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tampered2006-11-15 05:40 am
revelations9x6.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-11-15 05:40 am
Log: Complete
When; Nov. 15th ( early morning )
Rating; R ( for gore and language)
Characters;![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
revelations9x6 Xulchilbara, silkcutremix John Constantine
Summary; Guilt, judgement, and the ties that bind
Log;
Darkness.
Be it darkness of the complete absence of light, or the more frightening, yet more profound darkness produced by the weak bare bulb that offered more inky shadow than it illuminated; darkness was ever-present.
In the house that darkness built, shadow was a living breathing thing.
It whispered great sighs like a hugs body breathing in the rank stench of earth, piss, shit, and a smell somewhat like that of dogs, but with the coppery addition of old blood that dried in scaboruous patches across the writhing mass of flesh that made up the majority of the creatures in the barb-wire pen.
Creatures that may have once been animals; may have once been dogs.
They still moved as dogs, and as though some piece of them still remembered things like sensations beyond pain and hunger, they reacted somewhat like dogs.
In this respect they paced and growled at the intruder in thier territory.
The intruder was a whole thing, though it still carried an air of humaness, alien and other.
The dogs with long glistening whip-like toungues paced and muttered, growled and shredded thier obscenly long tongues on the barb-wire mesh that made up the sectioned piece of the white one's cage.
Beyond these, there were the bandaged ones who would occasionally writhe, and whimper in gurgling broken voices until thier very skulls split down the middle to hang in bisected halves from dripping necks.
Often they would collapse and spew blood mixed with other fluid afterwards, as bone and sinew slowly started to knit back together....only to be torn asunder by some strange unseen force over and over again.
Cyclic in thier torment, these animals would occasionally lash out in thier agony and thus blindly attack the barb-wire cage as well, but it was a senseless rushing, whereas the tongued ones were calculating, and methodical; testing the wires for weaknesses.
Rating; R ( for gore and language)
Characters;
revelations9x6 Xulchilbara, silkcutremix John ConstantineSummary; Guilt, judgement, and the ties that bind
Log;
Darkness.
Be it darkness of the complete absence of light, or the more frightening, yet more profound darkness produced by the weak bare bulb that offered more inky shadow than it illuminated; darkness was ever-present.
In the house that darkness built, shadow was a living breathing thing.
It whispered great sighs like a hugs body breathing in the rank stench of earth, piss, shit, and a smell somewhat like that of dogs, but with the coppery addition of old blood that dried in scaboruous patches across the writhing mass of flesh that made up the majority of the creatures in the barb-wire pen.
Creatures that may have once been animals; may have once been dogs.
They still moved as dogs, and as though some piece of them still remembered things like sensations beyond pain and hunger, they reacted somewhat like dogs.
In this respect they paced and growled at the intruder in thier territory.
The intruder was a whole thing, though it still carried an air of humaness, alien and other.
The dogs with long glistening whip-like toungues paced and muttered, growled and shredded thier obscenly long tongues on the barb-wire mesh that made up the sectioned piece of the white one's cage.
Beyond these, there were the bandaged ones who would occasionally writhe, and whimper in gurgling broken voices until thier very skulls split down the middle to hang in bisected halves from dripping necks.
Often they would collapse and spew blood mixed with other fluid afterwards, as bone and sinew slowly started to knit back together....only to be torn asunder by some strange unseen force over and over again.
Cyclic in thier torment, these animals would occasionally lash out in thier agony and thus blindly attack the barb-wire cage as well, but it was a senseless rushing, whereas the tongued ones were calculating, and methodical; testing the wires for weaknesses.
no subject
The flashbacks came, even as the little innocent soul of Astra had long since departed from Buel's clutches to Heaven with the other children. That peck on the cheek should have resolved everything, but it didn't. She could have been damned forever, and she wasn't anymore, but the act of damning her at all for any period of time was enough. It had been years, decades, with her down there, undeserving of whatever procedures and tortures Hell had wrought on her for his arrogance. Even suicide had been too good an option for him, as they tormented him at Ravenscar for his atrocity. He deserved all of it, all of it, and more. It should have been him.
John was at the back of the pen, his jaw first agape in a very unwolf-like manner as she came. He appeared more human than animal, which he was soon a shuddering guilty man in a wolf's skin. He could not look at her, his eyes squeezed shut. Fortunately for him, wolves could not cry.
Oh god just go away. Please, I'm sorry. I thought you had forgiven me. Oh Jesus, please, just go.
no subject
A mock-pout that did nothing but add to the disturbing sight of the bleeding phantom crawling across the cage floor.
So YoU CaN FoRgEt Me? FoRgEt Me AnD LeAvE Me In HoRrOr AnD AgOnY AgAiN?
One armed now, and forced to rise and crawl on raw kneecaps in a wierd undulating half-walk, the child, corpse, horror, thing advanced, and held out it's single flayed hand; sinew crawling across the bones as tiny fingers pawed the air.....pawed until it came into contact with...skin?
Yes, skin.
Human, and naked skin that covered the huddled shape of a man.
The darnkess whispered now. It shivered into shards, and promised to give all that the guilty wanted, needed, by way of redemption in a sweet agony of pain.
Pain, despair..
Just words that only hinted at what this horror wearing a mangled child promised.
So LoNg...So LoNg AlOnE, WiTh OnLy DeMoNs FoR CoMpAnY, the child...that curiously was a little too large to be a child any longer, grated as a whimper through the recoiling mind it found before it.
Split, and bloody skin hung from her changing body ( or perhaps it had always been this way?).
The half-exposed muscle and tendon of a teenager now, complete with all the perversity of a young feminine form, once it had been pulled apart and left broken.
Only the eyes, the hint of girlhood in the face remained.
Still the same person, just aged......aged in hell.
StAy WiTh Me... The roaring whispered.
She was leaving smears of crimson across his huddled skin, as her peeled hand slid across to wrap the judged in an embrace.
Blood, and muscle, and bare flesh pressed against the man...the wolf possibly only a fever-dream...
no subject
How convenient it was to be a man again, or so it seemed, to cry and talk and feel his own nude flesh with those dexterous, aged fingers he had made for himself over the years with risk and vice. Truly his lycanthropy, if that was what it was, was a curse, to revert so suddenly now without the wall of teeth and mattered fur to hide his true, vulnerable self in. He was cold and naked, trembling at her touch.
The delirium spoke: "Astra, I can't." He sobbed as his spoke, the hot tears a contrast. "I can't forgive meself for what I did to you... Oh god, Astra, I'm so sorry."
He hugged her, addled, and continued to cry still, even if he wanted to get away, even if it bare back was pressed against the pen ever so hard. He begged and begged for redemption, for his unforgivable crime, his sin, as she painted him with her blood.
no subject
Painted in it, wallowing in it, warm, but chilling fast in the biting autumn air.
The naked man clung to his sin as though she...it were the only thing there was left.
SaY It...SaY YoU WiLl StAy HeRe WiTh ME the mind-splintering voice coaxed.
Her blood was mingling with the welling blood the barb wire kissed from the man's back, mingling.
.....Blood magic, blood oaths are powerful things.
Redemption, damnation...it was one and the same in this place, and the shadows where whispering there gibbering cries to one another.
The judged now stood at the precipice...but he must choose, for any oath must be sealed in pain, and in choice.
One-handed, the
girl, phantommonster carressed this weeping soul's cheek, and with a mouth part torn open enough to show a single line of even teeth through the veils of red, kissed that same cheek.StAy As YoU WeRe AlWaYs MeAnT To
no subject
John Constantine continued to sob.
"If I stay," he sniffed. "What will become of us?" Will his pain be her salvation?
no subject
Someone new and therefore a change in thier neverending servitude.
He too would come to love thier mother and father, for father gave pain like balm to soothe thier guilts, to destroy thier minds slowly until the remembered lives, the shades of memory were gone...all washed away in a blissful oblivion.
The dogs were circling, even the ones with splitting skulls could not help but be attracted to the draw of newness...the draw of the father, the master at work.
Some emitted wet gurgling whimpers, and thus in thier way begged for master's attention, as they begged to be allowed closer to the intruder.
The judged was still crying out, bleating and begging for the punishment they needed, wanted, deserved....and master was all too willing to provide.
If yOu StaY, We WaLk ThE LoNg RoAd Of SaLvAtIoN ToGeThEr...If YoU StAy, I WiLl NoT HuRt So BaDlY...I WiLl NoT Be AlOnE.
They were both now covered in the veils of red, becoming stained with it...
StAy WiTh Me...Oh PlEaSe, JoHn?
no subject
no subject
Fingers with the joint prominently jutting out against skin and a ragged tendon traced the tears on his cheeks, then brought them to her mouth and tasted the sweetness of liquid pain.
No..I CaN NeVeR ReSt, NeVeR Be FrEe...I Am AlOnE AnD AfRaId DoWn HeRe In ThE DaRk.
The blood on her fingers mixed now with saliva to make ribbons of gore between her spread fingers, painted little streaks across his chest, his belly.
Like a cat, scen-marking, she writhed and pressed her eviserated flesh over and around him.
The smell of blood, coppery-sweet, was everywhere; so strong it overroad the rank filth.
SaY YoU WiLl? I Am So LoNeLy...So VeRy CoLd..
Blood slicked skin moved against each other, and the occasional shred of flesh from breast or belly stuck in the gore.
She writhed and turned, pressed, and coaxed limbs, and the remnants of,to a seated position.
Still wrapped in the circle of his arms, she curled in his lap now, her blood matted hair sticking to chest and shoulders where she pressed her destoryed face into his neck.
So CoLd...If YoU ArE HeRe ThEy WiLl NoT CoMe FoR Me
no subject
Warmth and blood. So much blood.
"I'll stay. Just for you."
no subject
Her hands had been busy while they talked.
The tiny smears and whorls connected now, formed patterns and symbols; a language far older than those of man.
Words, became chains, and the bloody letters faded as they were absorbed into the englishman's flesh.
Curled together intimately, she..he..it let the fascade drop, though from now on all the constantine would percieve as 'real' would be another story.
Perhaps he would see the change in 'Astra', perhaps not.
Or..perhaps the change wouldn't matter all that much?
Twined together in a welter of gore sat two men, now.
One fair-haired, and weathered from vice and majick, the other dark-haired and immaculate save the veils of red that painted them both.
Chotic shifting flame burned thier way through the blue child's eyes, and looked on Constantine with a smug possesiveness.
Welcome, John Constantine, to the family.
The darkness, and the dogs howled in unison; a single woeful note of piercing melancholic joy.
Another mind.
Another child.
Another soul for the fire.
no subject
Age was supposed to make you wiser, not dumber.
Stupidity had netted him three demonic offspring that fucked up half of London or two-thirds. Stupidity had him almost wrapped around the fingers of devils and demons, the First of the Fallen and Buer and Rosacarnis. Stupidity had gotten his friends killed, greater good or not. Thassit, lads: The world's saved for this week. By golly too bad it's doomed to fuck itself up again by next tuesday.
John mouthed the words. Family. Family.
"No!"