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CHARACTERS: victoria winters (

disjoined) and open!
DATE: february 15 (backdated to mid-week 14 and onward!)
RATING: starting it at pg-13. changing as needed.
SUMMARY: that time she spent some quality time at the overlook hotel. also, misery, probably.

[ victoria winters has never been possessed.

she's wondered about it, of course - as likely tends to happen when your only companion is a ghost that shares your face (or so she realized as she got older) - what it would be like to lose control, to have a body that moves of someone else's volition. what would happen to her? to her spirit? would she hover nearby, helpless to retrieve her human form? would she come along for the ride? would she simply cease to exist in the presence of spirits more powerful?

victoria winters is not wondering anymore, not after her couple of nights at the overlook hotel. nice place, really. beautiful place, as much as she had tried to fight it, it's a nice relief from the waves and the cliffs that hit too close to home. entirely too close to home, which would explain why she hasn't been outside. at all.

when she does emerge, sometime in the middle of the week, she's wide-eyed and frazzled and short of breath, shaky and no, she's not wondering anymore, and she hates it but she can't stop it (and honestly, maybe she doesn't want to. she does. she doesn't. she does, she doesn't), and neither should anyone else.

she skitters through the streets, darting in and out of alleyways, movements jerky and either too short or too wide, and she'll drag someone back with her or die trying. ]

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[ The Overlook's a nice place, sure, but it's so fucking boring. Not that the town that surrounds it is much better — death traps at every turn, even that woman who'd insisted they fuck in the graveyard before turning into a giant rat.

And Karl, well — it takes a few days, but more and more there's only one thing he's ever really thinking about, more than how much this hellhole frustrates him and more than the bullshit that is all of COMPASS' experiments so far. It's not a level of obsession he thinks he's felt since his wife had passed away (and that'd be the generous way of putting it). Vicky Winters, with those doll eyes and long legs, and the plush heart of her lips. It's not even just the notion of sex and violence that preoccupies him, it's just—

—he'd put a word to it if he weren't so busy trying to find her in the first place.

There's no one else, after all, who's going to look after her the way he can. This place, these people, it's all bullshit but there's nothing he wouldn't do for her, nobody he wouldn't put in their grave if she asked, even if the general rule seems to mean they all come back again and again.

His relief is palpable when he finally does spot her, quickening his pace across the concrete. ]

Hey— Vicky!

[ when it's set in, there's really no stopping it, vision blurring red around the edges if it's not blurred entirely in the first place. flashes of color, flashes of images that victoria can't recall or discern through the quickness. she does turn when he calls her, recognizes his voice, lets out a breathy, ] Karl, [ when he approaches.

but it doesn't register. not quite.

she stays where she is, fingers twitching, flexing, reaching for some kind of weapon that she can't pinpoint and doesn't have right now. it's not a good position for her to be in, and so to counteract it, she grins. she smiles. she grits her teeth and bares it for as long as she has to.

which, all things considered, hopefully won't be long. ]

Edited 2014-02-19 05:54 (UTC)

[ She smiles and it's goddamn heaven (and he hates it, hates that he's so easy for her, but it won't matter soon, because she's his). Karl stops just short of her, refraining from reaching out to touch her just yet. Almost immediately, his expression morphs into one of concern, his head cocking in part of that pantomime.

(They can't stay out here long — they can't risk it. Not with all the creepy-crawlies that have been climbing out of the woodworks, not with the way people have been acting lately.) ]

You alright? This place is— well, it's been crazy. Worse than that Egyptian shit they pulled before.

[ he keeps his distance for reasons she can't quite comprehend, and her eyes are alight as she reaches out to grasp his hands, giving them a tense little squeeze. ]

I think it's great, [ she says honestly - as earnestly as she can muster for the time being, leaning forward slightly and he he hasn't angered her; she can't make an excuse to bend his wrists or snap his fingers (nor, honestly, does she have the physical strength for it). ] It reminds me of home.

[ It's only when she takes his hands that he steps closer, a little more of that relief coloring his expression as he looks at her, like she's the only thing he can see for miles around. (And she is, she is, and that's the catch.) ]

Home? [ he repeats, and it's curious more than it is argumentative or anything of the sort. ] 70's, right? I guess I can see that.

[ He raises one of his hands (and one of hers, too, as a result), the pad of his thumb brushing the line of her jaw. ]

I hope it wasn't as much of a death trap. C'mon— we oughta get inside.

Inside?

[ she has no connection to this town, not really. but the air is lovely (it's gloomy) and the hotel is nearby and the place in general is a sort of diamond in the rough that vicky can't help but scoff, wide-eyed, at the suggestion. she could hit him for it, she really, really could. ]

But it's such a nice day. You don't want to take a walk with me?

[Jim is skulking about himself, he's not fed in a day or so, but after attacking someone he knew earlier, he just tries to squash it down. Stomp it til it's gone in him. It won't be though, he knows that, but he is exerting all the control he has over himself right now, he won't wind up attacking another friend if he can help it.

It take little time for him to spot the woman, watch her for a second. She's not all the same as many he's seen. Perhaps she's possessed or a vampire or some other form of creature. He's met too many now to assume, but he knows enough to know she's not moving as a normal person would.

He doesn't hide himself from her or that he's watching her curiously, he sticks to the shadows because they make him more comfortable. Besides, by now he's taken down a Spartan, he's not worried about handling her if she attacked.]

[ definitely not a vampire, though she does have her share of experience with them, though that's not what registers now. there's nothing that really does register, though her mind's working and there's a definite bloodlust underneath it all, underneath her timid, nervous nature. there's a quickness to her movements, sort of a jerk to her reflexes. and she's not going to attack him, though she does turn her head in his direction and her gaze is a bit too curious when it lands on him. ]

Are you watching me?

[ her mouth spreads into a grin and she makes her way over to him in a couple of long strides. normally, it's not something she'd do. but circumstances aren't exactly normal right now. ]

[Perhaps it's that she is a normal person, he's seen less of those as the days go by, he's forgetting what normal looks like. But it doesn't matter, he returns her grin with one of his own.]

Hard not to. [It was hard not to watch anyone who caught his eye. His senses were tuned like a predator, always aware, always seeking, but he has more than enough will power to keep it under some control. She's in no danger from him, he'll make sure of it.]

Realized I hadn't seen you around before now, not often I run into a new face these days.

Oh, I've been around.

[ it's not something she'd normally say. normally, she'd follow it up with a polite smile, a nod of her head, and an introduction (followed with a "please, call me vicky"), but these circumstances are decidedly not normal. she tilts her head, continues her scooting toward him. ]

And you are?

[He tilts his head, watching her continue towards him. Usually, he would meet her half way, not make the approach entirely one sided but with his new sense of how to hunt, he rather she come to him.]

Jim. Jim Kirk. [He almost forgets his last name. For what reason, he's not entirely sure why.] And how about your lovely self?

Edited 2014-03-01 08:45 (UTC)

Jim Kirk.

[ she says it with a tiny hint of a smirk and a resolute nod of her head. names add humanity to people, to things. evidence of a life. something more gratifying in stealing. ]

I'm Vicky.

[ still different from her regular introduction, less formal, more undeniably thirsty for something. there's no weaponry in her hands, nothing but her hands, and her palms itch. ] You always keep to the shadows like that?

Not always, no, but recently, yes. [He would say more, thinks about it even, but he's got a question of his own to ask before he gives too much.]

So, no last name? [He gives her a curious smile, after all he offered his, she should offer hers.]

Vicky Winters. [ she adds it pointedly, because he did ask for it. even if she had more important things to worry about than the particulars. it seems even in a state like this, she's not entirely sure how to go about said murderous intent. ]

You ask a lot of questions, you know?

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