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tampered2006-09-14 04:00 am
bitingnightmare.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2006-09-14 04:00 am
Log; Ongoing
When; wee hours of Sept. 11
Rating; PG? language? gore?
Characters; Scarab (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
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.
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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*Keep it down.* One eye said to Scarab in a cool tone, though its voice still sounded demonic, then the other spoke. -No I'm not proud, and it didn't do this anyway.- The Corinthian gestured to the bandages around his neck.
*It was there, yeah, some woman reined it in.*
-A man with a mask did it, white mask, Guy Fawkes I think.-
The Nightmare had lived through that era, he didn't forget such interesting details of history so easily. Regardless, her action, his story, the entire ordeal just.... He shook his head.
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She held onto the anger...Anger was good. Anger let her think, and kept that cold numbing sensation out of the pit of her stomach at the thought of the Pyramid Head skewering anyone else she knew
She even managed to take another drink without her hand shaking too badly.
The angry scowl turned to a quizzical one when he mentioned a man in a mask....and then turned to sheer surprise when she was able to place who he was talking about through the description.
" WHoa, whoa.! There is only one guy I know of in this mad house that wears a Guy Fawkes mask, and thats that V guy I told you about."
She took a thoughtful hit off her cigarette, and glanced over at the retreating Constantine before going on with her train of thought.
" ...How the hell did you manage to piss him off? He is , like, the most stable person here!"
Shaking her head in mild disbelief she brought one hand up to rub her temple.
"You must have fucked up something awful ..."
In which case you still deserved to be slapped she added mentally.
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He needed a cigarette, badly, but puffing on one with that throat wound was not a good idea. Even if the burn couldn't physically hurt him it would likely slow the healing process. So he was lacking in nicotine, alcohol, his voice, and now Scarab's faith in him, which he shouldn't have expected much in the first place. They'd known each other only for days (and yet her handywork and closed his most vicious wound). The Corinthian looked to Constantine briefly, but why should he expect the Englishman to come to his aid too.
-I became what I always am, a mirror.-
The eye hissed at her. He didn't appreciate how his nature was to blame for this mistake, this fault.
-He ran to me, and when I saw him I reflected.-
The Nightmare wasn't trying to deny any blame. He could admit to losing control, to allowing himself to be consumed by their fears, their guilt, their ugliness, but he would not say that his very nature was the mistake. It sickened him to think so, knowing that the necessary function Dream understood could be so reviled in the waking world.
*He didn't like what he saw. I tried to to take the mask.*
-Then he killed me.-
'Killed.'
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A brief mumble. "Can't help you, squire." In the spirit of Constantine's refusal to meddle in affairs that weren't his, the Corinthian was on his own.
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Why was she even that upset? Alex was a big boy...hell, he wasn't even human, so he didn't have to worry about pesky little things like maiming and death.
Why should she care?
Because I'm alone in this place without the few friends I have. I hated being alone in the real world, and making the attempt here nearly got me killed.
The scene looked a bit like a boxing ring with the two combatants retreating to thier respective corners to have a breather and a drink until the bell rang agian and they both came back out swinging.
Scarab let the quiet stay for a bit...hoping that her voice wasn't so irritable sounding when she spoke agian.
" Ok, ok,- fine. I get that there are a lot of things in this world I am not meant to understand. I get that you're not human, and can't think like a human. I even get that you were 'made' for a purpose, and that purpose can be a very ugly one.
But what I don't get is how you seem remarkably good at not hearing yourself."
The last statement earned her a scowl that even with teeth-eyes was easy to recognize. She held up her hand to indicate she wasn't finished talking.
" You're a mirror. Ok, whatever....but let me ask you something: How many mirrors out there try and take away something from what they are reflecting?
You tried to remove something from this guy. I don't care what it was, that makes you more than a mirror. At that moment you were meddling, and it turned into self-defense on his part."
She crossed her arms and dropped her eyes back to the floor.
Yes, she was chewing him out without really knowing him all that well ( assuming time spent in one another's company dictated how well they knew each other), but it was a hell of a lot better than admitting to being worried about one of the very few 'friends' she had in this place.
Somehow she doubted he would return the sentiment.
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-Self defense for revealing a base Truth.-
Hahahaha, says the supposedly reformed child-molesting serial killer. If only Scarab knew him well enough to reply how The Corinthian would have done the same had the man gone for his glasses. Well... he wouldn't have slit someone's throat, but a *very* unwelcome touch to the eyes would have left someone without their fingertips anymore. And there was that period of time, a tiny stretch compared to the rest of his life pre-rebirth the former phantom would say, of 75 years with the relentless bloodletting, the relentless violation, no remorse for the lives he took, flawed monster, petty nightmare. She was right to point out how his physical interference was not justified, and he knew it, but not why he did it.
*I know this guy is one of your friends.*
He clarified for her, in case the woman believed he thought lesser of the masked man simply because he was human. The Nightmare... wasn't like that anymore, looking down on mortals as a field of eyes waiting to be harvested. He took a lean at the counter and rubbed his hand over his face briefly, huffing a deep breath. Had it been possible to keep things under control, to satiate in the shadows? Satiate *what*...
-I lost control of the situation.-
He admitted to Scarab, hoping to reassure her and himself that the entire ordeal and its bloody outcome, reflecting horrors to horrors, was not what he wanted, not what he desired. If he had desired it all, forcing humans to commit crimes, He would be most disappointed. The Nightmare should not be so easily manipulated by His brother/sister.
*Sorry.*
The situation diffused quickly, at least for him. What more could he say without getting into that past with the red and sticky fingerprints all over it.
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"I just know who he is."
She felt distinctly uncomfortable with the direction this was heading now...far too emotional.
She shrugged off the apology, and to sort of make up for the slap, poked him playfully in the arm.
" It's ok. Sorry for getting all pissy on you"
Scarab sighed and pushed herself the rest of the way up onto the counter, then glanced over at John who had wisely stayed clear of the whole mess.
" So where were we? Kinfe-wielding monkeys kidnapping John?"
She chose to let the matter of 'truths' and the nature of The Corinthian rest for the moment...that sounded like a subject best left discussed over hard liquor & maybe some opium.
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Scarab seemed to know him enough to judge that ol' Cori must have done something awful to set the masked man off. She could also smack him again for not knowing how to accept an apology in a more appropriate manner! However her reception of his was no better or enthusiastic so the feeling was mutual. Maybe it was just the line of work they shared. Since she turned her attention back to John, the Nightmare sort of gave himself a period to cool off. The woman had sewn his neck shut, he had no justifiable way to presume she didn't care, and he knew she did.
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"What about the monkeys, luv?" The magus could sense less tension in the room, less heat between the two. Good. "There are monkeys here...?"
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There was something positively cute about beffudled englishmen.
...that or she had a fetish she wouldn't admit to.
" Ya, monkeys. Specifically the one that held you at knife-point.
What did it say, exactly?
I mean, did it tell you why you were being sent here?"
Who knows? Maybe John's key to getting out could lay in what this critter had said?
Seemed no less insane than anything else here, after all.
((OOC: sorry for delay! ;.; ))
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"A victim of inevitability," he muttered distantly. Strange too, considering most of his misfortunes were his own doing. He couldn't recall what he had done after the Tate Club incident, although that might as well have been it; he had been guest speaker to the magi of London, at the least, and he gave them all a fancy, frilly slap in the face.
Not a smart move, considering. He was streetwise and knew the rules and tricks, but a good many of them could do more that pull a rabbit out of a damn hat. Much more. They would know to catch him off guard, while he was down, when he was most tender. A mental grin: And to think, he picked this time to quit the magic?
Thinking about how he got here drew his eye momentarily to the Corinthian. But what could he have done? Sure the nightmare and his bloodline had met before but...
(He'd look back on this speculation and laugh about it once it all had been figured out.)