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 Posted: Mon Feb 28, 2011 7:00 pm
Cassandra, just like Beatrix, was not completely and utterly rigid, though it was rare that such was the case. If Sloane might not have been so jumbled up about this entire situation he might have been able to draw some parallels between the Plague and the woman. It was more or less the case that Cassandra acted as Beatrix when she could not, or at the very least did not. She was perhaps both protective and possessive of Beatrix, as might seemed to be the case vice versa. But it probably seemed to be quite a strange and twisted relationship on the outside, if anyone could even get a glimpse of it.
Beatrix still seemed to be unaffected by the cold for whatever reason. No doubt her skin might have been as chilled as marble, but there was no visible discomfort that could be seen. Whatever she was affected by seemed to suppress such feelings.
When Sloane gave her a toothy smile Cassandra leaned forward, as if there to intervene in case the Plague decided to eat her or something. With those set of teeth it was no telling what he was able to do. Nonetheless, Beatrix beamed at the answer but it didn't deter Cassandra from her leaning stance. "That's so sweet of you. I am good, thank you." She asked with a smile, cocking her head slightly.
But that bright demeanor was relatively short lasted because it wasn't long until her expression went blank and she was looking directly in front of her. "Oh." She said and blinked a few times, finally managing to refocus back on him. "Yes, you could say that." She continued with another smile, a sickeningly sweet smile that seemed to have something off with it. Somewhere behind that smile was a little bit of neurosis.
And of course, there to back her up was her Plague: "She's very hard at work, you know." Cassandra piped in, crossing her arms in an official manner as if to further her point.
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Posted: Tue Mar 01, 2011 10:59 am
It made the Infitialis smile more genuinely when Beatrix appeared to become more at ease after confirming her suspicions, or was it more of a hope the woman had that he would be visiting her intentionally? It was a curious thing; all he could remember before now was the scorn and disgust she held for him and it held true for so long until the performance. There was anger still, at him for simply existing despite not having infected anyone before despite his capabilities, and then for some reason there had been pity...
Now there was this and it was no wonder Sloane was so perplexed as he was. One thing tugged at his curiosity, though, and it was something he felt guilt for even thinking for a moment. Was this 'new' Beatrix to stay? Was she to replace the old, who as he perceived it, hated all Plagues and locked her own away out of disgust and lack of understanding? He hoped dearly, at the very least, that Cassandra would not be confined again, no matter how either of them thought it was to protect her. If locking someone in a prison was protection then it was akin to a mother smothering their child so they would not know the evils of the world.
The woman before him seemed to falter again, as she did so often now, but managed to put herself back on track to some degree with the help of her Servos. Sloane merely nodded, smile faltering only as slightly as he would allow, not wanting to go back to a Beatrix Amaranthe clinging to him with tears in her eyes. It was painful how much she looked like Sage then, a Sage who did not block her emotions as she did now. A Sage of the past.
"I'm certain she is," he nodded to Cassandra, "I do not know much of the Council but they seem very dedicated and your Grimm is no different." It was intended as a compliment, hopefully it went over as one to both ladies. Gently, Sloane attempted to adjust himself so he was just an inch or so further from Beatrix's touch. The constant contact with her, her similarities to his Grimm and the fact that his cold armor likely wasn't helping matters whether she could feel it or not were all making the Plague rather uncomfortable but he tried valiantly not to let it show on his face and merely come off as him adjusting his seat on the bed.
It seemed work was a poor subject for Beatrix in this state so, once again, he found himself grasping at straws for more small talk, chit chat, any sort of thing that could keep her and her Excito placated and in good moods. "I'm glad you're doing well," he reaffirmed with a wave of one hand, "Have you had much to eat today?" An odd conversational piece, sure, but if it took attentions off of him and kept Beatrix's currently simple mind simultaneously busy and at ease then it suited him just fine. Hopefully Cassandra would appreciate the effort, though he was certain she would be more pleased if he left entirely. If only it were so simple as with each inch Beatrix crept closer to him, it became impossible to ignore that she was hoping he would stay.
Untimely as ever, though, Sloane felt a thick liquid dribble down from his hair line and over his right eye. It fluttered as the tainted blood dripped across the lid, missing the eye entirely, and continuing its flow down his cheek. Quickly, Sloane stood and attempted to wipe it off as best he could so it wouldn't leak onto the floor or any of her belongings. "Damn it," he cursed lightly under his breath as though this were a minor inconvenience rather than something to worry about. Looking over his shoulder to Beatrix, he smiled rather pathetically before asking "I don't suppose you have a hand cloth you wouldn't mind tossing out."
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Posted: Thu Mar 03, 2011 2:19 pm
Isn't that all people really wanted, to know that someone cared for them? That they were useful, that they were loved? Was that not the most basic essence of humanity? That was what drove Beatrix now, this one single concept that was always close to her, in whatever consciousness she might have been, this one or the other. Those were the only things that she had to strive for, now that she had everything - and also nothing.
Beatrix did not seem to notice much that the Plague was shifting away from her, and even if she did she didn't construe as it him trying to put some distance between them. After all, he had already curried good favor with her and so she would not be so quick to be suspicious of him. Instead, most of his words would be taken as compliments. A bright smile from corner to corner lit up at the mention of her strong work habits, because that really was one of the nicest things he could say. "Thank you." She said graciously. Cassandra, of course was looking neither here nor there about the compliment. As long as he wasn't causing Beatrix any discomfort he would be tolerated.
And on went the pleasantries which did indeed seem to keep both women content, Beatrix more so then Cassandra, but that was probably to be expected by now. Beatrix cocked her head at the mention of food as if it was almost a foreign concept or that she couldn't remember. "Oh, yes." She responded with a more or less spacey nod with a tone that was emblematic of high class ladies.
But good moods could only last so long.
Beatrix didn't come to fully understand the stream of red that was working its way down his eye until she began to look at it more closely, her pupils focusing on the river that went down along his cheek. By the time he rose she looked to be in a state of mild shock, her hand lingering over her heart. When she asked the small favor of him she leaped from her bed, placing her hand over her mouth like he was riddled with some terrible disease and made her way to the drawer, opening it with a frantic nature and rummaging for a cloth or anything at all. Tears were unconsciously streaming down her face, for when she had looked at him she had seen more then just the scene in front of her - she saw the blood of that girl at the carnival and her death. Her breathing became shallow and quick, her hands desperate to find something.
Cassandra, naturally, was the one to speak up. "You should go." She hissed, her hands curling up into tense balls. She even stood up from her seat to further make her point, as if she was going to escort him out herself.
"It has to be here somewhere... I can help you, I can help you..." She sobbed, shoving things to the side of the drawer in vain. Beatrix had a strong sense of needing to aid the helpless and the ailing, the doctorly code that had been bred into her as a child. She hated, more then anything to feel powerless.
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Posted: Mon Mar 28, 2011 2:52 pm
It hadn't occurred to him just how frantic she would become, in such a very different manner, until the situation had arisen. The first time she witnessed him bleed was when they met and he pleaded with her for assistance, in which case she had run out of the room as though she would be sick at any moment. This time, however, while she was clearly in a different state of mind and under the influence of something, she was thrown into a panicked need to assist him.
How was it someone could be the same person and yet so different?
It only mirrored himself while in battle and out, thoughts of which beckoned a cold sweat to form across his neck and brow. Looking as though he might be ill himself, he turned to Cassandra as her sweet scented words were hissed out scathingly. Sloane momentarily reeled from their blow before he realized the suggestion -- nay, order -- was the most logical thing he could do in the current situation.
Keeping a hand cupped beneath the trickling blood, letting it pool within his palm rather than drip onto the floor or Beatrix's bed, he muttered a simple "Yes," before turning to the Candy Plague's Grimm.
Crying.
What she was crying over eluded the Infitialis, unable to understand her sobbing words until he listened closely.
"I can help you..."
There he stood, frozen, as his mind blanked. Then he heard the Servos' command in his head once more and he backed towards the door. "Please, think nothing of it," he insisted, claws groping for the handle, "These things come and go. Thank you for your time, Miss Amaranthe," back to formalities, Sloane nodded to the Excito, "Cassandra," and out he ducked with a gentle click of the door.
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