Slevin Kelevra (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
andyougoleft) wrote2013-11-01 09:33 pm
andyougoleft) wrote2013-11-01 09:33 pm
|: 006. Video : The Ocean Wide, Salted Red :|
[ Public : Backdated to about fifteen minutes after the Barge goes back to normal ]
-at the fuck is wrong with everyone here!?
[The feed clicks on halfway through the beginning of what is unmistakably some form of hysterics. Not high and thin, no, but out of control, without restraint. He's fumbling with the communicator, hands shaky and slick with something that smears across the screen, not that it will be much of a surprise to anyone after what just happened.]
What the fuck is wrong with this place!? Who does this?! Who fucking stays here? You're all insane! You're all fucking psychotic! Jesus... !
[He finally gets it clicked off, but not before his unsteady efforts have given a good view of the tableau: it's Slevin, a generous amount of blood smeared down both sides of his face, his nose, blooming into the neck of his t-shirt, pale and wide-eyed and saturated with adrenaline. He's in Chris's cabin on level eight, and Chris himself is in a heap on the floor behind him; in the corner is a misshapen, nightmare creature that will eventually turn out to be Cassel, though it's not recognizable as such.
He bolts from the room, an outmatched predator fleeing mindlessly.]
[OOC: Replies will come back delayed after he calms down; this can be open spam, too, but depending on how soon after the initial message he might attack and/or shoot someone. CW that responses to this post may contain reference to torture, gore, and body horrors.]
-at the fuck is wrong with everyone here!?
[The feed clicks on halfway through the beginning of what is unmistakably some form of hysterics. Not high and thin, no, but out of control, without restraint. He's fumbling with the communicator, hands shaky and slick with something that smears across the screen, not that it will be much of a surprise to anyone after what just happened.]
What the fuck is wrong with this place!? Who does this?! Who fucking stays here? You're all insane! You're all fucking psychotic! Jesus... !
[He finally gets it clicked off, but not before his unsteady efforts have given a good view of the tableau: it's Slevin, a generous amount of blood smeared down both sides of his face, his nose, blooming into the neck of his t-shirt, pale and wide-eyed and saturated with adrenaline. He's in Chris's cabin on level eight, and Chris himself is in a heap on the floor behind him; in the corner is a misshapen, nightmare creature that will eventually turn out to be Cassel, though it's not recognizable as such.
He bolts from the room, an outmatched predator fleeing mindlessly.]
[OOC: Replies will come back delayed after he calms down; this can be open spam, too, but depending on how soon after the initial message he might attack and/or shoot someone. CW that responses to this post may contain reference to torture, gore, and body horrors.]
[Spam]
He couldn't sit up if he wanted to; whereas during the Barge's tryst with its alternate universe counterpart he still had legs, here he's an amputee again, unable to run after his inmate should he have been conscious.
He lays against his dresser, eyes eventually cracking open to view the absolute mess he's helped create.]
[Spam]
Chris?
[Spam]
[well, he can curse. So that probably means he's going to be okay]
s'fuck...where. Cassel?
[He starts to sit up, hugging his head]
[Spam]
[It wasn't actually screaming as much as it was weird whimpering noises. But either way it's done, blowback past, and Cassel sits up in the corner and cracks his neck.]
[For maybe a second and a half he just looks incredibly pained. And then he yelps and sits bolt upright.]
Shit. Chris! Where the fuck did he go!
[Spam]
Cassel? He's here. We should probably take him to the infirmary.
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video/spam
[ She takes her comm with her, in case he comes back before she finds him. She moves fast, but she doesn't want to scare him if and when she does find him. She walks, she just does it very quickly. ]
video/spam
So it takes him a long time to come back - a time during which he is extremely well hidden wherever he is - but he does reply. Voice only, so no one can see where he is, and about as friendly as a pissed off cobra, residual hysteria still curling the edges of his voice.]
What?
Video;
What happened? Are you hurt? Where are you?
[ Private : Voice on his end ]
[He laughs then, slightly unhinged, but slams back down on it with the anger ripping through him as much as the adrenaline.]
What always happened in that place? Fuck.
I'm not... I think I'm okay. Where I am isn't important.
[ Private : Video still]
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[ Private ~~> Spam ]
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[ Spam ] CW: fire, gore, torture
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[later, spam]
Can you to 2-1? Door's secure, safe, weapons here. You take his item while you were on your way out?
[ Harvey knows how to keep a person feeling safe, secure. Seeing to their needs. It was just one of his moneymaking rackets to fund other, larger schemes. ]
[later, spam]
Into the silent, numb wake of adrenaline, he has to laugh because how useless is it now when they're back on the relatively safe Barge?
He doesn't want to talk to anyone. He's in siege mode, but that only works when there's anything like a safe place in the world, and in this world there isn't. Not unless he turns to his allies.
So:]
I've got his item.
When?
[later, spam]
Door will be open. Come down, let yourself in. I'll lock up once you're here.
[later, spam]
There's still blood in his shirt, though, and a dark, dangerous look to his eyes when he knocks, glancing quickly up and down the hallway before trying the handle. It doesn't matter who he looks suspicious or rattled to, at this point. Everyone's already seen. Everyone already knows.]
It's me.
[later, spam]
Make yourself at home. Such as it is.
[ He wasn't expecting guests at the time so he's not in his suitcoat and his suspenders hang on his hips. Otherwise, he remains as well dressed as ever; gloves, nice shirt, tie. ]
[later, spam]
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Video
[Shit. He really hopes it was just whatever that is in the corner attacked them both. At least Slevin's out of there. He'll be running down to check on Chris.]
[ Private : Voice ]
Kevin. Same question to you.
[ Private : Voice ]
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What happened with Chris and Cassel?
[ Private : Voice ]
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no subject
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spam
[But there's someone else here. It's so unexpected that it takes her a long span of seconds to adjust to the newness of him, longer still to recognize him. Slevin, isn't he? Slevin . . . something.]
[She's all sharp-eyed interest when she enters; it falls to blankness, and then lifts to cautious curiosity. Glancing over her shoulder into the hall and seeing no one who might have seen him, she closes the door behind her and presses her back against it.]
Is it . . . okay? That I'm in here.
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The fear is harder to set aside. He hasn't found an airtight enough box, yet, but he will. He must.
He sleeps on the floor here, using his rifle case as a pillow because he'll take the sanctuary but not additional debt in the form of comforts, especially when he doesn't even really need them. He's showered recently enough that his hair is still spiky and damp, and he's settled down now in a black hoodie, cargo pants, leaning over his communicator where he's sitting on the floor beside the asylum bed. When she comes in he looks up, but when he realizes who it is he goes absolutely still until she sees him.
He still doesn't move, except to raise his chin slightly, dark eyes unreadable, unsmiling. His legs are folded around a gun, but his hands in his lap hide it completely.]
I don't know. Not my room. I'm not going to cause trouble, though, unless you are. [He knows who she is. He's not sure if he thinks it's likely or not that she'll cause trouble.]
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[She tilts her head. No. No, that isn't right at all, is it?]
[Her shoulders don't hunch, precisely, but they do bear up under pressure; her entire posture ripples, some lying little part of her falling away. And she shrugs.]
I think if you're here and I'm here, that means we're both here with their permission, and it would be stupid for either of us to cause trouble. And I'm not stupid.
[Maybe this is arrogance, but it doesn't sound that way. It sounds like fact. She steps into the room without any apparent concern for the pre-strike posture of him, going through the stock of snacks she's put in here and taken to replenishing for her own sense of security. Harvey needs more crackers. Or, possibly, she needs more crackers. It's a fine line.]
I was asking because I don't want to make you uncomfortable.
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[It's neat, he realizes even as he says it, how she set that up for them. How they can use Harvey as a go between even without him here, how they can have an agreement with him without having one between them. Not yet anyway. They can just agree to to occupy the same space peacefully to honor their host.
He likes that. She's clever. But then he already knew that much, anyway
Of course, her clarification puts it right back into a personal issue between them, and Slevin straightens up slightly off his elbows braced on his knees without looking away..]
It's fine. [He's done being uncomfortable. Not for less than torture, and he's done being uncomfortable with that, too. That has moved firmly into the realm of lex talionis. Never again.
He hasn't touched the crackers, but he's well aware that they're there. He realizes it must be her that put them there. It just doesn't seem like a very Harvey thing to do - or Two-Face.] I'm Slevin. I'm only staying here for a little bit.
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