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tampered2008-06-18 06:07 pm
master-supreme.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2008-06-18 06:07 pm
Log; Complete
When; Thursday, June 18, Evening
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Lucy Saxon (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cathedralgirl) and her hubby (master_supreme)
Summary; The happy couple's reunion! <3
Log;
Although the circumstances of his arrival had been less than ideal, the Master couldn't help but adore this city just a little bit (and it was out of adoration, of course, that he wanted to see it collapse in on itself as the citizens devoured each other in a degenerate frenzy and he harnessed the power of the deities. Simple stuff, really). The ticking had bothered him at first-- yes, he could admit that. When combined with the endless drumbeats raging in his head, it was too loud, too cacophonous for him to think straight when the ticking first began. It couldn't even hit the same beat as the drums... that made it worse. Constant distraction. But, after remaining awake all night, listening to it, he came to love the ticking. The drums spoke of war, but the ticking was something else... He would decipher it soon enough. In the meantime, it was a handy alarm! He'd always know if somebody was near just by the absence of the clicking.
And that was, in fact, why he knew his darling Lucy was not at her quarters. The ticking, steadily click click clicking away, faithfully accompanied the drums. And although he hadn't had his laser screwdriver with him, picking past the lock had been simple enough. To think that a lock could stop him. Tssk, Lucy had always been so naive.
Oh, but how she'd changed. Lovely, really. He considered her state of mind to be a mark of his craftsmanship, two and a half years in the making.
With the apartment empty, the Master went right to work looking through everything that had been lying about (and for things that were hidden), but there was nothing that piqued his interest. Even the kitchen had been a dreadful disappointment. Oh well. Lucy would be home soon enough. And if not her, the little girl. He could settle for either one, really. Patiently, he sat, fingers drumming on the arm of his chair, waiting for the ticking to stop.
Rating; PG-13
Characters; Lucy Saxon (
cathedralgirl) and her hubby (master_supreme)Summary; The happy couple's reunion! <3
Log;
Although the circumstances of his arrival had been less than ideal, the Master couldn't help but adore this city just a little bit (and it was out of adoration, of course, that he wanted to see it collapse in on itself as the citizens devoured each other in a degenerate frenzy and he harnessed the power of the deities. Simple stuff, really). The ticking had bothered him at first-- yes, he could admit that. When combined with the endless drumbeats raging in his head, it was too loud, too cacophonous for him to think straight when the ticking first began. It couldn't even hit the same beat as the drums... that made it worse. Constant distraction. But, after remaining awake all night, listening to it, he came to love the ticking. The drums spoke of war, but the ticking was something else... He would decipher it soon enough. In the meantime, it was a handy alarm! He'd always know if somebody was near just by the absence of the clicking.
And that was, in fact, why he knew his darling Lucy was not at her quarters. The ticking, steadily click click clicking away, faithfully accompanied the drums. And although he hadn't had his laser screwdriver with him, picking past the lock had been simple enough. To think that a lock could stop him. Tssk, Lucy had always been so naive.
Oh, but how she'd changed. Lovely, really. He considered her state of mind to be a mark of his craftsmanship, two and a half years in the making.
With the apartment empty, the Master went right to work looking through everything that had been lying about (and for things that were hidden), but there was nothing that piqued his interest. Even the kitchen had been a dreadful disappointment. Oh well. Lucy would be home soon enough. And if not her, the little girl. He could settle for either one, really. Patiently, he sat, fingers drumming on the arm of his chair, waiting for the ticking to stop.
no subject
There's a hiss of pain from Lucy, a gritting of teeth and a hard glare at the man she once called husband (so long ago, it seems like, so long- time bending for her, it bent once and it's doing it again, illusory thing that it is). One hand frees itself, grabs at his collar to pull him down, her face twists close to his in a mockery of intimacy.
And now she does look animalistic- but not a doe, as gentle as those are professed to be. Whatever allegorial animal she may be described as now, it is something vicious, something angry and frustrated and very, very much broken.
And she's talking, a quick little whisper, like the hiss of a snake with venom in its teeth (but even if she bit she's not sure it'd have an effect, no, not on him).
"Oh no, Harry, you can't. You really can't. What with the beatings and the threats and everything else you've done to me, you're really so surprised at me lying to you? Or maybe you expected me the same as before, a whimpering little slave to you." A soft puff of laughter. "Yes, of course that must be it, you can't believe that after a year and a half without you I would have changed so much. But I have, Harry, and whatever the similarities in our would-be endgames, I am not someone you should trust."
Like he would. But she's angry now, really and truely angry (though she knows, she knows that this may very well trigger violence (more) or worse from him, and yet she cannot help herself, cannot stop).
no subject
Haha, okay, no he wasn't.
"Oh dear. Guess we'll have to work on that 'trust issue'," he said dryly. "Got a number for a marriage counselor?" He cocked his head slightly, then grabbed her wrist firmly and pulled the hand off of him. "No?"
Since they were so close, he leaned closer and kissed her roughly. There was nothing sweet behind the action, no tenderness at all. It was nothing more than a show of dominance, a way for him to illustrate to her that no matter how liberated she thought she was, he could do whatever he wanted. Her body was nothing more than an object that was his to possess, and she could do with a reminder.
no subject
no worse than other times, but such a crude example, memories from that forgotten year returned, and so violently-
like a dog pissing on a pole.)
She'd shoot him again, she thinks (though it'd have no use, would it? all he could do is return), the bastard the wifebeater that man who will not let her go, he would follow (take) her to the end of the universe just for the chance to break her again, see her twisted and bent to his will. She will not let him, not again not this time (please Harry don't).
(so ignore this feeling, the physical manifestation of her frights and dreams, lips and teeth and tongue all colliding, bitter and cold in her mouth)
She shoves herself back; breaks the contact and brings her one free fist up sharply in a punch, aiming to collide.
no subject
"Role reversal! This City has taught you a lot." And then, just to show her how these sorts of things are done, he aimed a pretty rough, yet somehow dismissive (in a way that only he could really do) punch to her face, intending to add yet another bruise to her collection. He didn't look upset when he did it, or even happy and mocking. His expression had a rather "ho-hum" look to it, as though this were hardly worth his time.
no subject
She does not move, does not look at him (will not). Eyes closed, hair fallen over her face.
(the trembling has spread to her whole body; it is inhabiting her and she cannot evict it, not now, it is an entity within her. She wonders, as quick and vague such a thought is, if it would take a beat, follow the drums Harry says are within his head always. She wonders if this is fear or anger, and realizes that she does not know.)
She looks up, resists the urge to fight back (it would only cause more harm, she knows). Flattens her still-clenched hands out on her lap.
"Leave."
(And there is more conviction in her voice than she had thought she'd be capable of mustering, through the tremor still present.)
no subject
"Before I go, there was something I meant to tell you. The reason why I stopped by." His gaze snapped down and he stared at her, eyes taking on a hungry, predatory look. "Just a bit of advice, really." And now, he wasn't smiling. His voice was harsh and softer; anything that was part of the Harold Saxon persona had fallen by the wayside. "Distance yourself from them; cut them off. For their good and yours. When something happens to your little friends, it will be on your head." And then his voice perked up a bit, brimming with false concern. "And I just don't know how much more that poor, shattered mind of yours can take, darling."
"Well." And with that, he stood up straight, grinned, and blew a kiss at the woman he once showed the end of the universe to. "Be seeing you, Lucy."
And he left, walking and walking until the ticking returned to him. Ah, the cacophonous symphony began again. He'd almost missed it.