[PRP] Beauty Eternal (Lawrish)

[Baneful]

Sometimes he couldn’t help but fixate on beauty. He understood aesthetics and could appreciate them in ways he could not appreciate the finer points of emotion. An enjoyable song relaxed the mind and unwound the body. Some people had that effect too. It was just unfortunate that in humans beauty was so fleeting and brief. He’d found that it had to be pinned down while it was in its prime, laid out like a butterfly on a board. He did not have the ability to preserve it, only stop it, and averting that gradual decay, averting its pollution by ignorance and stupidity felt like it should feel good.

He’s spent a long time looking at the two still figures in their pods, ethereal and unmoving, and he’d come to feel irritated at the thought of them waking up and ruining the semblance to renaissance art and celestial perfection. Even speech would shatter the illusion.

Eventually he decided he wanted to switch them off. And when he decided to do something there was never any moral reason why not.

He started to plan, the same way he did anything, meticulous obsessive attention to detail, considering angles, fixating upon small details. He knew there would be people who would misunderstand what he did, philistines who could not appreciate art and the preservation thereof, so someone else would have to be allocated that backlash. Suffering would be his gift for them to bear.

On the day in question he checked the duty roster and made certain that one specific name was on the list. America Jones. She would appreciate his art, even if she didn’t realise it.

He’d spent a long time on his pod duties checking the camera setup in the pod rooms, carefully and meticulously “accidentally” blocking the view of various cameras, a misplaced chair here, a nudge of a table there, only the overhead ones remained and those could be tricked if necessity presented itself. He had also carefully on the morning in question meddled with the cameras in the main observation room, there had to be doubts everywhere for the story he wanted to coalesce. The pods on the whole were robust mechanisms with backup systems and all manner of failsafes, but he’d found one singular and minor weakness, the trigger to the failsafes themselves could with some effort be detached and from there the pod could be unplugged from the grid, normally this would spark alarms but those too could be overridden. He had waited patiently for the shift to start, dressed in full disguise, his face concealed, his silhouette deliberately padded out and female, and when enough time had passed - he had a good idea how long it would take America to arrive and settle in from extended and not sinister observation - he moved, unplugging his perfect favourites, gloved and without fingerprints and slinking out of the pod room even as the smell of humanity touched his subtly nuanced olfactory senses.

He changed out of his disguise with the nimble speed of someone who changed costumes all his life and concealed it away in a vent he’d pried open earlier for the function. Only with this established did he emerge as Jan to build himself up an alibi why he wasn’t there when what he’d done was duly discovered.

It was only an hour later when he was due to come on duty himself, did he finally permit himself the thrill of entering the control room to see if he had succeeded.

 

[lizbot]

America was grimly unhappy, arms crossed as she sat facing a life tech who kept asking pointed questions while another reviewed camera footage. The pod duty was the worst even on a normal day. It was always quiet, still, and more than unsettling. She could never tell if she was looking at a corpse or someone just asleep. They didn't move like they were asleep, but then, she'd been on of them not too long ago. Being unable to truly define them as alive (person) or dead (object) left her uneasy whenever she had to spend too much time with them.

Well, a less than kind part of her thought, at least there's two I don't have to wonder about any longer.

"So what were you doing prior to your shift?"

The questions were wearing on her nerves, especially now, when she was supposed to be able to leave. "Running." Her eyes touched on the bodies, laid out flat on the ground with Life hunters going over both them and the pods. Another tech sat nearby on a laptop, running diagnostics on the other pods nearby.

America glanced away and her eyes met the pale gaze of one Mister Cowboy and her back stiffened. It was already a bad enough shift, there was a sort of failure here, and one she couldn't make up for with hard work and self improvement, but here was proof that it could always go worse.

"You Suns, I swear." The tech muttered under his breath, "Okay, we'll be going over things for awhile longer. You can wait in the lobby but don't leave the building until you've been cleared."

The girl's cheeks were flushed and indignant at both the detainment and the implication.  

[Baneful]

The smile he gave her was nothing like Jan's well measured and slightly uncertain grin. It was all teeth and all wrong. He wanted to tell her she was part of his art now, the slightly flustered scolded edge a rare pigment on his canvas.

"Howdy. Something happen?" He asked, his voice at least familiar and chipper Jan  

[lizbot]

The uneasiness that all the bodies sitting lifelessly like dolls waiting to wake up caused her was nothing on that smile. America shifted her seat, jaw tight and back straighter than before. She gave him a tight, irritated smile as she answered, "Yes."

The tech echoed her, rolling his eyes at the obnoxious good 'ol boy routine. "There was a possible pod malfunction, but we've..."

A new hunter stalked in, he had a swarthy cast, a scar over one eye, and the air of complete dominion over the entire room. Techs paused and stilled, suddenly cautious, and then returned to work with more care than before. "Apprise me," H asked nobody in particular, and it was America who spoke first.

"Two of the pod people died because their thingy broke, can I go now?"

The hunter stared at her for a very long moment that had her go still and careful, much like the techs had earlier. Finally he sighed, and her own echoed it quietly. "Yes, it appears you've done quite enough, which is of course, nothing useful at all. Sun correct?" He didn't let her answer, simply walked past the table to the bodies as he continued, "Of course it is. Yes, pleas do go. Be a good girl and go hit things. Preferably away from my labs." He turned back to her, flashing a smile that was half charisma and all impatience.

Her lips steadily pursed tighter and tighter the longer the man went on, indignant rage flaring, with only basic, animal caution keeping it in check. "Yes, sir." She got up, gathering her phone and notebook and stalked out quickly.

The doctor watched the girl's retreating back, eyes scanning the figure in swift assessment before switching that gaze to Lawr. "You won't be needed either, unless there's something you'd like to ask, perhaps?"  

[Baneful]

Lawr had met the Dr before, a world away from here. He'd watched him demonstrate strength and cool calm in the face of chaos. But brute strength did not inspire respect or fear in Lawr. He still looked upon the man with a mixture of curiosity and what came close to ambition. The way people stopped around him, paused and rethought their outward appearances was interesting, but ultimately unenviable. People only told the very juicy things to individuals they thought were their friends, the man in front of him looked to have no friends, simply direct purpose.

He was more interested in America, a still almost excited thrill running through him as he waited to see if there would be consequences for what she'd failed to prevent. And it didn't matter that there wasn't, there had been that moment where he almost felt excitement, almost felt an emotion, a stuttering desperate gasp of one that died quickly and was gone. He found himself idly considering if completely destroying the vibrant young woman, physically or emotionally would logically extend that feeling to its conclusion.

Could it wake him up from this flatline existence? Did he want to wake up? He wanted to try.

The smile vanished, filed away back on its shelf

the canine weapon crooned, mingling his twisted senses of devotion, love, murder and cruel libido and testosterone into one single conclusion. Murder meant love. Lawr found it amusing.

<> he said, cold and calm.

As he was addressed it was Jan who replied. "No problem sir, free time is always welcome. This old cowboy will get out of your hair." He didn't ask the questions he wished because they edged too close to giving the game away to a smart individual and there was no doubt at all in him the doctor was smart.

He saluted and slunk out after America, jogging to catch up with her. "How did you mess that one up missy? Those poor people." he looked genuinely harrowed. "Weapons that might never ever find their pardners."
 

[lizbot]

The doctor turned back to the waiting techs and he waved a hand, "No need to tell me anymore, goslings. It was obviously some little experiment that escaped and decided to do a bit of mischief. Terrible loss, of course, be sure to cremate them before the day is out."

At the sound of Jan's voice, America whirled on him, eyes wide with rage. "I didn't mess up anything, thank you. If they want someone who'll notice and fix that s**t before it's too late? They should be putting people from their own ******** division on shifts there and not," she gestured at herself, and her voice dropped in an imitation of the doctor's sneer, "Sun. Of course." She'd have to learn. She hated that sciencey s**t and now she was going to have to learn about them, because this happening on her shift was not okay. Unacceptable.

Remembering who she was talking to, the girl rolled her eyes and resumed walking out of the lab building, hand slamming the doors open with a loud bang. "And those poor people? They were hardly even people and if there was a weapon to bond them, they waited too damn long to get it done. Maybe they should try a bit harder next time." Like she ******** would.  

[Baneful]

Jan raised an eyebrow. "Looked like a disaster to me pardner. Looked like incompetence to me too. And failure, hanging up defeat and blaming it on your division. That's not very American." He floated along in her wake, Jan always erratic and scattered in his movements, like a very flouncy sort of parrot.

He kept up with her as much as he could. "But they were people nonetheless." It was always a bit of an exercise trying to emulate empathy for him. "People with families and names missy. People like you." Not like him. " You aren't like that, you aren't like the really cold people on this island, you are BETTER. The spirits move through you, you can do wonderful things! You just need to stop letting innocent people die!"
 

[lizbot]

America made a noise of pure disgust, "If it had happened an hour later it'd be on you instead of me, so ******** shove it. You should be thanking your lucky stars, you get the shift off and you didn't have to deal with any of that and don't you get on telling me what is and isn't American. You're a proven fool of a man whenever you try that line with me, mister." Her own movements and gestures were swift and sharp, a thin veneer of control over a seething mass of aggression.

"Those people," she wrinkled her nose, lips peeling back to reveal gritted teeth, "...left their families. They were, literally," the girl jabbed a finger at him, "...already dead to them!"

At the mention of spirits moving through her, America raised her eyes to the sky and let out a noise of pure frustration.  

[Baneful]

"If I'd been there, I would have noticed if you'll pardon my rudeness ma'am. I'm observant and smart. Keen sharp eyed cowboy here. They'd be alive." He nodded with keen certainty of this fact, because he knew that technically they would be. "They say they forgive you though, by the way. I hear them. "

And he would hear them in a way, when he had a piano. There would be a composition called Two Angels and it would make them immortal.

He eyed her finger carefully, giving her an expression of staunch pacifism and disapproval. "There is a difference in being thought dead and actually being dead you know. The people who are just thought dead can dream one day, of going back to their homesteads. Those two never will. And will never change the world the way you can and SHOULD be doiiiing." he let his smile melt with an edge of sleaze. "Although there are many things you could be doing."

"And were you channeling?" he asked, regarding her frustrated noise. "Because that's a start."
 

[lizbot]

"If you were smart," she snapped out, teeth barred, "you wouldn't be following the girl who'd just got told to go hit things." She stopped abruptly and closed in on him, drawing up to her full height, proud and angry and frustrated as anything. "Anybody dreaming of going back home is a damn fool, and if you think that's gonna happen for anyone here, you're even more of one than I'd thought. And let me tell you, that's a real ******** accomplishment."

The mention of channeling had her mentally counting down from ten and looking to see if anybody was watching.  

[Baneful]

"Oh I don't know.." he drawled, staying relaxed as he looked up at her, shorter up close, completely calm and impassive. "You seem rather angry for someone who doesn't actually believe they will ever get off the trail." the smile he gave her was slightly wrong, ill fitting. "I am going home one day. There's no thinking about it."

He twirled away from her in a dramatic mystical gesture. "I've been home Miss America. It wasn't hard. And nothing bad happened at all. I met my daughter. The only thing stopping you is buying their lies."

He waggled a hand in her direction. "I bet daddy misses you."

 

[lizbot]

Her hand shot out, shoving him back hard as rage, hot black and breathtaking, overwhelmed her. "The ******** did I say, Jan?" She reached for him again and this time she was catching him by the collar and dragging him close with a shaking fist. "WHAT DID I ******** TELL YOU?"  

[Baneful]

The instinctual twist of butterflies in his stomach as he was yanked could almost have been mistaken as an honest to goodness feeling and he found himself inches from her, relaxed and slack in her hand, cool and calm in the face of her anger. "You told this cowboy your father was alive." A flicker of a smile tugged at the edges of his lips, giving her a half-lidded look. "And that I was excellent in bed."
 

[lizbot]

Inhale. Exhale. While the answer slightly diffused her, tamping it back down took a visible effort. She swallowed and closed her eyes, opened her mouth to answer but all she could do is work her jaw and throat until she took another deep breath and released. Finally she was able to answer, voice quiet and strained, "You don't talk about my family, Jan."

She was proud of her restraint to this point.

She hadn't noticed her hand had wrapped around his throat.  

[Baneful]

The hand around his throat made breathing slightly more difficult, dragged through every time, but he didn't struggle or fight her grip. In his head Butch reminded him this was what people who loved each other did and he couldn't help but find humour tangled up in the comment. He laughed, and it was spontaneous and brief.

"Seems like its a raw nerve to me. What if they ended up in a pod. Would they be not people then I wonder? I might as well talk about them missy. Someone has to."