Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Ballad of Mona Lisa
To Assess the Sins She's Paid For
1 review“I will spare you the details, Miss Salisbury. To put it simply I was murdered.”
1Ambiance
Brennan's smirk changed into a look of surprise and a muttered curse when he saw Blanche start to sway in her seat. “Oh no you don't!” He ran across the room and grabbed the tea cup and splashed its contents on her once perfectly powdered face. She spluttered in surprise as her hand grasped for the napkin on her lap. When she was done dabbing dry her face she took a moment to glare at him.
“Give me that!” She snapped and grabbed the tea cup from his hand. It was then that he realized what he had just done. In curiosity he reached for the cup again but she pulled it out of his reach. “Must you really bother me so? What do you want?” He ignored her questions and instead reached further for the cup. She gasped when his hand passed through the solid object she held.
The ghost sighed in frustration and disappointment as he took the seat across from her at the tea table. “I'm sorry, what was it you said?” He muttered. When he looked up at her she was staring at him, her mouth opening and closing at a loss for words. “I'd rather you didn't faint on me again, ma'am. I don't think I could wake you this time,” he looked down miserably at the tea pot in front of him and passed his hand once more through the ceramic vessel.
“So...” Blanche mulled over possible things to say. “You are a ghost?” His brown eyes flicked up at her and narrowed briefly.
“Yes,” he rolled his eyes when he said it. Blanche chose to ignore this and instead concentrated on another question to ask. “How... how did you die?” She wasn't sure if there was some sort of ghost etiquette that she should follow, perhaps that was a rude question.
“I will spare you the details, miss...” He left it open for her to supply her name. “Blanche, Blanche Salisbury.”
The ghost nodded once before he continued, “I will spare you the details, Miss Salisbury. To put it simply I was murdered.” Her eyes widened at this, JR and Crackitus had not told her this.
She stammered a bit as she looked at the ghost in a new light, that of pity. “I'm so sorry... Do you know who did it?”
“Oh yes,” his eyes were fixed on the paper that rested on the table, reading the headline. “A vampire killed me, and a right shrewish one at that!”
“A vampire?” Her voice sounded skeptical but immediately she regretted her tone. Didn't the League claim to hunt them? And if a ghost could really appear before her, then surely vampires could exist as well. “I'm sorry,” she murmured.
The ghost didn't seem to hear her as he continued to read the article, his head cocked to make out the script that faced away from him. “Well that's interesting...”
“Hm?” She looked at the paper as well, “Oh yes, rumors from Chicago about a body that doesn't rot. A load of nonsense if you ask me!” He nodded vaguely.
“Can you open up the rest for me please?” She did so and they both continued reading. “That's me! He died the same night I did!”
Blanche started shaking her head, “No, can't be! This man had his throat slit!” She was starting to get excited when she realized that this was not the typical conversation for a woman.
He looked up from the paper and stared at her intently. “She slit my throat so no one will know how I really died.”
She nodded in understanding before something else confused her... “She?”
-
Harold had never felt so alive in his life. Everything about this day was full of satisfaction of many desires. Yes, the day was over cast. And yes, it was strange that the woman he was with still insisted in carrying a black parasol. But those were just small details in the big picture.
He smiled in delight as Mary laughed at another one of his jokes. Expertly handling the reins of his buggy, he felt his chest swell as a result of his gratified ego. Blanche had never laughed so heartily or often as this bright city flower.
He pulled up outside of her hotel and smiled at her. “Well, I suppose this is your stop then,” to be honest, he was loathe to let her go. She looked up at the swinging sign of the building, “I suppose it is.”
Her velvety voice sent chills down his spine, a dark desire was rising in him. He climbed down from his seat and turned to help her out. Her smaller, gloved hand rested in his longer than necessary when she had stepped down. She smirked up at him, he gulped in a sudden nervousness. She was beautiful, indeed, and had something about her manner that continuously drew him closer. “It's a shame to say goodnight so soon,” his voice came out in a husky whisper.
She raised her eyebrow in dry amusement at him. “It is a shame,” she conceded, “but we don't have to say good night quite yet.” He smiled tentatively, not quite sure what she was getting at. She smiled at him and pulled him towards the door of the hotel. “Why, there's still good hours ahead of us, Mr. Mayor!”
A/N: I am REALLY loving writing this story and I really hope you guys are enjoying it too! Drop me a review please to let me know how I'm doing! This is the first time I've written a song fic... I'm so out of my element... but who cares, the words are coming to me and that's all that matters. =)
“Give me that!” She snapped and grabbed the tea cup from his hand. It was then that he realized what he had just done. In curiosity he reached for the cup again but she pulled it out of his reach. “Must you really bother me so? What do you want?” He ignored her questions and instead reached further for the cup. She gasped when his hand passed through the solid object she held.
The ghost sighed in frustration and disappointment as he took the seat across from her at the tea table. “I'm sorry, what was it you said?” He muttered. When he looked up at her she was staring at him, her mouth opening and closing at a loss for words. “I'd rather you didn't faint on me again, ma'am. I don't think I could wake you this time,” he looked down miserably at the tea pot in front of him and passed his hand once more through the ceramic vessel.
“So...” Blanche mulled over possible things to say. “You are a ghost?” His brown eyes flicked up at her and narrowed briefly.
“Yes,” he rolled his eyes when he said it. Blanche chose to ignore this and instead concentrated on another question to ask. “How... how did you die?” She wasn't sure if there was some sort of ghost etiquette that she should follow, perhaps that was a rude question.
“I will spare you the details, miss...” He left it open for her to supply her name. “Blanche, Blanche Salisbury.”
The ghost nodded once before he continued, “I will spare you the details, Miss Salisbury. To put it simply I was murdered.” Her eyes widened at this, JR and Crackitus had not told her this.
She stammered a bit as she looked at the ghost in a new light, that of pity. “I'm so sorry... Do you know who did it?”
“Oh yes,” his eyes were fixed on the paper that rested on the table, reading the headline. “A vampire killed me, and a right shrewish one at that!”
“A vampire?” Her voice sounded skeptical but immediately she regretted her tone. Didn't the League claim to hunt them? And if a ghost could really appear before her, then surely vampires could exist as well. “I'm sorry,” she murmured.
The ghost didn't seem to hear her as he continued to read the article, his head cocked to make out the script that faced away from him. “Well that's interesting...”
“Hm?” She looked at the paper as well, “Oh yes, rumors from Chicago about a body that doesn't rot. A load of nonsense if you ask me!” He nodded vaguely.
“Can you open up the rest for me please?” She did so and they both continued reading. “That's me! He died the same night I did!”
Blanche started shaking her head, “No, can't be! This man had his throat slit!” She was starting to get excited when she realized that this was not the typical conversation for a woman.
He looked up from the paper and stared at her intently. “She slit my throat so no one will know how I really died.”
She nodded in understanding before something else confused her... “She?”
-
Harold had never felt so alive in his life. Everything about this day was full of satisfaction of many desires. Yes, the day was over cast. And yes, it was strange that the woman he was with still insisted in carrying a black parasol. But those were just small details in the big picture.
He smiled in delight as Mary laughed at another one of his jokes. Expertly handling the reins of his buggy, he felt his chest swell as a result of his gratified ego. Blanche had never laughed so heartily or often as this bright city flower.
He pulled up outside of her hotel and smiled at her. “Well, I suppose this is your stop then,” to be honest, he was loathe to let her go. She looked up at the swinging sign of the building, “I suppose it is.”
Her velvety voice sent chills down his spine, a dark desire was rising in him. He climbed down from his seat and turned to help her out. Her smaller, gloved hand rested in his longer than necessary when she had stepped down. She smirked up at him, he gulped in a sudden nervousness. She was beautiful, indeed, and had something about her manner that continuously drew him closer. “It's a shame to say goodnight so soon,” his voice came out in a husky whisper.
She raised her eyebrow in dry amusement at him. “It is a shame,” she conceded, “but we don't have to say good night quite yet.” He smiled tentatively, not quite sure what she was getting at. She smiled at him and pulled him towards the door of the hotel. “Why, there's still good hours ahead of us, Mr. Mayor!”
A/N: I am REALLY loving writing this story and I really hope you guys are enjoying it too! Drop me a review please to let me know how I'm doing! This is the first time I've written a song fic... I'm so out of my element... but who cares, the words are coming to me and that's all that matters. =)
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