She merely watched him as he finished gathering everything he wanted from his trunk and slipping the weapons into place. The varying currencies she glimpsed was a bit odd to her, though given his gambling habits, it was explainable to her. That and he seemed to travel places, so she didn't question the different currencies there. Though a few seemed to be rather old, but she didn't pay overly much attention to it currently.
Helena nodded at his words. She wasn't entirely certain if he would come back given he seemed to have no intention of coming back before when he'd left with no word. But she would stay anyway. After all, where else would she go? And in her current state, she'd most likely end up getting cornered in a dark alley, raped and killed by several ruffians, if she was lucky.
"Be careful," she said to him before he left. She was falling for him, and she didn't want anything untoward happening to him. Especially with a murderer out there. Once he was gone, she locked the door behind him, keeping her pistol handy. She glanced over at his trunk, curiosity getting the best of her. Besides, sitting there doing nothing but wait wasn't appealing to her. She waited a minute or two to ensure he was gone, then she went over and knelt down in front of the trunk, setting the pistol on the floor beside her. Lifting the lid, she started going through things. She'd largely been intrigued by the amount of weapons he had, so clearly he had been preparing for his vengeance for a while.
Though sifting far enough, she found more clippings from 1788 to pair with the ones that had fallen out on the floor earlier. Picking the new ones up, she read through them and found a picture of a man named Dorian Carver who looked precisely like Alexander did. Helena's eyes widened and she looked back at the clipping about the Carver family's murder, and she paired it together with what he'd told her a few minutes before about his family having died. Dorian and Alexander couldn't possibly be the same man! Decades had passed, yet Alexander seemed to be the same age as depicted in the drawing.
Suddenly feeling like she'd uncovered something she shouldn't have, Helena put things back in the trunk and closed the lid. She picked up the pistol and returned to sitting in the chair, her gaze falling down to the pistol. Even in her confusion and emotional turmoil, she knew that Dorian and Alexander were the same man. He had lied to her about who he was. And if he had lied about that, what else had he lied to her about? Did he even really care for her? The thoughts swirled around in her head and emotion swelled within her, but she refused to let it out. Not here and certainly not now.
no subject
Helena nodded at his words. She wasn't entirely certain if he would come back given he seemed to have no intention of coming back before when he'd left with no word. But she would stay anyway. After all, where else would she go? And in her current state, she'd most likely end up getting cornered in a dark alley, raped and killed by several ruffians, if she was lucky.
"Be careful," she said to him before he left. She was falling for him, and she didn't want anything untoward happening to him. Especially with a murderer out there. Once he was gone, she locked the door behind him, keeping her pistol handy. She glanced over at his trunk, curiosity getting the best of her. Besides, sitting there doing nothing but wait wasn't appealing to her. She waited a minute or two to ensure he was gone, then she went over and knelt down in front of the trunk, setting the pistol on the floor beside her. Lifting the lid, she started going through things. She'd largely been intrigued by the amount of weapons he had, so clearly he had been preparing for his vengeance for a while.
Though sifting far enough, she found more clippings from 1788 to pair with the ones that had fallen out on the floor earlier. Picking the new ones up, she read through them and found a picture of a man named Dorian Carver who looked precisely like Alexander did. Helena's eyes widened and she looked back at the clipping about the Carver family's murder, and she paired it together with what he'd told her a few minutes before about his family having died. Dorian and Alexander couldn't possibly be the same man! Decades had passed, yet Alexander seemed to be the same age as depicted in the drawing.
Suddenly feeling like she'd uncovered something she shouldn't have, Helena put things back in the trunk and closed the lid. She picked up the pistol and returned to sitting in the chair, her gaze falling down to the pistol. Even in her confusion and emotional turmoil, she knew that Dorian and Alexander were the same man. He had lied to her about who he was. And if he had lied about that, what else had he lied to her about? Did he even really care for her? The thoughts swirled around in her head and emotion swelled within her, but she refused to let it out. Not here and certainly not now.