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 Posted: Fri May 17, 2013 7:26 pm
Alois looked at himself in the mirror. Contemplated. Stared. Something seemed off about his reflection, but he couldn't recognize what it was. Even as he moved from side to side and watched the reflection critically, he noticed nothing to support his feeling that his reflection was wrong in some way. It behaved as a normal reflection would. Even upon examining the mirror, he found it was as normal as the next mirror. Still, he had to find out where this bothersome feeling came from, so he continued his investigations.
He studied every part of himself, and as he leaned in closely to scrutinize his face, he felt the disturbance coming from there. However, as he tapped the looking glass and suspected a Dark Mirror Senshi was having fun at his expense, nothing came from it. Not even a mirrorwraith. No amount of tapping or scratching yielded anything from the court he'd come to loathe, courtesy of Remarque, and he felt rather disappointed that he didn't have yet another reason to hunt them down and mulch them one by one. It saddened him, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. He needed to find the source of his bizarre feeling.
Finally the impulse hit him. It startled him, scared him even. Why would he want to perform such a destructive act? Was something wrong with his brain now? He couldn't figure it out. Even after staring at himself for an uncomfortably long period of time, questioning that seemingly counterproductive and harrowing impulse, he couldn't find any foundation for it.
So he decided to try it.
He reached into the bathroom drawer and pulled out his switchblade from next to a hair dryer. The weight felt familiar; its black metal handle with an embedded design concealed a black and silver blade. With the press of a button, it deployed. It shone curiously bright in the bathroom lighting, and there was a single water spot on the black piece of the blade. it reminded him of his corruption, when he tried to stab Benitoite to prevent his own annihilation. Come to think of it, he preferred life this way, despite the means by which he achieved it.
Carefully he held the blade up to his face, and angled the tip toward the bottom of his left eye socket. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but... It was the only thing he could conceive of to quell this feeling of a disturbance. Slowly, but with conviction, he pressed the blade into his skin, forcing it inward and finally breaking it. A thin steam of blood peeled its way down his cheek, dripping onto the counter. That stream soon widened considerably as he sunk the blade inward. Strangely, he couldn't feel a thing. His lower lid fell into the sink while he sawed through the skin, and after severing the cord, he carefully pulled his eye out. Blood seeped down his face, dribbling into the sink and running down the drain.
With uncanny placidity, he set the eye on the counter and dissected it. What came of that disturbed him greatly: bugs unfurled from their coiled state, scattering across the counter and crawling into any crevice that would shield him from his remaining sight. What the hell were they doing in his eye? Where else could they be? How much of himself would he have to cut out to purge them from his body?
As he looked at his reflection once more, a giant, bulbous centipede emerged from his eye socket.
Alois woke with a start, drenched in sweat and panting heavily. His heart raced, his hands shook. He tentatively touched his face and breathed a sigh of relief as he traced his eye. It was still there; as far as he knew there were no bugs festering in it either. He wasn't keen on finding out, not that way.
Alois turned on the bedside lamp as soon as he could and sought out the slightly-beaten pack of cigarettes waiting on the table. Sometimes smoking was his only hope of assuaging his frayed nerves, and he could think of no alternative that would suffice right now, not even pissing off Alexandre. Though, he may just find the poor boy and startle him awake just for laughs. That sounded like an excellent idea, so with kings and matches in hand, he ventured into the hall and sought out his general's room.
Which happened to be standing open, devoid of the leprechaun's presence. Where could he have gone at this hour? Out for a patrol? Usually he told Alois, or at least left a note before leaving him out of the fun like that. Perhaps he was downstairs searching for a midnight snack; wouldn't it be entertaining to ambush him with a shoddily-fashioned spider in his sandwich? Alois smiled at the thought of his reaction. It beat the alternative of dwelling on his dream and shaking like a leaf while smoking outside.
He descended the stairs and nearly passed the living room when he noticed movement in his peripheral vision. Sure enough, Alexandre was curled up in a chair downstairs, and he looked mentally ravaged. Beaten. His eyes bore dark circles like badges of honor, and his body shook worse than a jonesing addict. He looked haunted by something, and behaved as if it was eating at him and steadily whittling him into this withered, despicable shell of his former self. He seemed like he had it together decently enough when they met under unusual circumstances, so why this sudden change? "What ze hell happened to you?" He asked, before his expression changed to a more serious one. "Actually, we'll talk outside." Alois seized the blonde's wrist without warning and half-dragged him out the door and onto the porch, which was steadily weathering the rain.
He needed a smoke before he started shaking as much as Alexandre was, so he tucked the cig into the corner of his mouth, lit a match on the worn-out side of the flip-top box, lit up and prepared to listen.
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Posted: Sun May 19, 2013 8:00 pm
He'd only just gotten home from that meeting, if one wished to call such a meeting. It was more like a mini trial and now he was waiting for his judgement tomorrow evening. The idea of waiting, and for what, had broken the carefully pieced together mask he'd been wearing. Oh so delicate in form it was cracked with deep crevices spidering along it's length. But that mask he wore was well covered up with make up. No one could see how broken he was right now. He had to pull himself together and act accordingly - act as though everything were all right. Even though nothing seemed alright at the moment. In fact, it seemed like everything in his life was just...wrong. As he'd powered down he'd felt his hold on his control breaking right before it shattered and he sunk into the living room couch.
Slowly he'd curled up and held onto himself as though it might help and stop the shaking which had taken hold of him. What was going to become of him tomorrow night? Would there be anything after that? What would Howlite deem a worthy punishment for his transgression? he had ruined another persons life - taken it even! And it wasn't some senshi or even a civilian. It was one of their own and someone he was close to. Biting back a sob he tried to hold it together. He couldn't let Alois hear him or wake him. He had to keep a hold on somethings, even now, as he bit down on his bottom lip. The pain from biting down so hard didn't bother him, although somewhere in the back of his mind it startled him, as a bead of ruby appeared on his bottom lip moments later. Welling and enlarging he poked his tongue out to lap up the drop of blood.
He hadn't expected Alois to come downstairs, he'd hoped the other wouldn't wake and see him like this ever. He couldn't let himself to be seen for what he currently was - weak and useless. And now the charade was up. It was with a panicking mind and a nerve wracked, over stressed, and too tired mind that he glanced up at the other blankly and stared for a moment in a rather creepy manner, something of a hollow manner. His eyes though hollow seeming were wet as a tremor wracked his smaller form. "Talk..?" As though he didn't understand, and perhaps he didn't right now. As he was grabbed and dragged through the kitchen and out back, not a single complaint passed his lips. Rather he sat himself on the wet porch as they got out back. He didn't move to do anything, didn't complain or even show his dislike the the smoke the others habit produced. In fact he seemed rather dead and if not for the shaking it might be hard to tell he was alive.
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Posted: Sun May 19, 2013 8:31 pm
Though his heart still railed against his chest with the primal fear provoked by his nightmare, Alois recognized that the younger man remained buried in his own splintered shell. WIth a sigh, he leaned against the wet wall. "Du glaubst fester an den Regen, denn der Regen ist wie du. It means you belief' in ze rain, because ze rain is like you. Really ******** dreary, wet, and despairing. Am I right?" He punctuated his response with another drag of the cigarette. At least the tremors in his hands lessened.
The smoke curled into his lungs, gracing his mind with the delivery of his addiction, before escaping in a fleeting sigh. "... You can stop pretending now. You'd never sit wis' your a** on ze wet porch, for one. You never tried to train me, for two. You look like a ******** corpse, for sree. It's pretty ******** apparent zat somesing is wrong wis' you, so tell me already." Alois fostered a growing suspicion that Alexandre might commit suicide if he kept this burden to himself. Nothing but smoke clouded Alexandre's eyes, swirling with doubt and turmoil. Smothering any fire that might've inhabited him. Were Alois the empathetic sort, he'd have cried for his general.
Thankfully he wasn't.
"You're not even bitching about my smoking." Alois glanced at his cigarette beneath his soaked hand. The ash clung to itself despairingly, before it broke under the weight of its own desperation. In many ways, it reminded him of his general. Burnt out, seething, consumed by himself. So what kind of fire peeled his skin, his passion, away? What manner of crematorium was he subjected to? As the ash reduced to mud under the unrelenting rain, he pondered if his general would share the same fate.
"And what happened to your lip?" The thin, bloodied fleck marred the blonde's face, and failed to escape Alois' scrutiny. "Looks like you punctured it wis' somesing." Not that he'd know anything about that... He let out an exasperated sigh. Normally the younger boy was quick to judge or correct his behaviors in the most exacerbating of ways, so what quelled all that haughty attitude. "If you don't start talking, I'll be forced to tell you about my creepy ******** nightmare," he paused, then smiled faintly. He remembered something a certain little bird mentioned. "... It has spiders in it."
That should get him talking.
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Posted: Sun May 19, 2013 8:47 pm
"You believe in the rain...because the rain is like you." Nothing he'd ever heard before and yet he parroted the others words easily. "it's fitting - yes." He spoke while lifting his head and tilting it upward to look at the other. Again his eyes blinked at up at the other as he watched him. He did certainly feel like the rain, had for some time now. He was good at acting. A learned thing from years spent at his mothers social events and being polite to people he'd rather not speak to nor deal with, especially when most only asked and spoke the same things to him.
As his bangs became wet and started to hang, weighted down by the water, and drip drops of water into his lap he shook his head slowly. "I can't allow everyone to see the shell I'm becoming. It wouldn't be proper to seem anything but strong." Although hadn't his General King and General Queen just seen that? Hadn't Jett and Caleb? But he trusted the last two and the first two he'd had no choice with on the matter. Being dragged from his home didn't leave one the ability to cover up things.
He didn't want to talk about it, to tell someone he didn't fully know, about his crimes against one of their own. To tell him his woes and the guilt which ate at him. And when the other mentioned a nightmare of his own he latched on to it. "What about your nigh-" He didn't finish it as the other mentioned spiders. The thought of hearing some creepy nightmare didn't bother him but a creepy one with spiders did. "I - I apologize. I have not fulfilled my duties to the best of my abilities and I know this. I only hope I am around long enough to rectify that short coming of mine...b-but I may not be." He whispered, his words low and soft. His voice shook and broke at points even as he stared down at the porch he sat on.
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Posted: Sun May 19, 2013 10:54 pm
"What do you mean, you hope you're around long enough?" Alexandre looked young; nothing short of facing a death sentence could deter him at this point of his life. "You don't haf' cancer, do you?" He asked, his voice edged with irritation and malice. "So out with it already." Would they have to dance around this subject for an hour before he got even the first shreds of an answer out of him? What would drive the truth out? Harm? Hate? Love? Alois didn't know.
He found it increasingly difficult to hold onto a reason to care. Alois may as well be a black radio retching white noise at the boy. Nothing he said made a difference. No amount of spun lies and honeyed coaxing brought the truth out of him. He may as well be pulling Alex's teeth. The silence only stretched, crawled, curled its way along the edges of his strained mind while he waited for an answer. While he smoked. While he shielded his cigarette from the unforgiving rain.
Finally he sat down next to Alexandre, though the porch only afforded enough room for them to sit incredibly close to one another. It didn't bother him; in Europe, they lacked the luxury of personal space sometimes. Sighing gently, he tossed his cigarette into the thinning mud. It sunk without protest, sealed away in the muck until the rain deemed it worthy of resurfacing. Alois rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, lacing his fingers at the nape of his neck, and gazed into the distance fixedly.
Perhaps he needed some sort of connection to work off of. Some feigned sense of friendship. "My nightmare didn't really involf' spiders. If it did, I didn't notice zem." Anxiety gnawed at his bones once more, and he cursed himself for discarding the cigarette in a small measure of respect. "I dreamt I was standing in front of a mirror. It wasn't special, or anytsing. It wasn't magical. No ******** senshi were in it, just a reflection of me. But it didn't... look right. Somesing about it was off, and no matter how much I examined it, I couldn't find ze source of zis... Wrong feeling.
"Since I couldn't find any fault in ze mirror, I started looking at myself. Nossing immediately looked off, I sought I was normal. Zen I got zis... harrowing impulse to mutilate myself. I just went wis' it. Sank my switchblade into my eye and just started sawing it out. And when I pulled it out of my skull, I cut ze damned sing in half, and bugs crawled out of it." He shuddered. "Now zat I told you, you haf' to tell me what's eating you, or I'll cut your eye out instead."
That seemed motivational enough for him.
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Posted: Mon May 20, 2013 12:06 am
"No, I am not ill." That would actually be more cruel than his possible currant fate. He was a believer in the idea of human euthanasia, and he always would be. He didn't ever want to suffer and know the end result, no matter what, was death. And no one should face that sort of fate.
He hadn't thought tonight would turn into a night of sharing their problems but it seemed to be turning into just that, after all how could he not share his situation with the other now? The dream did sound creepy though, their was no way to deny that. "I will agree with the creepy comment about your dream. it does sound creepy." The idea of removing your own eye made him shudder. It was just...it felt wrong in his mind. He might be a killer but he didn't go about mutilating people, never would.
"Did you see on the news about the woman, the lawyer, who was shot in front of her office building a few weeks back?" he asked, almost suddenly and out of left field. But anyone who knew him knew questions he asked had a reason to be asked. He wasn't random about things he said, asked, or did.
"That was my mother." Thankfully she was recovering well and all was going very well. He was happy with that, it was one of the few good points in his life right now.
"I had a Captain living with me, in the room I keep closed. Bazzite....His mother sent him to live with me. His father was dying and she didn't want him to see it. She had heard, from Johnathan, enough about me to ask me to take him in and take care of him. He was as old as me but less mature...though he did everything around the house. He sort of took over and decided everything was suddenly his duty. He had done them all at home since his father was too ill and his mother worked too much." He felt it only right to talk about Johnathan, to explain who he'd been. To speak about how good of a person he had been and how innocent. He held a deep respect for the pale blue haired Captain turned youma, he always would. He didn't think, no he was sure, he couldn't handle living with a sick parent as he had.
"We became something of a family so when my mother was shot and I was unable to track the killer myself, as I'd have liked to do, Bazzite did so. In the process he killed a senshi and the shooter, a civilian, hurt him terribly." He still couldn't believe the damage a normal person had done to his Captain. At least the man was dead now, rotting somewhere.
"He found me, down in the Rift, he begged me to promote him - to make him a General. I - I shouldn't have. I didn't know if I could. I told him as much..." Trailing off he looked down to his hands as tears started to fall. His hands twisted together as he fiddled with them.
"I kept telling him I couldn't and he accused me of being like everyone else, his parents as well, and thinking he wasn't capable that he was useless. I gave in...I told him I'd do it." Another break in his voice, this one a choking sound.
"It all started well...it was just like corrupting someone." Like when he'd corrupted Alois. The two things were so similar...and yet obviously they weren't the same. "But then his starseed...it started to give - it shouldn't have. I went to get my hand out of him but it was stuck...like his body had become solid somehow." As though a human body weren't already solid. But that wasn't the point, clearly. "And it shattered...it shattered in my hand. The pain and screaming from him. I couldn't do anything or stop it...The result of this...I was summoned down to the Rift before. I crossed a line, one I didn't know was there, did something beyond my abilities. Tomorrow I go to see General Queen Howlite for punishment...I don't know what though....this could be taken as an act of treason - killing a fellow agent. And I could be killed..." God he hoped he didn't find himself dying tomorrow evening. He knew he could die in this war but he didn't actively seek it -he never would. And yet tomorrow night he might just face it.
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Posted: Tue May 21, 2013 5:49 am
Alois listened intently. Listened through all of it. Listened even when his ears bled with the relentless hints at respect and admiration that Alexandre held for this boy, the one he never knew. Despite his nearly tangible disinterest in the topic, he had asked for it previously, and he swallowed his punishment in the form of monologuing drivel. Even as Alexandre suffered at the thought of his actions, Alois only seethed in response. His best intentions fell to the wayside, dirty and forgotten, in the wake of irritation and rage. Who the hell was he to take all this grief and responsibility upon himself?
Alois laced his hands together and pressed his fingers into the valleys between his knuckles. He pressed until they turned white, until he could feel enough discomfort to take his mind of of Alexandre's sheer idiocy. It didn't work; the more he sat through, the more he wanted to lash out at the stupid, self-absorbed boy. The more he wanted to burn him, beat him, break his will. He didn't care what it took; this pointless sulking and grief needed to stop. And Alois would stop it, one way or another. Even if he had to punch the poor sap, he'd stop it.
At the mere mention of corruption, he remembered the radiating pain from the fateful day when Alexandre turned him. He could recognize that much, but any attempts to tie that into some mercy, some feeling, some respect for someone he never knew was lost on him. So he'd killed someone - what of it?
Finally he couldn't help himself. He had to respond, even if it felt like baiting. "What ze <********> are you sinking? Are you even listening to yourself? You sound like a ******** psych ward patient, droning on about how piss poor your life is right now and how you might die, and turn it into a ******** self-help novel for all I care. You keep prattling on about zis s**t like it's ze end of the world, and maybe it will be for you soon, so suck it up and accept it. Or would you prefer to piss and moan and cry in front of your General Queen? s**t, maybe you get off on making a fool of yourself in front of your superiors. I don't know.
"And as for your friend, zis 'Bazzite' boy? You're not doing him any favors, sitting here wallowing in it. If you didn't ******** up his promotion, somesing else would'f' happened to him. Someone else would'f done it. Your actions don't matter; the universe has a way of forcing zese sings to happen somehow. Your hand was just convenient.
"But zere's no excuse for all zis bullshit and misery," he shot the blonde a scathing glare. Already his heart railed against his chest in rage, and his hands shook before he flattened them against the concrete. His stupidity was maddening. "If I haf' to subject myself to your moping around, I'll eizer kill you or leaf'. Hell, maybe Howlite will do it for me. Wouldn't zat be a nice surprise?" He laughed, completely devoid of mirth, yet filled with derision.
"I'll spell it out to you since you don't seem to get it. Even if you ******** up zis kid's life, or killed him, you're not doing him any favors by dwelling on it. You sink punishing yourself until you're just some shell of a man is supposed to somehow make up for it? No - you deserve all zis grief, and your punishment is to bear it. Your punishment is to survive it, since Bazzite couldn't survive what you put him srough. But instead you choose to wander around in zis murk of self-pity and misery, and completely waste any life lessons you might've gleaned from doing zat to him. No, you'd rather be completely ******** useless. Useless to everyone."
Alois sighed; it was difficult for him to resist striking Alexandre. "If she kills you, it's a benefit. You won't train me, because you're busy wallowing in your own s**t. I don't ever find you powered up, because you're too absorbed in ze past to sink about ze present. You do nossing for ze Negaverse like zis. Zero. Null. And you pretended to care about it before... zat was a laugh. What you care about is yourself, and how much you can pity yourself using zat boy's fate. Didn't he die for the cause you pretend to hold dear? Protecting humanity or whatnot? So why can't you lif' for zat cause now? He did you a favor by tracking down zat killer, and you repay him by sitting around wis' your sumbs up your a** and crying about it. Way to be a ******** general, Benitoite."
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Posted: Tue May 21, 2013 10:38 pm
Startled by the German's words he stared with wide eyes. He seemed so blasé when he was here talking about the potential to not live beyond tomorrow. At his side one hand clenched before relaxing. The words which came from the dark haired male set the blond on edge. To imply what he did and to treat the matter so lightly. But perhaps there was some sense, some brilliance, to those words.
"No. I don't think someone else would have ******** it up." He was sure if he had held fast in his original decision Bazzite would have gone back, as he'd said he would, and handle his mothers shooter. He might have died but if not than perhaps been properly promoted? But it was unknown which would have happened...how things would have turned out and they never would be known. You only knew what happened never the what if's, those were the mysterious things which could drive a person insane.
He didn't like that Alois was talking sense, not when he was too busy letting his emotions drown him. Normally he was sensible and realistic, as much as he could given the whole magic that can do all manner of things aspect of his life, but now that he wasn't his usual self someone else was being that and was trying to shove him back on course. And he might thank him after it all, maybe not, but right now he just..it felt wrong to let things go so easily.
As the other continued and poked holes, giant gaping holes, into everything he'd been feeling he stood slowly. Ash hair, darkened by the rain, fell limp about his face. His hands at his sides as he looked down at the other. "Your right, on most of it - the important parts.: He was not seeking pity or wallowing in pity but guilt and grief over the loss of his friend. But he said none of this. And the others comments involving the General Queen were off target as well, again he didn't say this.
"If your so upset I haven't been training you then get up and we'll go out - now. You'll learn what you need to know." Could he do it? Could he pull his coat and cape back on and be the General he had been? Could he realize Alois was right and force himself to be what he had once been? Did he have a choice? If he lived past tomorrow he couldn't be useless and he couldn't leave a Lieutenant clueless on the most basic, and needed, of things. He had to do this. He had to teach him as he had others who he'd corrupted. He couldn't risk his life by not doing so, and beyond that he simply couldn't leave him ignorant to a good many things.
For a moment he wondered if the other would follow him but the thought was shoved aside. He had no choice. If Alois didn't follow him he would force the issue, he would pull rank. Heading back into the house, dripping water the whole way, he headed for the front door.
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Posted: Thu May 23, 2013 9:07 am
Alois was mildly taken aback by the blonde's sudden change of heart. Just like that, he'd bite back the torrents of misery and push himself to fulfill his duties? Perhaps the words he said had more meaning and force than he initially thought; Alexandre seemed so stuck in his own self-loathing that Alois figured nothing would rouse him from it. Maybe he'd finally see if his general was worth learning from. If not, well... He met Painite before, why not again?
He stood and watched in silence as Alexandre trudged inside. Alois regarded him unblinkingly, despite the turbulent wind, despite the sheets of rain, despite the roiling thunder. What was the slight boy thinking now? Was this some final act of recklessness? Or did Alexandre intend to hand down the last dregs of his knowledge in quiet acknowledgement of his own looming death? He seemed quite convinced that someone would remind him of his own mortality; perhaps this was a choice of how his mortality should end. Alois smiled slightly; this was an opportunity for his general to prove he was worth respecting. Inwardly he hoped the boy didn't ******** it up.
Now soaked to the bone, with the clinging rain prompting involuntary shivers, Alois followed Alexandre's example and walked inside with complete disregard for how soaked he was. He shut the door behind him and padded toward the front of the house, his wet footfalls soaking into the carpet as he passed by a few rooms. However, he paused when he reached the threshold where he initially discovered Alexandre that night.
The chair looked expensive, to say the least - it was oversized, sported brass riveting, and real leather upholstery. In fact, he could smell the leather from where he stood. However, despite its grandiose appearance and elegant curves, the seat of the chair was heavily worn in one location. Wasn't that where Alexandre curled up? Then, for how long had he been sitting in that chair, folded in on himself with grief? If it sported cracks so deep, and marks of worn leather, then for how long had this been going on? How much longer still?
Alois didn't have time to question it; Alexandre was waiting for him. Soon it would be Benitoite waiting for him, waiting for Bischofite. Finally he left the chair, left his thoughts trailing behind with it, and headed toward his superior. He grinned at the irony: a boy younger than him, smaller, more fragile, remained above him by several ranks, and bore the arrogance to prove it. Perhaps fate primed him for retribution via seething anger.
"Fine. Let's go," Alois spoke with mild contempt lacing his tone, and opened the door for the blonde. He offered a mock salute. "general."Sleet Tempest Snape I think this is a good place to end it.
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