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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Nov 20, 2010 14:18:09 GMT -8
Time seemed to creep by unnoticed in Scene’s mansion. The place had remained relatively quiet despite the tense apprehension in the air that had settled when Scene fell into a somewhat comatose state about three days ago. The rain could be heard above all the whispers at all hours of the day, and at times it seemed to be the only audible thing in the dead house.
The inhabitants mostly kept to their rooms, leaving only to check on their master or search in vain for the girl who they had been ordered to follow in his place for the time being. Vespyr, however, was nowhere to be found. The last time she was seen was when they wheeled Scene out of the chilly room, as she had been standing in the hallway with her arms folded, a grave and distant expression on her face. That was the last they had seen, but her presence had been felt greatly since then. Each hour when someone went to check on their sleeping master, they found his bandages changed and wounds cleaned, everything accounted for. It was apparent that she had frequented the room, but no one had seen her.
As for the ghost herself, she had spent most of her time wandering through the mansion in a pensive state, meandering through the hallways with the ease and secrecy of a cat. She spent the afternoons in dusty attics gazing at old paintings and withered things, and each night she retired to Scene’s bedroom where she slept comfortably beneath the bed on the cold floor. The passing of hours and days went unnoticed, for the pace of the rain never changed, nor did the dim grey light that seeped in through the tilted blinds. Everything moved slowly; as slowly as the rising and falling of Scene’s chest as he slept, his wounds only just beginning to heal.
On the third night after the incident at approximately 2AM, Vespyr was once again in the room where Scene was kept, standing by the side of the bed with her hand tracing slow meaningless circles on the pillow. She gazed pensively at dull darkness beyond the window. She was listening to the rain, half-waiting for Scene to wake up, but also wondering what it might be like if he were to stay asleep forever. It was hard to tell what she hoped, so she had stopped hoping for anything at all.
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Post by Scene on Nov 20, 2010 14:32:40 GMT -8
"You smell delightful."
A whisper, barely escaping his lips with a soft chuckle, light reflecting off his eyes. She had been looking out the window at the time, so Scene, being fully conscious, slowly turned his head to avoid her gaze pulling attention. Being in the blindspot of a persons gaze, anything more than the slow rotation of his skull would be sure to cause instant alertedness. Yeah, i just invented a word. Whats it to you? His eyes were wide, the smile on his face just as broad as he gazed at the girl. He had been watching her sit there for quite a while now, the young one caught off in her own thoughts. Perhaps she knew. But likely, she didn't. This he was sure of. He had watched her hand on his pillow, and for some reason, at first...
He was angry.
Angry because the memory of his collapse flooded through him like oceanic hurricanes. What he had told her...in truth, didn't really make sense to him. The word...love, was one that never dared to grace his lips. In a moment of weakness, however, it leapt on him like a fever. After his collapse, he remembered nothing, thankfully, the swirling darkness opening like a black hole, swallowing the very light from the air around him. After much thought, he decided to tentatively accept his position. He had said words to her that he never planned on saying to anyone, ever, since he saw himself incapable of such an emotion. That talking with her, being around her, made his senses dance like a puppet on strings obviously spoke volumes.
He touched that strange emotion now, caressing it. He liked love. Regardless of most readers sensibilities regarding it, Scene saw it as a pure thing waiting to be defiled. The way he would use it was not what it was meant for. Still, Vespyr was no average female. She would probably accept his fucked sense of emotion. He closed his eyes after he spoke to her, taking a long, slow breath through his nose. If she had tried to snatch her hand away when he spoke, his right hand would leap out with a speed generally seen at his full strength. Perhaps it would startle her, perhaps not. Whatever the case, he would try and catch her wrist and bring her hand back, smelling her knuckles slowly. The movement stabbed pain through him, rocked him, but he welcome it.
A wonderful distraction from the numb complacency the medication they had him on set him to. Unfeeling. He despised it. He would release his grip and turn his head back toward the ceiling, gazing up at it before lifting the covers and gazing down at his surprisingly good looking, completely naked form.
"Who has been bandaging my wounds?"
A simple question, direct. Almost...accusing. Did he know? Not in the least. Did he suspect? Definitely.
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Nov 20, 2010 15:09:09 GMT -8
Vespyr turned her head quickly as his voice broke the almost-silence, her hand stiffening, poised on the pillow several inches from his face. She hadn’t expected him to wake up now, her eyes were bright and alert, caught somewhere between calm relief and placid disappointment. The smile stirred her insides and made her feel nauseous for a moment, not sure if she had the urge to smile back or leave the room as quietly as she had entered it. But Scene had taken hold of her wrist, bringing her cold and slender hand to his face, breathing her in. She felt rooted to where she stood, and decided that it was the way it had to be. She would not walk away from him now, even as her hand was released.
Scene had turned away, and Vespyr’s arms folded across her chest, hands clutching loosely at her elbows as she gazed at him sternly. He seemed almost childish, smiling so, lifting off the covers. "Who has been bandaging my wounds?" [/i][/blockquote] “I have,” she answered, plainly, stepping forward to pull the covers back over him, forcefully but gently pushing his arm back onto the bed and straightening the IV tubes that ran from it. “Now stop moving, you’ll ruin something.”She spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the almost-silence that kept the inhabitants of the house in their rooms. On a table beside the bed there was arranged a kit of syringes, and she picked one of them up. Crossing her arms again, she looked down at Scene without words to say, but the tranquilizer in her hand told him that she would put him out if he attempted to get up. “Hungry?” [/blockquote][/size]
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Post by Scene on Nov 24, 2010 14:43:26 GMT -8
"Ohh...No need for the theatrics girly."
Meaning, of course, the needle she held. He planted his hands on the bed, pushing himself up to a sitting position, watching her in case he tried to stab him with the needle. He would push back against the pain and sit up against the head of the bed, planting his hands on his lap in a most long-suffering way. He would wait for her to relax, should she happened to have sat forward as though to stop him. His piercing green eyes stared without blinking into hers before softening. Tilting his head back, resting it, he looked at the corner of the room opposite him, right where the roof met the wall.
"So. What has gone on since i have been out. Has leadership passed successfully? Or did you do what you always do, and hide from what i told you?" He said it in a off-standish way, since it was obvious to him that she had done so. Sneaking into his room in the early morning? If she had taken control like he had ordered, she could have just come in whenever she wished. He let out a breath, speaking and cutting her off if she should try and respond.
"Movement is personal to me. I..." His face screwed up in slight digust. "Care about it. As i care about you." He would watch her reaction before smiling most earnestly. "I hope you don't wish me to forget what i said. Even in...that state, i was in my right mind." Sort of. "I wouldn't mind actually talking for once, rather than beating thoughts out of you. It gets most tiring." He would wait for her to actually say what she wished as he sat, his body aching from the movement of sitting up that was previously done.
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Nov 24, 2010 15:12:38 GMT -8
She flinched as he sat up, but the calmness in his voice kept her from doing anything more than that.
“I don’t know what you want me to do. You didn’t exactly leave any sort of agenda,” she said with dull frustration, sitting down on the bed with her back to him. She set the needle back on the table, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be using it. Not that she didn’t have the guts to, but it just wasn’t right. This conversation needed to happen.
“Perhaps you should explain to me what this Movement is before you tell me to blindly lead it.” Completely ignoring the latter part of what he had said, yes. But only for now.
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Post by Scene on Nov 24, 2010 15:20:20 GMT -8
"Mmm."
He turned to look at her, dead in the face.
"To put it simply, i intend to tear down a capitalist, elitist society who uses students and children to fight its battles for it, and replace it with mine." He grinned. "Mine being nothing, of course." He licked his lips. "The purpose of Movement is to combine the old fashioned process of gang stability with the personal desires of its members. They each join Movement for a purpose- wealth, power, fame, revenge, destruction, chaos. Movement will utilize those thoughts and hearts to...dispose of the only threat to what i wish compelted- Public Highschool 259." He shrugged. "I have my own reasons for wanting the place burned to the cement, but they only feed the overall goal. 259's students would never allow what i wish to happen to take place. So, i must eliminate them."
He waited to see a reaction.
"Its nothing extravagant- i have a plan, and a purpose for everything i do, of course, but the main goal is simple. Tear this world apart, and let anarchy reign." He closed his eyes in thought. "Can you picture it? A world where we, as individuals, decide on the process by which to live? Through the strength of our own muscles, we take control of our own lives, and never have to be filtered under the fist of those who believe themselves better than the average individual?" He opened them, looking at her as he awaited a response. He hadn't forgotten his previous question about what he had said- but it would probably be best to get through this shit first.
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Nov 24, 2010 15:40:50 GMT -8
A small smile came to her lips as Scene spoke, a sort of wistful tribute to the ideal that he had presented. Yes, of course she could picture it, though she cared less about the individuals that would benefit from it. While she wasn’t entirely restrained by society’s fist, it was the very idea that it was there that made her want to destroy it.
The smile disappeared, however, very quickly. Wishful thinking was rare, and she did not enjoy it.
“I see.” Though not quite realistic, and though she didn’t feel compelled to have something to fight for as it was not in her nature to do so, she silently accepted her role. Her eyes darkened with a strange seriousness, but as she was not facing him, Scene would not see.
“I think we’re past the point of fighting with each other, now. We’ve reached a whole new level, we can… do what needs to be done. A mutual understanding, of sorts. Now we can get down to business. That’s the point of all this, after all, is it not?”
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Post by Scene on Nov 24, 2010 23:27:50 GMT -8
"The point?"
He giggled aloud softly, not wanting to wake the others with his roaring laughter.
"I don't need a point to fight with you, beautiful. You make it interesting- its all i need." He mused a moment, watching and listening should she speak. He would cut her off if she did talk, however. "In this case, thought, i suppose you might be right. I can't promise i won't slap you about for fun, but as far as petty arguments...they have lost their luster." He clasped his hands, intertwining his fingers together. "You must take control of Movement for a time. I'm afraid i have a fracture in my left leg, near the ankle, and won't be able to walk for weeks after im out of this bed." Not that he really cared. She could handle it for a while- besides, he wanted to see how she would perform.
"In case you are wondering what that entails- you have but one rule. Stick to the main goal. However you do that is entirely up to you, and you have complete control of everyone. No strings. No downside. I will be the only person you answer to, and your the only face i want to see. Everyone else can go through you." He would fold his arms across his chest.
"Is there anything else?"
If not, he had some other things to address. Or... RE-adress.
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Nov 25, 2010 0:03:54 GMT -8
Scene’s giggle caused Vespyr’s eyes to grow cold, but he would see none of it as she was still facing the window, her hands on her thighs as if she were about to stand up. But she remained still until he was finished; nodding slightly, half-heartedly to show that she was listening.
"Is there anything else?" Vespyr turned to face him, her eyebrows raised slightly, but the rest of her face remaining untouched by emotion. There was nothing to feel at this point, really. She rose to her feet, keeping her body oriented toward the window with only her head turned to face the masked one.
“No, that is all.” She would walk silently toward the door.
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Post by Scene on Nov 25, 2010 0:42:44 GMT -8
A tranq would fly through the air, slamming into the door near the edge with enough force to shut the door with a perfect click. He was holding three Scalpels, Scene proving his ability to chuck things sharp and pointy was extensive.
"I'm glad there is nothing else- regarding business. But we are not done talking." He would gesture to the chair again. "Sit." He would wait for her to try and do something, like escape, which would definitely be the wrong decision since NPC's could be heard crowding outside, whispering about what was happening in the door. They probably wouldn't stop her if she tried to push past them, but it would mean revealing herself to them. The hidden door, to the direct left of his bed, would be most of the way across the room. Then again, he didn't wish to see threatening. But the discussion was not over. He would, if she took her seat once again, clear his throat.
"Now. We have some things to...remove from our chests." He watched her. "Im not sure if you think yourself some emotionless bitch- which, up until now, you may have been, but the wool does not cover my eyes. So- tell me. Why is it you hate me, hmm? I have seen the look of disgust before, the hatred burning in your eyes. I usually pull the beady little things from an individuals skull when they look at me like that." He tilted his head to the left. "Is it because i make you stronger? I make you think? I took you from the streets? I killed you to show you power? Or is it some reflexive, self-imposed feeling used as a protection against something else?"
Scene was a smart man. Charismatic. Intelligent. He knew how to read emotion, thoughts, patterns of movement and action. The NPC's outside the door would knock, should Ves have stayed. Scene would speak.
"Leave."
And they would, without question.
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Nov 25, 2010 1:19:18 GMT -8
Turning away from the door slowly, Vespyr’s eyes were wide and her mouth was a thin straight line beneath which her teeth were tightly clenched. He was holding scalpels. Of course he was holding fucking scalpels— She sighed abruptly, her eyes falling shut for a moment, trying to release some of the tension… then she walked back, snatched the scalpels from Scene’s hand and tossed them into the corner of the room, and sat down on the side of the bed. Her body was tilted toward him and she leaned in a most overbearing manner, her face so close that he could see the strained filaments in her violet irises. The intensity of her glare seemed to heat up the room.
“I hate you because I love you.” Her mouth hung open slightly after saying this, as if the words had left a bitter taste on her tongue. While it stung, an enormous weight seemed to lift from her chest, and she was left with an emotion as conflicting as the one she had tried to explain. She leaned back slightly, her eyes softening only slightly, still rather stern. Her brow furrowed.
“I hate loving you,” she restated, frowning slightly. She felt somehow… disappointed.
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Post by Scene on Nov 25, 2010 1:30:43 GMT -8
As she took his scalpels, as though he were a ten year old, he reached over his head with his right hand and under his blankets with his left. As he brought each hand back, he would once again be holding scalpels- one per fist. He set them on the bed, on the far side away from her, cocking an eyebrow as she said what he suspected. She seemed to reiterate, like she was unsure, or didn't want to say what she meant the first time. He slapped her across the face, uncaring if she got pissed off, or closed her wall. He would lurch to his feet, so when she turned around he was right in her face, stark naked. He would grab her by the shoulders and push her back against the wall, keeping a harsh grip to try and keep her from breaking free.
"You know why you piss me off, Vespyr?" He wouldnt wait for a reply. "You act like the whole fucking world is against you, like nothing is worth caring about because you have had troubles. I have taught you better- to learn to live by what you want, to take the world and show it that the slights of conformity hold no sway. Now you act like a sick, pathetic little puppy dog because you have feelings you always rejected or refused." He would slam her into the wall- not hard, but enough to make her realize that what he said was not to be ignored.
"You want to go through your life with your past controlling you feelings, your thoughts? Go right on ahead. But if you can't summon the will to choose something for yourself and never look back, and dedicate yourself to that feeling, desire, or emotion entirely? Then your far weaker than i thought." He would release her after five or ten seconds, collapsing to the knee on his uninjured leg, weakness stemming up his spine. It would be the perfect moment for her anger to lash out, if she so wished. If she didn't touch him, he would turn and sit against the wall.
"Im no where near normal, Vespyr. Im a freak. But do you know why that is?" He smiled, closing his eyes as the sweat beaded his brow. "Its because i act on what i want, what i feel, what i know and care about, or dont care about. I dedicate myself to that purpose, and live my life by my own creed, not by one that was made for me. And its the most liberating feeling in the world. Whether you love or hate me- i just want you to be open, unshackled."
"Free."
The last word- spoken with a sigh.
He would finally wait for a reply, keeping his eyes closed as the room swam.
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Nov 25, 2010 2:05:50 GMT -8
Vespyr turned away, her cheek burning, a sudden violent urge rampaging through her chest. Something seemed to snap. She wanted to scream, rip her hair out, and tear herself apart. She felt it rising in her throat, ripping through her forced sense of calm like savage teeth rending flesh. Her hands were buried in her hair as Scene forced her against the wall, clutching at it furiously, her teeth so tightly clenched they could have shattered.
“YOU DON’T GET IT, DO YOU?! YOU NEVER DO!” Even as Scene sunk to the floor, Vespyr remained hunched over against the wall, her hands embedded deeply in her hair, clawing viciously at her skull. For all the rage she had, she could have kicked Scene’s head right off his neck—but strangely, she seemed more inclined to beat herself up.
“You stupid fuck, it’s not about my PAST. It’s not about any of that bullshit, it’s because I know YOU are going to find a way to use it against me, because it’s so much easier to manipulate me if I love you, isn’t it?! THAT is why I hate it, aside from the fact that it makes me feel physically SICK. This feeling is sour vomit in my throat! It’s a fucking migraine! It makes me feel sick to my fucking stomach—I’m allergic, okay?!“
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Post by Scene on Nov 25, 2010 2:14:19 GMT -8
"Stop looking for excuses. I have never used anything against you. Ever. I have used your own personal fallacies to show you strength, truth and freedom. But devoting yourself to something? Thats not a perversion to twist. Its an act of personal self preservation. The only reason you think i would use something like feelings against you is because your afraid of knowing you care, and therefore you latch onto the first idiotic notion that comes to mind."
True- he thought,perhaps, that her past was the cause. In a way, it was in his eyes. She was simply afraid. Not to say it was without cause, after a fashion. Scene was a malicious man, a villain who planned to tear the world apart. But he was only evil to those who hung their life by the strings of a conformist society. He loved to torment those who refused to think. Vespyr had such a lack of thought, in some ways, but she was very deep in others. She had a potential for the same darkness, the same evil, yet at the same time had the fortitude, the will even, to carry his goals far beyond his death.
Eyes still closed, he would cut her off.
"You think im twisted- i am. But look back and realize that i have only been twisted toward you to teach you something. So you will learn. Don't stick me in a category based off of rash conclusions. Foolish fucking woman."
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"your hide will make a fine poncho." |
PLAYED BY OOC NAME
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Post by Vespyr on Nov 25, 2010 2:36:37 GMT -8
Every word he spoke only pushed Vespyr further away, only did more to blind her with frustration. No, he didn’t see. How could he? They were different, completely different. He liked to see the connections between them, but those connections were few and far—they weren’t from the same batch, or even the same twisted model. Different species in a mental sense, and speaking a different language. Scene’s attempts to make Vespyr see the light were as futile as explaining colour to the blind.
Because that’s what she was—blind.
In a way, it was because of her past—though not in a way that Vespyr had any control of. A part of her had simply never developed, for the seed was never planted to begin with. It wasn’t something she could fix now; it was too late. A child born without its limbs would never grow those limbs, no matter how hard it tried, and in this way Vespyr could never grow love in her heart the right way.
But of course, neither of them could see that. Vespyr had reached out desperately for the first logical excuse, and Scene stubbornly tried to awaken something that simply was not there. A real tragedy, that neither of them would ever see the light.
But what could be done about it?
Vespyr had sunk to the ground against the wall, her face buried, blood seeping from somewhere and trickling down the length of her arms. She was desperately reaching out to something within her that was not there. She screamed at it… no response.
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