A/N: Don't say I don't spoil you! I couldn't possibly wait to post the next chapter so you have two in a week! I should be posting much more often now, I have a goal to complete this fic (which may end up being between 400-500k hope that's okay with you guys) in a year or so ! Welcome Brother, Sister or Sibling reader to the Order of the Eye... xoxo
Chapter 53 (Or Chapter One of 'Oleander'):
The air was filled with a haze of smoke, the loud chant of voices in unison could be heard clearly as he sat in the centre of the hall. He stifled a cough, he had asthma growing up and didn't really enjoy the smoke as much. But, he did have a flair for the dramatic and as such it had to be done for the effect. He sat on his throne that had been measured to be exactly central in the room. He had a glass of water in a grand looking chalice.
His perfectly manicured fingernails were all the same length and the cuticles had been taken care of and clear polish was applied. He used to bite his fingernails when he was younger so this was to help strengthen them. Someone came and took the chalice from his hands and he nodded vaguely in their direction.
His pale grey eyes flickered around the room, different feelings made him smile. Angry people made for an incredible rollercoaster of emotions every day. It was his own personal theatre that he could write anew each day. He blinked himself back into focus, twisting the signet ring on his finger. The intricately engraved eye moving in and out of focus to the rest of the room who lingered on his every movement. He often did this when he was in deep thought.
A young woman shuffled awkwardly up to his throne, her mousy bangs had been cut back and clipped out of her eyes. Oleander thought it must be a nuisance to have such bland and flyaway hair as he smoothed a hand along his own shaven head.
"I heard you're the one th-that can save me…" she said, barely above a whisper.
"You have enough hatred in your heart?" He inquired. The girl nodded, her bangs would have slipped into her eyes with the vigour if it hadn't been clipped back. She made sure to stand directly in front of Oleander, "I'll be the judge of that"
He locked eyes with her before she could look away again to avoid the contact she disliked so much. He felt her, reached her mind with his power. His head rolled backwards as they finished and every part of her life and intentions had been laid bare. Overlooked. Overworked. Shy, secretly mad at the world. The injustice. This was how easily a person could be turned. Hate truly is a beautiful thing, he thought as he turned back to her.
"We have to do this as if you are announcing this to the entire world, do you understand?" He asked, the words rattling around her brain as he said them so forcefully, "I have a reputation, sweet, and I anticipate that we start as we mean to go on"
He nodded, this was enough hatred and confusion that he could nurture. Allow to grow. Fester. As he taught her with the others.
"Strip"
"Wha-?"
"You need to give me all of your worldly possessions, that includes your clothes, - sorry what was your name?"
"Jen"
"Well, clothes off please Jen, that's a good girl" He said nonchalantly as she did start taking off her clothing, "See, that's better, darling. Now, is there a particular reason that has brought you here?" Oleander inquired while Jen awkwardly tried to cover up her body in front of the room.
Oleander cracked his knuckles as he glanced around the room waiting for her reply, he had a feeling something was about to happen that he may not approve of. This then commenced the ritual to formally introduce her into the Order.
"I accept the hatred i-" Jen began to finalise the process, but she was (as she had become accustomed to in her two decades of living) interrupted.
"Sh sh sh" Oleander ordered her suddenly. He put a finger to his lip and she obliged instantly. He could hear something.
Oliver Cartwright II! Oliver Cartwright II! Oliver Cartwright II! Oliver Cartwright II! Oliver Cartwright II!
His full, legal name. Named pitifully after his father. A man that couldn't even spell his own name, he was sure of it. He was unworthy of naming another human after the waste he turned out to be.
He was Oleander in the same sense that Saffron was Honeysuckle. Although, he named himself. He chose to construct himself that way.
He hated the voice that spoke within. It wasn't usually allowed inside his head, he successfully blocked it 90% of the time. But nonetheless, it was a warning. There was something… afoot. No, perhaps he was paranoid.
A thud. One that could be heard by all. Three cloaked figures removed their hoods. Oleander rolled his eyes.
"Oh, a Slayer, a witch and a traitor… it's like a horrible joke, darlings" He drawled, "We are kind of in the middle of a great and noble feet here. Sister Jennifer is going to be the thousandth member of the club" he smiled, leaving out the fact that she would be the thousandth (living) member.
Saffron had appeared, having seen through his eyes. Something he had definitely done before, in fact now he remembered he actually recognised Jen's plain face. From Saffron's eyes. The girl was starting to allow clips of his into her own life. Soon she may understand how to harness it properly he thought, although he chose not to dwell on that irritating prospect.
"Let her go!" Buffy warned, fighting off order members as they immediately tried to get to Saff.
Saffron was blinded by the faces of the people around them, their faces casting a light shining directly on her. Like when the sun shines in your eyes and no matter where you look you can't see clearly. It was taking her eyes a while to adjust.
"Hey Jen, put this on" Tara said softly through the melee, taking her robe off and wrapping her naked friend in it.
"No, no. Don't start the tornado of mistruth, Sister Jen here came to me" He slapped his own chest to punctuate his point.
"You don't want to do this. You volunteered for Greenpeace last summer. You don't hate the world" Tara encouraged softly.
Saffron managed to recover, she stared at him briefly before ignoring him and making her way straight to Jen, throwing a few punches as she fought off order members.
He felt almost… disappointed that he didn't have her full attention. He felt himself wanting the back and forth with her. But she didn't care for him, he felt it. He felt almost wounded by it. As if he himself had been plucked from a deity's side. No, no. He didn't give a single shit about her. Why would he? She's- she's naïve and she has such a tainted, corrupted view of the world.
"Haven't you got anything better to do than preying on younger women?" Buffy spoke up.
"You all act as if I am ancient, darlings, I am barely approaching thirty!" He said exasperated before turning his sights back to Buffy and squinting, "Haven't you got something better to do, hm? Perhaps in that gutted out house where depravity reigns-"
"Bite me" Buffy replied, managing to pause her fight to roll her eyes at him.
"Touché" He cackled at her words and shrugged. His attention turned back to Saffron. Electricity cracked through the air like a whip. Purple strands snapping through the air. Oleander saw it, so his disciples did too.
"Jen, babe, look at me. You are better than this. Do you want to throw your life away? Because that's what's about to happen. You will be his, a soldier in an army of his own design. You are your own person. You're better than this-" Saffron insisted, but she was cut off by Jen.
"Nobody listens! Nobody cares about me! Why does no one want to face up to how horrible the world has become for so many?!"
"You want to do good, right? You don't eat meat do you? Me neither. Because we don't want to harm animals, we want to help them. Just like we want to help other people over harm them, don't we?" Saffron said slowly, her soothing influence sickened Oleander to his core.
"Yawn!" He shouted over them, making Saffron glare at him that made him step back. It didn't hurt, it was more like if someone touches you with static. A strange electric shock.
"Be the change you want to see, right?" Saffron offered, "What they want to do isn't change, they want to bring the world to the ground, kill people, and start over" She wasn't great at the rousing speech, but Jen saw how seriously she took this. How Saffron showed her her sincerity. How she showed her through a friendly pat on the shoulder how many ways she could make a real difference than doing this. Jen nodded slowly, making sense of it all as the traitor struggled to block Oleander's influence.
"Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar!" They chanted, trying to block the exits. But it was no match for the women that had come to bring their acquaintance back. Oleander nodded to his followers and let them go, they had bigger plans for today anyway. Besides, he had a teaching moment brewing and he wanted to hunt down the men that were supposed to be on guard before the end of the afternoon.
"See how she operates! She is insidious! You notice she left you all behind, don't you? Because you are strong, you are on the right path! Only the weak shall succumb to her will!" He shouted, feeling her despair as she rounded the corner with the other three women. She wished she had chance to reach them all. And that was what made her weak, he smiled as he continued his speech.
xoxoxo
Tonight was the feast of Light. Oleander had made it up upon founding the order. Special occasions were good for morale. He read it in a book or something. It was a day of remembrance for those that died, whether purposely or otherwise, for the cause. And, of course, he was at the centre of attention.
"O Leander! We bathe in the light, the tellers of truth. May we rejoice in your all-seeing might. We thank you today and forever, for opening our eyes to the world's tightening noose!" They spoke before sitting at their tables to eat.
It was a true feast. Whole pigs, various roasted animals and large helpings of sides. There was a collective sigh of relief as they all sat. The members ate and were allowed low chatter as Oleander sat at the top table in their dining hall. It was plush with deep maroon velvet and of course the usual eye-related decoration.
He kept getting unwanted flashes of the mundane life that Saffron was leading. Her memories sometimes bled into his and he was concerned that the same was happening for her. He didn't need his greatest enemy to get a level playing field. That wouldn't be fair. He stood to speak, hopefully he would manage to get the stupid girl's face from his mind for longer than a moment. He had plans for her and it would happen in time.
"We are a family, my brothers and sisters. We are as one. Through me, you will taste the thawing of the very core of naivety and the sick nature of it and it's kind shall crumble at our feet! I chose you, hand-picked to have this moment. It's this year, my dears! It is everything we've been working towards We're so close I can taste it..."
"Taste! Taste! Taste!"
"Let's eat, tonight we feast on the Corrupted's body and blood. As we will harvest her. In my name we shall turn the world to truth and light!" He stated, the order members went wild and embraced the meal heartily. They always moved as one. A unit. the idea for this was that people break bread and share their inner most thoughts. It was something that was needed after a few questioning members following Saffron and Jen's departure earlier on.
After the meal and the subsequent prayer, a movie night was held. He wasn't a monster, he would allow them to have fun. He was the hero of the piece, as he so insisted. Would Saffron do the same if she was actually popular? No, he told himself. And the thought stopped there.
Rather than watch the film, he retired to one of his private rooms hurriedly. He had been thinking of them all day. He knelt on the floor and pulled the Wendy house towards him and opened it up. He cracked his neck before looking over the house.
It was an almost exact replica of the Summer's house, minus the water damaged basement. He wasn't that anal about the details. Although he had considered pouring water in there and drowning the Saff puppet.
He took the wooden box that he kept them in from the counter beside his CD player which was playing classical music. He opened the box and smiled. There were puppets. Handmade puppets. All had a defining detail of Saffron and her closest allies.
His favourite activity when he was alone, was sort of acting them out with his voice changing for each character. The scene pretty much always ends up the same. With him killing them all. Paying particular attention to creative ways of hurting Saffron.
"We have to make sure that we foil the attractive man's plan!" He made the ginger puppet with the little witches hat say before grabbing a brunette with a wavy skirt to come and shout in a different accent, "You're an addict nobody likes you, you're dumped!" before throwing the puppet across the room and just leaving the ginger puppet to cry.
"Wah, wah!" he said, making the puppet that had pins stuck in the heart and eyes (that with no doubt whatsoever was Saffron) join in with the crying too. After becoming bored of that scene, and still mulling over who to kill first, he makes her run to the Spike puppet. There was a pause as he slipped Spike onto his hand. Swapping the ginger puppet for a puppet with a six pack and fangs.
"I don't like the light, it blinds me babe" She continued to sniff as if she was crying as the smile was evident in his butchering of her accent.
"Well, hell's bloody bells love it don't matter when you're as hot as you" he continued, making his voice gruffer for Spike. He made them just stare, before smashing them together, "Mwah, Mwah" He made the noise as he made the dolls kiss.
His second in command had come into the room and he watched, looking slightly disturbed about watching the man act out the scene. He didn't know whether to speak but Oleander knew he was there.
"You requested that I tell you, uh, t-to- 'cease and desist with the doll playing – as if you're some kind of- of-'… I cannot call you a slur, my Light" He stumbled over his words. A slur that his father used to call him. He had requested if he had started to forget to function other than plot with the figures to be shouted at by this man.
"May I ask why you use puppets, O Leander?" He respectfully averted his gaze as he spoke, hoping to stay alive to see the sunset.
"Hobby, I suppose. It's a welcome break from senseless violence. It takes a lot to lead this organisation" He muttered and then stopped. He wondered why he had just spoken so candidly. It felt as if he were relating to a friend. Forming a connection. No. This wouldn't- couldn't do. It didn't match his own philosophy. He saw the light leave his disciples eyes as he saw what was coming.
The sun had set on his life before it had on the earth.
The strange and almost equal conversation he had with his dead friend had spooked him. He prided himself on not forming a connection where he had the ability to twist it to his will.
He had asked the man to call him the slur his father would often call him, knowing full well it would make him fly into a rage (and thus, distract him from over-playing with the puppets). He was aware it made him appear slightly more deranged than he liked. But he couldn't help but like playing around with the dolls. The phrase opened up memories. From the beginning right to the very end.
Oleander was in his early twenties, in fact he was the age that the traitor was now. He had found himself the best-looking hotel, one he would only have ever dreamed of when he was younger. He influenced his way into a penthouse suite, telling the occupants to walk themselves off the balcony. They took it literally, how was he to know?
He had no fear. No concern that he would face the consequences for his actions. There was just the question of how much influence he would need to inflict.
It was just after he had made a trip back to his hometown for the final time. He was sat in the middle of the room, his eyes were closed as he played his cello. The finale. One final, perfectly played piece.
Adagio in G minor
He had taken solace in classical music when he was younger, it was his only escape. Of a place he felt he didn't belong in. A place he thought he was better than.
He came to the end of his piece, took a large intake of breath before he swiftly stood, his cello now upturned as he started to smash it into the furniture. He screamed and slid items off counters and slammed the instrument against the wall until it was just a skeleton of what it once was.
He sunk to his knees. Staring ahead. He was in the sweet spot he was now accustomed to living in between anger and delight.
He felt it all so much. It angered him. It wasn't fair. None of it was fair. He continued to stare as the feelings creeped upon him. The tendrils of grief and horror that had creeped in ever since he had discovered what he could do. How he could feel. It took a hold of him, it was before he had managed to harness the power as his own. He was overcome by it, his head pulsing as if he had been hit by a tonne of bricks. Buried under the rubble. He started to overbalance, the images flashing painfully in his head.
And then black…