[ She knows she's just a spectator, but oh, the sights and sounds are delicious. Reflections of death and a scarred earth. Her skin stirs enticed by the view of destruction even if it is just an illusion come to life for however brief or long the town wishes to torment its victim. Speaking of...
Her head tilts at an unnatural angle as the cheerful voice catches both their attention. ]
... Well now.
[ Her glittering red and black eyes look back and forth between what appears to be his reflection and the one holding her hand. The differences are there though, she'd be completely delirious if she wasn't even able to pick up on the blonde from the silver and bloodstained dirt clothes versus the priestly clothing Abel adorns.
It's Abel's anger that makes her spine tingle with a type of excitement the monster can't help but drink in for her own satisfaction. She's seeing something truer and more, dare she say it, honest. He breaks the mirror, fueled by a deep and boiling rage and her eyes widen a smidge as the blonde doppelganger's cracks and is destroyed. Oh, what a wonderful town they're in!
(Somewhere within her own heart there's an ache, human sympathy, a minute need to reach out and ask if he's well, to soothe and comfort, but that part can barely be summoned, not as she is right now.)
She sighs, dreamily even as the glass scatters at their feet. ]
Provocations it is... So many ghosts and just the two of us.
...terran? From the Capitol? They must be getting desperate if they arenβt even coming back to bury the dead.
[ the blonde haired man has appeared to their left, replacing his shattered image on the right. Abelβs jaw grits with an audible creak of bones - or is that the strain of his grip where his hand is all but crushing hers, forgotten where sheβs deigned to keep hold of him? ]
You must be tired. [ Abelβs doubleβs familiar blue eyes are kind, and cheerful - but unnatural and unnerving in much the same way this creature that holds sway over the body she possesses surely is. he is approaching the two of them with slow and leisurely footsteps, and thereβs the muffled sound of a womanβs distress from beyond the mirrorβs reach; weak and pitiful cries of pain from a wounded and dying human left to expire in the ruins of their city.
Abelβs releasing Montsβ hand, if only to shatter the mirrors on the left side as well; he has no regard for the little glass pieces sticking stubbornly to the outside of his palm. the voice is his own, the face is his face, but he cannot stand it. ]
...If you arenβt going to help me find the way out of here, then please be quiet.
[ his patience is dissolving. the usual warmth and gentility is replaced by a firmness and sense of urgency; thereβs no more time for this. not for him - and not for her. there are some ghosts that are painful, some that inspire nothing but regrets, or sorrow, or yearning. this one... just brings madness, and she is quite mad enough for the both of them. he can ill afford to lose his tenuous grasp, for better or for worse.
[ She looks down at her hand that he's holding so tightly that she can feel it being crushed before he releases her to destroy the mirror where the blonde man resides. The voices around them ring in her ears as she passively watches as the priest releases his fury onto the mirrors.
When he asks her, no tells her with no uncertainty and with no warmth left, to be quiet, she stares at him silently without emotion. The monster decides to walk past him clasping her hands behind her back. She blends in too well with the battle-torn surroundings with only some petulance in her body language to contrast it. ]
Be quiet, be silent, no words from my lips, nothing at all. No screams, no cries, no sobs, nothing at all. I see I see.
[ She mutters to herself paying no heed to the carnage around her. A monster lost, a monster unwanted because she was not understood. But Abel is right, they need to get out, and then she can be dealt with accordingly. ]
The chase goes on then. What happens if one of us is caught? [ She says that more to herself than to him, now lost to her own reverie. ]
[ he can apologize to the woman who's sunken below this creature's consciousness later when he sees her again - because he will see her again.
for now, he moves behind her, keeping his eyes on this monster instead of the carnage that had been wrought by others a long, long time past. the woman's faint, plaintive cries haven't stopped, even as the mirrors on either side of them remain shattered.
as Monts turns the next corner up ahead, a soft and lilting whisper - like a caress, one she can almost feel directly below her left earlobe - comes from the ruination of the burning landscape. ]
What have we here...?
[ --there is a brilliant flash of deep crimson, a violent pulse from the Spear of Longinus half-formed in the blonde-haired man's hand as he thrusts the weapon horizontally outward. it is impossibly fast -- and immeasurably strong, enough force to level the remaining debris of a building in the illusionary city behind her, a collision that causes renewed chaos and collapse from the dilapidated remains of what had once been a cozy restaurant. choking dust, a new plume of smoke rise up in its wake. the glass of the mirror the blast had come from had summarily shattered with its release.
and, consequently, the pulse has severed Monts' head cleanly from her body at the neck, energy singing and cauterizing the wound instantly.
...can she hear the frantic, unhinged scream of her name? ]
Reaction time, first off, is rather delayed. Why would she have to react if any wound would seal up almost immediately? But the monster does not account for a clean-cut and thus she takes the attack like a sitting duck. Some of her warm blood escapes and lands on the surface of some mirrors and on the floor before it's cauterized (she can senses that too, what an odd ticklish sensation).
Her head makes contact with the floor and rolls sideways with blood trickling from her mouth and dark eyes wide with shock. The beheaded body staggers and then collapses to its knees before falling forward.
The dark matter in her body slows its movement to almost a near halt, but it continues to shimmer from the light cast by the fires and natural light of the building they're trapped in.
Silence. She's quiet at last.
(Oh, this is different, this is worth understanding, this body so weak, so easy to cut, to break, but maybe, just maybe... There's a voice, a scream, he's screaming her name.
[ would she feel it, his knees hitting the ground beside her? is she cognizant of anything at all in this state? Abel has numbly descended next to her headless body, staring at the macabre sight with no small measure of sick and incredulous horror.
...he is on auto-pilot, functioning on some kind of mechanical instinct; he reaches out to gently rest his hands at her arm, her shoulder, tentatively. as if to test - to see if she is solid and real, as if seeking proof this is truly happening. (it's more than a little ironic. this, too, seems like a memory - but there is no cold, hard surface to reassure him this is an illusion.)
she's still warm.
...he cannot hear anything for the ringing in his ears. she's... dead? ]
[ Her brain is still active, her eyes wide open, her heartbeat has slowed down, but it's faintly there. Despite the physical disconnect, she registers the hand on her shoulder, and even from far away, she can sense the disbelief at her fate.
One of her index fingers twitches but just slightly. ]
I got myself hurt again.
[ A distant memory resurfaces of a grandfather hugging a small girl to comfort her when she cut herself even if she couldn't even cry about it. He had told her that pain was something to tell others so they knew they needed to help you. There were people like him, like her grandmother who would cry for her even if she couldn't feel a thing. ]
I don't want to make him cry.
[ A whole hand twitches, fingers flexing, but then it ceases. The dark particles around her body have slowed down significantly too; like a machine experiencing a new error it has yet to learn how to correct. ]
[ ...he is resting his hands a little more firmly against her, as if imploring her gently to rouse herself from the state she's in. (shock; denial.) Abel is cautiously beginning to turn her over, before lifting her body up into his arms to cradle her delicately, as if he were afraid she was made of glass - might break further than she's already been broken, if he's too careless. ]
Monts...?
[ this, too, is an illusion. surely. she cannot be hurt, right? she can't... die. she had survived that terrible fall, hadn't she? she-- any second now, she'll be fine. absolutely fine.
...this illusion will be shattered. she'll come around the corner, put a hand on his shoulder; even the monster's lilting voice would be a welcome alternative to this. the jarring absence of anything above the neck where he looks down where her face should be--
[ Error, error, error... Maybe, just MAYBE though... ]
If I don't, he'll cry. I'll be hurting him.
[ Not even the monster wanted to hurt him this way. She may have toyed with the idea of tearing him up, teasing the anger out of him so that she would have something that would make her feel alive and see what type of pain he could display, and be more truthful... But he's only shown her his heart and that she could sympathize with, that was the thing that softened her. ]
I have to get up.
[ The eyes from her head swivel around and then glance back and forth. This was going to be a slow process, but there's no doubt about it. She's awake, she CAN put the pieces back together. It's only two parts so it shouldn't be...
One arm from the headless torso shifts slightly trying to lift itself up. One by one, fingers curl into a fist trying to point to her head. ]
[ ...it takes him an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize she had moved. in all fairness... the lack of a head attached to her body is suitably distracting a sight.
but it's the little tug he feels as her arm shifts that has him finally forcing his eyes away from the ravaged state of her neck--
and he feels more than slightly light-headed, a tingly swim washing over him. --she is... moving. she is moving...? is she--
those eyes are quick to dart toward the ...head, where it had rolled away from the rest of her. Abel is rewarded by the sight of those eyes -- open. alert, even. alert and alive. brain function had not ceased; despite the disconnect from her beating heart... she was still maintaining consciousness--?
...
he swallows thickly against the dryness in his mouth as much as the sick feeling that has been building for some time, now. a tad uncoordinated, a little clumsy, but so very careful none-the-less -- he is gently settling her body on the floor. rising, hand groping to the wall where the mirror had been to steady himself as he steps over her.
...his hands shakily stretch, brushing the disheveled splay of her blood-smeared hair from her eyes. (maybe he's lost his mind. maybe... this time, he really has--) ]
[ She can't talk. All of this is unnatural, her existence could be considered blasphemous, but there's a semblance of logic to this mess seeing as how her vocal cords are damaged. But movement starts to appear in random places.
First, her torso which struggles to push itself up once Abel sets it on the floor. The mark that infects her body continues to swim around like a shining oil spill splitting into particles and then back into the black pool of her skin.
Her facial muscles are moving. Just a twitch of the lips, rapid blinking of eyes... And if Abel turns around, he'll see the outstretched arms from her body expectantly waiting to reunite itself. ]
[ unnerving. unnerving, gruesome... and achingly surreal. the girl who had hugged that oversized whale not too long ago, is the very same as the one who--
...
his hands are steady, somehow, when they come to carefully retrieve the wayward head of his friend. he's lifting her delicately, cradling her skull in his palms and delivering her to her own awaiting arms. hesitates, only to ensure her grip is firm and secure before letting go.
he can't say he is thinking straight in the moment; not terribly surprising considering the circumstances. but he can already feel the innumerable questions - worries, concerns for her and her fate - welling up inside him and tangling into a right mess she'll have to deal with later. because... she'll be coming back from this. because they will have a very long talk about everything, but--
only one thing matters right now.
...please, be alright. it's the lone furtive wish, the only thing he can focus on as he watches and waits to see her literally piece herself back together. ]
[ The process doesn't take long once he places her head in her hands. Her eyes close and other thoughts are shut off.
The monster intends to live. The monster intends to survive at all costs. This human body is frail, but its power is more than enough to make up for all of its flaws.
The fingers grip the sides of her face as it lifts it up and finally connects it to the cauterized stump of her neck. That damned skin mark begins to concentrate around the wound circling around it like a black whirlpool. It looks as if the head is about to slide off at first, but disconnected bones find their missing half, sliced skin begins to meld until the clean line begins to disappear. The noises being made are not pretty, but soon it dies away.
Monts is whole again and for a few frightening seconds, her eyes remain closed. When she opens them back up, they remain black and red. She moves her head back and forth and then rolls it around before stroking her neck with a satisfied hum. ]
Now, now, much better.
[ She looks at Father Abel with a look that can only be described as grateful. It's disconcerting. Her appearance and state of mind haven't reverted back and yet when she smiles at him, there's warmth, twisted as it is, made even more so by the horror that had been inflicted on her person. ]
[ in a long line of unpleasant events, suppose there's no harm in chalking up one more to the list. watching Monts replace her severed head atop her body... was not something he expected to experience, today.
there's a lot that happens to be unraveling he can't say was on his to-do list, actually.
'it's okay,' she says - and Abel only looks increasingly concerned. after a few moments of staring at her in incredulity, he is gently extending his hand to run his fingers down her unblemished throat. her regeneration... this is all too much like-- ]
...You... aren't.
[ 'okay.' the furthest thing from it, in fact.
but she's whole. and that... has to be enough, for now. ]
[ She shushes him softly as he runs his fingers down her neck reaching up to intertwine her darkened fingers in his. ]
It's not my time to slip into the limitless void, to sleep forever and never wake up. Someday, maybe, but I am too tenacious, too stubborn. I will live.
...
[ Closing her eyes she rests her cheek in his hand fondly. ]
I didn't want to hear you cry. So I fixed myself as quickly as I could.
[ ...ah. her fingers are just as steady and firm as they were last they tangled up with his. it's strange, isn't it? that he should feel reassured in some way by anything that has eyes like 'Monts', right now.
but he does.
everything has been put back where it belongs. if he didn't know any better, he could fool himself into believing it hadn't happened at all - that she had never been in pieces on the floor, scattered amongst all the broken glass.
...'didn't want to hear him cry,' hm? ironic how those are the words that make him most want to. ]
Please don't thank me.
[ it was his recklessness that permitted her to end up in this situation in the first place. his hand cups her cheek, thumb smoothing over soft skin as if in hopes of impressing his apology -- permitting himself just one more moment of indulgence to assuage his fears that she could've been stolen away and her life snuffed out, just like that. ]
...I'm sorry. [ the woman with the green eyes has been lost inside of this for so long, and... now, he's added one more terrible experience to the many in her life. ] You might not understand, but-- I'm sorry.
[ Monts. hold out for him just a little bit longer.
he's collecting himself, taking a steadying breath as he draws to his feet. the hand that softly strays from her cheek is held outward to help her up, should she take it. ]
And... I won't let that happen again.
[ nothing here will hurt her. ...they're getting out, now. he doesn't care how. ]
Oh, it's been so long, it's been so long... Let's see if I remember my tricks.
[ She takes a step back and stretches out one arm. Black petals rapidly swim around it and the ground starts to shake beneath them. Then, bursting from the floor are dark thorny vines that wriggle like tentacles as she frees them from the earth. ]
There we go... Entangle, strangle, trap us, no more.
[ With a wave of her hand, she directs the vines towards the mirrors and they grow in length breaking the mirrors directly. ]
They'll keep growing and growing until this place is tired of building walls to keep us in. Will it suffice?
[ he's taking a small step back at the protrusions that penetrade the flooring beneath their feet - and watching as the vines twist, grow, shattering the mirrors and dispelling any lingering traces of unpleasantness with them. ]
Either this place will tire of us, or...
[ or it'll piss it off and invite retribution,
what a fun coin flip!! guess they're about to find out which ]
...Let's keep going, see how it's looking up ahead. Please keep close, Miss Monts.
[ As swiftly as the vines grow and destroy the mirrors ahead of them, any leftover images and reflections meant to torture the two of them also disappear. Soon it's just flimsy walls and broken glass on the floor.
It doesn't take long although the vines have to go through what looks to be like several rooms of mirrors until a pale light is cast on their faces from the very far opposite end. ]
... I think we can leave now. The fun is over, we do not need to look at ourselves anymore.
[ that pale light is a Godsend. Abel is still on guard, unwilling to allow himself to heave a breath of relief until they two of them have made it far... far away from this hellhole.
...and until Monts has returned to herself, woken back up from wherever she's been lost in this creature's dreaming.
Abel is nodding his head, stepping forward with the crunch of broken glass underfoot as he cautiously proceeds toward that light, casting the occasional little glance behind him to ensure she is right at his back. ]
Then maybe it's time for you to give back what you've taken.
[ ...Abel hasn't given up on the missing green-eyed woman who should be walking beside him in the monster's place. ]
[ The dark vines begin to disappear, withering like dried-out dust, intermingling with the broken glass.
Abel's words make her fall silent. She starts to walk silently past him, hands clasped together like a prayer towards the light. ]
... May I tell you the rest of the story, Father? May I confess even as I am? A monster, a nightmare that should have never been?
[ Her voice is soft, but no longer poisonous. The delirium has been wearing off now that the mirrors are gone and there are no voices or demons of the past to hurt them. ]
[ blue eyes trail her lithe form as it passes him; her yo-yo between madness and lucidity is dizzying at times, but... he is praying that in her quieter moments, some trace of Monts lingers there, shows through. ]
...Do you think of yourself that way?
[ 'monster.' 'nightmare that should have never been.' ]
You have all of that woman's memories, and her feelings. So if that's true, then... you know I'll always listen.
What else could I be? No one knows what I am, no one has a word that I can claim.
[ Gradually, the particles on her body start to melt back into one dark veil. She wraps her arms around herself, much in the same way before she transformed. ]
And if you listen... I hope you'll realize that I'll listen too.
[ This is a murmur as if she meant to keep it to herself. For a moment she's silent as she glides across the floor taking no heed to any glass. When she finally decides to speak up there's clarity to her words. ]
That night when my neck was snapped and I could not move... Oh yes, I could not move, did not breathe, but I could still see, I could still hear, my heart slowed to a halt. They didn't know what to do. I might as well have been dead.
[ 'They' being the so-called friends she had spent time with, the voices from the rooms.]
So they took me, stuffed me in a trunk, drove me to a faraway place. Can't move, can't feel, but I can hear, I can see, I can smell.
[ The monster pauses and looks at Abel and there's sadness in her void-like eyes which makes her look more like the normal woman she's supposed to be. What she reveals next is said in a deadly low whisper. ]
They threw me in amongst the trash. I was never something to be treasured, just junk. Only crying for themselves, never for me.
[She buries her face in her hands mumbling to herself. ]
No one knows, no word to claim me, no one treasures what they do not know...
Edited (sorry trying to make it FANCY) 2021-04-27 01:17 (UTC)
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no subject
Her head tilts at an unnatural angle as the cheerful voice catches both their attention. ]
... Well now.
[ Her glittering red and black eyes look back and forth between what appears to be his reflection and the one holding her hand. The differences are there though, she'd be completely delirious if she wasn't even able to pick up on the blonde from the silver and bloodstained dirt clothes versus the priestly clothing Abel adorns.
It's Abel's anger that makes her spine tingle with a type of excitement the monster can't help but drink in for her own satisfaction. She's seeing something truer and more, dare she say it, honest. He breaks the mirror, fueled by a deep and boiling rage and her eyes widen a smidge as the blonde doppelganger's cracks and is destroyed. Oh, what a wonderful town they're in!
(Somewhere within her own heart there's an ache, human sympathy, a minute need to reach out and ask if he's well, to soothe and comfort, but that part can barely be summoned, not as she is right now.)
She sighs, dreamily even as the glass scatters at their feet. ]
Provocations it is... So many ghosts and just the two of us.
no subject
[ the blonde haired man has appeared to their left, replacing his shattered image on the right. Abelβs jaw grits with an audible creak of bones - or is that the strain of his grip where his hand is all but crushing hers, forgotten where sheβs deigned to keep hold of him? ]
You must be tired. [ Abelβs doubleβs familiar blue eyes are kind, and cheerful - but unnatural and unnerving in much the same way this creature that holds sway over the body she possesses surely is. he is approaching the two of them with slow and leisurely footsteps, and thereβs the muffled sound of a womanβs distress from beyond the mirrorβs reach; weak and pitiful cries of pain from a wounded and dying human left to expire in the ruins of their city.
Abelβs releasing Montsβ hand, if only to shatter the mirrors on the left side as well; he has no regard for the little glass pieces sticking stubbornly to the outside of his palm. the voice is his own, the face is his face, but he cannot stand it. ]
...If you arenβt going to help me find the way out of here, then please be quiet.
[ his patience is dissolving. the usual warmth and gentility is replaced by a firmness and sense of urgency; thereβs no more time for this. not for him - and not for her. there are some ghosts that are painful, some that inspire nothing but regrets, or sorrow, or yearning. this one... just brings madness, and she is quite mad enough for the both of them. he can ill afford to lose his tenuous grasp, for better or for worse.
find the way forward, or find silence. ]
no subject
When he asks her, no tells her with no uncertainty and with no warmth left, to be quiet, she stares at him silently without emotion. The monster decides to walk past him clasping her hands behind her back. She blends in too well with the battle-torn surroundings with only some petulance in her body language to contrast it. ]
Be quiet, be silent, no words from my lips, nothing at all. No screams, no cries, no sobs, nothing at all. I see I see.
[ She mutters to herself paying no heed to the carnage around her. A monster lost, a monster unwanted because she was not understood. But Abel is right, they need to get out, and then she can be dealt with accordingly. ]
The chase goes on then. What happens if one of us is caught? [ She says that more to herself than to him, now lost to her own reverie. ]
no subject
for now, he moves behind her, keeping his eyes on this monster instead of the carnage that had been wrought by others a long, long time past. the woman's faint, plaintive cries haven't stopped, even as the mirrors on either side of them remain shattered.
as Monts turns the next corner up ahead, a soft and lilting whisper - like a caress, one she can almost feel directly below her left earlobe - comes from the ruination of the burning landscape. ]
What have we here...?
[ --there is a brilliant flash of deep crimson, a violent pulse from the Spear of Longinus half-formed in the blonde-haired man's hand as he thrusts the weapon horizontally outward. it is impossibly fast -- and immeasurably strong, enough force to level the remaining debris of a building in the illusionary city behind her, a collision that causes renewed chaos and collapse from the dilapidated remains of what had once been a cozy restaurant. choking dust, a new plume of smoke rise up in its wake. the glass of the mirror the blast had come from had summarily shattered with its release.
and, consequently, the pulse has severed Monts' head cleanly from her body at the neck, energy singing and cauterizing the wound instantly.
...can she hear the frantic, unhinged scream of her name? ]
no subject
Reaction time, first off, is rather delayed. Why would she have to react if any wound would seal up almost immediately? But the monster does not account for a clean-cut and thus she takes the attack like a sitting duck. Some of her warm blood escapes and lands on the surface of some mirrors and on the floor before it's cauterized (she can senses that too, what an odd ticklish sensation).
Her head makes contact with the floor and rolls sideways with blood trickling from her mouth and dark eyes wide with shock. The beheaded body staggers and then collapses to its knees before falling forward.
The dark matter in her body slows its movement to almost a near halt, but it continues to shimmer from the light cast by the fires and natural light of the building they're trapped in.
Silence. She's quiet at last.
(Oh, this is different, this is worth understanding, this body so weak, so easy to cut, to break, but maybe, just maybe... There's a voice, a scream, he's screaming her name.
SHE'S STILL AWAKE.) ]
no subject
...he is on auto-pilot, functioning on some kind of mechanical instinct; he reaches out to gently rest his hands at her arm, her shoulder, tentatively. as if to test - to see if she is solid and real, as if seeking proof this is truly happening. (it's more than a little ironic. this, too, seems like a memory - but there is no cold, hard surface to reassure him this is an illusion.)
she's still warm.
...he cannot hear anything for the ringing in his ears. she's... dead? ]
no subject
[ Her brain is still active, her eyes wide open, her heartbeat has slowed down, but it's faintly there. Despite the physical disconnect, she registers the hand on her shoulder, and even from far away, she can sense the disbelief at her fate.
One of her index fingers twitches but just slightly. ]
I got myself hurt again.
[ A distant memory resurfaces of a grandfather hugging a small girl to comfort her when she cut herself even if she couldn't even cry about it. He had told her that pain was something to tell others so they knew they needed to help you. There were people like him, like her grandmother who would cry for her even if she couldn't feel a thing. ]
I don't want to make him cry.
[ A whole hand twitches, fingers flexing, but then it ceases. The dark particles around her body have slowed down significantly too; like a machine experiencing a new error it has yet to learn how to correct. ]
no subject
Monts...?
[ this, too, is an illusion. surely. she cannot be hurt, right? she can't... die. she had survived that terrible fall, hadn't she? she-- any second now, she'll be fine. absolutely fine.
...this illusion will be shattered. she'll come around the corner, put a hand on his shoulder; even the monster's lilting voice would be a welcome alternative to this. the jarring absence of anything above the neck where he looks down where her face should be--
any second now. ...yes, any second now. ]
no subject
[ Error, error, error... Maybe, just MAYBE though... ]
If I don't, he'll cry. I'll be hurting him.
[ Not even the monster wanted to hurt him this way. She may have toyed with the idea of tearing him up, teasing the anger out of him so that she would have something that would make her feel alive and see what type of pain he could display, and be more truthful... But he's only shown her his heart and that she could sympathize with, that was the thing that softened her. ]
I have to get up.
[ The eyes from her head swivel around and then glance back and forth. This was going to be a slow process, but there's no doubt about it. She's awake, she CAN put the pieces back together. It's only two parts so it shouldn't be...
One arm from the headless torso shifts slightly trying to lift itself up. One by one, fingers curl into a fist trying to point to her head. ]
no subject
but it's the little tug he feels as her arm shifts that has him finally forcing his eyes away from the ravaged state of her neck--
and he feels more than slightly light-headed, a tingly swim washing over him. --she is... moving. she is moving...? is she--
those eyes are quick to dart toward the ...head, where it had rolled away from the rest of her. Abel is rewarded by the sight of those eyes -- open. alert, even. alert and alive. brain function had not ceased; despite the disconnect from her beating heart... she was still maintaining consciousness--?
...
he swallows thickly against the dryness in his mouth as much as the sick feeling that has been building for some time, now. a tad uncoordinated, a little clumsy, but so very careful none-the-less -- he is gently settling her body on the floor. rising, hand groping to the wall where the mirror had been to steady himself as he steps over her.
...his hands shakily stretch, brushing the disheveled splay of her blood-smeared hair from her eyes. (maybe he's lost his mind. maybe... this time, he really has--) ]
Monts...?
no subject
First, her torso which struggles to push itself up once Abel sets it on the floor. The mark that infects her body continues to swim around like a shining oil spill splitting into particles and then back into the black pool of her skin.
Her facial muscles are moving. Just a twitch of the lips, rapid blinking of eyes... And if Abel turns around, he'll see the outstretched arms from her body expectantly waiting to reunite itself. ]
no subject
...
his hands are steady, somehow, when they come to carefully retrieve the wayward head of his friend. he's lifting her delicately, cradling her skull in his palms and delivering her to her own awaiting arms. hesitates, only to ensure her grip is firm and secure before letting go.
he can't say he is thinking straight in the moment; not terribly surprising considering the circumstances. but he can already feel the innumerable questions - worries, concerns for her and her fate - welling up inside him and tangling into a right mess she'll have to deal with later. because... she'll be coming back from this. because they will have a very long talk about everything, but--
only one thing matters right now.
...please, be alright. it's the lone furtive wish, the only thing he can focus on as he watches and waits to see her literally piece herself back together. ]
no subject
The monster intends to live. The monster intends to survive at all costs. This human body is frail, but its power is more than enough to make up for all of its flaws.
The fingers grip the sides of her face as it lifts it up and finally connects it to the cauterized stump of her neck. That damned skin mark begins to concentrate around the wound circling around it like a black whirlpool. It looks as if the head is about to slide off at first, but disconnected bones find their missing half, sliced skin begins to meld until the clean line begins to disappear. The noises being made are not pretty, but soon it dies away.
Monts is whole again and for a few frightening seconds, her eyes remain closed. When she opens them back up, they remain black and red. She moves her head back and forth and then rolls it around before stroking her neck with a satisfied hum. ]
Now, now, much better.
[ She looks at Father Abel with a look that can only be described as grateful. It's disconcerting. Her appearance and state of mind haven't reverted back and yet when she smiles at him, there's warmth, twisted as it is, made even more so by the horror that had been inflicted on her person. ]
It's ok. It doesn't hurt at all.
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there's a lot that happens to be unraveling he can't say was on his to-do list, actually.
'it's okay,' she says - and Abel only looks increasingly concerned. after a few moments of staring at her in incredulity, he is gently extending his hand to run his fingers down her unblemished throat. her regeneration... this is all too much like-- ]
...You... aren't.
[ 'okay.' the furthest thing from it, in fact.
but she's whole. and that... has to be enough, for now. ]
You're-- are you sure you're...
[ .. ]
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[ She shushes him softly as he runs his fingers down her neck reaching up to intertwine her darkened fingers in his. ]
It's not my time to slip into the limitless void, to sleep forever and never wake up. Someday, maybe, but I am too tenacious, too stubborn. I will live.
...
[ Closing her eyes she rests her cheek in his hand fondly. ]
I didn't want to hear you cry. So I fixed myself as quickly as I could.
Thank you.
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but he does.
everything has been put back where it belongs. if he didn't know any better, he could fool himself into believing it hadn't happened at all - that she had never been in pieces on the floor, scattered amongst all the broken glass.
...'didn't want to hear him cry,' hm? ironic how those are the words that make him most want to. ]
Please don't thank me.
[ it was his recklessness that permitted her to end up in this situation in the first place. his hand cups her cheek, thumb smoothing over soft skin as if in hopes of impressing his apology -- permitting himself just one more moment of indulgence to assuage his fears that she could've been stolen away and her life snuffed out, just like that. ]
...I'm sorry. [ the woman with the green eyes has been lost inside of this for so long, and... now, he's added one more terrible experience to the many in her life. ] You might not understand, but-- I'm sorry.
[ Monts. hold out for him just a little bit longer.
he's collecting himself, taking a steadying breath as he draws to his feet. the hand that softly strays from her cheek is held outward to help her up, should she take it. ]
And... I won't let that happen again.
[ nothing here will hurt her. ...they're getting out, now. he doesn't care how. ]
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Worry not, I will also move faster next time. Oh, but we don't want a next time do we?
[ Her voice is gleeful as if wanting to dare the mirrors to try the same trick again. ]
You've broken enough illusions. Allow me to try another way.
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What do you plan to do...?
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[ She takes a step back and stretches out one arm. Black petals rapidly swim around it and the ground starts to shake beneath them. Then, bursting from the floor are dark thorny vines that wriggle like tentacles as she frees them from the earth. ]
There we go... Entangle, strangle, trap us, no more.
[ With a wave of her hand, she directs the vines towards the mirrors and they grow in length breaking the mirrors directly. ]
They'll keep growing and growing until this place is tired of building walls to keep us in. Will it suffice?
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Either this place will tire of us, or...
[ or it'll piss it off and invite retribution,
what a fun coin flip!! guess they're about to find out which ]
...Let's keep going, see how it's looking up ahead. Please keep close, Miss Monts.
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It doesn't take long although the vines have to go through what looks to be like several rooms of mirrors until a pale light is cast on their faces from the very far opposite end. ]
... I think we can leave now. The fun is over, we do not need to look at ourselves anymore.
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...and until Monts has returned to herself, woken back up from wherever she's been lost in this creature's dreaming.
Abel is nodding his head, stepping forward with the crunch of broken glass underfoot as he cautiously proceeds toward that light, casting the occasional little glance behind him to ensure she is right at his back. ]
Then maybe it's time for you to give back what you've taken.
[ ...Abel hasn't given up on the missing green-eyed woman who should be walking beside him in the monster's place. ]
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Abel's words make her fall silent. She starts to walk silently past him, hands clasped together like a prayer towards the light. ]
... May I tell you the rest of the story, Father? May I confess even as I am? A monster, a nightmare that should have never been?
[ Her voice is soft, but no longer poisonous. The delirium has been wearing off now that the mirrors are gone and there are no voices or demons of the past to hurt them. ]
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...Do you think of yourself that way?
[ 'monster.' 'nightmare that should have never been.' ]
You have all of that woman's memories, and her feelings. So if that's true, then... you know I'll always listen.
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[ Gradually, the particles on her body start to melt back into one dark veil. She wraps her arms around herself, much in the same way before she transformed. ]
And if you listen... I hope you'll realize that I'll listen too.
[ This is a murmur as if she meant to keep it to herself. For a moment she's silent as she glides across the floor taking no heed to any glass. When she finally decides to speak up there's clarity to her words. ]
That night when my neck was snapped and I could not move... Oh yes, I could not move, did not breathe, but I could still see, I could still hear, my heart slowed to a halt. They didn't know what to do. I might as well have been dead.
[ 'They' being the so-called friends she had spent time with, the voices from the rooms.]
So they took me, stuffed me in a trunk, drove me to a faraway place. Can't move, can't feel, but I can hear, I can see, I can smell.
[ The monster pauses and looks at Abel and there's sadness in her void-like eyes which makes her look more like the normal woman she's supposed to be. What she reveals next is said in a deadly low whisper. ]
They threw me in amongst the trash. I was never something to be treasured, just junk. Only crying for themselves, never for me.
[She buries her face in her hands mumbling to herself. ]
No one knows, no word to claim me, no one treasures what they do not know...
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