Persephone, the Destroyer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pummelgranite) wrote2019-09-03 02:08 am
pummelgranite) wrote2019-09-03 02:08 am
Entry tags:
[MoM][IC Contact]
"Persephone. Speak."
[ Keeping track of days is hard when you're in a(nother) addled stupor in an attempt to dull things like trauma, and all the vulnerable, easily-exploitable emotions that sprout thereof.
But it's probably been about a week at least since the nightmare realm unraveled. Since he was on the run from the Soviets, and her. Since the bloody Darkness enveloped them in a pocket of the dream world where she could kill him again and again to her heart's content. Since John woke up - how, he's already figured out. It's the thing he's running from and trying to numb. The exact moment he was offed for good and freed of the slumber was the exact moment he vocalized that he Gave A Shit. Which was also why he took an absurd number of psychedelics and dove back in to get her out.
She'd awoken and in their usual idiom, neither of them had furthur discussed what had happened, and he gave her the space appropriate for a young woman nursing brand new mental scarring.
He's well into a bottle of something that would be more appropriate for medical sterilization when he picks up his phone, fumbling with the keyboard. What he means to write is reassurance, perhaps a reflection of what they've been through. He's overconfident, thinking he can articulate that which they've spent half a year burying. What comes out is... not what he aims for. ]
Hey
But it's probably been about a week at least since the nightmare realm unraveled. Since he was on the run from the Soviets, and her. Since the bloody Darkness enveloped them in a pocket of the dream world where she could kill him again and again to her heart's content. Since John woke up - how, he's already figured out. It's the thing he's running from and trying to numb. The exact moment he was offed for good and freed of the slumber was the exact moment he vocalized that he Gave A Shit. Which was also why he took an absurd number of psychedelics and dove back in to get her out.
She'd awoken and in their usual idiom, neither of them had furthur discussed what had happened, and he gave her the space appropriate for a young woman nursing brand new mental scarring.
He's well into a bottle of something that would be more appropriate for medical sterilization when he picks up his phone, fumbling with the keyboard. What he means to write is reassurance, perhaps a reflection of what they've been through. He's overconfident, thinking he can articulate that which they've spent half a year burying. What comes out is... not what he aims for. ]
Hey
so how did you manage to eat with those piercing things in
[ Oh, there's plenty in the dream for her to fixate on. She didn't want to think about John's confession. She couldn't, without thinking about his corpse. There was a lot she didn't want to think about. Luckily, there was molly and alcohol and Inanna to keep her mind off jjjjust about anything.
Until this. ]
Seriously? https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Captive_bead_ring
Until this. ]
Seriously? https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Captive_bead_ring
Since when do you have simple explanations for things, especially involving your own style
[ Oh no. Looks like he brought his matching bad mood. Misery and company and all that bullshit. ]
[ Oh no. Looks like he brought his matching bad mood. Misery and company and all that bullshit. ]
Uh huh. Gotta stay on brand.
[ For sure, she was doing it all for the #aesthetic and not to try and wrench back control of hideous circumstances, or because hurting herself felt like the only outlet she had left, and absolutely not in the faint hopes that someone would understand it as the cry of pain that it had been, and show her a scrap of mercy. ]
[ For sure, she was doing it all for the #aesthetic and not to try and wrench back control of hideous circumstances, or because hurting herself felt like the only outlet she had left, and absolutely not in the faint hopes that someone would understand it as the cry of pain that it had been, and show her a scrap of mercy. ]
[ It's not like the pain isn't part of her brand, in all fairness.
But it's also not like he hadn't spent most of his life stuck in the same self-destructive pattern, waiting for someone with the power and the patience to stop him.
Probably why he can't shut up even when he can hear himself. ]
Usually dreams are metaphorical. But making cries for help into stylish performance art? Sounds like your Thursday afternoon. Other than the dystopian regime, anyway.
But it's also not like he hadn't spent most of his life stuck in the same self-destructive pattern, waiting for someone with the power and the patience to stop him.
Probably why he can't shut up even when he can hear himself. ]
Usually dreams are metaphorical. But making cries for help into stylish performance art? Sounds like your Thursday afternoon. Other than the dystopian regime, anyway.
[ There's a long time before she replies. ]
What the fuck do you want?
What the fuck do you want?
Edited 2017-05-04 07:54 (UTC)
Whatever. If he's really going to be a problem I can take care of him.
So can I.
but I would really like it if I didn't need to.
but I would really like it if I didn't need to.
[ It's sweet that she assumes he thought that far ahead.
"Depends," he nearly answers, "What the fuck was that?" ]
Taking my head off in the real world too, then?
"Depends," he nearly answers, "What the fuck was that?" ]
Taking my head off in the real world too, then?
So you just wanted to piss me off? Great. Well done.
[ His turn for a long time before a curt reply. ]
You could have been more than what they made you. Like how I've said. That a taste of what's to come in the waking world?
You could have been more than what they made you. Like how I've said. That a taste of what's to come in the waking world?
[ It's a long time until she replies as well. ]
Fuck you.
Fuck you.
[ Not like it's hard to divine her location - there's enough of her odds and ends that find their way into his pockets when she's too busy, too moody, or too famous to hold her own things. One of her makeup sponges and a few incantations later and he finds the graveyard she's moping in.
He picks a tombstone a row over from her and leans against it, cigarette between his teeth as ever. ]
Penny for yer' thoughts.
He picks a tombstone a row over from her and leans against it, cigarette between his teeth as ever. ]
Penny for yer' thoughts.
What do you want, John?
[ As if he did not . . . just say exactly what he wanted . . . ]
[ As if he did not . . . just say exactly what he wanted . . . ]
[ It's almost eerie how quickly he cools, his jaunty sarcasm dropping off into oblivion. ]
Sometimes I wonder about you, love. Whether you enjoy doing what it is you do.
Sometimes I wonder about you, love. Whether you enjoy doing what it is you do.
[ She pulls her knees up to her chest. ]
What do you want.
What do you want.
[ Maybe he wants a fight. Or to bury his stupid, exploitable capacity for caring. Or to forget what happened in the dream. Maybe he could accomplish them all at once. ]
Most of us face horror and misery. Some of us even from terrible cosmic forces. Only, we don't cope with it by leaving a trail of bloody obliteration. S'that what you want?
Most of us face horror and misery. Some of us even from terrible cosmic forces. Only, we don't cope with it by leaving a trail of bloody obliteration. S'that what you want?
[ Doesn't she? She won't say it's not her fault. Clearly it is. If it's her fault, then . . . ]
I'm the Destroyer.
[ That's sure not an answer. ]
I'm the Destroyer.
[ That's sure not an answer. ]
Edited 2017-05-05 08:03 (UTC)
Page 10 of 47