tampered | Log; Complete

Log; Complete

When; Nov. 19 (after midnight)
Rating; PG-13 (language)
Characters; John Constantine (

silkcutremix), the Corinthian (

noh_dancer)
Summary; the second half of an escape, sequel to this
Log;

Yes not having a toothy snout jab him in the toothy eye was quite preferable. Cori also didn't want to pull the nightmare shtick on John again, not when he was actually aware of himself and his surroundings. He kept his teeth shut, needed them to stare down those monsters so familiar with Silent Hill. There was some truth in the Red God's words; the Corinthian and the denizens of the manor were cousins of a sort.

John's 'voice' tore his thoughts away from the unnerving sense of kinship the place gave the nightmare. He turned towards the dimly lit shaft, brushing the sense of... something foreboding, something with the scent of an ancient musk from Corinth.

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"E 'uud 'e ouf 'oon," said the mangled, butchered voice. Constantine's vocal chords were something different; it wasn't quite the Englishman's but it wasn't completely inhuman either. Should he ever learn to speak around it, he still would forever have a lisp with a hint of growl. He did not speak with his tongue but also his chest and throat. Meant for hell of a snarl, or even roar.

Eh, nothing completely debilitating, he reminded himself. He wasn't grotesquely handicapped in the way of his normal schedule of things, the smokes and the magic, as he was as a wolf. If he were to be caught but remain in his right mind, there was no doubt that he could get out.

The monster's sense of smell was similar to the wolf, but not as strong nor as intense. Still, he could scent and track anything better than any man could. It was nice to feel the tingle of blue and green in his brain, the beach and grass outside unaffected by the guilt stupor that had previously cooped himself up.

The children where shrieking in thier noiseless ways.
Some gurgling incoherently, some gesticulating wildly, and others still grabbing at The Dragon's clothes.

Ordinarily she would have ignored them, or cut them to keep them off of her since they had such a penchant for hanging onto her.
There was something different in this voiceless clamor. Something wrong.
She had followed the children's pointing and called frantically to her mentor while she ran...he wasn't close enough, though.

She would have to take care of whatever this was on her own for now.

Sword drawn and stalking on cat's feet she crept down the steps, scenting the air.
Strange scents...somewhat familiar in thier taste, but it was difficult to say why.

...Of course, when she caught sight of the interlopers, a creeping numbness hit her stomach, and made her want to turn tail before she was seen.
The idea was sounding better by the second.....until her mark flared out, as it had when she had questioned Henry; painful and distracting.

It seemed there were no choices in this situation. She had to face this particular bit of awful alone.

Steeling her nerve, she stepped into the passage just beyond the nightmare, and the monster, her sword a naked line of silver in the dark.

" You shouldn't be here..."

"... You ever see that milk commercial about Aaron Burr?"

He asked John with a cool but good-humored lift of his brow. Cori thought he understood what the Englishman might have said but he wasn't completely sure. Now was not the time to ask for a written translation nor would he make an assumption. Plus, why not poke a little fun at the man's snout to lighten the severity of their situation? Too bad it was going from bad to worse.

"Wait," his pace came to a halt. Footsteps as silent as cat's feet, assassin, the dancer, he could barely hear it but he knew it was near. He was not prepared for who it was.

"......" Teeth eyes narrowed slightly at Scarab. "Does that go for me and him?"

Great stuff. We're leaving this shithole right about now.

No time to think about commercials anyway. Too bad he couldn't articulate himself either. Guess that little line would be best left in his head, the most John could otherwise offer was that confrontational beady stare of his.

But he knew her scent. His heart bled, bled with the knife she stuck in his back.

She looked away, the chains on her new mask catching the light, and hoped she presented a strong front.

If she was going to live in shame, she was going to put a good face on it.

"....Niether of you" she said softly, and winced at the lash of pain in her back.
The chains on her mask clinked together as she trembled a little.

She stepped back into a defensive stance, but didn't have the heart to bring her sword to bare.

"....but niether of you can leave."

"You mean neither of us should leave, but we will," the Corinthian stood his ground as well, mouths twisted into a determined growl.

"John," he said under his breath, urging the magus to make a break for it, the nightmare could keep the woman busy with his immortality. Hell, how would he know if John had already been killed and brought back in the shape he wore now or not? It didn't matter to the Corinthian, just as their friendship with the Noh Dancer no longer seemed to matter to her.

Despite the bone-white snout and cruel teeth, there was hurt in the beast's eyes; he hated every moment of this, betrayal and all. He would have to run. He was John Constantine in mind after all, and that meant he was a shite fighter. Shouldn't risk it, not after all he had been through.

So he pulled away from the Nightmare to all fours, loping to that blessed exit in a mad, rolling dash. The wolf body was faster, but he was still fast if he needed to be, like right now.

It mattered to her.
It mattered to her more than she had ever let on before or after things had gone to hell...but she was bound by the mark on her back, and the promise she had made.

...A servant.

She shut her eyes against the image of Cori, and John...mostly John so radically altered, and angled her sword across her body.
My fault...

" Please don't make me do this, Cori...I don't want to hurt you. Either of you.", she tried, pleading with him one last time.

"I'm not making you do anything," Cori said in a low tone, "I'm preventing you from stopping his escape."

All she really had to do was her job.

At least one of them would make it out first. As soon as the magebeast broke into a run the nightmare rushed forward to fight Scarab, no blade in his palm, only his hands and his teeth for weapons. Sometimes that was all anyone really needed, immortal or not. He reached for the woman's face, intending to unmask her so they could see eye to eye.

This was maybe a bit too easy. Once Constantine was a good distance, more towards the end of the shaft to the blessed light than Scarab, he stopped and turned around to watch. And maybe something else; a finger traced in the dirt...

She didn't want to hurt them, didn't want to turn her sword on Cori, and so that probably accounted for her delayed reflexes.

Still, she had enough time to know that if she kept cutting up, her sword would gut the Corinthian combined with his foreward momentum.
She didn't think, jsut reacted.

...And dropped the weapon from shaking hands.

Her mask had smaller straps holding it in place, but it left her eyes completly uncovered.
There wasn't any need to remove it to beable to see her, it was more symbolic anyway.
Chained silver blades to echo the rusted sharp edges of her mentor's.

He succeeded in getting it off, but she squeezed her eyes shut, more from the angry burning agony racing from her mark along her spine.
Her legs were threatening to give out at the pain, but she held her ground, and put a bare, weaponless hand up to stop the nightmare from getting too close to her face.

" N-No...no your not preventing shit." she managed through clenched teeth.

" Get out of here..Go, now, and I'll try to stop teacher from coming after you." she could feel a growing anger riding the pain.
Not her anger, but with the blurring lines between master and apprentice these days, it was hard to tell how far away he was.

"Gomen...f-for everything" she whispered, slipping unconsciously into her native tongue.

He braced himself for impact, intending to take that sword as deep as it would go, straight through him ideally just so he could reach her eyes. Cori couldn't even stomach the symbolism of the thing that crowned her face, it represented his control over her, his victory, the scar his branding. How Scarab could have agreed to this... Perhaps it was too late to break the hold the Red God had on her, or not.

The nightmare stared at her, the deadly dragon with her eyes shut in pain. No, they couldn't kill each other over this. Cori thought about taking her sword anyway and slashing it against his hand so she could bring the blade coated in his blood to her master as evidence of her attempt to stop them. No, the god was connected to her mind and body, the deceit would only make things worse. Teeth eyes looked to John in a brief moment of futility. What could they do for her at all?

"Don't. We can handle him ourselves," the Corinthian countered, "... we'll help you when we can."

That was an offer if the rumors were true, that each mark volunteered under false pretenses, it was a promise if Scarab, Keico, still crawled under her skin. He touched her hand, held her fingers tightly before breaking away to join the magebeast.

A grunt. Puncturing a finger with a tooth, he had cast a temporary seal in blood to hopefully block, or at the very least complicate, any attempts at reclaimation the Red God would pull on him. Briefly, he considered doing the same for Scarab, Keico, but then again, the mental pain throbbing in his back told him that this was her fault. John could forgive her, but all of this...

Well, let justice be served after all. Bloody theme of this fucking place. He did not want to see what else the fuggin' evil cunt could do.

Sorry, luv, he thought, giving her one last glance as the nightmare caught up to them. But you brought this on yourself.

She nodded, not really trusting her voice right now, and squeezed his hand back before he was gone.

Indeed, she had brought this on herself.
In wanting a purpose and a place she had hurt someone she cared for.
Granted, she hadn't been the one to injure John, nor change him directly...but she hadn't helped him escape before things got worse either.

She could hear thier footsteps echo down the tunnel, and feeling safer in the thought they would get away clean, she let her knees give out, and sank to the floor.

...And then heard very distinct steps.
Large shuffling ones, followed by the screech of metal on mortar.
The pain in her back was throbbing horribly, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming.
Her eyes were watering, but she smiled a grim kind of smile.

Her Judgement was on it's way, but that was alright.

She was ready.

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Log; Complete

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