maskormenacelogs | (no subject)

WHO: Cy and Chilton
WHERE: Chilton's Office
WHEN: 6/24; after this
WHAT: Cy comes clean to assuage his guilt.
WARNINGS: Talk of blood, possibly violence, language.

True to his word Cyril showed up not long after hanging up with Chilton. Perhaps he'd already been on his way while talking to the other man. He stood at the door for a moment, fussing with his braided back hair -- a nervous tick -- debating on just turning and leaving. No, he couldn't do that, Chilton was expecting him and it'd be rude. Inhaling deeply he knocked on the door and waited for a response, releasing his hair and removing his sunglasses. Even the lights indoors were bright to him but it wasn't so bad that he needed the shades.

He wasn't sure how he was going to do this. The guilt over feeding on Chilton without his consent, or even knowledge, was eating at him. He wasn't sure he could just come out and say it, though. Maybe he could just make the other man remember, mesmer the memories back. The memories never truly vanished, they were just covered up with something false. It was just a matter of getting close enough to do it.

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In his office he stayed, finding plenty of psychiatric reports to endeavor and clinical impressions to elaborate upon -- not that the wait endured long. Chilton was only sitting down, awaiting his company, his thoughts occasionally gliding to think of Cyril. The message bestowed was so urgent, so baffling. Nothing would have easily shifted Chilton from that spot, eager as he was to have the mystery revealed.

Cyril was a mystery in his own right -- the sort of fellow who bespoke of deep waters. The psychiatrist had no doubt that he knew less of Cyril that he would have wanted to, and he hungered for the chance to remedy such ignorance. Perhaps tonight was the night.

Perhaps it would be the night Chilton would learn more, or perhaps Cy would share but then make him forget for fear of people finding out. Kara knowing was a fluke but she wasn't human so it was okay. Mostly okay. He still had a little bit of a panic attack over knowing that yet another person knew. Sure he'd told Kanaya but she was the same as him, if an alien version.

Cyril entered, closing the door behind him and then stood there awkward. How was he to start with all this? What could he even say? Sorry but I'm a vampire and I fed on you and you don't remember because I took those memories from you? No... But going right into mesmering the memories back didn't seem like the best idea either.

Chilton offered a smile and an arched eyebrow -- Cyril standing there, in silence, drew questions. The impending suspense only perked the psychiatrist's lips towards query.

"Won't you take a seat?"

Mild enough query, to begin. But still, he gestured, hoping the invitation would put Cyril at ease. The tension was highly detectable; whatever Cyril had come to discuss, it was only at a very hesitant regard.

"You sounded so urgent, on the phone."

Cy cleared his throat, head bobbing in a slow nod. "Right, a seat. Sitting is good." His tongue darted over his lips as he moved across the room to sit. Even in all his nervousness the vampire side of him had him moving silently but not with the complete predatory swagger. In fact, he stumbled just a bit about halfway to the chair.

"I just, uh..." Right hand raised, pointed toward Chilton for a moment before retreating to his hair. He ran his fingers through it as far as they would go as he turned his head to glance to his left, in the process the subtle point of one ear was revealed.

After a short moment he sucked in a sharp breath and turned his gaze back to the other man. "Look, I'm a monster. I really am. And I did something... Something to you in particular. And I just felt like I, um, should come clean about it." That was a good start, right?

The statements in succession pitched emotion at Chilton, and he responded with mounting bemusement. A twitch of his lip (the moment he considered Cyril joking), a furrowing of his brow (but what spurred this -- whatever speech he'd classify it as -- could it even be called confession?). A monster? It was an unusual confession on its own -- but amplified with the context of having done something to him, personally?

"I think," he said -- coached, gently. "I would have remembered, had you done something to me, Cyril. Other than saving my life, of course."

He intended his words to be soothing, not having considered in that moment the possibility that his company had taken measures to ensure that he wouldn't remember.

"Why do you consider yourself a monster?"

It seemed like the most pertinent query, given the evident distress that this was taking upon Cyril. This could be symptomatic of self-esteem issues, yes, but for someone to be so convinced of his guilt -- well, could delusion play a role? Chilton tilted his head.

Cy shook his head slowly, "You wouldn't. It's...something I can do."

He sighed, running his hand over his hair again. This time he took the ends and began to run them through his fingers. "By definition that's what I am. Just like all the other freaks."

His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment. "Before you came here -- when you were back home -- if someone claimed to be some sort of supernatural creature that preyed on humans for sustenance, what would you have said? What would you say now?"

He could guess that Chilton would have thought them mentally disturbed and in need of some sort of psychiatric help. But he'd been in this world long enough now to know otherwise, right?

"Well --" Chilton cleared his throat. "Before? At the time... Depending on the... Severity of their actions? How committed they were to this claim? 'Delusional' might be the mildest of their diagnosis."

It was a truthful answer and, before coming to the City, and then Heropa, Chilton would have refused any counter argument. But since coming upon other dimensions, other beings and superpowers... It was a jolting perspective.

"But now I have come to a different, ah, experience."

He bit his lower lip, growing nervous. Cy was visibly struggling with the weight of his guilt, the heaving of what he did (what he thought he did, Chilton corrected himself). Somewhat embarrassed by his own train of thoughts, he took action: he stood, he walked, he leaned over and put a hand on Cyril's shoulder.

"All right. I will listen."

Cy listened in relative silence. He was fidgety but choosing not to interrupt Chilton, but what the man had to say he had already figured he would say.

Taking action was probably a mistake, putting himself so close to Cy like that. In a flurry of movement Cy was on his feet and grabbing Chilton by his shoulder to force him into the chair Cy had just been sitting in. An action too quick for someone who claimed to be nothing more than a simple magic user.

He was still nervous, mostly because he worried what the good doctor would think of him after this and also because he wasn't sure if his plan would work.

"Easier to just make you remember," he spoke in a low tone as he lowered his head a bit so his gaze was more level with Chilton's. "Remember what I made you forget." His tone was still low but commanding as he tried to hold the other man's gaze.

If it worked Chilton would probably find himself with a mild headache as the memories aboard the wreckage came flooding back. How Cy had commanded him then and drank from him to stop himself from going into a frenzy. In truth Chilton was more the hero there than Cy had been. If not for Chilton Cy could have killed many of those that survived the explosion.