tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; October 10th
Rating; PG-13
Characters;

silkcutremix John Constantine
Summary; Come see our new dog.
Log;

John, for the most part, had been lingering about the studio for the day, trying to adjust to his new body and the altered senses that came with it. The first thing he noticed was that while dogs were not colorblind, his color vision had been reduced drastically and he was nearsighted. The second was the obvious kick in the nose. All the missing color had come from there; he couldn't describe it but concisely stated, his world was different and new. Combine that with the hearing, and shit, the magus was glad he had stayed in and kept to himself, mostly on the couch.

He was horribly hungry; wished he asked Scarab for food over the network. John was a mute, an ensorcelled, usually from a shapeshift, individual who could not speak. The terminal was nearby, still on, so that he might be able to communicate with Scarab upon her arrival. The pencil was already wedged between his teeth and he gnawed on it absentmindedly. It was currently a half with a jagged bit with an eraser on the other end; he did not know his own bite strength.

He glanced towards the door. One thing to hear about it. Another to see it. Wondered how ol' Scarab would take to his different appearance when he was feet away from her.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Red-lensed eyes opened, and snapped back to look into eyes that, while lupine in appearence, held an awareness, a soul that most definately was not.

ahh, kamisama...I *am* 'hearing' you

Frowning she blinked at the calming ...scent?
Blood...

The smell of blood was almost comforting, which in of itself left her feeling disturbed and relaxed in equal measure.
Scarab was no stranger to blood, and hadn't been for some time, but usually it had been a vaguely unpleasant scent.
Something instinctual buried in the reptillian side of the human brain reminding one that such a smell was usually equated with injury and death.

That same equation now drew out something else inside her...something new, and recognized as other.

Looks...like...both...have lots to..say

It wasn't the best connection, but it was something.
Maybe it was a leftover from the first time John spoke to her in dreams, or maybe...just maybe...It was another of the 'gifts' Alessa had spoken of.

John gave up trying to snatch the pencil in his stained teeth and their eyes met. This sounded like an easier way to communicate other than looking over that long snout of his in hopes of pressing the right keys.

Scarab, wait, can you... understand this? he thought back to her.

Not trusting her voice just now, she only nodded, blinking once a bit owlishly.

Yes..Mazaka, John. What's happening to us?

The cigarette, long forgotten, had now burned down to her fingers, and she was forced to break the trance-like gaze in order to hiss in pain and hastily drop it into the ashtray.

Constantine jolted at the sudden drop. Unaware of his ears, they pulled back. Having not established movement and position subconsciously they otherwise airplaned out into a mellow looking flop.

Fuck me sideways if I know. He sniffed towards the injured hand, a tiny twinge of cinder on sour skin riddled with other odors. 'Strewth, you alright, luv?

She sighed wearily, and ran her good hand through her hair....the mind-fuck continues.

It was much easier to pick up the 'thread' of consciousness now that she knew what she was looking for, and after a moment's concentration on those ice-blue eyes she could hear him better.

If she pushed, she could even make out a steady beat in the background..
A heartbeat...John's heartbeat.

Alright? I am pretty fucking far from 'alright', but my hand is fine if thats what you meant.

Turning just slightly she refilled her shotglass, and took another fortifying drink.

Fucking hell...John, I can hear so *much*..I thought it was just stress, just stress, and the last few days of mind-bending....but I can hear heartbeats, thoughts...I *feel* emotions all around me...

Apparently when using thought-conversation as a means of communicating, it became more difficult to filter out that which you would have prefferred the other participant not to 'hear', but at the same time it felt somehow better to tell someone...anyone..about the madness.

I can't stay awake...I'm always falling asleep. Sometimes it's only for a few minutes, but it doesn't take long...

Hm. Moment, luv.

Canine instinct won out; had to eat, which did not take long, the remains on the plate downed with a good gulp. He decided to wash it down with a few good laps of the beer from his bowl and turned his attention back to her, still licking his lips and whiskers, cleaning.

Now that he did not have to type with a bloody pencil, maybe he could have a long-awaited smoke...

No, had to quit thinking of himself (he had disregarded the fact that he ate a slab of raw meat without question or conflict). Scarab:

Was worried about your hand, sweetheart. (Need a fag...) Still worried too. Now tell me, where did these... abilities come from?

Never got the full story on Scarab, he did. Regretted it too; had to be bitten by the fucking City curse. If he had just gone back to the studio and stayed there instead of a victory drink, he wouldn't be on all fours unable to light his own fucking ciggies. Looks like she got herself in deeper trouble than he had been in.

And what concerned him most? Those powers. No one could gain a skilled... empathy like that overnight. Power had to be donated from something else, somehow. Did someone curse her? A pact? That helmeted thing must have had something to do with it. At least it gave him something to do other than touch his nose to his fuzzy bollocks while Cori was out.

(Perhaps those frustrated thoughts leaked.)

~~Scarab~~ Keico nodded and wrapped her arms around her knees to hug them closer.

While John finished his meal, she eyed her own ramen, but just didn't think she could eat right now.

It might be called morbid fascination, but she rested her cheek on one knee and looked on as the Lupine jaws became further splashed with blood...or probably better described as morbid comfort.
(The sight, scent, ~~and feel~~ of blood was becoming more so lately)

A craving, again not her own, for nicotine.

Choosing not to comment, she tapped a cigarette out of the pack of Silk Cuts, lit it, and held between the ring & pinky fingers of her maimed hand, she held it in such a way that if John so desired, he could smoke directly from her hand.

The burn is minor....and the Red Judge did this to my other hand a while ago.

Apparently J.D., plus sleep deprevation, and stress amounted to her becoming very lax on internal censoring.

As far as the ....Empathy? I guess thats what this is..Well, it started small. I've always had the occasional sense of deja vu', the occasional dream that came true. Little stuff though, like seeing a certain sign that I would see later while awake...I first saw Cori and that wierd Morpheus guy in a dream. A bird too...some kind of crow?

Anyway, I have always had them, but right after this -
She made a small gesture to encompass her maimed hand, and the scars that bisected her torso.
- happened I started having nightmares....After a while of those, whenever I woke up...well..the nightmares wouldn't stop. I would keep seeing them even when my eyes were open.

Red-lensed eyes glanced away, remembering the time Cori had looked into her nightmares...had looked into her memories and seen every bit of bad shit her life story had to offer.

Cori said that someone was messing with me...and not long after that, you and Cori found me in that alley.

There was more to this story of course.
The dreams of Kage, her shadow friend, the dreams of the Red Pyramid, speaking to Alessa, Faye's anger, and the pseudo-argument with Frederick...

John took the cigarette from her fingers, having been unaware of Scarab's new urges, desires and fascinations. The wolf quietly puffed on the cigarette, despite the cramped feeling that seized him as his body grew hot under the thick fur without a means to cool off. He thought.

That eased his fears of a pact or something, he couldn't judge accurately yet. Needed more. Naturally one could hone their innate psychic abilities should they recognize them and choose to cultivate them. A dim memory of Mercury surfaced, she being an adept that had lived with a band of hippies, of sorts; how was she doing? He could only wonder.

So who is this "Red Judge?"

She stayed in that curled position, peeking over the tops of her arms to keep eye contact.

It seemed to help the connection.

I'm not sure what he...it...*he* is.

She sighed and shut her eyes.

I read in the library that he was once an executioner during the american civil war...or that he was just made out of all the bad feelings in the world he came from.

A small half-shrug.

I know he is a slave to the crazy girl. Alessa...I don't know if you've met her.
They both crucified me on rebar not too long after I got here.
She kept ranting about 'my sins', and how I was to be cleansed of them.
...I died a second time...

The scars would speak for themselves in this instance...it had been painful, very painful, humiliating and terrifying all at once.

Keico couldn't help feeling that cold, sick feeling climb up her throat...but she swallowed it back, and resumed peeking out at the lupine face beside her.

In my dreams...in that alley...I got a glimpse of what he..it..he wants.

...

He's lonely John. He wants something he can teach, something he can make like him.

....I can't help being afraid...I'm not anything other than a regular human, and here especially, thats rare. I don't know why he wants *me*...

He wants a poor sod to fuck up in his own image. John brought out a foreleg and pawed the ashtray towards him, which he, with some care and steadiness, then set his cigarette into one of the notches. A thin ribbon of smoke gently whisped from the end. Constantine could smell both cigarettes, residue, remains and all, as well as their differences.

He'd explore a little more into that later. More pressing matters now.

The Englishwolf took a moment to pant (blessed relief) and then, hopping up beside her, nails clicking on the table top, he reassuringly licked her fingers before establishing the clean connection again. The long snout, moist nose and blue eyes were only inches away.

S'alright, luv, you're okay with me, alright? Ol' Johnny will make sure nothing hurts you. This Red Judge wanker can go piss off and find someone else, can he?

Then, his mental voice went dark. Quiet.

Unless you want this.

She couldn't help smiling at the tickling sensation along her fingers, but she let him without moving.

Usually she was very paranoid about touch.
For most of her life as Scarab, the in-ground instinct that someone touching your hand, or foot, meant they wanted to gain an adavantage by denying you the use of a limb.

For so long she had missed human contact that wasn't colored by a cover story, the lies, or emnity.
...She thought she'd had it in Frederick...But she had been wrong.

It was a sweet sentiment, that vaguely neanderthal man's "I'll protect you" mentality...and usually Scarab would bristle at such a response.

But she was tired, afraid, and feeling very much out of her depth.

A wet black nose snuffled at a lock of her hair, and looking into those ice blue eyes, she felt her own eyes prickle with hot tears of frustration.

No!...I don't understand half of what is going on, but I *know* I don't want to be anything like that...that..monster!

Looking down, she swiped angrily at her eyes.
She felt like such a wussy little kid...she was a black ops assasin, something powerful men in her world spoke of in hushed whispers...

...But here, now, she was realizing that though she may still have the tattoo, the implants, even the name...she was just Keico underneath it all.
Just a child lost in the woods.

....I don't want this...

Slumping a little under the weight of fatigue, stress, and the pressing noise of thoughts, heartbeats, and a city full of swirling guilt-ridden emotion.

...But I don't want *anyone* to get caught up in this mess, either.

Out of the corner of her eye, she regarded John with another weak attempt at a smile.

I'm sorry...I am so sorry...

Deciding that in dog form, it would be safe, she leaned over and put her arms around John.
His fur tickled her cheek, but he was warm, and alive...

...And at least for a few minutes, she didn't feel alone.

Ah, yes, the Neanderthal mentality; John was John and he tended to be protective of the few he cared about, even sometimes if it weren't as obvious. Scarab, Keico, however, looked haunted enough; no need for the man... dog of mystery and enigma, with a golden wit and many secrets. He was just an ordinary bloke now (who happened to be wearing a furry coat).

So she hugged, and he let her. It was the most he could do, or allow her to do for comfort. She sounded as if she needed it. Been awhile since a girl hugged him like this, for safety, for relief.

It reminded him of Astra. He squinted his eyes shut. No, better stay away from that.

Even if their eyes didn't meet, a soft, garble of thought from the Englishwolf streamed:

I don't... what to do... I'll help... way I can...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Log; Ongoing

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject