WHO: Damian Saint Lorrant & Various WHERE: Various WHEN: After trooping home from the delights of CnC2020. WHAT: A place to store some threads for Feb! WARNINGS: There is definitely gonna be some character injury/blood/gore/whatever.
[ He jerks awake in his bed from a particularly bad dream, one that leaves his head pounding. One of those really insidious ones, where it seems bad at the time you're having it, but you really don't grasp the full stress, the full implications, the full horror of it until you're awake and unwillingly reliving the details.
Josh's blue eyes haunt him, that final look they'd given him. And David's armored body, going lax in his arms as he tore apart its willing throat to bleed him out. Damian shudders, pushing himself up into a sit despite the pain in his head. He drags a hand through his hair, and — it's sticky. It's bloody, he knows that smell anywhere. But he's never woken up covered in someone else's blood without a full moon being involved, this is distressingly new and unsettling.
He's struck by a terrible thought. It was a dream, wasn't it? And this — this is a headache, and not a ruined eye from the slash of a blade? His bloody hand feels his bloody cheek, and the bottom drops out of his stomach.
Within himself he can feel Josh's power, still stolen, which is another nail into his coffin of gut-wrenching terror. But — he has to be smart about this. He drops his hand to his chest, activating that healing power just has he had in the — dream. The dream he's not so sure was a dream. The pain fades and his vision clears as his eye and the face around it is restored, and ... and doesn't this mean that somewhere out there, David is even worse off? Christ.
The thought has him stumbling out of bed, half dressed, and tearing open a portal. Thank god he'd learned to direct it straight to a person, and when he stumbles into the dark room on the other end it's David's. ]
David? [ It's too dark to see much, but he's already fumbling for the edge of the bed, terror making clumsy, shaking messes of his hands. In a mutter: ] Tell me I'm crazy, tell me you're fine ...
[At least Damian gets to wake up and think it's a dream. At least he gets that little illusion of distant horror. David gets to wake in the kind of agony and pain that would normally have him screaming. Only he can't force a noise past his lips. He wakes to the scent of blood filling his room, and his body getting cold. What few breaths he can manage, which aren't easy or common, come with searing pain in his side too, but that doesn't even compare to his throat.
That David had gone into the cold embrace of death willingly. This one clamped his hands over his throat as if that could do anything to stop his life from slipping out between his fingers.
Then there's the voice. Damian's voice. But he can't tell Damian he's crazy. There's too much panic to even know what Damian means. The memories aren't there yet because he's too terrified to even touch them. But he does look toward the source of the voice, tears rolling over his cheeks. He doesn't want to end like this. It doesn't matter that he might come back. He doesn't want to go.]
[ He can't see — and god, he's so stupid. So stupid. He has the solution to this, he brought it into the universe with him. With a touch to his chest, blue fire fills the room, an eerie nightlight flickering on every surface. And what he can see in its pale light freezes him with dread. He doesn't have to see under David's hands to know that his throat is ruined, torn to pieces by monstrous hands.
He doesn't know how to heal that, shouts some part of him, he doesn't have the knowledge or skill that Josh does — but David would, wouldn't he? David seems to know everything about everything. He drops to his side on the bed, takes a breath, and sets both hands on that bloody chest. ]
Hang on, just ... hang on.
[ He closes his eyes against David's face, tear-streaked and terrified, far too much for him to deal with right now. He tears through the halls of David's knowledges, and — there, yes. Medical. Everything he could want. He immediately frees a hand back to his chest, and starts the process of healing. The neck first, that's the greatest threat and loss of blood. His brow knits as he works, piecing David back together, undoing the damage that a fully realized Saint Lorrant had done. ]
[What, isn't he already hanging on? David's mouth moves in unvoiced words. Can't voice them. Not that he knows what he would say. But his lips move anyway. In what could be taken as a prayer. And is really...
Is really an apology. Him apologizing to Damian. Because the man clearly hurts, and he doesn't deserve that.
Healing something like this, it's not fast. It's not instant. It's... a thing. A process. And David feels weaker as it goes. But soon the weakness is just fatigue, and he's shaking not because he's cold but because adrenaline is spiking in his body, something Damian would know of course. Because now the memories are happening. Those same hands on him. No, talons. Opening the throat Damian just closed. Wielding the knife that left the pain in his chest, and the pain he's starting to notice in his leg.
And at last there's his throat done enough for him to croak out a brief statement.]
[ Damian's eyes flicker to David's face at the sound of his voice — still blue, somehow even now he remembers how to keep his skin, hair, and eyes looking as they should. Whatever he sees there has him flinching. He drops his gaze again, and frees a hand to hurriedly drag across his eyes before any tears can fall. He hasn't cried since he was a child, this would be a terrible time to start. He leaves blood smeared in the wake of his hand, either his or David's. It's impossible to tell.
The throat is mended, he can sense it. Slightly less frantic now, he shifts his attention to the chest wound. That had been a solid stab, not unlike what that black-clad figure had done that strange, foggy night. He's always getting David hurt somehow, isn't he? ]
I know.
[ He says it finally, a croak of an admission. He knows it isn't his fault, not really, but it could have been. That man making all of those ruthless decisions — Damian knows him, he knows him well, and not only because they shared a consciousness and an identity.
He doesn't want to think about it. He bows his head and keeps concentrating. ]
[ It's only been a few hours since their disorienting return to this universe by the time Damian finds Josh. He could have found him earlier, the portals make it so simple, but ... well, it had been easier to spend time with David, first. David who forgave so quickly, who forgave like there was nothing to forgive. (It's true, technically, but it sure doesn't feel like it.)
With the usual tear of fabric noise, Damian steps into where ever Josh is. He does it wordlessly, figuring his arrival has been pretty loudly announced as-is, with shoulders already in a guilty hunch despite his best attempt at neutral posture. He looks like he's expecting to be greeted with a punch. ]
[ luckily for damian, josh hasn't gotten out of bed yet. he gets an eyefull of josh's bare chest and his utterly graceless way of sleeping, flopping on his side with his arms stretched out to take up as much space in the bed as possible.
he'd slept through the commotion next door. he'd slept through his phone ringing, and a barrage of text messages from worried coworkers. he'd even slept through his alarm. he would have slept through damian stepping into his room, if it wasn't for the fact that his arm was finally starting to fall asleep where it was pinned under him. it's an entirely alien sensation.
he scrunches his face at the sound and cracks one eye open. sees one pale arm stretched out on the bed before him, and then sits bolt upright. ]
[ Ah, Josh hasn't has time to get any kind of angry about anything yet. That's ... good, maybe. Maybe it means he has to watch him start to recall all of it.
He sighs quietly, seizes a chair from the desk in the room, and drags it nearer to invite himself to a seat near the bed. ]
Hi. [ A good start. ] Sorry, this is ... sudden.
[ Dialog really just intended to get Josh's brain to start working; he watches him closely, waiting to read whatever expressions Josh offers to indicate where his mental progress might be on the last few weeks.
His pale face and blue eyes are strangely haunting. It's so easy to juxtapose to look on his face last time he'd seen it like this. ]
[ he's looking down at his hands, his mind racing a mile a minute. what was he doing? he was -- on an airship? on an airship. and he was hurt. recovering, thanks to supernatural interference, but still not running at one hundred percent and definitely not totally himself. because he'd been... out with damian, trying to save someone, and...
oh.
oh.
he... didn't even know damian could do that. wasn't he just a teleporter and, like, a sad silly fire magician? and also a were-raptor? ]
[ There it is. And of course Josh starts out with what is simultaneously the most natural question, and the hardest one to answer. He glances down at his own hands, which he suspects should be golden, but a man much handier with juggling new powers than Damian currently is figured out the psychosomatic side of that. ]
Tech... [ He pause to pause, swallow, try again. This level of calm and control, usually so effortless, is difficult today. ] Technically. I don't think it was ... us, though.
[ Damian hasn't spent an abundance of time in the apartment over the last few months. He's busy with work, or visiting Josh and David's house, or out doing nefarious things. But since returning from their strange cross-universe experience, he's hardly left it. And it feels ... quieter, doesn't it? There are fewer people. It might even just be him and Cassidy, for all he can tell.
He drifts through like a ghost, like he's afraid of stepping too loudly in this quiet place. He checks his phone, something for business, but it's an idle gesture. His heart isn't in it today. Some noise alerts him to a presence, probably Cassidy's, and he doesn't so much as look up. ]
There's a bottle of whisky chilling in the refrigerator.
[ It's an invitation, not just an aimless statement. He'd bought it on impulse, but drinking it himself seems like an ill-advised idea right now. ]
[Cassidy's been hibernating since the mass return, happy enough to stay home, get stoned out of his fucking mind and attempt to forget virtually everything that happened back in that strange other Universe. He's still not sure quite what happened, but he's pretty certain forgetting any and all problems is always the best approach to life.
When he does emerge from his blacked out room, it's groggily one afternoon, shuffling through the house in search of a refill on coffee, food and booze.
At Damian's prompting he grunts an acknowledgement, vanishes off into the kitchen and emerges soon after with the mentioned chilled bottle.]
You drinkin'? [Asked as he lingers near the doorway, waving the bottle in Damian's direction, an invitation without invasion.]
[ He shouldn't. He has so much to do, so much to catch up on after a sudden month away. He gives his phone another scroll, eying a few tasks in need of handling. ]
Sure.
[ Then again, fuck it is a pretty compelling argument today. He frowns down at his phone. ]
[ Home. God, has home ever felt so far away? He'd been happy enough to distract himself with affairs of this dimension, knowing they were temporary, but then with all the drama of that other place ...
He runs a hand through his hair, stows the phone, heaves a sigh, and takes a less than poised, sprawling sort of seat on the arm of the couch. ]
[ He has to deal with this. He's furious with that other place for a number of reasons, and the most petty of them might be that it's ruined his game. His cat and mouse with Hentzau was supposed to last much, much longer — maybe forever, if he could keep the secret dancing away from him for long enough.
But now the gig is probably up, isn't it? David and Josh both remember, and there was that conversation he'd listened in on between David and Hentzau ... he has to remember. Which makes him a very dangerous man right now. Damian will have to tread carefully.
He starts it, he decides, with a text. ]
It's been a while, in this dimension. Can I tempt you out for some drinks?
[ Him. HIM. Hentzau's struggling to process all the newfound knowledge that came with returning from the other reality; it's embarrassingly terrible that his portal thief is none other than Damian fucking Saint fucking Lorrant, whilst simultaneously being the best news he's had in YEARS. ]
Oh, surely you know I can be tempted into very nearly anything. How long has it been? Longer than two weeks, I suppose.
[ He's done a lot of thinking over the last few days. And a bit of drinking, incidentally, although that's largely Cassidy's fault. It's difficult not to drink like a fish around the man, he's a bad influence. But eventually he'd reached a few conclusions, and found the courage to kick off the return of Josh's powers to him.
It goes about as well as could have been hoped. It's the first time it's ever been such a relief to lose a power, though — it feels like fifty pounds off of his shoulders. When Damian is alone again he takes a few seconds just to breathe ... and then portals again, this time making David his destination. ]
Hey.
[ His voice is quiet, unnecessary after the sound of the portal — but whereas usually he might announce himself with a slide of arms around David's waist, today that feels too reminiscent of a bloodier night. He settles for the verbal cue, and waits for David's acknowledgment. ]
[He's been giving his lover space. As much as he can spare. Between the preparations for the camera crews coming in two days, the fact that he's trying so hard to deal with all the pain that comes from seeing Josh and Kavinsky and other people, and the need to just practice his mental shields to better protect himself...
Well, he's been busy and giving Damian space. But he can't deny the surge of relief that comes over the sound of a portal tearing open in the room.
And fuck does he hope it's not whoever Damian copied the power from, because that would be a serious emotional let down.
The voice afterward earns a soft smile from David, at the counter in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a salad. And he stops his knife motions and sets it aside. And turns to face Damian.]
[ He slides in once David turns, folding himself carefully in against him. Each move is deliberate, from sliding arms around his waist, to resting head against his chest; it's like returning to the familiarity of home after a long time away. He props his chin on David's chest, head tilted back to look up at him. ]
I gave it back.
[ There should be no real questioning what it is, he hopes. It has been sitting heavy on his mind this entire time, and it can't have been all that far from David's. ]
[It's not just for Damian that it feels like things settling back into the places they belong. David can't help the way he sighs in relief just to have Damian in his arms again. To have Damian holding him, resting against him, clearly wanting to be close. It's all something he'd bask in, if he didn't hear the words. Those make him go momentarily stiff, make his heart thunder in fear. Make his own hands, which had come up around Damian, clench in the fabric of the other man's clothes.
So far as David knew, there were three people in the world that knew what had to happen for Damian to give a stolen power back early. And since Josh definitely hadn't approved and David wasn't there to make sure it was safe...
I almost lost him is the realization. And for a second he almost wanted to cry. But he doesn't. Can't let himself.]
Did you have anyone there to watch out to make sure you were okay?
[ Once it was for sure too late to actually stop him from doing it. So, no, wasn't exactly the safest thing he's ever done — but it worked out, didn't it? His risks are always calculated.
The memory of losing that much blood is still not great, though. He was so cold, and even having lost an arm and been shot, he hadn't expected the nausea. He sighs faintly and drops his face, pressing it into David's shirt. ]
—It's over with, we'll never have to worry about it again.
[ Probably. You never know, in a place like this, but he wants to believe in the finality of the words. ]
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maskormenacelogs2020-01-31 09:44 pm
david!
Josh's blue eyes haunt him, that final look they'd given him. And David's armored body, going lax in his arms as he tore apart its willing throat to bleed him out. Damian shudders, pushing himself up into a sit despite the pain in his head. He drags a hand through his hair, and — it's sticky. It's bloody, he knows that smell anywhere. But he's never woken up covered in someone else's blood without a full moon being involved, this is distressingly new and unsettling.
He's struck by a terrible thought. It was a dream, wasn't it? And this — this is a headache, and not a ruined eye from the slash of a blade? His bloody hand feels his bloody cheek, and the bottom drops out of his stomach.
Within himself he can feel Josh's power, still stolen, which is another nail into his coffin of gut-wrenching terror. But — he has to be smart about this. He drops his hand to his chest, activating that healing power just has he had in the — dream. The dream he's not so sure was a dream. The pain fades and his vision clears as his eye and the face around it is restored, and ... and doesn't this mean that somewhere out there, David is even worse off? Christ.
The thought has him stumbling out of bed, half dressed, and tearing open a portal. Thank god he'd learned to direct it straight to a person, and when he stumbles into the dark room on the other end it's David's. ]
David? [ It's too dark to see much, but he's already fumbling for the edge of the bed, terror making clumsy, shaking messes of his hands. In a mutter: ] Tell me I'm crazy, tell me you're fine ...
CW: Blood and Gore from here on for a bit
That David had gone into the cold embrace of death willingly. This one clamped his hands over his throat as if that could do anything to stop his life from slipping out between his fingers.
Then there's the voice. Damian's voice. But he can't tell Damian he's crazy. There's too much panic to even know what Damian means. The memories aren't there yet because he's too terrified to even touch them. But he does look toward the source of the voice, tears rolling over his cheeks. He doesn't want to end like this. It doesn't matter that he might come back. He doesn't want to go.]
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He doesn't know how to heal that, shouts some part of him, he doesn't have the knowledge or skill that Josh does — but David would, wouldn't he? David seems to know everything about everything. He drops to his side on the bed, takes a breath, and sets both hands on that bloody chest. ]
Hang on, just ... hang on.
[ He closes his eyes against David's face, tear-streaked and terrified, far too much for him to deal with right now. He tears through the halls of David's knowledges, and — there, yes. Medical. Everything he could want. He immediately frees a hand back to his chest, and starts the process of healing. The neck first, that's the greatest threat and loss of blood. His brow knits as he works, piecing David back together, undoing the damage that a fully realized Saint Lorrant had done. ]
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Is really an apology. Him apologizing to Damian. Because the man clearly hurts, and he doesn't deserve that.
Healing something like this, it's not fast. It's not instant. It's... a thing. A process. And David feels weaker as it goes. But soon the weakness is just fatigue, and he's shaking not because he's cold but because adrenaline is spiking in his body, something Damian would know of course. Because now the memories are happening. Those same hands on him. No, talons. Opening the throat Damian just closed. Wielding the knife that left the pain in his chest, and the pain he's starting to notice in his leg.
And at last there's his throat done enough for him to croak out a brief statement.]
Not your fault.
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The throat is mended, he can sense it. Slightly less frantic now, he shifts his attention to the chest wound. That had been a solid stab, not unlike what that black-clad figure had done that strange, foggy night. He's always getting David hurt somehow, isn't he? ]
I know.
[ He says it finally, a croak of an admission. He knows it isn't his fault, not really, but it could have been. That man making all of those ruthless decisions — Damian knows him, he knows him well, and not only because they shared a consciousness and an identity.
He doesn't want to think about it. He bows his head and keeps concentrating. ]
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josh!
With the usual tear of fabric noise, Damian steps into where ever Josh is. He does it wordlessly, figuring his arrival has been pretty loudly announced as-is, with shoulders already in a guilty hunch despite his best attempt at neutral posture. He looks like he's expecting to be greeted with a punch. ]
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he'd slept through the commotion next door. he'd slept through his phone ringing, and a barrage of text messages from worried coworkers. he'd even slept through his alarm. he would have slept through damian stepping into his room, if it wasn't for the fact that his arm was finally starting to fall asleep where it was pinned under him. it's an entirely alien sensation.
he scrunches his face at the sound and cracks one eye open. sees one pale arm stretched out on the bed before him, and then sits bolt upright. ]
Uh...
[ UHH???? ]
D-Damian?
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He sighs quietly, seizes a chair from the desk in the room, and drags it nearer to invite himself to a seat near the bed. ]
Hi. [ A good start. ] Sorry, this is ... sudden.
[ Dialog really just intended to get Josh's brain to start working; he watches him closely, waiting to read whatever expressions Josh offers to indicate where his mental progress might be on the last few weeks.
His pale face and blue eyes are strangely haunting. It's so easy to juxtapose to look on his face last time he'd seen it like this. ]
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oh.
oh.
he... didn't even know damian could do that. wasn't he just a teleporter and, like, a sad silly fire magician? and also a were-raptor? ]
Was all that... real?
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Tech... [ He pause to pause, swallow, try again. This level of calm and control, usually so effortless, is difficult today. ] Technically. I don't think it was ... us, though.
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cw suicide reference
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cass!
He drifts through like a ghost, like he's afraid of stepping too loudly in this quiet place. He checks his phone, something for business, but it's an idle gesture. His heart isn't in it today. Some noise alerts him to a presence, probably Cassidy's, and he doesn't so much as look up. ]
There's a bottle of whisky chilling in the refrigerator.
[ It's an invitation, not just an aimless statement. He'd bought it on impulse, but drinking it himself seems like an ill-advised idea right now. ]
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When he does emerge from his blacked out room, it's groggily one afternoon, shuffling through the house in search of a refill on coffee, food and booze.
At Damian's prompting he grunts an acknowledgement, vanishes off into the kitchen and emerges soon after with the mentioned chilled bottle.]
You drinkin'? [Asked as he lingers near the doorway, waving the bottle in Damian's direction, an invitation without invasion.]
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Sure.
[ Then again, fuck it is a pretty compelling argument today. He frowns down at his phone. ]
Doesn't it feel ... quiet, in here?
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Not many of us left, is why. Everyone's feckin' off back home and leaving us alone.
[Which he's pretty bitter about, honestly, because clearly it's their fault for abandoning him.]
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He runs a hand through his hair, stows the phone, heaves a sigh, and takes a less than poised, sprawling sort of seat on the arm of the couch. ]
When you go, what will home be for you?
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rupert!
But now the gig is probably up, isn't it? David and Josh both remember, and there was that conversation he'd listened in on between David and Hentzau ... he has to remember. Which makes him a very dangerous man right now. Damian will have to tread carefully.
He starts it, he decides, with a text. ]
It's been a while, in this dimension. Can I tempt you out for some drinks?
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Oh, surely you know I can be tempted into very nearly anything. How long has it been? Longer than two weeks, I suppose.
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[ Just to, you know, establish things, get on the same page. Admit everyone remembers everything. Make this easy, Hentzau. ]
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Was it?
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The Dark Side of the Moon in MF, do you know it? We could meet there at 6 tonight.
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david part 2!
It goes about as well as could have been hoped. It's the first time it's ever been such a relief to lose a power, though — it feels like fifty pounds off of his shoulders. When Damian is alone again he takes a few seconds just to breathe ... and then portals again, this time making David his destination. ]
Hey.
[ His voice is quiet, unnecessary after the sound of the portal — but whereas usually he might announce himself with a slide of arms around David's waist, today that feels too reminiscent of a bloodier night. He settles for the verbal cue, and waits for David's acknowledgment. ]
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Well, he's been busy and giving Damian space. But he can't deny the surge of relief that comes over the sound of a portal tearing open in the room.
And fuck does he hope it's not whoever Damian copied the power from, because that would be a serious emotional let down.
The voice afterward earns a soft smile from David, at the counter in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a salad. And he stops his knife motions and sets it aside. And turns to face Damian.]
Hey to you too.
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I gave it back.
[ There should be no real questioning what it is, he hopes. It has been sitting heavy on his mind this entire time, and it can't have been all that far from David's. ]
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So far as David knew, there were three people in the world that knew what had to happen for Damian to give a stolen power back early. And since Josh definitely hadn't approved and David wasn't there to make sure it was safe...
I almost lost him is the realization. And for a second he almost wanted to cry. But he doesn't. Can't let himself.]
Did you have anyone there to watch out to make sure you were okay?
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[ Once it was for sure too late to actually stop him from doing it. So, no, wasn't exactly the safest thing he's ever done — but it worked out, didn't it? His risks are always calculated.
The memory of losing that much blood is still not great, though. He was so cold, and even having lost an arm and been shot, he hadn't expected the nausea. He sighs faintly and drops his face, pressing it into David's shirt. ]
—It's over with, we'll never have to worry about it again.
[ Probably. You never know, in a place like this, but he wants to believe in the finality of the words. ]
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