bakerstreet | catch the wheel that breaks the butterfly, said if you won't save me please don't waste my time

[ AWKWARD SELFCEST IS THE BEST...CEST? ]

[THE BEST.

She's staring up at you from the floor, she will not get up unless you order her.

She won't talk very much either, avoiding your eyes and staring at your feet.

Really, she won't do anything without an oder.]

[ There is something interesting about having a double. Leaf knows this other Leaf is different, and yet... it's strange. It's so strange. They're not the same, don't even look that similar anymore. Leaf's so young compared to the Leaf on the floor, the one that's been broken to this point.

She squats down so she is closer to her eye level. Eye contact. ] Who are you?

[This Leaf just tilts her head.

That wasn't an order, what do you want her to do?

You wouldn't talk with someone like her unless you wanted her to do something, right? She'll keep waiting for you to ask her to do something for you.]

[ No response?

... well. ] Can you talk?

[She'll nod, casting her gaze away.]

Then why aren't you talking?

[She tilts her head, a bit confused.

Why would anyone want her to talk now?

That isn't what she was good for.]

Do you not like to talk?

[Leaf looks so confused.

Why aren't you ordering her around?

It's all she's good for now...]

[ Too bad this Leaf doesn't understand silence or the gravity of this. ] Is something wrong?

[And again another headtilt.

Why would anything be wrong with her?

She's functioning just fine, just like they taught her to, anyway.]

I just want to talk with you...

[... that's not what she's for.]

Don't ignore me...

[She's not ignoring you. She's looking up at you, still waiting for an order. For you to tell her what to do.

But you aren't giving her an order.]

Talk to me!

What do you want me to say?

Whatever you want to!

Nothing I say is important.

It is to me!

Why?

[Men only if it's going to be pushed towards anything relationship-related.]

[ so I totally rolled a 6 and you can roll for something else if you want to or whatever ]

[There's blood everywhere. It wasn't supposed to be that kind of battle, but it was too late. The first to fall had been Jaffar, and the second, Nino. This wasn't supposed to happen. He had seen other bodies among the fallen as well, people he hardly knew. Rebecca, Lowen, Serra. Children. Even if the enemy was Nergal's fang, a few faces Legault recognized, it no longer mattered. He was angry, but then he was something more.

Everyone was dying. Legault was the one doing the killing. Everyone who moved close to him as he walked through the enemy-ridden town met a swift end thanks to his blade. Normally, he would have stayed back, it wasn't his job to be on the front lines. He was going to make sure they all paid dearly, though.

His cloak, his blade, the ground, his face...everything was becoming stained with blood as he ran through the battlefield, showing no mercy, quickly outpacing the rest of the other soldiers. His family had already been changed, stolen from him. Someone had to pay for it, he would fix it, even if it meant slaying the fleeing soldiers and those that were already wounded.]

Edited 2012-01-09 08:49 (UTC)

[ This was wrong. So, so wrong. There's just too much blood, too much death, and even though Heath's a trained soldier (or, well, ex-soldier, if you want to look at it from Bern's standpoint) there's still an uneasiness that forms in the pit his stomach seeing the familiar faces. How many people had to die before enough was enough and the fighting would just end? Everyone has a limit, and Heath was just about at his.

Just when he's thought he's seen enough, though, he spots Legault down below on the battle field and for a moment he feels like he's forgotten how to breathe. From up high he can't see too many details, but that... that's merciless. He can barely recognize him as the Legault he knows and although he can understand the reasoning behind the transformation, a voice in the back of his head tells Heath that he needs to stop him before it's too late.

He's quick to tell his wyvern to fly closer to the ground and to be cautious of any snipers and archers that may still be alive and hiding... but as the distance closes he realizes he actually has no idea what he's doing. But he can't do nothing... right? ] Legault!

[Ramirez didn't think anything of it when Legault disappeared. He wouldn't be able to keep his attention forever; it was just how things went, how they always went, and it was stupid and childish of him to think otherwise. This didn't hurt, he was accustomed to the treatment, and this didn't hurt.

Mercenary life was the only option in this place, for a man like himself, but it wasn't so bad. He had never been materialistic, anyway; make enough money to keep himself fed and sheltered and Ramirez didn't find himself wanting much more. Today's mission was a simple one; a group of prisoners had been bargained for and released. Keep accountability throughout the night. Simple, easy, boring. He watched them come in from the sidelines of the camp. One with brown hair, one with black hair, one with long, lavender hair--

Long, lavender hair. The kind that made his breath catch and his heart twist.

He knew that hair.

He knew that face.

Suddenly everything just felt like he had swallowed a piece of hot lead roughly the size of his stomach. He's cutting across camp before he even realizes what he's doing, hand clamping down on the other man's wrist and jerking him back until they were face to face.

Oh god, no. No no no no no no no.]

Legault.

[Oh Moons, was that his voice?]

Slithering out of the house, Jay was in such shock that he hadn't thought to turn his long serpent's tail back into legs, but he had to get out of that house. The walls inside had been splattered with the blood of innocent nagas, and the worst part was, the one who did it was someone he knew. He couldn't process any of it.

Jay wouldn't get far. He would soon find himself tripping over a bush in the path. A bush that was normally a few key inches back, but a bush.

No matter. It would give his pursuer enough time to catch up. Fortunately for Jay, it wasn't the pursuer he'd be expecting.

"Hey! Slow down, I'm not going to hurt you!"

He was startled when he crashed into the bush, which snapped him out of the trance like state he was in in time to see the person following him. She was clearly not who he was trying to flee from, but he hissed anyway and darted to the far side of the bush.

"Who are you? What do you want?" His voice shook with the terror of someone on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"My name is Elise." The green haired woman kneels down beside him, keeping her movements slow and careful while still being tensed to chase after him again. She can't let him get away. He's a danger to himself and others, in this state.

"We're here to help you. My fiancee and I...he's still back at the house, straightening things out. But I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"Straightening...things out?" He wasn't sure what she meant by that. He wasn't sure what could be straightened out at this point, at least in the house. He supposed killing the one who did it would be straightening things out.

Elise and Helios weren't terribly sure what could be done to rectify this chaos, either. But they were damn sure going to try, they always tried. Right now, Elise's job was to get this boy off the streets and somewhere safe.

"Stopping anyone else getting hurt. Stopping you getting hurt. Finding out what happened."

"It's obvious what happened. Mur--they were all killed."

"By what? And for what reasons? That's what he and I are here to find out." Elise steps forward just enough to offer him a hand up.

He knew by what, but he couldn't bring himself to say it, because when he thought about it he felt an overwhelming sense of terror rise up like bile in his throat. He let her help him up, and he struggled to overcome the shock in order to say what he'd seen. It didn't work. "I ssss--" his attempt to say the word 'saw' failing entirely and coming out as nothing more than a snake-like hiss.

"Sssh. Don't think about it now. You can help us later - we'll need your help later. But not now." She slides an arm around his shoulders to support him before beginning to lead the boy slowly but surely away</

He lets her guide him away, staring back at the house as he went.

[Sometimes it feels like the rest of the boys go marching into stupid fucking situations without really thinking about what they're doing. Half the time, Bob knows that's the case.

Showing up late isn't so much ever his fault as a rescue mission, and today is no different. He's just not prepared for what he finds when he gets there.]

Fucking-- what the fuck are you doing?

[It's yet another case of a job gone wrong. There wasn't meant to be anyone in the shop; they'd closed up hours ago. But if he'd just waited another day, then maybe he wouldn't have missed that the owner had decided that tonight was the night he'd handle his paperwork. That when they broke in, the owner hadn't forgotten to set the alarm. He just hadn't needed to yet.

It definitely didn't help that the owner's son had turned up to find his dad unconscious and chose to try and fight back.

It's his blood that's dotting the front of One Two's jacket, his hands shining red. The son hadn't been small by any means, so at first it'd simply been a case of needing to stop the walking brick shithouse before he got his own face smashed in. But now the roles are reversed, and even if the man's attempts are half-hearted at best, One Two isn't done.

It's why Bob's words go unheard; ignored entirely. His hands are busy, and he's not ready to be distracted.]

[Bob's eyes dart to several different places in quick succession, first where he can see the lens of the security camera glinting in light escaping from the very back of the shop, then to the street, and finally to the broad shoulders of the Scottish twat he's here to rescue. Or not.

What he's actually looking at is his best mate beating the shit out of a younger bloke, one that doesn't look like he's putting up much of a fight. There's blood -Bob fancies more blood than he can actually see- and while he's probably doing the stranger a favour, he's acting mostly to save One Two more trouble than it's worth when he moves again.]

Oi, come on. Think he's got the message. [He stops at the bigger man's shoulder, reaches out to wrap fingers around the curve of it to pull him back and away.]

[He swings automatically at the touch, aiming wildly in Bob's direction. He still hasn't quite registered the fact that it's actually Bob standing there and not some other kid who's decided to drop by. One was enough to deal with already. But if he's there for a fight too, well, bring it on. This new guy needs to either put up or shut up.

Except. Wait.]

Bob? [No, that's not right. Bob wasn't there. He was late, and who the fuck knows where Mumbles is tonight.

The thought gets cut off mid way though as the man beneath him- Mike was it? -starts trying to push him away. It's more than enough to grab One Two's attention again. Just in time for him give another blow to the head.]

Easy! Fucking hell. [Bob's smaller than One Two and maybe a well-aimed blow would have him on his arse, but this one is clumsy and narrowly misses him. He's not seen One Two like this for a long time and, though he's sure there's an explanation behind it all, he's not ready to stand back and watch. That little git on the floor is nothing more than exactly that. Not a fifteen stone Russian by a long-fucking-shot.]

For fuck's sake-- [This time he grabs at One Two's arm, stops him from dealing another blow to the poor bastard on the floor bleeding and probably wishing he'd just stayed at home in front of Eastenders.]

What the fuck are you doing? Come on, twat. There's a fucking camera in here.

[Another swing, a strike. Except there's someone stopping him, and despite having only just recognised that voice, he still hasn't caught on to just what's happening. He's too busy to think that far ahead. So, once again, it's Bob who he's turning on now. Too bad that his attempts end up as more of a dive, that to the hold Bob has on him.

At least he's not beating on the kid anymore?]

Let go of me, you fucking arsehole.

[Because, dear Bob, he wants to smash your face in now.]

[Bob almost trips up backwards, doesn't expect One Two to turn on him that fast. In the end he's still got an edge, his clear head and usual speed giving him a slight advantage. There's a moment's silence of shock before he speaks again, hands buried in One Two's clothes to try and keep him at arm's length until he sorts himself the fuck out.]

Keep your fucking hair on, yeah? We need to go.

Let. Go.

[There's still a job to do, and Bob's the only one left standing in his way. The safe needs to be emptied completely. It's just too bad that the one person who knows the combination is still unconscious. And the other guy, well, he may not have enough of a jaw left to talk anymore.]

We leave when I say we leave.

Fuck's sake, alright. [Bob's hands finally turn One Two loose, but he's not done yet either. Sooner or later someone is going to raise an alarm, and fuck if he's letting his mate go back for another stretch in prison. The first fucking time was long enough.]

Mate, whatever the fuck it is you need to do... hurry the fuck up.

Looking forward to this way more than I should be.

(( Shall I roll, or you? ))

((More fun if it's you, but I'm slightly biased. I'm happy with whatever you grab.))

[ Castiel is no stranger to pain. He's a soldier, after all, and an angel. Pain and injury in a human body is still a mere annoyance at best, even with being cut off from Heaven. He's been tortured by his own kind. He can handle it.

But then, all it takes is one foe with an alarmingly thorough knowledge of Enochian sigils and incantations and an uncomfortable familiarity with exactly how to use it to hit where angels hurt most - inside his very grace. It should be impossible. Should be. Should be. But his grace is burning, twisting in ways it shouldn't and he can barely move to try and strike back - stupid, he should have expected this, but how could he? This sort of magic is secret, forbidden, its use caught him off-guard before he could react, and now everything hurts--

Until it doesn't, and he can't tell if that's because it's stopped or not. Because he can't feel anything anymore. Not the human sensation of hard concrete against his palms. Not the contained brightness of his grace inside his vessel. Not the state his grace might be in. Nothing. He feels far away, distant, detached from the flow of time in a way that has nothing to do with his ability to exploit how fluid it is.

He has about enough presence of mind left to know that he's in trouble. ]

[They were too slow. Sloppy, they needed to be faster. He and Sam should have been able to work it out ten times more quickly, but they weren't on the same wavelength anymore. Out of practice with each other, unequipped to deal, and this is what it resulted in. Cas, twisted on the floor- how much must he have been dealt that he fell to this? He'd deal with that in a minute, first came stopping the evil son of a bitch that put him there in the first place.

As always, it was guns blazing as soon as they burst through the door. Two shots rang out, but neither of them mattered very much. With a hand wave, Sam's gun was across the room, another and Dean himself tossed to the side. Sam wasn't deterred, and he grappled with the entity- what they were assuming to be a demon- for a long second. Something that powerful, though, couldn't be detained for long. With a spin, the two smacked into a support strut, and Sam fell with a pained heap to the floor.

Dean was behind it a second later, thrusting forward with with the knife. It dodged right, but took a sweeping cut up the arm. With a grating shriek and black eyes, it fled, knocking over a shelf on the way. Sam fled after it, and Dean crossed the room to Castiel, falling down at a kneel beside him.

An arm slipped under his shoulders precariously, the other shaking him gently but urgently.]

Cas. Hey- wake up, focus- that thing's coming back, we gotta get out of here. Eyes up, damn it.

[So maybe gentle face-slapping wasn't the nicest way to call someone's attention, but it was certainly the most expedient. He's not exactly the 'stop and assess the damage' type, not right off the bat.]

[ It was difficult to focus. Why was it difficult to focus? He knew something was going on, he could hear it. A struggle. Shouting. The Winchesters? He should help them, he knew, but there was something... his mind kept wandering. Bringing it back to the here and now long enough to tell his body to move was taxing. He felt filled with cloud - insubstantial, impossible to see anything through it.

He could hear Dean's voice though - sounding as if it was coming through a filter, but he could hear it. Right now it seemed like one of the best things he'd heard in a long time. The words themselves were having trouble getting across, though. They trickled through slowly. ]

Dean... [ It was about then things clicked into place. Get out. It's coming back. He was aware of his face moving, slightly - not of his own volition. Dean trying to get his attention, somehow?

But then if Dean was here, then... ] Where's Sam? [ Had to be nearby. But the brightness of Sam's soul, even with the taint of demon blood - he couldn't sense it. Had he been-- No. Wait. He'd made things that way himself. Marked both of their ribs - why was it so difficult to think? ]

[Great. That was just great. He was worse off than Dean anticipated, limp and struggling with coherency. His eyes were out of focus, his voice- well, that was pretty much the same, actually.]

Jesus Christ, Cas, what the hell did they do to you? Alright, come on-- [That was exactly what they needed right now. An incapacitated angel and a douchebag with a masochism complex. He shifted, hefting, tugging Castiel upright. He wasn't not as heavy as he looked, but he was dead weight, and Dean let out a grunt as he pulled.]

He's chasing that bastard down, that's where. Keeping him off our asses until we can get you outta here. It's not gonna last long, though, whatever that thing is, it's powerful. Is it a demon? [Like that was important at the moment. They could figure it out as soon as they put some distance between them and Captain Sunshine. He tugged a limp arm over his shoulders, slid his own around Castiel's upper back.]

[ Castiel sagged against Dean's side as he was pulled up. So now he was a burden. Not what he'd planned, becoming more of a hindrance than a help, but-- ]

My grace-- [ Trying to answer Dean's first question without thinking about it first was like wildly picking words when he couldn't see any of them. Completely unhelpful. And not important. If Sam was alone... ]

A demon? [ A pause. Dazed as he tried to force himself to gather his thoughts from wandering. ] I don't know. It's- [ The words came slowly, a struggle to keep them understandable. ] It has knowledge of Enochian.

Yeah, I got that. [Considering the symbols around the room, and the ones carved into Cas himself- that part he's trying not to think about, because he just might rip something's head off. But Castiel's words are slurring and barely comprehensible, and he shakes his head just a little as he pushes forward, moving them into a shuffling forward-gate. He supports most of Castiel's weight, he's strong, but it's awkward, so it's slow going as they clear the doorway.

Either way, it's evident Cas isn't going to be much help in the given situation, not even with figuring out how to stop the thing currently being distracted- and hopefully detained- by Sam.] Alright, listen. I'm gonna get us out of here, but you've got to do me a solid, alright? Do not pass out. I can't stress that enough. You pass out, and I swear to god I'll punch you, alright? Just... keep talking.

[ He idly thinks that Dean punching him is an empty threat. It's not as if it could do any more damage. Probably not best to voice that thought, though. Even if it didn't take more effort than he has to spare. Less trouble just to agree with him. ]

'Kay. [ Angels don't pass out, he wants to say, the thought swimming before him, but everything feels so vague that he doesn't know. Maybe he might. ] What... about?

[It's the emptiest threat he's ever issued, a combination of not wanting to do any more damage, and the fact that in order to punch him, he'd have to let go of his rather precarious grip. Which would mean fumbling for time that they didn't have. Echoing through the halls, he can hear gunshots, which means Sam's still holding it up, and he tries to pick up the pace.]

Hell, I don't know. Heaven? Tacos? What'd it do to your grace? Maybe a heads-up on how I can fix it? [They round a corner, and he nearly stumbles over fallen pipework.] Maybe you could tell me what the hell Lost is about, because that show still doesn't make any goddam sense.

I was going to ask you if you'd like to roll for what you'd like to see happen here? If not, I completely understand. XD

I don't have any preferences, if you want to go ahead and roll for whichever one. I've got to run to work anyway and don't have time to tag beforehand.

Okay, I rolled a 6--Hysteria. I wanted to just talk about how they might know each other in this situation? This way we have some basis...and then we can figure out how to move from there? Was it after a hunt gone bad? Was she someone that he came to help on a hunt, and this particular beastie did something to break him? Say like when he got kidnapped and was then transported to a world where he had a girlfriend, who he had been looking at in a magazine in the real world. Sam and Jess were engaged, and he was graduated from college or may be just about too. His mother was still alive too I forget the name of the beastie.

Or was it just him being broken down over and over by the angels, and the apocalypse and losing Sam to the pit and so on? I ask because I would hate to post something and then it seems like a god-mod and I don't want to upset you here. XD The other post is your tag I believe...XD

(Observe, an angel. Only there's a darkness about him - a real bad hunch, prickling at the back of Dean's neck. Not to mention the blackness at the edges of his sleeves and the bottom of his coat.]

I'm glad I could find you again, Dean. I hope you haven't gotten into too much danger without me.

[His senses are on fire the second Cas appears. Darkness, something... bad. His hands curl around the handle of the knife beneath his seat and he reclines casually in his chair.]

...Cas. Hey. Think we've been pretty calm on the trouble front. You alright?

I feel better than I've ever felt before.

[There's almost a smirk in the quirk of his lips. He comes closer to Dean - even his movements are sweeping and confident, and uses his power to bring a chair over to him. He puts this chair next to Dean's, and sits.]

Those leviathans... they shouldn't bother you now. You can go back to driving the Impala, if you want.

...What did you do?

[Oh, that doesn't sound good. That sounds like the opposite of good. He eyes Cas warily as the chair shoots across the room, tries not to shift away when the other man sits down. His muscles are tense, wiry, his spidey senses are tingling like a bitch.]

It's not important. What's important is that they're gone. I suppose there will be some confusion in the economy when it comes to light so many "people" have gone missing, but that's a necessary cost.

[He looks up and down Dean.]

I'd like to give you something.

Wait, wait, wait, hold up- [He pushed back in the chair, genuinely caught off-guard by the offhanded comment.] What happened to the people? How many people are we talking, here?

[Whatever Cas wants to give him doesn't seem to catch his attention.]

A soul affected by a leviathan.... it can't be saved. They don't just eat the skin. They can burrow deeper than that - that's why they're so difficult to kill.

Those souls couldn't be allowed to enter heaven or descend to hell. I got rid of them.

Damn it. [He sighed, slumping down into the seat again. Knife temporarily forgotten in favor of tiredly rubbing his temples. Does he want to know how Cas managed to get rid of them? ...Probably not, but he expects he's going to find out eventually.]

You said you had something to give me.

[Castiel reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thin silver chain, with a pendant that glows softly. dean may recognize this from his adventures with uriel and anna, only this one is...considerably dimmer.]

To replace your old necklace.

[He cocks his head warily. That's... weird. And weird was probably bad. He hesitated a second, before reaching out to take it- just to examine it.]

What's the story, morning glory?

[It's slightly warm to the touch, and dim, and it possesses none of the bad vibes that seem to roll off Castiel in waves. In fact, it feels good - comforting, like safety.]

I no longer need it.

[He'll take any relief he can get, and if it comes in the form of a necklace- a weird, glowing necklace- he'll take it. A tiny pause, and he slips it around his neck.]

Why do I get the feeling there's something else going on? Spill it.

[He pauses to look at Dean, now with added necklace. He apparently approves of this, as indicated by a slight nod. He pauses, considering his next words, and stands in front of Dean, his arms clasped behind his back.]

I've become something greater than that.

[His eyes flick to the necklace.]

And i'd be honored for you to join me.

[...Wait- what? He moves back, stepping away from the chair and Castiel as well. Wait- the necklace- wait- wait- what?]

Cas, what the hell did you do?

Leviathans go deeper than the flesh, Dean.

[he looks down at his hands, at the black-stained edges of the sleeves his coat.]

They purified me. All those doubts.... they're gone.

[He didn't even have a smart-ass comment for that, no remark, which really ought to have been testament enough how seriously he took the situation. He just... shook his head in disbelief and took another step away.]

Tell me you're joking right now. Tell me you didn't, Cas, come on.

Didn't what? Team up with those prehistoric eels?

[He looks annoyed by the mere prospect.]

I purged them from my Grace. I'm better now. I understand what I should do. [His eyes slide back to Dean, blue and sharp like ice.]

You should help. You're better than rotted houses and poverty.

Prehistoric eels?

[The statement, coming so darkly from Cas, was completely concerning. And he's not buying that purged thing for a second.

What, exactly, is he asking?]

Help how?

You're charismatic and a stellar liar. An effective combination.

After... you'll be someone important. No more fake IDs. People will give the information you want to Dean Winchester. Women will flock to you.

What, exactly, are you offering me, Cas?

[The term 'deal with the devil' didn't seem to be the most appropriate, but that's certainly what it feels like. Being offered power by a guy tinted with darkness? No matter that it was Cas, this set his all-american anti-monster morals spinning like a top.]

[he reaches forward and gently squeezes at the tiny vial at Dean's neck.]

The bit of me I'm not using anymore, Dean.

[He pulls back. The necklace, by the way, still feels warm and safe to the touch, the antithesis of the vibes Cas is giving off right now.]

Though I'd like you to keep it even if you don't take full advantage.

[He jerked back, tugging the necklace away as though he had some instinct to protect it from... whatever Castiel was at the moment.]

The- the what? Jesus Christ, it's like pulling teeth to get any straight answers around here- the bit of you that you're not using anymore? What does that even mean?

[He's got just the worst god damned feeling about this.]

[He makes an irritated face and a small sigh at Dean. Seriously, do you have to explain everything to these mortals? And he thought Dean was better than them.]

I rid myself of some of my grace to become stronger.

[He opens his various layers, and there's a jagged, dark scar on his chest.]

Consider it a gift.

[His smartass comment stutters to a halt.]

You what?

[His hand tightens around the necklace, like he's going to somehow protect it. He can't even comprehend how wrong that probably is. It just... it feels wrong.]

Can you put it back?

[His eyes are bugging out of his head.]

What the hell did you even- why would you do that?

I made some wrong decisions. I won't make them again. My vision is clearer now.

Cas, please, please don't tell me you ripped out whatever part of you was good and stuck it in that fucking necklace.

[He shook his head, gripping it tightly, stepped back into the hotel wall.]

I seriously cannot even handle that.

I see clearer now, Dean. Things make sense. None of the second-guessing, none of the guilt.

[He pauses, then speaks again, calm.]

You told me you considered me like a brother. I want you to be a little bit of my true family.

[Oh, that's not fair, having his words thrown back at him like that. None of this makes sense. None of this... he can barely even comprehend it.]

So this'll- what- turn me into an angel? Make me like you?

[He shook his head.]

Pass. You're supposed to have doubt. It's freaking called being human, Cas, you have to put it back.

[He tugged it over his neck, took it off, held it out but kept it wrapped firmly in his fist.]

I'm not human. I never was. Your pathetic emotions... they're beneath me. I'm a soldier... a warrior of heaven.

[He studies Dean again. If the man stares, he can see black little flecks in the angel's usually blue eyes.]

That much grace will leave you mostly human, but enhance you tenfold - make you faster, stronger, more protected. I won't have to protect you.

I understand that now, what I must do, and nothing would make me prouder than to have you by my side.

[He obviously has no intention of taking it back.]

Oh yeah? And what's that? Another god damn civil war?

[What he must do- another asshole on a holy tirade. Damn it, Castiel, how's he supposed to fix you this time? He's got a sneaking suspicion it's going to involve using that grace, but the concept of wrapping his soul in something that's supposed to be Castiel is a little too intimate to really consider. That, and he's willing to bed everything that makes Cas good is held there in the necklace.

He'll have to figure out how to put it back. Breaking it? Stuffing it down the angel's throat? He's not sure. He won't go on impulse, though, he's already planning a call and a non-stop drive to Bobby's.

Whether Cas comes now or later is really up to him. He seriously doubts he'll be able to hog-tie the angel, but he can lure him there, later. His mind is already working out the details.]

[He actually chuckles, derisive. A little smirk lingers on his lips.]

Oh, I've already taken care of Raphael and convinced his followers of the error of their ways. We shouldn't be bothered by my brothers. Perhaps a few of them will even seek to aid our cause.

[Of all times, now he learns facial expressions? People taught monkeys sign-language with less problems, and now he was being snarky? Bullshit. He shook his head.]

Well, congrats. Looks like you've got it all lined out. What's your big plan, then, and how does it involve me?

The problem with humanity is the same as the problems with my Father's other children - they have to be told what to do to avoid murdering each other, destroying the planet, or running around in hopeless circles. A little guidance can go along way.

You're not like them. You deserve to rule, not this.. [he glances around at the most recent motel lodging] ... hovel. You should be a king, Dean.

[And there it is. There's the big reveal. That's just... he sighs, lowers the hand holding the necklace, drops Castiel's eye contact. He debates, for a second, trying to talk Castiel out of it, but that's like taking a brick wall into dismantling itself.

He tossed the necklace onto the table, carelessly.]

No.

[he drops down lazily back into his chair. his eyes track Dean's movements, meeting blue with green.]

That's a powerful artifact. You shouldn't leave it in a place like this. It could be misused.

[He doesn't move any closer, doesn't move to pick up the artifact again, despite how something is protesting within him. Telling him to protect.]

Well, how about you put it back where it belongs, then? Because it sounds an awful lot like ripping out your soul.

Edited (Word repetition. ) 2012-01-16 00:35 (UTC)

Sometimes we have to do unpleasant things to improve ourselves. I don't want it anymore, but I wouldn't want anyone with ill intentions having it. They'd be difficult to defeat.

Whereas I'm a friggin' cakewalk. Thanks for that.

[He shook his head.]

This is wrong on just... so many levels, I can't even begin-- but that's not gonna do me any good, is it? I could tell you why until I'm blue in the face. You remember Sam, Cas? That walking, talking friggin' zombie? That what you wanna be? Really?

[Not accomplishing anything. He squared his jaw, sparing the necklace a single glance.]

How do I use it?

[If he has anything to say about Dean's comparisons, he doesn't add it to the conversation.]

I've already cast all the necessary spells required for me. All you need to do is break it and possess a bleeding wound for it to enter your body.

But I warn you.... if you're not my king, the other options aren't as pleasant.

[He sighed a long, tired sigh. Crossed the room, picked up the necklace, looked at it for a long second.

Time to get this show on the road.

He slipped the necklace around his neck.]

Cas, get out.

I'll be watching.

I urge you to reconsider my offer. It's in your best interests to be on my side.

Prop up your feet and grab some popcorn, sweetheart, you're gonna be waiting a while.

And when I do put you back together- and I will, we're gonna have a serious talk about morals.

You never were any good at doing what anyone else said you could do.

You'd think people would take a hint and stop treating me like a prized poodle.

It's difficult, especially when you perform so well in all the shows untrained.

That'd be funny, if I didn't want to kick your ass so bad right now. Remind me to make sure you keep your sense of humor when we fix whatever's fucked up in your melon.

My melon is better now. I'd welcome the attack, though.

[He spreads his hands, still sitting. Come at him, bro.]

Cas. It's me. You can't honestly say you feel good about yourself right now?

[He's not moving forward, but he's not backing down, either.]

We done here? I think it's about time you mysteriously, ominously, and silently disappear.

Dean, I feel great about myself. Greater than I have in..... since before Sam started the Apocalypse. I have a purpose. I understand what I have to do, where other people fit into things, how I can do what I need to do. Honest.

[He studies Dean for a while, staring at him.]

We're not done. But I suppose this is the part where you talk to Bobby and Sam and create an unreasonable alternative plan.

[Swoosh.]

[Sigh.]

God damn angels.

Edited 2012-01-07 00:34 (UTC)

[Here's a man who's given up, completely and utterly. The dream of mutants and humans living peacefully, side by side, is shattered. How Charles could ever have dreamt of such a thing is beyond him, now that he has seen man capture and torture because of their ignorance. He is a changed man, and he misses his friend who had been right all along. And so he hooks himself up to Cerebro, searching for the man, hoping he's not wearing that helmet of his because he has a partnership to offer.]

[do we even need to roll]

[ no you do not.

she doesn't bother fighting back anymore, and hasn't tried to hurt him in weeks, maybe months. unless Hibiki wants her for something, she just sits quietly and waits with her hands in her lap. ]

[He always wants her for something. The normal thing, though...]

Dawn, come here.

[ she stands up and walks over obediently, not quite looking him in the face. ]

Yes?

Sit on my lap. [Just kinda... moving his hands out of the way, for her to do that. Go ahead and sit down.]

[ she sits, leaning against him without a hint of the fit she would have thrown before. ]

[And his hand instinctively moves to touch at her chest, smiling as he did so.]

Still as nice as always, Dawn.

[ Dawn shivers and shuts her eyes. ]

Thank you.

How about you give me the normal morning service, mm? [His hand continues to tease her chest.]

You should be used to it by now, right? I don't even have to use Hypno on you anymore.

Yes, master. [ she straightens up, but will wait for him to finish touching before she moves. it feels nice. ]

[He'll touch for a few seconds more then! Though, his hands rest at his sides after. Go ahead, Dawn.]

[ she slips off his lap to the floor, kneeling in front of him, and reaches to undo his pants. ]

[He'll just watch her, a hand reaching up to pet at her hair.]

[ once they're undone, she leans in and starts licking along his length. ]

Mm, good, Dawn... I wonder how far you can take it now. You haven't tried in a while.

[ taking it into her mouth, then. ]

[Fabian's finally got what he wanted -- a Dawn who won't ever leave him.]

[so what happened to you]

[ so, associating with Team Rocket for a long enough time makes you go cray cray, huh? Dawn approves. ]

[...What the hell did he miss?

That expression... And that red R...] ...Dawn?

Yes? [ Dawn just keeps smiling, propping her chin up on the back of her hand. Keep making that face, Silver, it's entertaining as fuck. ]

[You're wearing- no, she seems very aware of what she's wearing. And doing. And-] What happened to you?

Nothing much. [ a lie, of course, but there was nothing to gain from telling him the truth of the matter. ]

[Bullshit. But she's not going to tell him, is she? Then how about-] ...Why?

I promised I would.

That's a pretty bad deal, you know. Promising to sell your soul away isn't the best of ideas.

In your opinion, you mean.

If you really want to call it that.

I do. What you think isn't true for everyone else.

But it's pretty plainly written all over your face.

What is?

You're different. The look in your eyes is different.

Like I said, you traded your soul away to Team Rocket.

It's gone to a good cause.

Like hell it has.

Of course you wouldn't see.

Why don't you go ahead and try to inform me about this big thing I'm missing?

You've already been told. [ she shrugs, still smiling. ] I don't care if you can't get it.

...Just remember that I'll be the one to stop you if Team Rocket starts anything.

You can try to stop me.

It's not "I can try." It's "I will succeed."

You can't guarantee you'll win.

I'm not alone. Besides, it's something I have to do. Knowing that, there's no way I'll lose.

What makes you think I'm alone?

It'll be fun when you realize that's wrong.

I wiped the floor with Team Rocket once. I'll do it again.

I doubt you're anywhere near the level my father was when I battled him, too.

Don't count on it either of those being true.

If you're worried about me holding back, it won't happen. I can promise you that.

If you hold back, you'll be the one to suffer for it.

How's Blue?

[Wait, wh- welp, time for his composure to crack] She's fine. What does that have to do with anything?

[ just what she hoped for. ] Plenty. What about the little Blue? Is she still here?

No. You can't do anything to her.

Who said I was going to do anything to her? [ older Blue, on the other hand, is now fair game. ]

Then don't ask about her. [He's not concerned about Blue. Blue can take care of herself.]

I can't show friendly interest anymore? [ is she irritating you yet, she hopes she is. ]

No. [Maybe. Maybe a little. He's trying not to show it, though.]

How disappointing. [ ...she doesn't look disappointed, however. ]

[ Is 2 okay or i can reroll... /)_(\ ]

[2 is totally fine! I'd prefer to steer away from explicit smut, but everything else is cool.]

[ She'd passed out again yesterday. It was simply not going to do. Shiro would have to modify the dosage. There was lots of response but her mind wasn't quite taking to the experiments yet.

Even though he had his hands in a lot of illegal jars, he was sure the police wanted to find the source of this one most of all. After all, they were toying with some heavy drugs, and the purposes applied were probably reality TV for the Devil.

This one.

His brother's girlfriend. Inoue Orihime. Her reactions were unusual. She liked the idea of being helpful, and besides a few adverse reactions to certain sexual acts, the 'reprogramming' had been fairly successful. However... it didn't affect her endurance, which was a problem. She needed to serve longer. Sometimes she also got pouty and that clashed with being able to market her as she usually was- perky and sunshine-y.

You got a lot of demand for that sort in this kind of business. Who wanted a toy to hate you for playing with it, right? He stepped into the room, kneeling down near her, her dosage already administered and ready for a fresh day of pleasure. ]

And how are ya feelin', today? Orihime.

(( Shall I start or shall you?~ ))

[He stares dully at Arthur's retreating back, no inflection in his voice as he replies with a quiet "yes, sire" and tries not to look in Agravaine's direction. Merlin knows Arthur's uncle would only be smirking at the wedge he's driven in between the king and the servant.

What is he even doing here anymore?]

[ Forever strange it will be to have Merlin as a Master, but as long as he willed her existence, then her soul was bound to this realm. No, bound to him. As the sun rises and falls, the passing of each day tends to make the distance between king and manservant vast to unrepairable lengths.

A mirror of their own relationship at this rate is all it's become. For the distance that came with Arthur would often be shared with Arturia, leaving her to feel the spiritual bond between them weakening. She was no Forever King (a title discarded when she failed to keep her own promise), but she was still a memory of the man Merlin serves.

Dressed as a maiden of the time, she approaches Merlin once time permits, a solemn expression on her face. Even though she held the image of a chambermaid, her approach was still as valiant as it was back in her own fortress of Camelot. ]

Merlin. [ The desire to reach out for his arm overpowers any restraint, so she indulges in it. ] Please.. let us leave this place for now.

[Merlin keeps his head bowed for a moment longer, waiting until Agravaine's footsteps fade into the distance before he finally nods. When he raises his head, his eyes are red-rimmed, but dry, his expression carefully blank. Even he does not have the energy to muster a smile any longer.]

Let's go back to Gaius' quarters. [He makes no mention of the irony--turning from one Arthur to another--as he straightens. A cue from her is all he needs to begin moving again--she's his responsibility as much as the other Arthur is, since he was the one who had summoned her, accident though it was at the time.

Still, she's become his friend in the past few weeks, and even in his blank state, Merlin knows it would be unfair to judge her for her male counterpart's actions.]

Understood.

[ Even though she held superiority over the man in rank, she revered him as a slave would their owner. That was the relationship of a Master and Servant, a trust forged in bonds invisible to the human eye.

In silence she walks, just a step behind him. What was there she can say or do to comfort him? Very little when it comes to contesting the words of his king. ]

[Arthur is not a man to sit down when he's hurt and others need him to keep moving. He will push himself until he's falling over, until his knees buckle under him and scrape against the ground as his vision blurs. That's what Merlin is there for, one of the many reasons that Arthur can't imagine a life without his manservant by his side, or whether he would still be alive at all if he weren't there. Merlin who carries him and keeps him alive when he pushes himself to the limit. Merlin who stops him from sacrificing his own life for the sake of others, for the sake of Camelot, without preventing him from doing his duty.

Now though, the world is spinning so fast, the pain searing through his body is too much that he can't hold himself up any longer. The thought that maybe he's pushed too hard, that even Merlin can't save him now, only passes through his head for a moment. His knees buckle under him and he crashes down to the ground, breathing hard into the dirt. He tries to push himself up, tries to keep going but he can't feel Excalibur in his hand anymore, and the world's gone so damn bright.]

[Merlin's the first at Arthur's side, frantically pulling the king up and bearing his weight as he always does. Not wanting to risk aggravating whatever injury caused Arthur to collapse in the first place, Merlin touches Arthur's cheek to wake him instead of a rough shake to the shoulders.]

Arthur. Arthur. [Worry fills him even as the knights near them catch on and edge closer grimly, intent on defending their liege.]

[His head is spinning, the world a blur around him. He feels heavy, like all the strength in his body is gone, and if he could think straight it would remind him of what it was like in the perilous lands, when dragging his feet held the greatest weight of all. But he has to keep going, so he grits his teeth and leans against Merlin, his eyes shut and his body willing itself to not empty the contents of his stomach.]

Merlin, what took you so damn long?

[His voice is small, and every word speaks of the pain wracking his body as he tries desperately to stand.]

[There's something deeply unsettling about the decimated Druid camp at nightfall. Normally ruins are ruins and the beasts lurking within them are just that, but this is different. Something's wrong about this place–– Wrong, otherworldly, and oppressive enough that even Arthur can feel a presence crawling under his skin.

Is this what it is, he wonders, to feel the sorrows of the undeserving dead?

Frowning darkly, the King prods the ashes of a fireplace long abandoned with the tip of his sword. He glances up and, finding Merlin, cuts his investigation short.]

There's nothing here, [he says, tone matter of fact, but weighty.] Let's return to Camelot.

[While normally Merlin would give his agreement quickly and even rush Arthur along to leave the cursed place, he simply stands there, in the middle of the shrine. A cold wind blows through the clearing, a seemingly ominous sign as it ruffles the many strips of cloth.

A less superstitious man would force a laugh and shake off the chill, but Merlin could not. Whispers circled the air around him, and none of them he could discern as they faded in and out of his hearing. Merlin takes a stumbling step back, nearly tripping over a tree root. A distant scream sounds behind him, and he whirls, his wary eyes finding a small stone well.]

Arthur... [He calls for the king without taking his eyes off it.]

[At the call, Arthur jogs over and stops before the well. He can't hear the whispers or the screaming, but there's definitely a feeling of wrong about this shrine.]

What is it? [He follows Merlin's gaze to the well.]

Did you find something?

[John isn't sure what happened, this time. The faint realisation that he's been left a few streets back in the conversation isn't new to him, but this time he feels as though he should understand what it is Sherlock is saying to him. Lines bunch up between his eyebrows as his eyes search the other man's less than subtly.]

Sherlock? What is it?

The ears are just for an experiment. [Sherlock is babbling and he doesn't even know it.

The only time his mind has moved from one point to another this fast is when he's been on Cocaine, but he's clean. And he knows he's clean.

But he doesn't know what to make of the letter now sitting on the coffee table. The one that starts Dear Mr Holmes, and contains the words deceased and our deepest sympathies far too many times. And like with everything he doesn't know what to do with, he analyses it. The writing, the fact that this wasn't simply a fill-the-blanks bereavement letter but hand typed by someone's personal secretary. When, where, how by whom- all these details he is trying to decypher because he is avoiding thinking about the contents of the letter and the reality that he no longer has a mother.

His mouth, in the meantime, is spouting whatever comes to mind. Not his focus right now.] Lestrade will sort it out.

The ears-- [No, he's not going to ask that question yet.]

Lestrade will sort what out? You're not making sense. [The kind of senseless chatter that makes John want to check the man's sock drawer again. Tough luck about the sock index, Sherlock. Some things are just more important.

But back to the problem at hand:]

What's happened?

The double homicide the other day. [Dear Mr Holmes] Open and shut case. [It is with our deepest sympathies and regrets that we write to inform you] No need for me. [

Did Mycroft know? Of course he knew. Why wouldn't he have rung?
Why would he have rung?

He looks at John suddenly.] Has Mycroft rung in the few hours? [Sherlock's been home for the last few hours and didn't hear the phone ring, but- he needs to be absolutely sure.]

[Lestrade doesn't knock when he pushes his way into Sherlock's flat. He had only knocked so that Mrs. Hudson could let him in and he rushed past her, bounding up the stairs to get to the consulting detective. There was no point in texting him, not when he clearly wasn't as concerned about this case as he should be. People were dying, good people, good officers, and as far as Lestrade knew he was sitting in his flat staring at the ceiling, b o r e d.

There is so much Lestrade can handle from the man, so very much, but this has crossed a line.]

Sherlock! Where the hell are you?

[She doesn't understand. Those are the words, in her native tongue, that go round and round in her head as she sits there, staring. She's watching the snow fall, unmoving, her body wracked with tension. Her thighs squeeze her hands together and the only movement throughout her entire body is a slight, almost invisible quiver of her bottom lip.

It doesn't make sense.

This whole war, this whole takeover was happening on the other side of Europe. She had nothing to do with it, her people had nothing to do with it. She stayed out of it, spoke to no one, offered solace to anyone running her way but that was all. Now, though...it's gone. Everything is gone. Riga is gone. Leveled to the ground, all that history, all that promise, her people barely given any warning at all from the government because she hadn't been able to tell them in time to announce an evacuation.

Why had this happened? Why destroy the city that had survived so much pain instead of just coming after her?

She has no idea where she is now, having been grabbed and dragged away kicking and screaming by friends and colleagues to keep her safe, but she watches the snow fall in utter stillness, and she doesn't understand.]

[John approaches quietly, setting a coat down over her shoulders.

He's only just heard what happened, and though he has no idea what to do or say. This war's been getting to all of them in some way or other, but what happened at Riga-

It's making him reconsider his stand on misusing his power. All he'd need would be to borrow someone's time powers. But.

He sits next to her, not touching but close enough that with a bit of a shuffle it would be entirely possible. He doesn't say anything.

There isn't anything to say. ]

Go away.

[Those are the only words out of her mouth, sharp and quick despite the short delay. She had forgotten the words in english for a moment, searching desperately for them in her mind when all she could find was why. She doesn't look at John, her eyes wide and focused on the falling snow, though she does quickly and jerkily shake off John's coat. She feels goosebumps crawling up her skin and the hair on the back of her neck bristle, because being touched in any way is the opposite of what she needs.

Not that she knows what she needs. All that she knows she needs is for this dead shock running through her nerves and veins to subside so that she can just cry.]

[He should have expected that, he supposes.

He doesn't move. His coat sits crumpled, but he won't move to straighten it. He won't leave her alone, not now. Not even if she hates him for it.

He can't take the silence- because as much as he knows that there is nothing he can do or say to fix this, he wants to say something. To give her something to react to rather than just more silence. She's his friend. It hurts him to see her hurting this much.

His voice is quiet and hestitant.] I'm sorry.

Don't. [Her voice cracks, finally, when she says that, her jaw tightening as she keeps her eyes on the falling snow that might as well be the dust remaining of her dear city. She doesn't move, though, even if she could walk away from him, because as much as she wants to be alone, she does need him. She needs a friend now more than ever.]

[He flinches a little.

Slowly he moves his hand to his knee, turning it up. Giving her the chance to move away before he took her.]

[She's silent for a good while, staring desperately out the window, but when she does speak again her voice cracks despite herself.]

I don't understand. Why?

[ She's a Nuzlocke protagonist from Pokemon Ruby! ]

[ They told her she wasn't good enough. Wasn't strong enough. Wasn't pretty enough. Wasn't anything enough, even though she was the champion of the Hoenn region, the one who stopped Team Magma, the one who saved the world. Nobody respected her anymore. The praise and the glory that she gained only lasted a few days and then the expectations were raised to a point that a twelve year old girl could not reach by herself.

Minami was the only one who understood her. Who loved her for who she was, not for what she's done. Even Norman doesn't look at Tallie the same way anymore... Minami is all she has now. Minami is all that matters.

And now, she will do anything in her power to keep her. No matter what it takes... ]

[ After her journey's end, Tallie moved out on her own to a small and obscure little town. She bought her own house, faked her name and age and got a job... nothing strange and unusual there!

There was, however, one secret that she kept locked up nice and tight in her basement.

It's a daily routine for Tallie to spend her mornings and evenings with Minami, and after a long work day that's the first thing that she does. Balancing plates, utensils, and a pot in her arms, she steps down into the basement and lets her eyes adjust to the poor lighting. ] Minami? I'm home.

[Compared to Tallie, Minami had never really gotten that respect for the little she did. She pulled the plug on her journey long ago, because she didn't want to make her Pokemon hurt themselves anymore...she had, after all, already lost six of them. It wouldn't have taken much to break Minami's independence farther; she trusted Tallie with every bit of her heart, more than anyone she knew or had ever seen.

The term 'happiness in slavery' could apply to her. Minami liked that little space in the basement; it was nice and dark, and she never had to worry about anything because she would always do what Tallie told her to. Doing whatever she had to do to keep the one person happy...so happy. She was the only light Minami needed in her life.

So when Tallie came home for the day, Minami happily looked up that precious light.] Taaallieeee~ Minami is so happy to see Tallie... How was Tallie's day?

It was alright. Long and stressful as usual. [ She sat down on the floor, evenly distributing food between the two plates.

Noodles. Tallie made sure to get Minami's favorite. ] Rin was icy and rude as always... fitting, since her name means "cold".

[Minami's face fell a little bit. She didn't like hearing that Tallie had a bad day. She didn't deserve it...

Though, the noodles brought her smile back. Good old vegetable noodles; Minami would never eat meat unless Tallie served it, after all!] Mmm...
Colder than a Powder Snow. Minami doesn't think Rin is a good person.

She doesn't deserve to know Tallie. [She smiles a little brighter to Tallie. She didn't get her food yet...she didn't want to just grab it! She had to wait until Tallie said so...]

[ ... She leans forward to caress Minami's cheek, then kiss her very gently. ] That's right. People like that exist in the outside world.

But don't worry. I'll protect you.

[Hee hee~ Minami giggles.] They don't exist in Minami's world. Only nice people exist in Minami's world...

But out of them all, Tallie is the nicest. [Smile~]

[ For a moment, there's a look of vulnerability on Tallie's face.

But that's quick to vanish-- no, be crushed. ] I'm glad. [ Another kiss, then she plops back and starts to eat. ]

[There's Edmond! Does Tallie know about his affiliation? You decide that. Either way, it doesn't seem to matter very much to him at the moment.]

Hi~ Tallie~

[There's an odd melody in his voice. It's not a pleasant one.]

... Edmond? [ No, she doesn't know his affiliation... and even then, even if she did it wouldn't matter. Tallie's lost so much because of her journey: some of her friends, the support of her family, and, in ways, her freedom. She's seen so many Pokemon die, so many spirits crushed and reduced to nothing... a strong facade can only last for so long.

She doesn't want to fight anymore. Not when it leads to her losing everything and everyone around her. ] What are you doing here?

[His smile is temporarily gone when he pouts his lips almost comically at her question.]

They let me go... It was rather mean of them... After we did so much together...

[His smile returns immediately, his tone of voice excited and melodic.]

But it doesn't matter! I can still make so many friends! And I learned so much... Did you know, Tallie, did you know that people get really lonely at sea?~ And when they get lonely, they get creative, too... It feels good, after a while~

[Translation: he was taken prisoner by Team Aqua and used as a... well...]

[ She's so confused. What happened with him? Is this something she should know about? ]

What... [ Tallie has so many questions in her head, but she can't find it in her to ask. ]

Do you know about Team Aqua, Tallie? I used to hate them, and I hated them for a while after they abducted me, too... But then...

[He starts licking his fingertips as if trying to recall a certain sensation.]

... After a while, I just wanted all of them to be my friends... I think they would like you, too, Tallie. You're very pretty, and very well developed for your age~

[ Team Aqua? That's a name she hasn't heard in a long, long time... They did this to him? But they were good before. They wanted to stop Team Magma from going through with their illogical plans. How could this be? Is it the truth? Is it possible?

A voice in the back of her head tells her that this is the result of fighting. Getting hurt. Feeling broken. Terrible, terrible things.

She doesn't look at him, but she has calmed considerably. ] ... "Friends"?

[He nods, with a slight giggle.]

The kind of friends whose... friendship feels really good inside... Mmh~

[Swaying his hips in a sort of dance, he steps closer, much closer to Tallie, invading her personal space.]

Shall I demonstrate?~

Friendship... [ The word is so foreign to her now. She would love to have friends again...

Tallie doesn't push him away, which is as much of a "yes" as she can muster. ]

[His eerie, melodic voice is now a whisper in her ear.]

Be my friend, Tallie~

[He plants a firm, possessive kiss on her neck, as his hands land on her shoulders and start descending along her body.]

[ Tallie shudders and gasps softly, raising her arms to wrap around his neck, to keep him close. She wasn't expecting that... but that doesn't matter, right? If it means that she can find someone to get close to again, she'll let Edmond possess her as much as he want. ]

[His smile widens when he sees that she's pulling him closer.]

See? It feels good to have a friend~ I could never have enough, myself~

[His hands get even friskier now, moving downwards to caress Tallie's chest, lightly and tentatively at first, then gradually more insistently and forcefully. Meanwhile, he plants a series of kisses trailing upward and then along her jawline and chin, until he reaches he lips. He plants a kiss there, too, but, instead of deepening it, he parts his lips from hers immediately afterwards and looks down. Apparently, he's surprised by the feeling he got when he touched one of Tallie's breasts.]

Your breasts feel really nice! Can I put my hand up your shirt and play with them~?

[ So many sensations... much, much better than the feelings of emptiness or loss. No, this is joy, care, desire... warmth...

Tallie's confused for a moment, barely registering that he asked her something, but she will nod in confirmation. If she had said "no", would she have lost him already? ]

You're a sweet girl, Tallie~ You will make many friends~

[He starts sliding his hand up her shirt just like he said. But his long fingers only get as far as her stomach, before he freezes and blinks. He retreats his hand and stares at it for a long while, turning the palm up and down. His eyes look... slightly less disturbed, too. Could it be that there's some of his old self left in him?]

... I... I can't... I can't turn you into me!

[At that, he wraps his arm tightly around her, holding her close to him and squeezing her.]

... Tallie... My beautiful Tallie... stay pure, always...

[This face. Forever.]

...Ako-chan?

[Ellen doesn't know what's going on]

[Ako is giving you that 1000 square stare. She can't comprehend this.]

...

[Ellen tries waving a hand in Ako's face.]

... how? How did... I don't even....

What's wrong?

Did you get DRUNK or something last night?

[Oh.

Oh god.]

A-ahahaha, of course not! I'm not old enough for that, right!

[THIS LOOK.]

Really.

...

What did you see.

[Can't lie to the Princess, after all.]

Everything.

[.................................]

Um.

It... won't happen again...

I'm going to need therapy when I get older, Ellen. Don't let it happen again.

[Oh god, Mephisto will kill me if he heard about this]

Sorry...

[Sigh.]

Get me ice cream and we'll call it even. Or Kanade's cupcakes.

[Ellen perks up]

Really? Okay I'll get some! Of both! Just wait!!

[A satisfied smile. Maybe some trauma was okay once in a while if it got her fed.]

((rolled a 4 for me, do you want to roll or shall we just proceed along canon pathways?))

[We can go for canon! I can play from whenever in the series, so if you wanna set it up you can pick. :B Since choice in timeline brings drastic changes for him, sob.]

It had gone past pain, at times, but they had always stopped. Stopped before he blacked out, stopped before he could die like Lavina had, stopped until coherency returned and they could shout more useless questions at him.

Perhaps it would be easier if he could lie, or say something. But they had broken his hands and he couldn't even sketch the shape of the words Lavina had taught him.

There was no point to this, and he knew it, no point but to draw his life out and make him suffer.

Dying would be so easy.

He took a desperate, gasping breath, trying not to whimper as they left him alone again. He kept his broken arm drawn into his body to protect it.

Push me. Push me hard enough to kill me and let me rest in death.

Because that, for now, was all he could hope for. To die quickly before the Baker's boy broke.

Peeta forgot how long he had been laying in the mud, hiding away. At first the pain in his leg had made it hard but now, now he couldn't feel it anymore. He felt feverish but fought like hell to not move.

[5's basically canon anyway!]

catch the wheel that breaks the butterfly, said if you won't save me please don't waste my time

Leaf | Pokemon

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Legault ♦ Fire Emblem

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7 instead! possibly 1 mixed in

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Wesley Gibson | Wanted | ota

Elise Gaita | Original character | OTA

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One Two | RocknRolla | ota

7!

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Rupert Giles | Buffy the Vampire Slayer | Specify Season

Dean Winchester | Supernatural | Smut = Castmates or Previous Threaders | Otherwise, Open!

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welp the RNG keeps throwing 1s at me, so I hope you're ready to deal with this, Dean :'D

Dean is the ultimate boy-scout. He is always prepared. o7

Good boy, Dean. o7 also one day i will actually reply to tags the day i get them

No sweat, man, I do it all the time. There's no such thing as tag nirvana.

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Hello, wanted to know if you would like to try this again?

Hey, sure, yeah no problem!

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