poly_chromatic | 048 x 840 // video/action // having a heart

Entry tags:

oc - carla morir

048 x 840 // video/action // having a heart

[ She hadn't burned the portrait. She'd put it in a closet with a cloth covering it, facing back into the shadows. It wasn't out of sight out of mind, it was just out of sight because he was still burned into her mind and woven into her skin. He had stolen her heart and her soul and given her nothing in return.

The portrait is lying in the middle of her beach front flat, face up towards the ceiling. That's where Carla found it this morning when she came home to feed the dog and she's trained the camera on it to give herself a layer of distance from the scene. There are purple smears of dried blood marring the painting, a puddle where the man's hands clasp together. ]

This isn't cute.

[ Her voice is low, tinged with self-mockery. Peanut approaches to investigate the scene, but Carla nudges him aside with her foot, leaning down to heft up the canvas. The three of them relocate outside into the chaos-ridden streets.

You'll find the thing slashed and burning if you happen to walk by. ]

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[There aren't as many fires as there were before, and Tohru is still determined to go to her jobs no matter what happens.]

[When she passes the smouldering portrait, though, she starts pounding at it with her lunch bag, trying to put out the flames.] Not another one! Everything is so dangerous lately!

[Carla doesn't precisely try to stop her, staring at the singed piece with empty eyes. But... yanno... after a moment she gets up to come and grind her bootheel into Barbet's face.]

[Tohru just goes wide-eyed.]

Ah! I was trying to save it! Is it...not to be saved?

There's nothing to save.

[Barbet wasn't here, and even if he were he didn't love her and maybe she'd never loved him except in the confines of the misery he'd created for her.]

I see.... [She thinks she does, at least. Maybe the lady was just getting rid of it.]

I was scared it would start another fire, but if you have everything under control I'll leave it.

What's one more fire?

[Carla's never feared hurting others. She's let plenty of people burn, herself included.]

I just wouldn't want to see anyone get hurt in them. [All of the fires bother Tohru.]

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[Things that are not surprising: Carla standing by the smouldering remains of what Justin assumes to be the painting shown in the earlier video.]

I take it you didn't like the curse.

[She gives him a sideways look, brown eyes dull.]

What curse.

Or not.

[He eyes the burnt painting.]

Mad about something?

Someone took it out.

[To hurt her, she assumed. She wasn't going to have that. (The truth, of course, was that her wayward heart, battered and bloody and shredded, had wanted to see it before wandering off elsewhere in the City.)]

Your heart?

[Yes. Someone isn't as oblivious to this curse as she was feigning.]

The painting.

[She grinds that out with some semblance of calm.]

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[ There's a mix of distaste and understanding in the way he eyes the portrait. ]

The City seems to enjoy hyperbole even more than I do.

The City enjoys dredging up old secrets.

[ Frowning, he rubs the side of his mouth like there's a smear there, ]

What about your [ He clicks the tip of tongue in a tcha. The word heart sounds so stupidly poetic, ] ...heart? Has it drifted off somewhere?

[Her hand wanders toward her collarbones. It's not a particularly innocent gesture, she's clawed her chest up enough times.]

I don't know. I haven't seen it.

[But much like a daemon, there was a rather nauseating sense that it was out there.]

[ He watches that movement of her hand; a telltale sign of stress, like a junkie with DTs. The line of his mouth softens a degree. ]

I could help you look for it.

I don't know what it looks like.

[ Will it smell like her? Fuck if she knows. ]

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[Saya hadn't been paying attention to the network, having been focused on the very anatomical, very bloody heart she's "wearing." So happening across a burning work of... art?... is surprising on a number of levels.]

[Hmm, maybe she should douse it.]

[She could... but Carla's going to pour some more lighter fluid on it, watching the flames leap with an empty expression.]

[Well, that answers a few questions.]

Uh... why don't you want it anymore? [An awkward question, but Saya can't seem to be anything but around Carla.]

[She turns to look at Saya, a moment of recognition.]

I'm tired of him.

[She's not always so honest, but she reaches peaks where she feels like nothing could possibly hurt any more. It's been the same cycle for a long time: mounting pain, plateaus of numbness that then spiral downward into self-destructive behavior. Rinse and repeat.]

Tired of him controlling my heart.

[Heart is muttered with disdain.]

[For the first time while they're speaking, Saya feels a spark of understanding. She might not understand much -- having no past has that downside -- but she knows that feeling intimately. At least, if it's what she presumes Carla means; she's not so good with assumptions, either.]

Do you hate him?

Yes.

[Carla doesn't have to really pause to think about that. She hates him. He had ruined her life and he had twisted her into loving him and then refused to return or accept or acknowledge it. She had died on his floor and he had dragged her back only to refuse her? She hates him. She adores him. He was everything in her world for years. She still longs for him though whether the desire is to kill him or to hold him... she doesn't know.]

He's a bastard.

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action; //THIS IS SUPER OLD but I somehow lost the tag????

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