slide down your bones (haunting of hill house | nell~theo + hill house)

[fiachairecht]

slide down your bones. the haunting of hill house - shirley jackson, nell~theo + hill house. an evolution, through hill house's maybe-not-eyes. for nause in chocolateboxcomm round 4.

Hearts, one might assume from the stories, are very necessary things. They were good or they were bad (though they might be turned by all manner of strong emotions), and they led one into all manner of fascinating scrapes and entanglements. They kept life proceeding onward, for the most part, and were bolstered by friendly intimates whenever they faltered.

Hill House, having read all the books in all its rooms, did not think it had ever had a heart. Its inhabitants had, over the years, and it had considered all of those hearts very closely — taken them if need had been — and ended up considering them all lacking.

Eleanor Vance, being newly arrived and clearly in possession of a heart (though a quite unusual one), posed a puzzle to the house: need a heart be a heart, or could it be another person, several other people, in fact? Eleanor's heart is a strange and skittish thing, quite open and yet quite full up with indiscriminate attachments, and for the first time Hill House begins to want a heart of its own.

Eleanor's heart, in fact.

**

The first step, of course, is to put itself in Eleanor's heart. This is not an easy task; after all, the house is far more used to consumption — and consumption is much simpler, when you are as big as Hill House is. But perhaps there is some joy to be found in the reciprocity, first.

Eleanor certainly seems to think there is — her insistence that Luke and Theo let her into their hearts and minds as quickly as she has let them both take over hers is proof enough. She does not so much ask as demand, and in such a way that the ones imposed upon seem to find her attentions optional yet irresistible. There is not very much Eleanor inside her, and the Eleanors that she gives away are built mostly of half-truths.

Thus, the lesson becomes obvious quite quickly: entrance to Eleanor's heart is straightforward; exit much less possible. One need not even ask to be let in, which, to Hill House's rather old-fashioned sensibilities, seems unnecessarily rude.

Hill House knocks on Eleanor's door, as politely as can be: it wouldn't do to truly frighten the guests too quickly.

But Eleanor runs out to the lawn, too quickly, Theodora behind her, and the young women stare up at Hill House and drink in the clouds with their hungry, frightful gazes. They stand far back at the treeline, the entirety of the house unavoidable, and although they are too far away for the house to see their joined hands, they are close enough that Hill House knows it is fighting Theodora for Eleanor.

How strange, to be a foe of a woman who has not even dreamed that one cares enough to be a foe!

It is then that Hill House starts to wonder if it might have them both.

**

The blood was in the attic — a hanged woman has no need of blood, after all: once she was dead it was the house's to do what it pleased with, and for the first time in decades it is something other than waiting that has pleased it. The blood obeyed promptly when asked to be in Theodora's wardrobe instead, and signed Nell's name with only slightly more hardship. The house and Eleanor have different definitions of together, but this ought to help them both. They are not that different, after all, or else they would not be so drawn to each other.

The shouting is over with remarkable speed, and soon enough Theo is in the bath, Eleanor covering her over with soaps and her own nimble fingers. Hill House allows them their innocent comforts, and turns away when the comforts turn less so. The nursery needs much tending to: it must be made ready for Eleanor's stay.

**

They have moved the furniture, they are snug in bed. Eleanor is allowed to move the furniture, Hill House supposes, but only because it has already decided she is to be there, forever.

"Quicksilver Theo," Eleanor is saying to herself. She is sleeping, or at least she thinks she is, but Hill House knows better. Hill House is quite good at keeping people awake to keep it company. "I will make you the loveliest of teas. T for Theo!"

Theo, who is asleep — dreadfully so, the house is sure, though it has not bothered to check - very gently places her hand over Eleanor's mouth. Eleanor leans further into the touch, and Theo, sweet sleeping Theo, does not pull away, though Eleanor is pressed so closely she must surely find breathing difficult.

Perhaps, Hill House thinks, they do not want such different things for Eleanor after all.