tampered | Log; Ongoing

Log; Ongoing

When; Sept. 6, midnight?
Rating; PG (likely)
Characters; Scarab (

noh_dancer), The Corinthian (

bitingnightmare)
Summary; Having helped guide him to the library, Scarab calls in a minor debt.
Log;

It was late night, again, and he was alone with that grating tick, again, what harm could it do? The Corinthian accepted Scarab's offer, though it was more like a duty he owed her out of respect, and agreed to meet at one of the few places he'd seen serving alcoholic drinks that weren't mixed with liquor of questionable origins. It wasn't that he didn't like opening up to new ideas, the white-blond just didn't believe he should expose himself to such potential risks so soon. He didn't even wait for her inside the establishment, choosing to stand around outside like the 'hardcase' he was.

Actually he loitered on the sidewalk to enjoy a cigarette, one of the few in his slowly dwindling pack. He'd have to restock sometime later though he would be most meticulous about the brand if they didn't serve any earthly kinds.

Considering the absence of most laws in The City one might wonder why he didn't take his poisonous puffing inside where he could have an ashtray within arm's reach. Like Scarab seemed uncomfortable presenting her disfigured hand, The Corinthian was uncomfortable sucking down carcinogens that would have to escape through all three of his mouths. Holding smoke in one's normal mouth was distasteful enough, keeping the clouds in his teeth-eyes were just masochistic.

So he puffed away, waiting for her arrival, seeping gray from his lips and his glasses.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Scarab was feeling markedly better than the previous day, but was still a little put out over not being able to find much in the way of information on the Pyramid Head.

Alex's pseudo-invitation had seemed the perfect thing to help her clear her head for a little while.

Dressed in another over-sized shirt, dark jeans, and her boots she hurried across the street to where she could see him standing.
Bless her clearer mind for allowing her to get where she needed to go without too much hassle.

Since it was a friendly affair, she kept only her bowie knife and the hanyuki tonight, forgoing her hair needles, and instead letting the long black tresses freely hang to almost the small of her back.

" Hey there. Been waiting long?"

Pseudo-invitation, or perhaps a friendly invitation disguised as an obligation.

Was it uncouth of him to be treating a lady in clothes he hadn't changed in days? While his kind were not exactly of mortal flesh the leather on his shoulders had seen blood not too long ago. Well they were 'clean' in any case, just unchanged. The warmth inside might even warrant removing the jacket. He blew smoke three ways upward into the sky when Scarab approached him. The Corinthian shook his head.

"Not very." He pushed his sunglasses up then sucked down the remainder of his cigarette before tossing the filtered end curbside. He put out the embers with his boot as the last of the smoke slithered into the night.

Who knew the man to be a gentleman. He approached the entrance first and pushed the door open for Scarab, gesturing that the woman should enter ahead.

Scarab wasn't terribly concerned withhis appearence. He seemed to be all in one piece after his first 48 hour in the city, so that was good enough for her.

Those mouth-eyes had suprised her at first, but now she couldn't help a macabre kind of curiosity. Obviously he wasn't strictly human, but what was he afer all?

She smiled in thanks for the chilvarous gesture, and took in the sleepy establishment.
A few patrons littered about, but for the most part empty.

Perfect.

Starting off toward the bar, and turned to walk backwards in order to talk while she moved.

"What's your poison, Alex?"

All in one piece indeed. So far he hadn't encountered any creatures that came close to drawing blood, or taking off his fingers.

An empty bar was better suited for The Corinthian as well. The din of a crowded pub could always provide a cover, but sometimes he preferred not to be near so many people with secret fears and guilts to hide. He wasn't on the job right now and it was possible that his job might not be waiting for him at all upon his return. If he could return. Nevertheless he followed her to the bar, betting on which stool would be the one to trip her heel.

"I take scotch, and you," the nightmare asked her while pulling a seat out for himself. "Cost is of no concern now," he smirked a bit, revealing the gil that had oh so innocently jumped into his pocket.

She offered another smile. Somehow she knew he was a scotch man.

Being somewhat height challenged she curled her legs onto the stoll, and sat while leaning mostly on the bar.
At first she considered getting an LIT, but this was the city....

"Sake, onegaishimas?" she asked the bar tender.
She wasn't terribly suprised when the burly gap-grinned man gave her a small bow, and answered in equally fluent japanese.

In short order Alex had his glass, and she her warmed cup.

"A little bit of home" she said by way of explanation, and saluted him with the smaller cup.

" So have you been keeping yourself out of trouble?" She asked with a grin.

Scotch on the rocks, he enjoyed the burn down his throat and the warmth that flushed back.

After she requested her own order The Corinthian threw down whatever seemed appropriate for this place plus tip. There were some restrictions of The City that seemed almost fascist, and still other freedoms like the lax currency and ability to stroll anywhere desired seemed almost anarchic. After the burly bilingual delivered their drinks he raised his glass to hers in kind, without a verbal toast, then took a generous sip of the amber whiskey.

"Nn," he sounded as he set the glass down. "Yeah, aside from being able to see again I had an uneventful day. I found a few good mysteries though," he returned the grin with a sly one.

Well...since he broached the subject...

" You don't have to answer this, but how do you see?" she asked then took a second drink, before digging in her pockets to come up with an old cigarette pack.

Tapping out one of Frederick's hand-rolled black cigars, she lit it, and transferred it to her right hand; holding it between pinky and ring finger.

And since she asked the question he stared at her behind his glasses silently, considering how to answer it. There were a few things he learned from the greasy black bird and one of them was that not everyone who looked into his eyes sought the dark truth. Hrm, and at the same time he couldn't help but notice that fancy cigar, though he was far from being a cigar man.

"I do, it's how I was made to be," The Corinthian explained in a cryptic manner for it was a mystery, how Dream created him. He brushed his fingertips over the lenses. "There's nothing here, but I can see everything."

Good Answer.

Scarab was no stranger to the darker aspects of life, though men with teeth for eyes was a new one on her, it didn't bother her as much as some might think.
She asked out of curiosity and to see how trusting Alex was. First impressions tended to be right, and in this case the answer was : Not even a little bit.

Still, she remembered that he had 'eyes' yesterday...but chose not to comment. Somehow she had a feeling those eyes weren't ever his to begin with.

"Made to be, huh?" She mused, and took a draw. Noting how he seemed to be looking at the pack on the bar ( 'seemed' being the operative word. How does one tell where line of sight is with no eyes to go off of?) and tapped another out.
Offerring it to him, she asked another question.

" So what mysteries have you found in your first two days?"

It was sort of the only answer he could give without lying, and the man had no reason to lie about that.

Trust was a different issue that could use some ironing out. But the nightmare was still young and undoing the damage to himself, from his predecessor. As for impressions, Scarab struck him as non-threatening, to him at least. He thought he would have been able to detect any ill-will from the moment they met.

"Made to be," The Corinthian reaffirmed with a nod and a sip. Being unable to tell what he was looking at was an advantage from a predator's standpoint, but it also gave off those wrong first impressions, 'wrong.'

He considered the offered hand roll then plucked it from her fingers to light up.

"That this place is a big fucking joke and I'm lost on the punchline."

Once he had it lit the white-blond seemed a bit thoughtful, then he decided to remove the glasses. This city wasn't the waking world he knew, there were things out there far more terrible than he, walking unmasked. He may as well drop the specs too.

She sipped at the sake, and laughed.

" The punchline hits in about nine months, when the clock stops."

She took a drag and gestured to take in everything: The bar, the building, herself, Alex, and the city at large.

" All of this fighting, and fucking, and whining and laughing is going to be really pointless when that clock hits '12'."

Exhaling, her voice took on a tinge of bitterness.

" We all turn to ashes and dust, and the deities get a great big laugh. Thats the punchline"

Scarab leaned for an ashtray, and not being able to reach it, had to come mostly off the stool to drag it back.

" The sad thing is: a lot of dead people are finding out how to 'live' agian here. Some are even being reunited with lost friends and loved ones..."

And some discovering whole new loved ones... She added mentally.

" It's cruelty at it's finest: Pure bliss to distract you until time runs out.." She looked down & shifted until her chin rested on one knee.

She took a hit and let it escape her lips a little to french inhale, watching Alex remove the glasses.
At least he was getting a little more comfortable here?

" You know, I don't think you need to worry about wearing those here." She commented with a nod to the glasses.

" What with angels, demons, and monsters coming a dime a dozen. No offense."

"I read what that's all about," he nodded. The carousel, the clock, the worlds, the city may as well have been an automatic mechanism designed by Heaven and Hell to govern limbo without a throne.

"You like it here," The Corinthian concluded coolly. The way she spoke about The City smacked of cynism shrouded all around a small amount of sentimentality. Obviously he couldn't relate to her bond with the place, having been here for only days, but he could understand her attachment. Were the Dream King to choose not to rebuild him....

No need for woe and angst, the end of the world was a little farther off than the immediate threat that was the pointy headed thing. Since Scarab had brought the ashtray over he tapped the black roll over its rim and tucked his glasses away.

"I got that same impression after I saw the bat with three eyes," he said to her with a smirk. Even his teeth eyes smirked before smoke seeped out from their edges. "None taken, just don't look into them."

It was a half-hearted warning. He averted his gaze anyway.

"What's in it for you, around here."

What, Indeed...

Well, Alex seemed to be alright: No impulse to kill people or dissect them at random ( well, at least without warning) so she shrugged and figured it was easier just to tell the truth.

"The same thing that's in this for a lot of people. Friends."

She wondered if the warning was more to do with personal discomfort, rather than any real problem in looking at his 'eyes'.
Deciding it was probably a little of both, she remained polite, and didn't press the issue. She wasn't to keen on showing off her maimed hand, so it made sense he might not like people staring either.

" I came here alone, but when I needed help the most, niether of them even thought about not helping me."

She emptied her cup, and turned to refill it from the small clay vessel the barkeep had set out for her.

" Where I come from, and especially in my former line of work, thats rare."

He had impulses but chose not to act on them, most of them anyway. The Corinthian was a cold and calculating creature, traits he was sure his Lord Shaper had kept within in rebirth. There was little value in killing Scarab's friends anyway, he gained no sadistic joy from the undeserving pain of.... women.

"Friends, none you had in your former life," he asked her, taking great care in touching her nerves if necessary, for he wasn't one to avoid touching nerves altogether.

While there was a mild case of personal discomfort it was mostly a real problem in looking at his eyes. It took two to play that game, but he felt it better to take precautions, especially with his impulses. Sometimes he didn't want to find things he didn't know were there until he looked straight into a person's eyes. It spoiled things.

"You're pretty fortunate," fortunate than most, said the nightmare with another sip then a smoke. The teeth eyes hissed softly.

"What did you used to do, Scarab," he inquired thoughtfully.

As advertised: he seemed alright.
No worrying that Faye's smartass remarks would end with her being gutted for kicks.

Frederick, though...well he didn't deal well with the supernatural. Which is to say he didn't deal very well with the city on a whole.

She took another sip, this one a bit more generous than the last.

" No. I didn't have any friends back home." None living anyway...

" I don't know about being all that 'fortunate', but it is nice not having to watch my back alone anymore."
The candid statement was probably due to the fine rice wine in her hand....but that made it no less true.

A real pity it took lowered inhibitions in order for the truth to be easier to tell.

She smiled and took a thoughtful drag on her cigar, noting it was nearly cached.

" You know what Scarabs do in nature, right? They clean up other animals shit."

A half shrug.

"Thats what I used to do. Clean up other people's shit. Generally rich and powerful people, the ones that got to be a little too rich or powerful."

It was a slightly easier way of saying 'I was an assassin. I killed crime lords, and Yakuza because the government dicks didn't like to share.'

If she was as smartass as a certain pumpkin in overalls The Corinthian wouldn't have a problem with her mouth, although a war of biting remarks was likely inevitable. He was accustomed to interacting with mortals of the waking world as much as he was residents of the dreaming, demi-gods, and Endless alike. Meeting Frederick shouldn't be too awkward... except for that one little unspoken thing.

"I had two, maybe three," he mentioned to Scarab off hand, almost briefly melancholic.

"Mm, you're fortunate to have people to help you," and the nightmare could say she returned the favor to other strangers likewise, from personal experience. "I do," know what scarabs do, said the man of seemingly few words as he exhaled again.

"I know what you mean, doing their dirty work," not to imply that's how he viewed himself, but it may have seemed that way. "Keeping the pests under control," The Corinthian nodded. "Is it how you came to be here," he asked without looking at her, in case such a question should be a sensitive subject, and his mouths would certainly crave a taste of it.

" More than you know...." She muttered to herself.
She was very fortunate. If Frederick and Faye had not come to get her she could very well be stuck in the cathedral right about now, sharing space with psychotic Angels, Rosemary's baby, and old pointy head.

She took the rest of what was in her cup, enjoying the tiny blaze that was kindling in her stomach, and refilled the cup agian.

" Doing thier dirty work, and scaring the shit out of thier enemies. We were walking statements." She clarified.
It wasn't necessarily painful to talk about, but it did make her wonder if Tigerlily was alright.

I wonder where she is now...

"Ya, it's how I 'ended up here'" she paused to put out the end of the cigar, then light another.

" I died doing what I was made to do...except instead of other people's shit I was doing a little house cleaning."

And with the statement came the memories:
The droves of phsychotic ex-agents mobbing orderlies and her fellow Noh operatives alike.
Tigerlily without her mask.

Yukio...That one she had to push back down. Too fresh and too close of a memory to relate over booze..

Kabuki in the white room.
Scarab and Kabuki fighting. The knife. The blood...

Stop it.
She put a reign on her thoughts, because the conclusion to this trip down memory lane ended in nothing but pain and then blackness, and she highly doubted Alex wanted to see her acting all mopey.

Best to steer things back to neutral territory.

" So...How did you end up here? Do you remember anything before arriving?"

The Corinthian didn't have the pleasure of meeting those individuals yet, and he'd only seen the cathedral in passing, nothing more.

His scotch was almost down to its last drops and he considered ordering another. After a moment's consideration he gestured for the burly tender to refill the glass then took another puff on the black cigar.

"After you'd served your purpose," he observed. It was like them to create efficient machines, to do away with them after they'd become worse for wear, tch. Her thoughts tickled the tongues in his head, one pink tip of flesh licked the teeth on his right side as he exhaled smoke, a result of her tingling thoughts. He didn't look at her still, as there didn't seem to be a need. Scarab seemed to exude remorse more than anything.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said the nightmare, all too cool and casual but it was an honest statement.

Hmm, he tapped the cigar again and gazed at Scarab from the corners of his teeth eyes. "It was an accident, it should have sent me back to my realm. Instead I ended up here, but in any case, only my Lord can unmake me," and then he appeared thoughtful once more, "or remake me."

" Something like that..". She didn't ellaborate on who's purpose she served, and the simple fact she had gotten sloppy. She had been afraid of death in that moment, when in all of her career she had been indifferent at best.

She smiled agian at him to both show thanks & that she really was alright.

" Your Lord. The Dream King, right?"
another sip, and the world was finally starting to lose some of it's sharp edges.

" What were you doing to try and get 'back'?" she asked curiously.
The upside to chatting with a supernatural creature was the possibility of learning new talents.

He didn't ask her to elaborate, sort of like a mutual don't ask-don't tell policy. Maybe in the future they could share more than just a few cryptic details. The Corinthian set out a few more for payment then sipped from his second glass while exstinguishing the cigar.

"Right, the Dream King," he nodded. "Nothing, I was out in the waking world. Anything fatal that happens to me there sends me back home, where he can look down on me in disappointment and contemplate if I'm worth remaking."

Hrm, he spoke rather bitterly there but it was the result of Daniel's--no... Dream's manner. One could never simply know what the dark stars in his eyes meant, if they were appraising or frowning.

That little tidbit earned him a pair of raised eyebrows, and he undivided attention.

" So, if you..er..'die', you go straight back to your home world?" she asked, leaning foreward a bit in interest, and forgoing the politeness involved in keeping her eyes to herself.

She chose to leave the touchy-sounding subject of this Dream King and'remaking' Alex alone for the moment.
This first bit was far more pressing.

"That's how it's always been, his sister's never come for me specifically," he said in a casual manner with a sip of scotch. It was as if Scarab's interest failed to register with him, so he looked at her, not expecting to come near face to face with her. It even caused The Corinthian to lean back a bit.

"It's up to him, if he wants me to come back..." he said to Scarab, finding her undivided attention unexpected.

" Alex, Thats it!"
She grinned and even went so far as to poke him in the chest for emphasis.

" Thats how you can get out of here! If you have a return ticket without the tiny details of death and afterlife, you can get out of here!"

She leaned back, still grinning.

" The city keeps the dead from moving on to the afterlife, but I'll bet money it can't keep someone who belongs to another 'god' from crossing boundaries without causing some serious inter-dimensional feather ruffling."

She took a sip and quirked an eyebrow at him.
" That is, if your Dream Lord is as important as you make him sound?"

....... He looked down at the chest-poking. He wasn't used to being touched by strangers in a situation that didn't involve sex or death. It wasn't even much of a touch, but the gesture alone was similar.

"Are you saying I need to die," The Corinthian asked, neither humorous nor hopeful despite her grinning. Hmm... this time he leaned towards her. "You think I can get up and walk out?" Well hadn't he done something similar before? But the last time he did it on his own free will, without permission from Dream, the boss had been imprisoned. He didn't think the current King was in a similar state, and if he was then this was the least of the nightmare's problems.

"He is important, I'm not too sure about how far his influence extends here. I've heard that people know him, some know me, but the're always rules regarding interference." Hrm, he appeared thoughtful again, considering what Scarab said as he stared down into his glass. "My Lord might not even know I'm gone," which The Corinthian knew was a rare, rare circumstance, "or he might choose to keep me here, regardless."

What a terribly dismal thing to say. He raised his glass for a heavy gulp then turned a rogueish smile to Scarab. "It doesn't matter, I'll do what I can during my stay. I'm not opposed to learning a little more about this place, it might be what he wants."

She frowned a little.

Definately not the response she expected.
" I thought you wanted out of here...?"

Taking another hit off her now-dwindling smoke, she considered what he said.
" Do you really like it here that much? Jeez. I know some people who would remove some imprtant piece of thier anatomy for the chance to go home.

" And why would your Lord choose to make you stay? Did you piss him off?"
Probably not terribly tactful, but she was confused, and Sake had always tended to make problems for her internal censor.

The mention of 'doing what he could' made her blink. Was he referring to the countdown? She hadn't pegged him for the sort to really care about people or The End. He wasn't human after all, and he talked about being some kind of servant to an equally supernatural being.
Surely he wouldn't be worried over existence when he could just travel through worlds and dimensions and find a new set of places to exist.

"I do, but the more I think about it the more it seems like there may not be a way out if He isn't allowing it," he explained to Scarab. "In the last 48 hours I've tried contacting the people I know, read up on what's worked so far for people here, thought about sacrifice but hell what's the point if no one here really dies," he gave a one-shouldered shrug.

"I thought it might be a joke, that I'm trapped in some part of the dreaming for shits and fucking giggles, that doesn't seem to be the case." He said this while tracking his toothy gaze from Scarab's head to toe. "Meeting you makes the least sense if that was the case," if someone in the dreaming was yanking his chain. He settled his elbow on the bartop and cradled his chin on the heel of his palm.

"Maybe," he huffed once. "I pissed him off so hard once, he kept me dismantled for four years," the words sort of flowed out of him like whiskey across his tongue, not that he would admit to even being able to feel buzzed. "More disappointed than pissed, I guess," the nightmare added.

What he meant was that he would do what he could to leave The City, and if it involved having to wage some sort of war against the gods, the clock, even the Pyramid beast, well he would have to get involved. There was always a bit of self-preservation in his intentions, self-preservation that masked his aching need to please the one he served.

Shifting back on the stool, she regarded him quizzically.

"Meeting me? What does that have to do with anything?"
The fuzzy memory of the dream where she had first seen Alex flitted through her mind.
She had no special gift for clairvoyance, that was Frederick's schtick, but she did have the occasional dream that inspired a sense of deja vu'.

Here was one such instance, and she was fairly certain that dream had occurred not very long before meeting this odd man with teeth for eyes.
She wondered why he had insisted the dream was an older one?

Picking up the cup she was vaguely surprised to find it empty, and set about refilling before speaking agian.

"Oh, and what's The Dreaming? Is that your home world?"

"Meeting you was a coincidence but you're too complex to be a trick," unless she was crafted with diamond precision in which case Scarab would be a most sophisticated trap. "Anyway I don't get that from you, you take out that bloody ticking," The Corinthian shook his head, trying not to mention the traces of emotion he felt from her lest she accuse him of prying like a telepath.

He lifted his chin to take another sip from the already half emptied glass then folded both arms across the bartop. "Yeah, my home world, it kind of looks like this place, always rearranging, but none of that clock shit," the white-blond shook his head. "I think I've even seen some of these people pass through before."

The Corinthian looked to Scarab again. "I lived in the castle with My Lord, then I moved to nightmare, which looks nothing like this."

" Ya. The ticking goes away when your near someone."
She took a drink, no longer concerned with her intake, because the sharp edges were gone, and she felt much more comfortable with this direction of the conversation.

" If your in a crowd it will die down some, but talking to someone like we are now will make it go away entirely.", She shrugged," Something to do with hearing only your thoughts when your by yourself, I think."

Her cigar was pretty well gone at this point, so she tapped another out, and took a quick inventory before offerring one to Alex.

" Do you mean you've seen people with the ability to travel between worlds, or are we talking something even wierder?"
The whole idea of jumping from one reality to the next wasn't as difficult a concept now that she had spent a little time in the city, but the mechanics of how it worked was still completely foriegn.

" Moved to nightmare.." she echoed a little stupidly.
Correction: the mechanics weren't just foreign, they were fucking nuts.

" You moved into a nightmare?", she smirked, " I can relate to that."

"I tried the first one, blending in with the crowd," he nodded, and wasn't it funny that in this city's crowd, all he had to do was put on his shades to appear more normal than the rest of them. His hair color was a bit unusual but so were the blues, pinks, and purples that littered the world. Maybe his normalcy even worked against him.

He gestured 'no thanks' to Scarab, cigars just weren't really his thing the nightmare concluded, and the scotch was doing its job far better.

"Yeah, I have. I do know people who can travel between worlds, myself included I guess," he rubbed the back of his neck then shrugged the heavy leather jacket off his bare shoulders and folded it over his lap. Not bad looking for a man who often trolled the gutters and rubbed elbows with the dregs of society, on the job that is. Off work he spent his time having conversations with ladies (and men) in bars, or exploring the neverending great library, or hiding out in his citadel.

"No, I moved to nightmare. The dreaming..." he thought about how to explain this to Scarab, swirling the scotch in the glass. "It's the place you go to when you sleep, when you dream. It's everywhere, no fucking borders, endless," The Corinthian shook his head, turning his thoughts inward briefly when he said the E word.

"Nightmare's outside of the main 'city' if you want to call it that, nightmare is what I am," he said to her, putting it bluntly, though not as bluntly as Jan would have it; the bogeyman and all that. "The thing you're afraid of, the guilt that eats at you when you sleep, that's my job."

Scarab fell quiet for a few minutes.

Her dreams had been anything but pleasant lately, and somehow the sense of deja vu' was beggining to make sense.
She studied Alex critically, and wondered if he actually took pleasure in tormenting people in thier sleep.

...But he just didn't seem that cold?

She sighed a little, and decided that it must be a similar dynamic to her own: She killed, but took no pleasure in the act. She was a killer because she was good at it, because she had been made that way.

Maybe it was stupid to think of it that way, but Scarab liked Alex well enough, so it must just be a job:
Something he was good at, and what he was made for.

" Then that must be how I know you," she mused, her cordial tone and demeanor restored, " My dreams have been anything but pleasant lately."

She took the last half of her current cup in a single shot. This was definately not a conversation to have while sober.

Did he look like a man who derived pleasure out of peoples' pain? Okay that was probably a bad question, good thing he didn't ask it outloud eh? But some people did need to be tormented, it wasn't his choosing. There were those who called to him, begged him in their subconscious, most who couldn't handle getting what they wished for. And then there were people who deserved it... which did put him in the ranks of this Pyramid Head and its masters. Tch.

Indeed he was made that way, perhaps that explained how quickly they managed to befriend each other. At the same time their meeting proved to be evidence to him that this was not just another aspect of The Dreaming. He finished off his scotch and slid the glass towards the bartender for another, gee.

"That sounds about right, no offense or anything," The Corinthian upnodded to her as he placed payment on the bartop. "Sometimes people see me, sometimes they don't, it's like waking up and forgetting your entire experience," he said to Scarab, "but I don't recall you, unfortunately."

Hmm, that was sort of a compliment, if one could read between the lines and get past his seemingly cold tone.

"Are you going to have another," asked the white-blond with a gesture to her clay sake bottle and cup. Wouldn't the inspector be ecstatic?

"None taken, and ya. I think I will." she replied.

Resting her chin on one curled leg, she studied him curiously.
To live in dreams? What must it be like...?

"So, I guess it's kind of rare for people to remember you."
She took a thoughtful draw off her newest cigar, and nodded to the barman when he set out a fresh bottle.

After another sip, she turned back to regard her unlikely drinking companion.

"Sounds lonely.."

If he could go back to the dreaming he would have offered to meet Scarab there anytime she should visit, away from the realm of nightmare of course.

"Not rare," hardly, "but the face of fear differs from person to person." The Corinthian nodded with a sip of fresh scotch. "It's more uncommon to sit around, drinking with the waking world," he held his glass close to the top rim and swirled it at Scarab with a smirk.

"It's a necessity," he replied, not at all countering her observation. "Someone has to do it," the nightmare took another sip.

"How bad are they, your dreams," the man asked, staring down at his glass again.

A dirty job, but someone's got to do it..

Scarab couldn't help looking away, not because of his grinning gaze, but rather that admitting to these things was something that made her feel irrationally weak.
Frederick was, after all, the only person who had seen her during such times.

"Bad..."
She should have left it at that, but perhaps it is a lesson in the evils of Sake that she felt a bit more chatty now than when they had first arrived.

"I see him. I see him, and a lot of the time I am beaten and broken, and I can't do anything to stop him."
She swallowed the acidic taste of remembered fear before continuing.

" Sometimes...A lot of the time...He holds out his hand to me, like he is trying to help me up..." She trailed off.

In truth it was the last part of the dream that unsettled her so badly. She had been given a rapid-study college education as part of her training, and so knew a little bit of psychology. The first part of the dream read like a text book case of Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder....the second part, the newer part, frightened her far more.

She took another fortifying sip from her cup and glanced back at him.

"Who is he," asked The Corinthian but he thought he knew, a glimpse here and there in her mind that he couldn't stop. It was almost like being telepathic, but it was the power of the nightmare that called to him. Only dreams and nightmares.

He took yet another sip before setting the glass down. While the white-blond was no psychologist he knew that every dream held truth and insight. Whatever she saw in that time, she saw for a reason beyond PTSD, particularly that second part. It wasn't his job, however, to decipher their meanings. Even if he understood them it wasn't in his job description to interfere, taking a mortal away from the realms of Desire, Despair... those were potentially lethal games.

"When I find my way out of here, I'll remember to help you with that," he nodded to Scarab then raised his glass to clink it against her clay. So he was a little inebriated, toasts were a friendly gesture regardless. Why the nightmare should want to help her with that, with undoing the things he was meant to be, or perhaps just mending their results, well he might be a bit too flush to answer properly.

"Your friends are probably better off though," he tossed a bit of that whiskey back, "you can heal whatever happens in the dreaming in the waking world, with time." And in most cases, but The Corinthian didn't feel like mentioning what happened to those who incurred His Lord's wrath.

Scarab continued to pretend her drink was terribly fascinating, until he mentioned doing something about her dreams.

" The Pyramid Head...One of the books I found the other day said he was something like the embodiement of Male aggression."
She took a long pull off her cigar and exhaled to cover a sigh.

As soon as he mentioned seeing what he could do about her nightmares, however, she looked up, and felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

" You can do that?", she asked, a little bit of doubt coloring her voice, but undeniably hopeful.
She was long overdue for a good night's sleep.

Well, I'll be damned. It seems he is a nice guy under all those teeth, She mused to herself, and happily toasted right along with him.

Scarab had always prided herself on her weight versus alchohol tolerance, and as such decided that since Alex was the one having to deal with quite a bit of change in the last 24 hours, that she would remain at least coherent enough to do something if he got too much worse.

As it was, he seemed a bit more on the chatty side himself, and she started to wonder what to do if he ended up too far gone to take care of himself.
( Of course, he would insist he was fine. She knew his type, being of the same type herself.)

Ah, well. Cross that bridge if I come to it.

She also wasn't sure what he meant by her friends being 'better off', but let it go for now.

"Male aggression, but a little girl keeps it on a short leash," he made that observation based on what he'd heard about the pointy thing. Hah, that was mildly amusing, and he could see why the unman would be so aggressive. Whatever Scarab knew about the male psyche would probably help her interpret his reaction to that. The Corinthian couldn't help but arch a brow and while his mouth seemed neutral, those teeth eyes were near smiling.

"I can," he started to tell her, "I mean it should be within my power." He sounded unsure, either due to the fact that he really was unsure or because of the scotch, which he drank after their friendly toast.

Chatty wasn't the right word for it, maybe more inebriated but not quite uninhibited. Losing all inhibition would certainly spell bad news for The City, unless he were to get so shitfaced as to fall over and pass out before the night terrors could be unleashed. Whatever the case may be, his chattiness was only a symptom, a nice one at that as long as he didn't become a mean drunk.

"My Lord can undo dreams, he can do anything he fucking wants," The Corinthian smirked. "He can give you the best dream of your life before you die, or the curse of eternal waking. That's where I come in, I could just stop," and walk out of The Dreaming as he'd done before, "you wouldn't have them anymore."

The nightmare looked into his glass again, swirling the autumn liquor before emptying his third scotch. "He might be pissed as all hell, but I'd plead your case..... hn what's it matter, he's not even here," he gestured 'here' with a casual turn of his hand.

The glass seemed unbearably lonely to him, now that it had lost all its amber to his consumption. "I'm going for four," he announced to Scarab.

Scarab couldn't get rid of the smile.
Here she was; complaining about a couple of bad dreams when he was homeless and now his entire world had been flipped around.

From the way he talked he was used to going pretty much where he pleased when he please, and now?
Well, now he was stuck here and sounding positively morose that his lord may either not know where he was, or worse: not care.

" Your really serious." she stated more to herself in amazement.

" Wow...Thanks, Alex."

She looked a little concerned when he ordered a fourth...the more he had, the more he seemed to become cynical, and sweet in kind.
Still, she wasn't one to judge, and so simply shrugged.

Taking a small sip of sake ( she was starting to feel it) she asked

" Wait...If your lord is king of dreams, does that mean he chooses who has good dreams an who has bad one?"
There goes that internal censor agian, slacking on the job.

She was honestly curious, though. If this 'Dream King' really had that much power, than maybe he would be willing to trade some of that influence? Who knows what a dream would want, but she was hoping she could save Alex from getting in trouble by just asking this king directly.
Maybe even see about bartering some nice dreams for Faye and Frederick? It certainly warranted consideration. Those two had saved her ass in more ways than one, and if she could pay them back in some small way, she was willing to give it a shot.

Homeless? Let's not get too hasty there. He had a home, as much of a home as a nightmare got, he just wasn't being allowed to set foot in it at the moment. Hi world was flipped around though.... as if someone were playing this mirror game against him, but the longer he stayed within The City the more apparent it became that that wasn't the case.

Now morose, that was an appropriate word, but why wouldn't he be unless he wanted the freedom to walk this... parallel waking world, and do exatly as the first. No, that wouldn't bode well for Scarab at all, or himself if she spoke true of her deadly skills.

"I'm a serious man," he remarked with his teeth eyes on the glass. Four, of course he could drink four. He was a nightmare, nightmares weren't supposed to get drunk, they didn't even need to eat or piss. Unless they wanted to.

Well life was too short to waste a good glass of liquor. He raised it to his lips.

"Good dreams and bad dreams, a lot of things determine that, but you could say He has that kind of power, if He wants to use it," The Corinthian explained, a little too much maybe, but what did it matter when that implied he was a bad dream, a good monster, but a bad dream nonetheless.

Scarab was having a little trouble following the convoluted explanation of who ( or rather what) Alex was, and what this drem lord's influence entailed.
She wasn't stupid, but things like agreed-upon, and conceptual reality were a little difficult to quantify simply because thier very nature was meant to be contradictory to such things.

Scarab was, however, very perceptive. Her job, and often her life, dpended on her ability to read people.
Alex's book had been shut tight when they first met, but after a little time, and some meandering conversation she thought she had a pretty good guesstimation on the subject.
Alex Corinth was something both human, and not. Therefore his actions and reactions were both as well.
He talked about 'His Lord' with an undeniable sense of 'longing-to-please'. It colored his voice and subtle body language when he had mentioned that the Dream King may not know or care where Alex was at the moment.
Alex also felt his job to be a bit messy, but necessary as well. This told her that he took little joy in the act of hurting people, no matter how they seemed to need it.
He had also offerred to help her with her nightmares, which said he was a bit lonely because there was no one in this world or any other who dolled out kindnesses like that to total strangers without hoping to recieve kindness or favors in turn. Scarab was betting on the former since he must know there was little to nothing she could offer in return aside from a little company.
Finally there was the interest in Pyramid Head. Whether ALex saw the creature as rival, mystery, or possible kin she wasn't sure yet, but this little mystery was one she meant to solve before too long.
The last thing she needed was two horrors haunting her at night, be it Alex himself, or the image of some vital part of his anatomy hung on rebar.

" How long have you been wandering 'the dreaming' by yourself, Alex?" she asked, careful to keep her tone soft.
This was now skirting on 'personal' territory, but her internal censor was now obviously out to lunch, and she couldn't help a certain empathy toward a kindred spirit.
Scarab, and her fellow Noh operatives, had been 'walking statements'. They were in the public eye as pop culture icons, but also a reality that made more than a few powerful men wonder just who had been able to leave that elegant note of warning?
She had been part of a fraternal order so secret it was public.
An act of an act that was actually real.

Very Andy Kauffman.

Stories were powerful things. Stories to frighten even more so....but it made for a lonely existence, and after so long living as more weapon than person; Scarab was ready to start reconnecting to life.
Maybe she could help Alex do the same? Always good for the karma....

And it was a convoluted explanation because The Corinthian wasn't conscious to have seen it happen, that and his creator was a bit of a convoluted character himself.

But truth be told, Scarab was quite perceptive of his feelings and motivations. There was a slight chance that producing a nightmare or a good dream within her would be the key to contacting Lord Shaper, that is if the Endless wanted to be contacted. Consider it a possible SOS, but only a minor possibility. No, he felt like helping her because she seemed like she could be trusted, and he thought he should. With power came responsibility, even the great Death was obligated to walk as a human being for one day, to understand what she did, why not the same for The Corinthian? Was it any different as an obligation to himself.

The Pyramid Head... was a different story, something he would not open to her now, maybe ever.

"Since Orpheus, but that's something else," he took a sip of his fourth glass. "I guess years," he rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding an explanation of his predecessor that would no doubt come out wrong in several ways after three glasses of scotch. "You would know, maybe, the difference between being lonely and being alone," the white blond suggested in a mild tone, warmed by his drink.

Threaded | 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

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject