indispensible | four. spam. get my hands on you; red in tooth and--

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four. spam. get my hands on you; red in tooth and--

[The world ended. Apparently. Vin isn't that sorry about it; it wasn't a very good world, and it never did much of anything for her.]

[This place is better. She has power enough here to protect those she cares about - although not from themselves, from their own inherent weakness. She is her own tool.]

[There is a lot of blood on her hands. She finds herself frustrated that, with the inefficacy of the death toll, she has less leeway to teach physical lessons. What the hunter said the other day is true: if the wardens kill everyone here, they won't have anything to do.]

[She walks the halls in silence of varying degrees. There's so little that she cares about these days, but in specific company she revitalizes Valette, the social mask she wore what seems like a hundred years ago, and seems a little bit happy for a little while. Admittedly she takes pleasure in the pain of others, or more accurately their ironic punishment, but it's sort of the same thing. Anything that reminds her of Elend is destroyed, as quickly and efficiently as possible.]

gym spam, throughout } alpha & open

[The equipment here doesn't last very long - at least not when the death toll doesn't work, because Vin feels compelled to take her anger out on things that can be repaired and don't need to be brought back. She spends a great deal of time beating the stitches out of punching bags. Anyone who looks at her sideways will feel her cold fingers on their emotions, pushing and pulling until they feel what she wants them to.]

[When she's sufficiently placated, she takes the punching bags over to Alpha and dumps them in front of him with a sullen look.]

You'll need to fix these.

deck spam, monday morning } stark & open

[The stars frighten her, a little bit. So she faces them, staring them down for hours at a time until her frustration builds to the extent that she has to take it out on someone. The pattern will be old hat for those who remember their time here: she watches for an hour, then paces for an hour. The third hour is when things get dangerous.]

[At the beginning of this cycle, she makes her way to Stark's side in silence, huffing her way through the smoke of Maledictions and leaning heavily against the rail in a way that entirely hides her natural grace.]

Your inmate wants to reason with you.

[Which is indescribably hilarious.]

spam, tuesday } bea, later arya

[There are things that, when said to Vin, start a reaction that can't be stopped. It's slow, certainly; she's never been a planner or a schemer but she does occasionally think, and her lack of purpose draws her response time out beyond that.]

[On Tuesday morning, she starts following Bea. She doesn't bother trying to hide her intentions. They should be clear, and after all, Bea asked for this.]

( ooc; vin is alpha's warden and also a lawnmower. she went with zane and became a murderhorror with abandonment issues. anyone who has ever betrayed her has been murdered or been at the other end of an attempted murder. she ranges between utterly flat affect and petulant childishness. she also is free with rioting & soothing. find her anywhere and everywhere, even if it's not mentioned in one of these sections! )

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[Stark doesn't bother looking Vin's way when she approaches. He heard her coming before she spoke anyway and he knows she's aware of that. Stark is, more or less, lounging right now. He's watching the traffic that heads towards the door, trying to figure out a way to get it open and to the other side like there's some kind of salvation there for them whether it be more power or a means of escape.]

[It'd be pathetic if it wasn't so fucking funny.]

[But he's also been keeping a literal eye on Ned in his room. Nearby is a jar with an eye floating in it. Stark's eye, to be exact. He set up something so perfect the original Devil would probably shed a tear over it. Either Ned graduates or he graduates. It kinda sucks for Digby if he goes with the second option, but there are other dogs out there.]

[Either way, Stark wins and he enjoys winning and he intends to watch every minute he can of Ned squirming with his indecision.]

Why do you think I only gave him twenty-four hours? [He pauses to take a drag of his cigarette.] I don't want to listen to that whining and bitching until the Admiral finally buys the farm.

[She shakes her head, almost pitying if she was into that. Which at this point she's not.]

I even explained it to him. There's no way out. There's not even really a choice. There are just different ways to graduate. But he doesn't seem to understand.

[She lays her hand on Stark's arm and gives him a look of complete incredulity.]

He wants to make you care.

[Stark looks at Vin with a raised brow.]

Does he now? At least he moved on from trying to bribe me.

[It's hard to hold back the grin to that. Bribing the Devil, of all people.]

It's just as futile. I wish he wouldn't waste his energy.

[She misses him, just as she misses everyone who's demoted. Everyone who leaves. That's part of what she likes about Stark. He won't leave. Not ever. He's too broken inside to ever be mended. He'll die before truly thinking that anything better could feasibly exist.]

He shouldn't fight it. It should be like coming home.

[Stark pops the peeper out and swaps it out for his own eye, talking as he does so. He's done this a hundred or more times in front of Vin which is why he's so casual about it and not making a spectacle of it. But he wouldn't really give a shit if it bothered her anyway.]

I don't blame him that much.

Don't get me wrong. His fight is completely fucking pointless. One way or another, he's gonna end up on the other side again. It's either gonna consume and destroy him or he's gonna rise out of it like some dramatic fucking phoenix out of the ashes. He doesn't realize that yet, but he will. By tomorrow if he's lucky.

Later, if he's not.

[He finishes off his cigarette, tossing it aside wherever it may land and screws the cap back on the jar.]

But there was a time I fought it. You did, too, as I recall. Everyone always makes it needlessly complicated until they're presented with a choice where the results are obvious, but there's still a subtle difference. There's one version where they're miserable sacks of shit with nothing left going for them and then there's the other where they at least find a good reason to roll out of bed in the morning.

[For Stark, it was Alice.]

[Save her. Be with her. Or never see her again.]

[Well, he got 2 out of 3 for a little while. He can't complain too much about that. The offer he's making Ned is by far better by virtue of no Mason Faim anyway. If anything, Ned should be kissing Stark's feet for the opportunity to have everything he wants and not be tied down by a bullshit sense of morality, not trying to find any inmate who will give him a hand in trying to convince Lucifer he should do anything he doesn't want to do.]

[Stark misses the days he could take souls.]

[It doesn't bother her. Not in the slightest. It's just another ugly thing. She's seen plenty of them. His ugliness isn't dramatic, which makes her feel content; it's just what it is. Functional. Effective. He lays traps for the unwary. He is what she would expect, from a god.]

[Drumming her fingers on the rail, she tips her head, sighs, nods. She is still miserable. She just knows more about herself now; she isn't deluded.]

[Which, really, is why she would rend Zane limb from limb for betraying her. He betrayed himself. He thinks he's human. He isn't. He thinks humans can love him. They can't. It'll destroy him in the end.]

It's a good thing you're here. [She sighs again.] Otherwise I think I'd just kill him.

You say that like there's actually something stopping you.

[He goes back to leaning on the railing.]

I hope it's not me.

[A slight tic at the corner of her mouth, sort of-nearly a smile.]

The death toll. It isn't working. If I kill him, he might never come back.

[Stark raises his brows.]

Worried you might be doing him a favor?

Worried I'll be bored later.

[He chuckles. She makes him proud sometimes.]

Attagirl.

[She smiles blankly at him and looks over the rail. It only seems practical, to her.]

[Beatrix notices Vin shadowing her immediately. She even pauses as soon as she senses the woman's presence, turning slowly to stare at her before fixing her with a sharp smile.

Then she'd simply shaken her head and turned around, ignoring the woman as if she was nothing - precisely what she will be, soon. But she lets Vin trail her, always keeping in sight, all but daring her to make a move. It's not until they reach the garden that she speaks.]

Are you simply going to follow me all day or are you going to try to show your worth?

[Vin has stalked prey for days. Weeks. This is nothing. She is actually sort of hoping that Beatrix will take more time to confront her. She had no particular thought that she'd be afraid. It's just more interesting for Vin the longer it takes.]

[But she's really also fine with getting right down to it.]

[She stops and tilts her head at Beatrix. Slowly, subtly, imperceptibly, she tugs at the other woman's confidence, building it up with sure fingers, making her feel invulnerable.]

[Beatrix would never think of herself as prey. Even without the lift of confidence from - what? - from the woman's hesitance to strike, she is an apex predator in her own world. That sort of primal assurance is difficult even for defeat to break.

She eases her stance, tilting her head to mirror Vin and holding her gaze.]

Nothing?

[It feels as though she's moving lazily. To the human eye, though, she's whip-quick as she pulls out four sharpened coins and sends them at Beatrix fast and hard enough to cut through bone. In their wake, she rushes, pulling and pushing at Beatrix's confidence to disorient her, to distract from one hard hit at her center of gravity.]

[Beatrix has quick eyes, sharp ones, but still human for all their keenness. She recognizes the wind-up and has time enough to weave away from the coins - mostly. One skims her shoulder and leaves a clean, deep cut, one she doesn't even register as Vin bolts toward her. She's too exilarated by the promise of a fight, the chance to take this warden down a notch. She forms her fingers into tiger's claws, arms braced, ready to swipe out at her with enough force to tear flesh.]

[Vin runs right into her hands.]

[Because she doesn't care. She doesn't care if she's hurt; she'll heal, she always does. She doesn't care if she bleeds; she's bled before. What she cares about is taking Beatrix's arm at wrist and elbow (even as her flesh is rent by sharp fingers) and snapping the bone with one clean twist.]

[Her left hand arcs out wide and she catches Vin across the chest, fingers gouging skin just below her collarbone. She tries to wrench her right arm out of the woman's grasp but all it serves to do is jar the bone further. The injury makes her cry out, a sound of rage more than pain, and she twists her body to slam a foot to Vin's knee, trying to dislocate the bone and make her crumple to the floor.]

[She's bleeding - and, shortly, she grunts with the pain of the dislocation. Pewter staves off some of it, but she can't keep herself from stumbling. All she can do is stumble towards Beatrix, bearing her weight down on the woman's broken arm, pushing her to the floor.]

[ Alpha looked up from folding towels-- scruffy beard coming in redder than his strawberry-blonde hair would otherwise indicate he should. Some guys just-- do that. ]

[ And some guys just give Vin the blandest of looks. ]

I suppose that I will. At least you're no twisting the equipment into knots. That's a little beyond me.

I can do that, too. If you want.

[This is not a joke. She really will. Would happily do something that pointless and stupid if it pushed him further. But so few things seem to. He's such a frustration.]

Tell me who you've spoken to today. Who's been in here.

Edited 2013-10-29 15:53 (UTC)

Not today, pet. Not today.

[ He takes up the bag to inspect the stitches. ]

Dent came by. But he loves his routine. A few others. No one I spoke to. Not a lot of people coming by, what with them being weary and hungry, Lady Venture.

[The careful juxtaposition - pet, Lady Venture - makes her teeth flash ferally, her nose wrinkle. She scents the air and shifts her weight from one foot to the other.]

I suppose that makes your job pointless.

[She'll have to break something else to give him meaning. Everyone needs purpose.]

Are you weary and hungry?

Everything I do on the barge is pointless. Everything you do on the barge is pointless. The barge is pointless. It's just a giant attic, blah blah blah, we've been over this before.

[ He waves a hand, before he bends to pick up the bag. ]

Aren't you tired of this? Aren't you weary and hungry for something better than this?

We've been over that before, too.

Do you have any new sort of better that you'd like me to consider? Your last suggestions didn't move me.

No. I mean, I could suggest various meditations but I'm fairly sure you'll ignore them.

[ He carries the back over toward storage and office, ready to start working on the repairs. ]

I especially don't know how to get over not being the one you thought you were to someone. Or [ he glanced back, toothily grinning ] are you over the break up for the undead hottie? I promise you, I got denied for worse. Ballard wasn't much of a man.

Edited 2013-10-30 03:20 (UTC)

[This is, of course, a very stupid idea on Alpha's part. The rage is what bubbles up first. She smiles at his retreating back and follows him into the office.]

[Her instinct is to crush him like a bug. Instead, she points to his mouth.]

Open.

Going to take my tongue? I'll bleed out, die, and then what will you with no fresh meat?

[ But he opens, dutifully. ]

[It would be a lie to say she hadn't considered it; she wrinkles her nose to express as much. But it's the impotence of him that annoys her, his bark without bite. Take one away and the other might raise to balance out.]

[In truth, this is all haphazard. In truth, she wants desperately for him to join her, doesn't know how to bring it about, and is so often given to pulling the wings off flies just to see what it'll do.]

[There is a sharpened coin in her pocket. She pushes it through the tip of Alpha's tongue, just behind the teeth, so quickly and precisely that her actions might not even register to his eyes at first. Then she Pulls forward, yanking the coin back to her hand.]

[She watches his tongue split down the middle with utter impassivity.]

[ He knows. ]

[ He knows she wants someone on her side, someone who can see her perspective. Not to be alone anymore. And he knows if she won him, broke him, she'd have fifty men, not one, and that somehow that makes it even more valuable. ]

[ But no-- no, his eyes are rolling in the back of his head as his mouth fills with blood and sound rises up from his throat. He can't stop it, not with her working with his mouth, can't stop the pain from gaining voice. He trembles, writhes, and as soon as the coin is free, doubles over, blood spilling past his lip, over his palms as he gags, shudders, and gags again. ]

[It's not quite screaming, she thinks. It's something less/more. Something beautiful either way. Reen would like it; he always did like this sort of thing in the end, when he spoke in the back of her head, praising her for chaos, for pain.]

[She lets him fall.]

[Then she burns brass and duralumin and crushes the heart out of him. Everything he feels is flattened to nothing. Every single thing.]

[She leans down then and takes him by the shoulder, steadies him in his pain, making quiet shushing noises.]

[It's all right. He'll be all right.]

[She will protect him.]

[ Alpha folded in on himself, blood and saliva trailing from his mouth like festive red ribbons, swinging thickly as they hung down over his chin. He crushed his palms to his eyes, blocking out light and pain and everyting else as he curled, slowly, like a closing fern frond. ]

[ Down, down he went ot his knees, bent over himself, whining piteously. But she is there, and she snuffs him like a candleflame. Empties him out and cradles him. ]

[ And Alpha cannot protest. He cannot bring himself to do anything except lean in her arms and whimper, faintly. ]

Shh. I've got you.

[She cradles him in her arms, pulling him close. She loves him. He's her friend, her family. She'll protect him for always.]

[Just not from herself.]

It's all right. You can get up. I'll take you to the infirmary. You'll be fine.

[ Helpless, a Doll anew, Alpha did not resist. He went with her without complaint, blue eyes watering in pain, blood running down his face like a banner proclaiming his sin. ]

[ He would be good. He would obey. It was the easiest thing to do, with everything feeling so far away. ]

[Ryan turned his bronze off entirely after Marsh nearly killed himself burning a bad alloy scraped off some of the fittings in Bush's cabin, and he misses it like a limb. He tries to avoid her - he avoids the gym, avoids the deck, avoids Stark's hall entirely, and a few of her other preferred haunts - but he refuses to waste the time he has control of himself hiding somewhere. He doesn't flinch or turn away when he realizes they're passing, either. She'll torment him, or she won't. That's all.]

Edited 2013-10-28 18:35 (UTC)

[She doesn't decide one way or another, not yet. She does slow as they pass each other, as if noting a directive to allargando; her head falls to one side, and she listens to everything that indicates Marsh in her mind.]

[Then she turns and catches up with him, walking at his side. The look in her eyes is the bastard brother of curiosity: not the desire but the inborn right to pick the wings off flies.]

Where are you going? [she asks, and then, with a sigh,] Where is there for you to go here?

It's better than standing still.

[Nowhere, really. But he has his meandering circuits. Kelsier, Ned, Nathan.]

[The Risen Emperor's crimes are numerous. Zane chose him, even though he is utterly human. He is noble and gentle and clever and calm; he could talk about theories of civilizations all day, if anyone let him. He is deeply obdurate in maintaining his own emotions.

She is pacing when he arrives, and he doesn't know for how long. He should go, and he knows it. But he will not let fear take the stars from him. He concedes only to watch them from the opposite railing.]

[The cycle speeds up when the Emperor is around. Not because she blames him for Zane's defection, exactly, for his fall, although he did play a part; she blames Zane for his own sins and failings. No, what agitates her about the Emperor more than anything is his quiet philosophizing. She fantasizes about cutting out his tongue.]

[Her teeth click in agitation, though her steps remain light and silent. Soon enough she veers closer, her pacing becoming more directed, more clearly stalking.]

[He doesn't glance at her. But her motions are pointed, and he sees no purpose in not acknowledging her, so after a moment, he speaks, in a neutral murmur.]

You remind me of a Rixwoman.

[From another Emperor, on another barge, this would be something of an insult. From this one, it is simply an observation.]

[This draws her up comically short. Her hands bunch into defensive fists at her side. Break his neck.]

I don't . . . understand.

[She doesn't know what that is.]

[How to explain the Rix, he wonders, to someone from a medieval cinder.]

The Rix were...are, I should say, strike commandos. Not like ordinary soldiers, incredibly elite, isolated except for their drop sisters, a faction unto themselves.

They replaced their hearts with turbines - a sort of spinning engine. It's stronger and more efficient and it makes less noise. Over time they become ever more machine.

[She understands. The feeling of kinship is effortless, instantaneous. She knows what machines are. What it means for someone to make herself into a weapon.]

[She stops - no retreat, no advance.]

How long does it take before they're not human at all anymore?

[A staunch imperial might say that Rix commandos were never human, that they were their own breed - true enough, all of them creche-born in their ships, en route to missions every moment of their existences, without the trials of the unnecessary gender - that the disputed border between organic and synthetic was irrelevant, that they were alien creatures from the beginning.]

For a technical answer, only a Rix would know. Philosophically -

Well. A tight-knit tribe that uses violence to spread their beliefs? I don't think it matters particularly how durable the bodies they do it in. That's very human.

[She lets him finish.]

[Then she grabs him by the collar and slams him into the deck - not hard enough to break anything, but certainly enough to bruise his ribs. She would have let him keep talking if he'd stopped at the first sentence. It's unfortunate that some people just don't understand their place.]

[She holds him down, one hand tightening slowly at his throat, the other pressed flat to his solar plexus.]

[Be quiet.]

[He doesn't fight her. When she stops, holding him and threatening, he simply raises one eyebrow. You asked.]

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four. spam. get my hands on you; red in tooth and--

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[spam, Tuesday]

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cw; torture, gore

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