[ 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)
[ ...humans, for all their great and limitless capacity for love and kindness, were also capable of exceptional cruelty.
the grimace finds his lips as he lets her story sink in. discarded like literal 'trash.' ...Abel wishes he could claim to be a better man - but, these words elicit a bubbling up of old resentment and anger, pain on her behalf.
his hands lightly stretch. no matter how much this creature has warped her appearance - Monts' pain is thick in every word coming out of her lips. this is her story. this is her grief. it's impossible to remain unmoved by it, and to resist the knee-jerk desire to ease it somehow.
he's gently reaching out, resting his hand lightly atop her head to soothingly stroke where her head is ducked. ]
...I'm sorry.
[ pieces of her had fragmented that day, he thinks. it wouldn't be shocking. 'death' isn't something normal people survive, and a mere brush with it can leave lasting scars that aren't physical, even on a 'normal' person. but someone in this condition - someone haboring, lost to, a darkness that defies all logic and reason that won't permit her to die...?
[ She leans into his hand after setting her own down so that they dangle by her sides. What a strange sight they must have made at that moment. Her shoulders are going slack as if resigned now that there was no longer any obstacle impeding them from exiting. ]
... The next few hours, I fixed myself and waited. Then I walked and searched.
[ She had tried to hunt all of them down, one by one, torture them with her presence. ]
But I said it already. I never did kill them. I hurt them for as long as I could before they ran away some more. But I was found and I was stopped...
... So here I am now.
[ The snowy white of her skin begins to fade away as do her eyes... ]
[ When they're finally outside, Monts looks up at Father Abel, eyes blue-green once again and heartbreakingly sorrowful and her voice choked up, but unable to sob. Her mark covers her body and starts to recede like a dark tide of water. ]
I still wish I could kill them, Father Abel.
[ There's something in the Scripture that says something about how murder in one's heart might as well be real murder. If so, then Marianna has committed it over and over and over again. ]
[ the mark slowly fading, dissolving from her skin... she's coming back to herself, isn't she? waking up from the dream she was having.
...and the relief is a little dizzying, he has to admit.
stepping out of the house of mirrors is gratifying enough on its own. seeing her eyes holding cognizance and familiarity... even if the expression on her face, the ache-inducing tone of her voice has his chest panging again--
it's Monts.
for a moment, all he can really bring himself to do is stare. this ordeal has been... enlightening. and exhausting. and concerning, and-- ]
...You really scared me this time, you... you know that?
[ don't mind the unsteady warble of his voice. he's really glad to see her. ]
[ Outside, the carnival is quiet, no empty. There are no more clowns, no whirring machines, and the electric lights that lit up the attractions barely flicker on and off.
Oddly enough (or maybe not, considering where they were), the giant whale and small shark plush that was won from the shooting gallery has been moved so that they're waiting on the table that she had dropped them off on.
The mark on her body continues to shrink as Monts looks up at Abel before reaching over to gently touch his arm. ]
[ Despite how tight the hug is, Monts can only read it as heartbreakingly tender behind it all. Here he is worried about her when she can clearly remember the reflections used to torture him. But this isn't the time to ask about his pain. She had an inkling that her being beheaded had tied into something too personal. ]
... I'm fine. This... It wasn't like last time.
[ Last time was a rampage. This time was a nightmarish reverie forced by memories of the former. ]
his arms wind just a tiny bit tighter in response to those words - she really wouldnβt know precisely how much it means to him for that to be what she chooses to say at a time like this. sheβs back to herself... drawn out of that creatureβs influence, or maybe put it back where all the things it represents are buried inside her. sheβs back, and he couldnβt be more relieved.
but indulging his weakness and standing here clinging to her like a child, is... h-he really is incorrigible. sheβs probably exhausted, probably more than ready to leave this hellhole and here he is clutching at her and trapping her in it.
it takes a concerted effort to detach himself from her, still feeling more than slightly out of sorts as he does despite his best efforts to clear his head. yet, looking down at her and seeing the clarity in her eyes... seeing Monts back to Monts is reassuringly comforting in a way he cannot quite put to words.
his voice is a little hoarse, a little soft when he finally manages to speak past the lump in his throat. ]
Are you sure youβre okay?
[ his smile is a bit watery, but sincere. sheβs been through enough, today. maybe itβs time they get the hell out of here... ]
[ When he lets go of her she looks up at him. She's not tired physically, but mentally for certain. ]
... Don't cry okay?
[ Abuela would get mad at me for making a priest cry, is what she wants to say to lighten the mood, to show him that she's fine. But Monts can't find it in herself to joke like that, not when he shows her that expression. ]
I'm standing right here aren't I? You know I'm fine.
Being in one piece [ ...literally, ] and... being okay are different things, right...?
[ though his smile remains at his lips, it's hard to ignore the fact the earnest concern in blue eyes hasn't dampened in the least. and he has the distinct and nagging feeling that 'okay' really isn't a good word to describe her right now. ]
...And, I-- I'm not going to cry, it's just-- my allergies are terrible this time of year, so...
[ shut up he's not crying she's crying, he's swiping a hand hastily to rub beneath his glasses. stop!!! no one is crying!!!!!! ]
[ Monts sighs and suddenly leans forward so that her forehead rests against his chest. Partly to comfort him, partly because of all the mental energy spent, and lastly, so that he wouldn't have to see her melancholic expression. ]
You're so bad at being truthful.... You really are the worst priest.
[ And she stays there for a bit. Although she mumbles her words next because she's so close, Abel should be able to hear her. ]
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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.
no subject
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...
[ .. ]
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
What do you plan to do...?
no subject
[ 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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
...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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
...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.
no subject
[ 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...
no subject
the grimace finds his lips as he lets her story sink in. discarded like literal 'trash.' ...Abel wishes he could claim to be a better man - but, these words elicit a bubbling up of old resentment and anger, pain on her behalf.
his hands lightly stretch. no matter how much this creature has warped her appearance - Monts' pain is thick in every word coming out of her lips. this is her story. this is her grief. it's impossible to remain unmoved by it, and to resist the knee-jerk desire to ease it somehow.
he's gently reaching out, resting his hand lightly atop her head to soothingly stroke where her head is ducked. ]
...I'm sorry.
[ pieces of her had fragmented that day, he thinks. it wouldn't be shocking. 'death' isn't something normal people survive, and a mere brush with it can leave lasting scars that aren't physical, even on a 'normal' person. but someone in this condition - someone haboring, lost to, a darkness that defies all logic and reason that won't permit her to die...?
... ]
1/2
... The next few hours, I fixed myself and waited. Then I walked and searched.
[ She had tried to hunt all of them down, one by one, torture them with her presence. ]
But I said it already. I never did kill them. I hurt them for as long as I could before they ran away some more. But I was found and I was stopped...
... So here I am now.
[ The snowy white of her skin begins to fade away as do her eyes... ]
no subject
[ When they're finally outside, Monts looks up at Father Abel, eyes blue-green once again and heartbreakingly sorrowful and her voice choked up, but unable to sob. Her mark covers her body and starts to recede like a dark tide of water. ]
I still wish I could kill them, Father Abel.
[ There's something in the Scripture that says something about how murder in one's heart might as well be real murder. If so, then Marianna has committed it over and over and over again. ]
no subject
...and the relief is a little dizzying, he has to admit.
stepping out of the house of mirrors is gratifying enough on its own. seeing her eyes holding cognizance and familiarity... even if the expression on her face, the ache-inducing tone of her voice has his chest panging again--
it's Monts.
for a moment, all he can really bring himself to do is stare. this ordeal has been... enlightening. and exhausting. and concerning, and-- ]
...You really scared me this time, you... you know that?
[ don't mind the unsteady warble of his voice. he's really glad to see her. ]
no subject
[ Outside, the carnival is quiet, no empty. There are no more clowns, no whirring machines, and the electric lights that lit up the attractions barely flicker on and off.
Oddly enough (or maybe not, considering where they were), the giant whale and small shark plush that was won from the shooting gallery has been moved so that they're waiting on the table that she had dropped them off on.
The mark on her body continues to shrink as Monts looks up at Abel before reaching over to gently touch his arm. ]
Sorry for scaring you. Sorry for all of that.
1/2
no subject
...are you-- okay? You...
[ lost yourself in your memories,
lost yourself to your inner demon(s),
lost your head--
...maybe he's a little. concerned. ]
no subject
... I'm fine. This... It wasn't like last time.
[ Last time was a rampage. This time was a nightmarish reverie forced by memories of the former. ]
You were here with me. That's what was different.
no subject
his arms wind just a tiny bit tighter in response to those words - she really wouldnβt know precisely how much it means to him for that to be what she chooses to say at a time like this. sheβs back to herself... drawn out of that creatureβs influence, or maybe put it back where all the things it represents are buried inside her. sheβs back, and he couldnβt be more relieved.
but indulging his weakness and standing here clinging to her like a child, is... h-he really is incorrigible. sheβs probably exhausted, probably more than ready to leave this hellhole and here he is clutching at her and trapping her in it.
it takes a concerted effort to detach himself from her, still feeling more than slightly out of sorts as he does despite his best efforts to clear his head. yet, looking down at her and seeing the clarity in her eyes... seeing Monts back to Monts is reassuringly comforting in a way he cannot quite put to words.
his voice is a little hoarse, a little soft when he finally manages to speak past the lump in his throat. ]
Are you sure youβre okay?
[ his smile is a bit watery, but sincere. sheβs been through enough, today. maybe itβs time they get the hell out of here... ]
no subject
... Don't cry okay?
[ Abuela would get mad at me for making a priest cry, is what she wants to say to lighten the mood, to show him that she's fine. But Monts can't find it in herself to joke like that, not when he shows her that expression. ]
I'm standing right here aren't I? You know I'm fine.
no subject
[ though his smile remains at his lips, it's hard to ignore the fact the earnest concern in blue eyes hasn't dampened in the least. and he has the distinct and nagging feeling that 'okay' really isn't a good word to describe her right now. ]
...And, I-- I'm not going to cry, it's just-- my allergies are terrible this time of year, so...
[ shut up he's not crying she's crying, he's swiping a hand hastily to rub beneath his glasses. stop!!! no one is crying!!!!!! ]
no subject
You're so bad at being truthful.... You really are the worst priest.
[ And she stays there for a bit. Although she mumbles her words next because she's so close, Abel should be able to hear her. ]
But you were there for me anyway... So thanks.
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