- Local time
- Today 2:31 PM
- Messages
- 1,416
- Age
- 31
- Pronouns
- She
Based on the Story / Roleplay of Tobias and Evelyn Gallimore in The Million Dollar Prince
It was his time.
Both of them knew this fact. Just as Tobias Gallimore knew the skies outside were cloudless blue and just as Evelyn Gallimore knew the budding roses in her antique garden were pink.
Sitting in his chair by their master bedroom window, Tobias gazed out over the trellises. Those roses were as old as their marriage. Pushing over seventy years now. Rich brown eyes gazed down over the small back-yard garden of their Chicago Brownstone as he smoked his cigarette. Evelyn never did like the scent. Seventy years worth of days sitting in this same chair by the window for a cigarette after making passionate, exhaustive, sweat-inducing love to his prim and proper little wife. Tobias had to smirk towards his gal slumbering in the bed. Some things didn't change. He didn't need any of those fucking blue pills to put on a satisfying performance for his dollface. Such a proper little Catholic church mouse his Evelyn was, a genuine noble lady yet get her tipsed with liquor or in his bed.... those natural French instincts amid her proper British breeding came out. She blamed his influence of course, and he accepted that. A mutt he was. A ruffian, a randy dog. Seventy years didn't change that, and Evelyn never seemed to want him to. And what Evelyn Vignaeu Gallimore wanted, Tobias had given her. Call him whipped, a sucker, whatever - he liked spoiling his wife, dammit. He'd always had the liquid wealth to do it. Any fashion, any jewel, any piece of luxury, it was hers. A winter apartment in Charleston. A woodland cabin in Tennessee. A summer home in Paris - he cursed himself that he was too sick to travel this year as he'd promised, just one more time was all she had wanted, what his saintly wife deserved and he couldn't give it to her...
Tobias took a long drag on his cigarette, resisting the urge to kick over these damn monitoring machines before turning his attention back to his wife and their shared quarters.
Seventy years worth of spoiled memories in this luxury room, this wonderful home they had built with their kids. Years of loving, hating, lies and revelations, fights and losses, passions and forgiveness all born under this roof. A lifetime spent. Memories he thought would last forever. A romance that had survived almost a hundred years...
It was all over too soon.
The old man pushing triple digits heaved a great sigh, feeling a surge through his oxygen tank. The steady beeping of his heart monitor plaguing him. "Tch, damn thing," he huffed in his Chicagoian accent, pulling the tubes out of his nose with frail hands. He'd survived front lines in two world wars, influenza and polio outbreaks, the Chicago riots, the crash of the economy, mob hits, contract killers, torture - and now Doctors were telling him a fucking little tumor was what going to take him out? He pulled the sticky monitoring pads from the heart machine off his chest with a disgruntled huff. A faded tattoo peeked through his shirt, the name Evelyn emblazoned proudly in elegant calligraphy mimicking her own handwriting on his chest just above a long-healed bullet wound.
As the machine sounded a flatline, an equally as aged woman sat upright in bed in a panic. Stark white hair fell in long waves around her, cataract blue eyes searching in panic towards the chair. "Bunbury-" a soft, proper British voice lilted across the room.
"Shh, I'm still here. Just hate the damned things... is all..." he grunted.
Evelyn didn't believe him for a moment. With wobbling feet she slipped out of bed, an antique nightgown from a bygone era adorning her form. "That's not all..." She knew when her husband was lying to protect her. Seventy years and he still did that. Protected her. Spoiled her. Relentlessly to both accounts. All she ever had to do was stick out her pout little lip and her husband would start to relent. She'd figured out long ago he liked her this way; pouty, spoiled, a princess he could lavish and prove he could be a good husband. He was the best man she could have ever asked for. This prince of punches. This american baron of blood. She loved him more than anything... so she stuck out her now thin lower lip.
Tobias sighed, shaking his head, those soulful brown eyes looking over his little wife. Still beautiful as the day he first saw her in those corsets and bustles... how times had changed... he missed how the bustle would give her angry stomps a little duck waddle. "C'mere, Princess," he patted his knee. He wanted to hold her one more time.
Evelyn didn't hesitate. Her stiff legs shuffling across the floor towards her love. Shakily, her tiny, frail form lowered herself against his own, as she brought her knees to curl up for him to hold her legs, the brush of his calloused fingers still carrying his strength of many years building machines and brawling. The amount of bodies he had on his conscience, she didn't know, never asked, but no matter the number she still loved him. She'd seen him put a bullet between a man's eyes and still he was the love of her life. Even in death Evelyn would never rat on him.
He pulled her head to his chest, letting her listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, slowly caressing her hair. Not a word was spoken for several long moments, the pair drinking in the company and comfort of one another, silently reliving the life they'd shared.
The softest voice from Evelyn broke the silence. "Its almost time... isn't it?"
Tobias grunted with a feint nod, whiskey hues drifting down to his sweet gal. He had murdered for her. Bled for her. He would do it all again and ten times over if given the chance. "Light me up, Princess-" Tobias grinned down at her as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket. Hand rolled with fresh tobacco, he never bought that mass produced shit. So how the hell he had a tumor was beyond him... likely the trenches in WW1...
Pulling a silver lighter from a box on the windowsill, Evelyn leaned back, cupping her hand around the end of the cigarette as he placed it between his lips. The flick of the antique piece came naturally, as if she'd done it a thousand times for her husband. The burning embers flared to life as he drew in a breath, his smug smirk that remained upon his handsome face even after all these years, blowing the smoke out the window. "That's my girl," he kissed her forehead, cupping her cheek to give her pretty lips a lingering kiss.
Leaning back in his chair, he savored the feeling of her curled up against him, Evelyn continuing to play with the small hairs at the base of his neck. "Go to sleep, sweetheart..." She was the only woman he'd slept beside for near 70 years now. His girl. Mother of his children. His wife and best friend. He hated the thought of leaving her alone. He just... couldn't hold on any longer, and he didn't need her to hear precisely when he left. She'd know when she woke up.
Nestling into his broad-shouldered chest, Evelyn nodded, clinging to his thin shirt. "I'm not ready yet, Bunbury..." How many times had he held her, just like this? Petted her hair, soothed any of her worries away... her tears were spent, she couldn't cry about this anymore.
"Don't worry, Princess... I'll be right here waiting for ya," he croaked out, pulling her closer. The last thing he wanted was for her to see him cry. He needed to be strong for his gal. He took a drag on the cigarette, watching the wind carry the smoke over the garden. This. This was perfect. He closed his eyes. The only thing that would make it better was a Chicago-loaded dog... "I'm not gonna go anywheres without ya."
"Tobias," Evelyn quietly said, giving a yawn as she felt herself slipping away from consciousness, curling closer into her lover. "I love you-"
He smiled, tightening his hold. "I love ya too, Evelyn."
One Week Later
"I have told you, I do not know when," Evelyn sat in bed, her proper British tone sounding somewhat strained. Blue eyes fixated on a worn, leather chair in the corner. "I'll know when its time... I understand your frustration, but I cannot control these things.... Oh now you are being cheeky of it!"
"Mimi-?" a young woman with platinum blonde hair tinted in red and blue eyes poked her head in the room, looking worriedly to her grandmother. "Who are you talking to?"
Evelyn beamed at her granddaughter, ancient hands clutching an old wedding photograph in an ornate frame. "Rosie sweetie! Your Pop-Pop of course, dear! He's right there-" she gestured towards the leather chair. Their granddaughter Matilda slowly looked towards the empty seat by the window. She wanted to cry for the old woman. So heartbroken she was refusing to acknowledge that Pop-Pop was gone. "Mimi..."
"Be a dear and get my suitcase for me, will you? We're going on a grand trip soon! He promised me Paris first. If I pack, maybe he will stop being so fussy about us being late," she chuckled, organizing a handful of letters. "He has never been a patient man, you know... ah the big blue one in the closet dear,"
Matilda could not refuse the old woman. Mimi had a way of making everything sound like an order. Though her dad once told her that their family was British nobility, a big deal back in the day that was the entire reason she and Pop-Pop were together; an arranged marriage of his money and her title, yet somehow the two were in love enough to produce half a dozen kids. They only stopped because Pop-Pop wouldn't move from the townhouse and they ran out of room.
Putting the blue antique case on the bed, Matilda, named for her grandfather's mom, looked over the letters in her grandma's lap. Some of which looked as if they had bloodstains cleaned from them and a singular oddly specific shaped hold repaired in them. "All this time, Bunbury and you kept these..." Evelyn beamed her wrinkled face towards the chair.
Grimacing at the fragility of Evelyn's mind, Matilda began packing the suitcase with whatever her grandmother dictated. "I am not packing too much! .... Oh you hush!" Evelyn spoke to the chair, Matilda ignoring the babble for fear any correction would aggrivate her grandmother's disorder. A broken heart, the Doctor said. In perfect health, but body was slowly giving out ever since her grandfather's passing. The funeral had been hardest on Uncle Ben and Uncle Evan, but the twins had shouldered every responsibility of giving their old man a proper send off.
Matilda lay out on the bench at the end of the bed a pretty powder blue traveling dress, an antique from before the 20s, really, Mimi never outgrew the fashion of the era and Pop-pop always seemed to like it best on her, before adding the letters and the original wedding photograph of a handsomely roguish young man and a dainty prim and proper young woman. It amazed her how strong the features of her grandparents passed down through the family. There wasn't an ugly face in the Gallimore Clan, that was for sure. "Anything else, Mimi?"
The old woman looked up, fidgeting with a priceless antique sapphire and diamond ring on her wedding finger. "Hmm? No that will be all Rosie... you are such a good daughter. All of you are such good children. Even Benjamin and Evander, the rascals."
Matilda gave a sad smile. The old woman truly had lost her mind... well what could they expect, she was almost a hundred years old at this point. "Get some rest, Mimi..." she kissed the soft, wrinkled cheek before leaving the room.
Evelyn smiled to the chair with a sigh. "They'll be fine, won't they? I worry too much... you made them strong..." Suddenly she sat up straighter, taking a deep breath. "... I think it's almost time, Bunbury...."
Two Hours Later
Dressed in powder blue, small suitcase at her heels and pearl-strap purse in her lap, Evelyn sat, waiting. The train station benches were not the most comfortable of seats, but the views overlooking the countryside were quite nice a scenery to gaze at while waiting. It was quiet today here. No one around on a lazy afternoon.
The old lady hummed a little ditty to herself - "Be merry my hearts, and call for your quarts, and let no liquor be lacking-" something her husband had taught her way back when-
A brash chuckling voice turned her blue eyes as a handsome young man strode into her sight, a loaded hot dog in one hand and a cigarette pressed between his lips. "Now what's a proper pretty lady like yourself doing singing such a thing?" he asked with a smirk, thickly wavy brown hair brushing over his eyes. His sharp jaw unhinged like a snake to take a bite of the dog as he sat down next to Evelyn. "This seat taken?"
Evelyn huffed at the lad, waving her gloved hand. "Oh! Just something my husband taught me a long time ago." She looked over him before pulling out a handkerchief and laying it on the lap of his crisp white suit. "For goodness sakes you'll ruin your suit-"
The man shrugged as he seemed unbothered by the fact, content to lean back on the bench and enjoy the scenery. "I didn't choose it." He smirks over at her, licking his fingers of the various condiments and chewing away. "You going somewhere special, Princess?" he asked, looking over the proper lady dressed so stunning.
A light came to Evelyn's old tired eyes, as she nodded to the young man, peering down the tracks. "Oh, yes. Very special." She turned her attention back to the handsome young buck with a curious smile. "You seem to be waiting for someone, handsome."
A sly look came to his sharp features, whiskey eyes twinkling. "Yeah. Someone very special to me."
In the far distance, a train whistle echoed down the tracks, the most feint sounds of gears turning as they both looked up.
"Its almost time," Evelyn stated with a shaking breath, opening her purse to take out a picture, looking down at a photograph in her aged hands. Her gloved fingers brushed across the young couple and the multitude of children surrounding them in their Sunday best, tears coming to her eyes, though a smile was painted on her lips.
"Hey, sweetness, now, don't cry," The young man chuckled as he finished his dog, pulling up the handkerchief to dab at the old woman's eyes. "Now, now, can't have a pretty thing like you crying when you're about to go someplace special, yeah?" Smiling brightly, he kissed her hand, tucking the handkerchief into her fingers. "C'mon, gimmie a smile..."
Evelyn chuckled softly through the sobs that tightened her throat. A broad smile spreading across her wrinkled face, "Such a darling man- you shouldn't keep your gal waiting for an old biddy like me," she sighed softly, nodding to his advice. Patting the strong youthful hand, Evelyn slowly released him.
WHOOOOOOOOH
The train whistle grew louder. Smiling all the more excitedly, the young man stood from the bench as he started fixing his suit, tugging at the sleeves and straightening the buttons and his tie. Pulling a cigarette out of his chest pocket, he began to pat down his vest, trying to find that damned lighter. "Where is that..." he muttered to himself, just as behind him the train began to pull in...
A youthful feminine hand reached out into his line of vision, grasping an antique silver lighter with the initials TJG emblazoned upon it. The flame flickered against the end of the cigarette as the man lifted his gaze to a gorgeous young woman in front of him. A doll's face with red lips and dark-painted blue eyes standing out against her pale skin and perfectly coifed platinum blond hair. A slender black and gold dress adorning her curved frame that beckoned hands to hold her. The contrast of colors visibly knocking the breath from the man's lungs. A ghostly spectre from his past coming to haunt him... he could only be so lucky. "Thank you for waiting for me, Bunbury-"
The man stared at her wordless for a moment, as he looked back at the train and gave a heavy sigh, looking over the youthful woman's shoulder. "Oh Princess... I missed it-"
Youthful Evelyn smiled and shook her platinum hair, cupping his ruggedly cut cheek. "Not at all. You were right here where I needed you to be." She turned back to serenely smile at the old woman seemingly asleep on the bench. "I look so peaceful don't I?"
Tobias smiled and leaned over at the waist to kiss the cheek of the old woman, tucking a red rose from his breast pocket into her aged hands. "You do... I take it you left a letter for the kids?" he asked, Evelyn giving a nod as Tobias pondered. "I didn't see myself... did I look that peaceful?"
Nodding with a smile, Evelyn took his hand to her own, leading him towards the train. "You did."
Tobias gave a grunt of a nod, following his ghostly bride with the enthusiasm of an overeager pup. "Good. I felt peaceful at the end with you on my lap... you'll like the afterlife. Can eat all the dogs I want and ya can't smell the onions," he chuckled. "What did ya end up doing with me?"
"I told you," Evelyn grinned back at him, looping her pale arm through his own, his sleeve tugging up to reveal the match to the rose tattoo on either of their forearms. "I would bury Tobi the Rose in the rose garden-"
Tobias rolled his eyes with a gruff shake of his head, but couldn't resist seeing the humor in his wife. "Told ya to toss me ta the coyotes." Evelyn smacked him upside the head, kissing his cheek at the same time, leaving an imprint of red lips. "To quote your boys 'Hell, no, ain't doin' that ta pops!'" she tried to mimic the Chicago accent to great failure. A proud smile overcame the man. "We raised some good kids, didn't we, sweetheart? Take it you're gonna be buried in your family's plot?"
Evelyn nestled her head against his shoulder with a rejected sigh. "No, I wanted to be buried with you, darling. And yes... yes we did. I'm sad to leave them..."
Kissing the top of her head, Tobias wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against his side. "You'll see them again, promise. Though I'm questionin' how a murderous mutt like me didn't automatically get dropped down inta the pits. Did ya just pray that hard for me? Or were ya just extra Catholic all these years ta make up for my slack?"
Slapping her palm against his chest with a laugh, the young woman matched his stride in her tall heels, her backless dress revealing smooth lines of a butterfly winged tattoo. "Perhaps I did, just to survive this romance and your corruption, you filthy hound," she giggled, releasing a weighted breath. "This feels so... surreal. But... good. Like being let out of a cage..." Tobias cocked a grin at the side of his lips, pulling his bride close and nipping at her ear. "I thought you were always trying to put this dog into a cage," he breathily replied, belting a laugh at the flush of her cheeks. "Really? Seventy years and all the nasty things we did to one another and you still blush? Such a little church mouse-"
His words cut off as Evelyn grasped him by the back of the neck, pulling his lips fiercely against her own. Red lipstick smeared between their flesh as she kissed him with all the longing of a broken heart, fingers grasping to his jacket. Dropping his cigarette without a care, Tobias pulled her against his frame, broad shoulders encircling his petite wife as deft fingers snaked their way through her hair and gripped her hip, tugging at the split in the side of her dress - "Ah! Not here, you randy hound! Bad dog!" Evelyn scolded him between kisses.
Tobias ignored her, scooping her up into his arms into a bridal carry. "I'll take the chance, Princess. Mmmnn you look just like you did at our first wedding..." he grinned.
Evelyn laughed, stars shining in her eyes as he carried her towards the train. "A drunken elopement at 3am in Paris after a night of indulgence, gambling and debauchery that neither of us truly remember the entirety of- and you call that a wedding."
His wolfish grin only spread across that rugged jawline, Tobias winking to his beautiful bride. "I do. You loved every moment of it. as much as I. Admit it. And that, Princess," he gestured to the white train, leaning his forehead against her own, wild brown waves mingling with the perfect pale coifs that adorned her head like a halo, brushing his rough lips to Evelyn's soft reds, "is our Heaven. Ours. We're going to relive it as much as we want. It's why I've been waiting for you..."
Steam enveloped the station in a pearlescent mist as the doors closed behind the set of white shoes Tobias wore, Evelyn sealing her lips against his as the train gave a sharp whistle and pulled from the station, slowly fading into nothingness.
Last edited: