Log; Ongoing

[bitingnightmare.livejournal.com]

When; wee hours of Sept. 11
Rating; PG? language? gore?
Characters; Scarab (noh_dancer), The Corinthian (bitingnightmare), John Constantine (silkcutremix)
Summary; TBA
Log;
It wasn't so much the pain, rather The Corinthian wanted that wound healed as soon as possible. He felt vulnerable having to hide it, for it reminded him of what had happened, what still made little sense to him. For now he'd settled with just queling the headache in the shower, once spotless towel now completely tainted. The laughing magician was still dumpster diving for who knows what, a mop did he say? Maybe John would leave him alone after sniffing out some grub. The Nightmare felt... he didn't know how he felt, only what he needed. Because Scarab had mentioned stitching, he hoped she could employ her specialized skills on this visit.

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[bitingnightmare.livejournal.com]

*It needs to heal faster.* The Corinthian explained regarding suturing the wound, it would lessen the mess too. -Glad you've got the experience.-

He offered a faint smirk but remained still lest she drill the needle through his chin by accident. Nightmare physiology was a strange thing, only his creator had any say on what could and couldn't be done to him. Obviously death was not his for the taking, suicide seemed like an impossible option as well. Only Dream could unmake him, for there was no such thing as killing The Corinthian, only dismantling him. It made for interesting encounters like this one, and the implications of control and submission were subtle but extremely true. As for his blood, it wasn't even necessary that he bleed. The wound could pour out sands of the dreaming, like the glittering stars deep in His Master's eyes, but he was a shadow and opposite, and therefore reflected the reality of pain and suffering however gruesome.

Ugh, she might have noticed the wince at the corner of his eyes when blood began to flow again. He could feel it running down his skin, warm to the Nightmare's soul and yet an unwanted reminder of times passed. Without thinking much of Scarab's question either he answered in those jagged tones.

-John's mortal.-

*But don't let him fool you.*

[noh-dancer.livejournal.com]

Scarab grinned and raised her eyebrows, though never took her eyes from her work.
"John, huh?" She even had to pause for a few moments when a thought occurred to her, and in the process probably earned a very quizzical look from Alex.

" I knew my gaydar was going off when you were telling me about your Dream King" she explained and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Probably not a terribly delicate way to get her meaning across, but that devilish little voice in the back of her head fairly pounced on the oppurtunity to tease him a bit.

Still smiling, she straightened a little from her hunched over position and rolled her shoulders while switching out her hemostats for a fresh pair, needle and thread.
His windpipe and trachea were now repaired with the more expensive type of thread that would eventually break down and dissolve as he healed.

" Right", she said with a sigh, and used her wrist to wipe at her forehead ( and left a little smear of blood behind)
" Tricky part is done...now for the easy part.....I can't promise this isn't going to leave a scar thats going to look nasty as fuck for a while, but I'll do my best to keep them small."

She smiled, and glanced at his 'eyes', hoping to take a little of the sting out of her previous teasing.
Another spray of the novacaine, and she started in on the largest wound.
" So where did you and 'John' meet?"

[bitingnightmare.livejournal.com]

......... What?

He raised a brow himself, noting the grin on her face, and he didn't think she was grinning at his wound. Did Scarab know the man? Or maybe she didn't believe him, but what would ever give her a reason *not* to believe him. Very strange indeed. THEN it became clear as gay--uh... day. The Corinthian's expression flattened over her assessment. Now she was hardly wrong about that, he liked men (he liked them a lot) and had rarely ever been with a woman, the last he recalled was Pestilence with her flighty ways, but to determine that by how he regarded Dream of the Endless, that was... it was uncomfortable. She'd also said *gaydar* ugh.

"Rrngh," The Corinthian sounded. No, his voice wasn't back just yet.

*It's not like that, My Lord and I.* He explained to her quickly.

It wasn't like that AT ALL. How awkward it would be if it was, not that the Nightmare had ever considered it. The very thought of it made him shiver instead of cringe, the thought of looking into those deep black oblivions intimately.

-I don't scar, it's fine.-

The Corinthian said this absently, his mind still reeling from the subject she brought up. It wasn't one of those things you discussed while sewing up someone's trachea, then again sewing up tracheas outside of a hospital for a very much alive patient was rare in itself. His brows knit once more, a bit nosey about this wasn't she. The thought of him and Constantine....

*Don't say it.*

-We're from the same place.-

He clarified for her benefit, even if it should pop her... fruity fantasy bubble. Now if the white-blonde would only *answer* her question. The man fell from the sky, dropped right into his lap so to speak. That story needed to be edited before he could give it to Scarab.

*Near the carousel.*