn't mind the wait. Or if he did, he never complained.

"So are you doing anything today? Mathilda asked, wondering what the plans would be for the day. Usually if Maddie was busy, Mathilda ended up at the house alone for a large part of the day. Silas always seemed to have things to do.

[silas maverick st. james]

He didn't know why he needed to do the drugs. He wasn't some shrink, after all, it wasn't his job to see into the hearts and minds of other people. However, he could probably guess that it was the stress. The stress of being the heir to the St. James title, the stress of being the son of such an important figure in New York society, of being forced into something he really had no interest in doing -- he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, but he knew that, whatever he did, he wanted it to be on his own damned terms -- the stress of having to help keep this so-called family afloat, thanks to his mother's flighty ways and, yes, even the stress of being the elder brother to his legally blind sister. Not that he didn't love his sister -- he adored her -- but it was still rough on him, having so much responsibility on his shoulders and not being able to choose the path of his life for himself. He realized, of course, that using the drug was the only way he could remove the anxieties, stress, responsibility and inability to control his life. He also realized that, by using the drug, his life was spiralling more and more out of control, which only lead him to use it more. It allowed him the false pretense of control, let him think there was something in life he could control when, really, the drug was controlling him. Usually, though, these realizations just meant that it was time to take another bump from his powdered lover.

He also knew that one day, everything was going to come crashing down on him. It had already happened once, when he had flunked out of Harvard, but he knew that it would only be so long before he fucked up and wound up in the hospital for an overdose. Still he used, still he abused, and he had no plans to stop any soon. He knew Mathilda knew, and it broke his heart that she did, but it still wasn't something he could stop. Not yet. They never spoke of it, but he knew she was afraid for him, and to be frank he was afraid too, but still nothing was done. When she reached out and grabbed him, he wrapped his arms around her body, trying desperately to stay still and let her find her comfort in his arms, despite his desperate need to move and jump around. He was glad, though, that it didn't take her long to find comfort, barely feeling the squeeze that meant she was letting go.

"I think I'll have some frosted flakes today. It feels like a frosted flakes day to me, doesn't it? Sugary and sparkly and... ya know, I wish ya could see how beautiful ya really are. It's a shame, a damned shame I say." He spoke, pouring himself a rather large bowl of cereal before pouring some milk in, seeing it splosh about from being so violently poured. Still, all the milk managed to stay in the bowl, which left him no mess to clean up. He took the spoon that was left for him and sat down at the table, digging into his cereal hungrily. One of these days, when he wasn't so high, he'd make a nice big breakfast. Orange juice and coffee and eggs and ham or bacon and hashbrowns and buttered toast, a full English breakfast, just like his father used to make back in New York whenever he didn't have a court case to prepare for. Those days were rare, though, happy days. Sometimes he could remember hearing his mother sing in the kitchen while she helped make the food. Silas meant to make these breakfasts every Sunday but, whether it was the drugs or the painful memories -- though he'd never admit that they were, indeed, painful to remember -- he always somehow wound up forgetting.

Silas paused for only a moment, trying to sift through his jumble of thoughts to see if he had planned anything for that day. As far as he was aware, though, there didn't seem to be anything. "I don't think so, maybe. I donno. I think I wanted to do homework today, cause I failed that test last week and I get to take a makeup this Friday, but I gotta wait for later so I can focus 'n shit. I'd like to hear ya play some music today, sis, if ya don't mind. I haven't heard ya play in a while." He smiled at her, despite knowing she wouldn't see it. "Where's that old mutt of ya's anyways? He said jokingly, looking around to see if he was under the table.

[Mathilda Juliette St. James]

The smallest amount of pink appeared in Mattie’s cheeks as well as a small smile at her brother’s compliment. “Thanks, Silas,” she responded quietly as she held her cereal bowl carefully on the way to sit across from her brother at the table. “I don’t need to be able to see to know that you’re a beautiful person,” she complimented back and she meant it. There wasn’t another person in the universe that Mathilda cared for more than Silas. No matter what mistakes he made, or how he was perceived by others, no one would ever understand exactly how much he did for just by agreeing to let her live in the same apartment as him. No one could possibly understand everything he’d done for her since she was born, no one ever would; she wasn’t even sure Silas could understand exactly how much he meant to her.

Clearing her throat and setting a napkin in her lap, Mathilda began to eat. Mattie enjoyed meal time, especially when Silas was there to keep her company. The girl would never be able to enjoy the aesthetic appeal of the different foods, but it was one of the safest, most controlled sensory environments that there was. She was quite good at picking out different herbs, spices, and other flavors in dishes by taste and smell. Food had some of the most interesting textures as well. Eating could sometimes be a bit of entertainment and a huge distraction for her from her normal stressors.

Worry crept onto Mathilda’s face, though, when Silas mentioned the test. “You failed a test?” she asked quietly. Mattie, despite her handicap, had never failed a test her entire life. Part of her wondered if it was because she was blind and her instructors pitied her, or perhaps it was because she got so much extra help to begin with, but really Mathilda had never even come close to failing a test. Immediately she began to worry that it was Harvard all over again, that Silas’ drug use was consuming him and he would lose sight of what was important.

However, at Silas’ mention of her playing music for him, her face lit up. Even if she couldn’t see that he was smiling, she knew he was, he could hear it in his voice. “Really?” it had been a while since she played for him and now that she was in college studying music, she was eager to play all of her new pieces for him. “I’ll play for you whenever you want, you know that…” in fact, she’d even written pieces for Silas in the past and now that she thought about it, she’d do another soon.

Mathilda felt around with her feet under the table when Silas mentioned her dog, “Darshan, here boy,” she called with a low whistle and an instant later she felt a wet nose nudge her arm and she laughed. “Go see Silas,” she ordered the dog who happily trotted over to the dark haired boy, sitting down beside him and wagging his tail enthusiastically.