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tampered2009-08-21 03:58 am
ellectroshock.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2009-08-21 03:58 am
log; ongoing
When; Night of the 20th
Rating; PG-13 for language
Characters; Elle Bishop (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ellectroshock), Sylar (makes_you_tick)
Summary; Elle wants Sylar to hurt. Sylar wants to make amends.
Log;
Elle wanted Sylar to hurt.
Oh, she'd gotten the voicemail all right, but she hadn't listened to it. Right when he'd said her name -- Elle -- she'd deleted it. Then she'd picked up his jacket from the floor and stared at it and cried a little, but she was okay now. Even if she'd once liked him a lot, she didn't anymore. He had killed her, and she wanted to know why.
As she stood in front of his shop, she didn't know if she wanted to laugh or scream or cry. Maybe she would do all three. Maybe she wouldn't do any of them. She needed to talk to him, or she was going to fall apart right there. He had answers that she was going to get from him, and it didn't matter whether he agreed or not. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the emotions fighting each other inside her, anger and hate and need and everything and nothing at all.
"Sylar!" she screamed, blasting the windows with everything she had. "Sylar!" She watched as some of the displays fell over and turned into little pieces and some just burned, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Maybe this little shop display was like her, a fragile balance that broke over and over again. Couldn't fix things like that. But that was okay, 'cause she was broken too much already. All she wanted was for him to hurt bad, too, and she didn't care how.
Taking a breath, she stepped over the threshold, electricity crackling in her hands. She couldn't find him, but she was sure he was in here somewhere, sure as she was of anything. She forced down the memories that the little shop gave her, memories of peach pie and sitting on the floor and what was maybe falling in love for the first and last time. "You know, I believed you," she called out, her voice almost sing-song and full of confidence she didn't feel. When she walked, the glass made crunching noises under her shoes, making Elle wonder if hearts went crunch. She shot a burst of her lightning across the room, searching for him. Dammit, where was he? "When you said you'd changed. I really did."
And maybe that was a tremor in her voice, since she didn't think she could deal with the man who had given her everything and taken it all away.
Rating; PG-13 for language
Characters; Elle Bishop (
ellectroshock), Sylar (makes_you_tick)Summary; Elle wants Sylar to hurt. Sylar wants to make amends.
Log;
Elle wanted Sylar to hurt.
Oh, she'd gotten the voicemail all right, but she hadn't listened to it. Right when he'd said her name -- Elle -- she'd deleted it. Then she'd picked up his jacket from the floor and stared at it and cried a little, but she was okay now. Even if she'd once liked him a lot, she didn't anymore. He had killed her, and she wanted to know why.
As she stood in front of his shop, she didn't know if she wanted to laugh or scream or cry. Maybe she would do all three. Maybe she wouldn't do any of them. She needed to talk to him, or she was going to fall apart right there. He had answers that she was going to get from him, and it didn't matter whether he agreed or not. If she closed her eyes, she could feel the emotions fighting each other inside her, anger and hate and need and everything and nothing at all.
"Sylar!" she screamed, blasting the windows with everything she had. "Sylar!" She watched as some of the displays fell over and turned into little pieces and some just burned, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Maybe this little shop display was like her, a fragile balance that broke over and over again. Couldn't fix things like that. But that was okay, 'cause she was broken too much already. All she wanted was for him to hurt bad, too, and she didn't care how.
Taking a breath, she stepped over the threshold, electricity crackling in her hands. She couldn't find him, but she was sure he was in here somewhere, sure as she was of anything. She forced down the memories that the little shop gave her, memories of peach pie and sitting on the floor and what was maybe falling in love for the first and last time. "You know, I believed you," she called out, her voice almost sing-song and full of confidence she didn't feel. When she walked, the glass made crunching noises under her shoes, making Elle wonder if hearts went crunch. She shot a burst of her lightning across the room, searching for him. Dammit, where was he? "When you said you'd changed. I really did."
And maybe that was a tremor in her voice, since she didn't think she could deal with the man who had given her everything and taken it all away.