Peter Rumancek (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
velveteenwolf) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
poly_chromatic2013-11-08 01:14 pm
velveteenwolf) wrote in poly_chromatic2013-11-08 01:14 pm
Entry tags:
Third Howl + Memory Theater + Forward-Dated to Saturday!
[When the feed clicks on, it's not Peter in the frame. Instead, it's a young girl with long hair of pure-white; she doesn't look older than thirteen or fourteen. Her clothes look like what people wear in hospitals. Her gaze is intent, looking at something out of the frame.]
I'm sorry for telling everyone you were a werewolf.
[And then the camera pans, and there's Peter, his face stone, his body stiff. He pulls a bright orange extension cord out of it's packaging as he walks up to her. The girl's eyes don't seem to focus on him as he ties a knot in the cord. Off-camera there's the sound of a girl's voice; what's going on. Peter's attention doesn't waver, but his voice is aimed outside the frame.]
Get her out of here. [His head tilts, and there's pain and solemn necessity in his eyes when he looks at the white-haired girl.] Get on your knees.
[And she does. Peter places the cord around her throat, sliding then knot down tight against her throat, then he ties the other end to where the pews are bolted down to the floor. He walked back, standing in front of her.]
Can you control it? [There's a pause and she doesn't respond.] Last night. Was it just something that happened or did you make it happen? [Another pause that stretches into silence.] Did you make yourself turn, or did you hear it? Did you hear your other name? [This time, when she doesn't answer, he grabs the cord and yanks on it, sending the girl into an undignified sprawl on the cold stone ground. His eyes are cold and hard, almost more grey than blue.] If you don't answer me, I will choke the life from you right here.
[She rights herself, getting back on her knees. Finally, she speaks again.] I decided to. I wanted to.
Okay. Okay. [He nods, but his face never loses that hard look. He crouched down so that his face was level with hers.] If you decide to turn tonight, you are going to die.
Are you going to kill me, Peter?
Yes.
Do you hate me?
[There's a slight pause, and he swallows before he answers, painfully honest.] No. I don't hate you. [The girl beams at him like presents on her birthday.]
Why her? Why did you go to her?
[The girl huffs a sound that might have been laughter, a little strangled by the cord around her throat.] Because when I saw you in here with your thing inside of that whore I wanted more than anything to feel her fear on my tongue and her bones crunch between my teeth and her blood run down the fur of my neck. [And then she softens, and she looks at Peter hopefully, with a smile like a lost puppy, her eyes full of that familial sort of love.] We can eat her together. I always left you the bigger piece.
[The words hit Peter hard and he gets down on one knee, and the girl smiles with a wistful sort of affection.] It's okay. You can kill me as long as you don't hate me. You should do it now. It's already happening, you haven't got a lot of time. I can't turn it around any more than you can turn around night and day. You made me. I'm yours. [She puts her hands on the floor and crawls forward so their noses just barely touch.] You're my master, you can do anything you want to me.
[Peter knelt there, staring into dark brown eyes that hardly seemed human. He couldn't kill her, not like this.] Please forgive me.
[She smiles again, but it's a little bit drunk, dazed and off in a subtle way that screams of wrong and dangerous. When she speaks, her voice doesn't sound human, it wasn't a girl, but the rasping of a steel trap.] I've never heard my name.
[And then she shifts. It's fast and sudden, not like Peter's. It's brutal and like there's just too much aggression and anger and insecurity for such a small body to contain it. The creature is white and with blue eyes that are relentless and flat and unforgiving. Skin and clothing hangs from its fur in tatters, so much bigger than Peter's wolf. It pounces, going for the kill, only to get snapped back by the cord at its throat. It scrambles forward, lunging, and the ugly creak of metal comes loud.
Peter stands, emerging from between the pews. His blue eyes are sad and soft as he looks at her, filled with painful, terrible understanding. There's another boy's voice screaming from off camera: Do something!
Peter's holding a small container full of some substance and he dips his fingers into it, smears it on his face as the werewolf before him tries vainly to pounce again only to be snapped short. He faced her, his blue eyes on hers which were wild and full of death. That voice rose again, insistent and suddenly aware of coming horror: Peter! No!
The wolf finally managed to get the cord between its teeth, and there was a snap as it moved forward on its large paws, the moment punctuated by a girl screaming. The white wolf sniffs at Peter's face for a few long moments, like the world is held in the balance, a lazy lick of its pink tongue across his pale face. And then its jaws snap shut and it tears the human face from his body.
His body crumbles, blood trickling onto stone as the wolf stands over him. And then the frame goes black.]
I'm sorry for telling everyone you were a werewolf.
[And then the camera pans, and there's Peter, his face stone, his body stiff. He pulls a bright orange extension cord out of it's packaging as he walks up to her. The girl's eyes don't seem to focus on him as he ties a knot in the cord. Off-camera there's the sound of a girl's voice; what's going on. Peter's attention doesn't waver, but his voice is aimed outside the frame.]
Get her out of here. [His head tilts, and there's pain and solemn necessity in his eyes when he looks at the white-haired girl.] Get on your knees.
[And she does. Peter places the cord around her throat, sliding then knot down tight against her throat, then he ties the other end to where the pews are bolted down to the floor. He walked back, standing in front of her.]
Can you control it? [There's a pause and she doesn't respond.] Last night. Was it just something that happened or did you make it happen? [Another pause that stretches into silence.] Did you make yourself turn, or did you hear it? Did you hear your other name? [This time, when she doesn't answer, he grabs the cord and yanks on it, sending the girl into an undignified sprawl on the cold stone ground. His eyes are cold and hard, almost more grey than blue.] If you don't answer me, I will choke the life from you right here.
[She rights herself, getting back on her knees. Finally, she speaks again.] I decided to. I wanted to.
Okay. Okay. [He nods, but his face never loses that hard look. He crouched down so that his face was level with hers.] If you decide to turn tonight, you are going to die.
Are you going to kill me, Peter?
Yes.
Do you hate me?
[There's a slight pause, and he swallows before he answers, painfully honest.] No. I don't hate you. [The girl beams at him like presents on her birthday.]
Why her? Why did you go to her?
[The girl huffs a sound that might have been laughter, a little strangled by the cord around her throat.] Because when I saw you in here with your thing inside of that whore I wanted more than anything to feel her fear on my tongue and her bones crunch between my teeth and her blood run down the fur of my neck. [And then she softens, and she looks at Peter hopefully, with a smile like a lost puppy, her eyes full of that familial sort of love.] We can eat her together. I always left you the bigger piece.
[The words hit Peter hard and he gets down on one knee, and the girl smiles with a wistful sort of affection.] It's okay. You can kill me as long as you don't hate me. You should do it now. It's already happening, you haven't got a lot of time. I can't turn it around any more than you can turn around night and day. You made me. I'm yours. [She puts her hands on the floor and crawls forward so their noses just barely touch.] You're my master, you can do anything you want to me.
[Peter knelt there, staring into dark brown eyes that hardly seemed human. He couldn't kill her, not like this.] Please forgive me.
[She smiles again, but it's a little bit drunk, dazed and off in a subtle way that screams of wrong and dangerous. When she speaks, her voice doesn't sound human, it wasn't a girl, but the rasping of a steel trap.] I've never heard my name.
[And then she shifts. It's fast and sudden, not like Peter's. It's brutal and like there's just too much aggression and anger and insecurity for such a small body to contain it. The creature is white and with blue eyes that are relentless and flat and unforgiving. Skin and clothing hangs from its fur in tatters, so much bigger than Peter's wolf. It pounces, going for the kill, only to get snapped back by the cord at its throat. It scrambles forward, lunging, and the ugly creak of metal comes loud.
Peter stands, emerging from between the pews. His blue eyes are sad and soft as he looks at her, filled with painful, terrible understanding. There's another boy's voice screaming from off camera: Do something!
Peter's holding a small container full of some substance and he dips his fingers into it, smears it on his face as the werewolf before him tries vainly to pounce again only to be snapped short. He faced her, his blue eyes on hers which were wild and full of death. That voice rose again, insistent and suddenly aware of coming horror: Peter! No!
The wolf finally managed to get the cord between its teeth, and there was a snap as it moved forward on its large paws, the moment punctuated by a girl screaming. The white wolf sniffs at Peter's face for a few long moments, like the world is held in the balance, a lazy lick of its pink tongue across his pale face. And then its jaws snap shut and it tears the human face from his body.
His body crumbles, blood trickling onto stone as the wolf stands over him. And then the frame goes black.]
[Color Code: Christina aka the White Wolf aka the Vargulf; Peter; Letha aka The Girl; Roman aka The Boy]
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Shelley saved them from that. Where is she now?]
Tell me you're okay.
[That he isn't actually reliving all of this. Tricky way how curses work it could be!!]
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[Because no, he's really not. All he wanted was a way to get it off the network, and as far as he could tell that wasn't actually fucking possible. He hated this place. Seriously, what the fuck?]
I'm alive, but shit Roman.
[He had to know how fucked this was. Just when he was finally getting over the guilt.]
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[Because he's in the same boat. This is a shared memory. What to say in all of this? It reminds him of how cold and dead he felt after, how alone.]
We can't live like it didn't happen.
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[There's a long pause and then he finally asks the question he's been fighting with since he let himself shift against the moon. He still can, but it hurts, and there's always that insecurity.]
What if all that fucking loss was the real price?
[So much guilt he's been hiding.]
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[Will it always? That question though, it's blindsiding from someone else's mouth.]
It can't have been. Shelley is still alive, Peter. I just don't know where she is. That wasn't what killed Letha, okay?
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[There aren't words, and he doesn't know if he believes it, but it's nice anyway.]
So, uh, what are you up to? I might go watch shitty movies at Jules' or something.
[Sort of an invitation. He'd rather have Roman around, not that he quite knows how to say that.]
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[His face is still pale, but more than that: the City decides to put that fucked up shitstorm on the Network, and the objection is to the cord they used? Really?]
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[Guilt. Instant guilt.]
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[Subconsciously sensing the kid's extreme distress. Feels urge to impart important information and a possible solution in case of future problem.]
The City collects from countless worlds and timelines, both living and dead. True death is a rarity here. If she arrives, other means will have to be found in dealing long term with her. Oh Aces is spelled against violence and can also quiet troubled minds. No one is turned away from the hotel. Best prepare a plan, just in case.
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[He feels the need to remind him of that. Even if Peter had lost. Even if Shelley had been the one to save them. It hadn't been Roman's fault.]
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I could have tried to get two.We did.
[Though he thinks that Peter had done better, he was fighting tooth and claw.]
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[And then a moment later:]
Actually, that's a terrible idea. I think our livers would run away if we did that, well before halfway into the first film.
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[But he needs comfort and while he'd never say it outloud, Roman is very definitely comfort.]
I'll bring the alcohol.
[As if he doesn't always.]
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That wasn't a dream.
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[He frowns, his expression tight as his lips press together.]
Re: Video
Do you want to talk? Or come cover? These things are mutually exclusive, if you want to come over without talking, or talk but not come over that's okay too.
Video
[Understatement of the fucking century.]
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