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Post by Vespyr on Apr 25, 2013 1:43:40 GMT -8
Revisited
Inklings of sunbeams on the eastern horizon brought silence to the long empty highway as the dawn's dim shadows stirred over the cracked asphalt and the wheels of a motorcycle gradually came to a halt. Vespyr's boot crunched lightly on the pavement for the first time in several hours. The last ground to touch the sole of her boot was back in Long Beach. Hours later through the night and miles away to the North, the sun was finally rising and it was her turn to sleep.
Vincent roused at the sudden quiet and stillness, stirring from his sleep behind her with his lanky arms wrapped around her thin waist. He blinked the sleep from his grave violet eyes and silently switched places with her.
Leaning against her brother's warm back, Vespyr tightened the scarf about her neck, pulled up her hood, and closed her eyes.
The motorcycle sped away again up the coast, and she was soon asleep...
You again. |
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Post by Scene on Apr 25, 2013 2:19:12 GMT -8
The boat rocked under his feet, swaying as Andrew shut the door of the Captains cabin behind him. The hallway of the ship was deserted, large lanterns swinging back and forth along the causeway. He looked to his left, and then right, shaking his head a moment before tucking the piece of rolled up poster paper under his arm and heading left. Above him, he could hear the footsteps of men and the shouting orders of the second officer, working away above him to make sure the coming storm could be prepped for. He took the first left and entered the open door of his Cabin, shutting it behind him without much ado before tossing the paper onto the bed. It had been a long few weeks, and he had quite a bit more time before he reached the port of Mumbai. Things had been hash since he left the African west coast, but the rewards of his trip so far had been... astounding. And exhausting. He would glance down at the paper, staring a few moments as he was tempted to go over them one more time- that is, before the yawn. Though he knew it was just a reaction of less oxygen reaching his brain, it reminded him of how very little sleep he had been getting of late. Tearing off his shirt, he would stand and approach the mirror, beginning to brush his teeth with a small dab of toothpaste. Looking in the mirror as he did so, the brushing slowed, his other hand coming down to touch the scar where... He winced. Where she had stabbed him. The Devils boogeyman. He knew she was probably the most terrifying person he was likely to ever meet- and he was to blame. If not in whole, then in part. He rinsed out his mouth, spitting into the sink before wiping his face with a towel and crawling into bed, leaving the paper at the foot of it. He would flick a switch by his mattress, the lights dimming and then going out. He stared up at the bottom of his bed from the darkness, flashes of memory running through his brain- a white mask, the girl with the silver hair cutting him down. Of moments in time when she and he had killed, together. Even when he killed her. His eyes fluttered closed. There were times when he wondered if she became what she was because of him. If while they were together, the darker turn he saw in her was because he... because he... His breathing evened out. And another breathed in his place. In the dark recesses of his mind, a finger twitched, a hand grasped a cup that was filled with wine. Around the hand materialized a body, and around that body a throne. From his feet shot out burned, and blackened earth, rubble still mixing with the vines and undergrowth that seemed drawn to it. All of them were dark- briar patches, and deadened weeds. Things that strangled or killed. Nothing of good seemed to grow in that place, and the man in the chair approved. Andrew Black was gone, dreaming sleepless behind the eye of a man dead to the world. A tired man. But one that breathed now in the world of dreams. His other hand came up, running over the smooth surface of his white mask, green eyes looking down to the blood staining his clothes. At the hole that was in his torso, no longer bleeding, just jagged and raw. He brought the wine up to his lips, tasting the sweet ring of life for a moment. Just a moment. ' Why...am I here?' |
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Post by Vespyr on Apr 25, 2013 2:32:11 GMT -8
Vespyr approached the man in the throne casually, hardly with a glance of interest as if passing just another unfamiliar lifeless figure in a wax museum. After all, that's all he was: dead and gone. This was only a recreation of her memory's design.
How interesting. It wasn't often that she dreamed of him anymore, but when she did it was hardly a thing to make note of. How many times had she killed him in her sleep? How many times had she been too disinterested to bother lifting her sword at all? The tall woman loomed by the throne, glaring down at Scene with a dispassionate void of emotion like a black hole behind her dark violet eyes.
Eyes much blacker than the last time he had seen them, even in dreams.
Vespyr reached down and placed the tip of a long claw upon the wound in his chest, and prodded it with something almost like morbid amusement flickering unspoken across her black cherry lips.
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Post by Scene on Apr 25, 2013 2:44:27 GMT -8
Scene watched with relaxed eyes as she approached, saying nothing for several moments.
'I see.'
As she bent and began to stick a finger in the open wound, he took another drink from his cup, ignoring the flashes of searing pain that tore through his abdomen. He needed to collect himself before he started in.
The girl was older. Eyes and form almost...wired. Coiled like a big black nothing waiting to swallow you. On her face, he could see everything- everything that was once on his face. The shadow behind the skin. He turned his gaze back toward her, before speaking calmly.
"This must not be the first time you have dreamed of me."
He could feel the slow throb of his energy leaking back- not enough to do anything with, not like before. But enough to move about in this dream realm freely. Oh yes- he knew they were dreaming. It was the curse of who he was. Being a part of the soul of Mr. Black meant he would always understand when his powers were in effect. And unfortunately for Vespyr and himself- this was not one of those "leave when you want" dreams. They would come up for air when the point of connection was lost. When one of them died, or the connection broke from reaching it's endpoint.
Either way, they were stuck, for now.
The great thing about dreams- you could do so MUCH with just a single real hour.
He would take another sip as he waited.
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Post by Vespyr on Apr 25, 2013 2:53:16 GMT -8
She gave quiet chuckle without any actual amusement behind it: a rather cold, unforgiving sound.
"Of course not. And that's not the first time you've said that," she sighed, quite monotone.
"It's almost... precious, how you'll never change."
Stuck here forever. That's your curse.
She withdrew her claw from the wound and examined it apathetically. No blood, hmm. She had finally forgotten the taste of him, and couldn't even recall it in dreams anymore. Oh well.~ |
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Post by Scene on Apr 25, 2013 2:57:50 GMT -8
He smiled.
"Ah, well I can't think of a worse fate than being trapped in your head forever either. Worse for us both."
He stood out of the chair, watching her passively, as he stepped down from the dias, toward the rubble. He sifted through it with a foot, the paintings nothing but ash. He would look back at her and flash his pearly white teeth.
"I'm not dead, you know."
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Post by Vespyr on Apr 25, 2013 3:05:28 GMT -8
Vespyr just rolled her eyes. 'Uh-huh.'
"I told you last time. Killing you used to be fun and all but it got a little dull after awhile. Tell me something new."
She sank into the throne in his place. Her thin frame hardly filling it as she reclined somewhat tiredly into it. Long arms sprawled along the armrests and her skeletal hands clutched loosely at the ends, prodding with the tips of her claws, seemingly taking more interest in the chair than the man. |
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Post by Scene on Apr 25, 2013 3:08:47 GMT -8
He turned away, crouching and lifting a frame.
"I'm not familiar with last time. Or any times before, for that matter. The last thing I remember is staring into the darkness off the coast of India."
He would pick some of the gold embroidery off the frame, continuing his comments.
"What a very graphic memory you have. Everything exactly as it was the night you killed me."
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Post by Vespyr on Apr 25, 2013 3:18:12 GMT -8
Vespyr stared at him with a dull, almost distracted look...
...and yaaaawned.
She tilted the side of her head onto a loosely clenched fist, crossed her legs, and blinked emotionlessly.
"Always did have an eye for detail." she mumbled, hardly compelled to say anything at all. What a dull dream. She almost felt like she could just... sleep right through it. But she rambled on as he picked through the ruins.
"The last time. Damn, that was awhile ago. But last time I was too busy to kill you. Of course you wouldn't remember, though. You're just a broken record, skipping again every time... Not such a shame, after all. You used to be so full of surprises.
"I hate surprises."
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Post by Scene on Apr 25, 2013 3:23:41 GMT -8
He laughed as he continued to shift rubble and planks of wood.
"Do you think I care about the little insults you keep spouting? I'm trying to figure out what called me from the young Blacks head, so I can stay out."
He would stick a hand in his pocket and stand, turning to look back at her.
"I don't doubt you have dreamed of every possible thing I could do or say. Woohoo- good for you. Unless..."
His image would seem to skip, now, like a flashing video, shifting in the air before appearing a few feet in front of her as he would lean in.
"Unless you brought me from that boat...Hmm..."
He would poke her in the stomach thoughtfully.
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Post by Vespyr on Apr 25, 2013 3:32:46 GMT -8
Half-closed eyes stared at him in utter boredom. She didn't even heard half the words he said, she wasn't listening. Used to hearing him rant on and on, it was almost like she was deaf to him now. His lips moved beyond the mask but all she heard was... she couldn't even remember what he'd said a second ago.
But there he was, in her face again. As his hand moved for her flat stomach she merely swatted it away and rose up out of her chair, ducking past him.
"I can't even remember now, were you always this boring."
The pale woman wandered off in an arbitrary direction, as if to dismiss him, expecting she should pass into deeper sleep soon, where not even dreams or ghosts could disturb her.
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Post by Scene on Apr 25, 2013 3:36:27 GMT -8
And so she would wander, for a moment.
Around her, as she walked, a hallway built itself- a hallway in his mansion. From around the corner, a few feet in front of her Scene would step and try to grip her throat, walking back to push her against the wall. His eyes would scan over her face.
"How did you bring me here?"
His hand would begin to squeeze.
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Post by Vespyr on Apr 25, 2013 3:48:00 GMT -8
Vespyr's breath halted for a moment as his hand forced her throat, only to trail off a moment later in a tired sigh. Under his hand he'd feel her deathly cold skin for only an instant before he would feel nothing. She was gone from his grasp, a faint mirage flickering back to the spot just beside him where she initially was turning the corner of the hallway uninhibited.
"Somebody's still in denial." she tsked sarcastically, walking away with her hands deep in the pockets of her trench coat.
"How is it that you still don't think you're dead when I know you are. Oh, the mystery." |
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Post by Scene on Apr 25, 2013 3:54:24 GMT -8
He stared after her, hand lowering as he looked at the area around them. He stared at the area for a few moments, frowning. Before he would turn to follow her, his own hands in his pockets.
"Oh, I don't deny I died. But I'm not dead. This isn't the first time I've dream skipped. But, since your even more stubborn than me, I suppose convincing you is pointless. So lets just chat for a while- I'm sure I'll find out soon how i got here."
He would continue to follow her, this dream sync making it actually impossible for him to lose her, ever. So, he would stay until he figured it out. He let out a sigh.
"So how long have I been quote unquote dead?"
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Post by Vespyr on Apr 25, 2013 4:02:56 GMT -8
'Words words words words words died words words words dead words words words words words...'
Vespyr eyed the paintings in the hallway with mute interest, paying no mind to the man behind her for a little while. She did miss those paintings, and admittedly had considered stealing them before she burned the mansion down. Art was a terrible thing to waste. But at least she kept them all here, etched in her memory.
Is he still talking?
"Year and a half, maybe." she replied with indifference, sliding her hand along an ornate bannister as she began to ascend the stairs. |
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