hypnagothic | [The City] IC Contact

[ She shakes her head again, but stays silent until she's positive that nothing will scratch through. She is speaking of more than just the experience, but her words and her mind are not lining up whenever she gets upset. They trip over one another. The huff is one of frustration at herself. ]

It will happen again. Everything will happen again. We will never be safe.

[ The ouroboros. It makes her nauseous, and her eyes shut to steady herself before attempting to pull the shirt over her head without rubbing it against her wrists. ]

Edited (missing very important words bc what is sleep) 2024-01-01 06:21 (UTC)

[ his had slides up her arm, lightly, making it's way up so that he can cup her face. he doesn't insist that she look at him with the gesture, but his thumb brushes delicately over her cheek, only gently requesting her attention, trying to pull her from the spiral she's about to take again. ]

Vanessa Ives.

[ Blinking her eyes slowly back open to look up, her rambling ceases, but her wide-eyed stare is still terrified even with his gaze on her. There's too much still blocking her vision.

It takes everything for her voice not to crack. ]

I know what I sound like.

[ there's no change in the way he touches her, full of nothing but tenderness. ]

It is to be expected, given what I believe you experienced.

[ 'Experienced'. The word doesn't sound right. It's too clean.

Still blinking, this time with more lethargy and melancholy than panic, she leans slightly into the touch. ]

It wasn't the same, but... It felt like before.

[ he pulls her closer as she leans in, his hand sliding back and into her hair. ]

Before?

[ Sighing, she closes her eyes again, this time with more lethargy. ]

In the white room... When they made me eat...

[ It is a horrible memory, even so fractured, but she's eased with him here, as if she could pretend he was also there in those memories to comfort her. ]

When they took my hair. Before the drill.

[ The scar is small, but it's there. ]

[ his hand is slow, combing his fingers through her hair as if to remind her that it's still there. she's no longer where that place was. ]

... An asylum.

They needed to bind me to the chair those times, as well. [ A quiet sigh. ] I struggled too much.

As one should.

[ She should finish getting dressed before she loses what little energy she can still muster. His touch makes her drowsy. ]

At first, I kept...wondering what you would do. Would you have struggled? Knowing it was futile? You are not so intemperate as I...as I was.

[ Stepping back just a bit, luckily not tripping right onto the mattress, she'll attempt to finish pulling the shirt on. . ]

I dread thinking of anything like this happening to you. But then, you do not anger our captor as I seem to...

[ he lets his hand fall away as she steps back, but still near when she wants him. he seems to hesitate in responding, several moments passing before he speaks again. ]

... I have been summoned in such a manner before. Held against my will. Though it was not as you have experienced.

[ Stunned, she's pulled out of her self-involved trance to pause and stare. Obviously he means something other than the City. How? Who?

Are they still alive for her to rip apart? ]

Who? [ She squints. He had mentioned the Morningstar bearing him ill will, and it is natural for her to blame most things on the Devil. ] Lucifer?

No. They would not dare without cause, which I have not given them.

[ he lifts his hand to gently caress her arm. ]

It matters not. They have met their due.

[ With the shirt covering her thighs, she finally drops the damp towel away completely. His touch again has her leaning his way, reaching to hug and nuzzle at his arm, though the lull to her movement still carries the tension of anger. How glad she is that he escaped whatever other cage once had him.

It does matter, but she shouldn't press. ]

How did it happen?

[ his arm curls around her again, comforting against her back. ]

An amateur that had fortunate timing and powerful tools that he abused to achieve it.

...That much does not sound so very different, after all.

[ She can't say that Dr. Banning was an amateur, but he should never have been considered a doctor or a scientist. Nothing more than a man with a desire and a penchant for cruelty. ]

I can't...imagine anything like an amateur managing such a feat. [ Powerful tools indeed. ] Did he hurt you in any way?

Hurt ... no. He did not touch me during my captivity, only at the beginning before caging me to take my tools.

[ he encourages her towards the bed, handing her the knit pants to finish dressing. not that he's pulling away from her at all. ]

[ The thought of anyone handling him to put him into a cage stirs something in her that makes it difficult to care about anything like covering up her legs. She just wishes to hold him until he no longer has to remember such an injustice.

She wants to know what was done to him, but it doesn't feel right to ask. ]

How... How did you escape?

[ The pants need to be knotted, but she isn't going to worry about rolling up the hem, at least, so it's quick to pull them on with Morpheus there to lean against. She's in no hurry to go jogging anywhere. ]

[ not that he would allow her to go outside, unless she insisted. no. she needs rest, and so he will insist that she rest here. ]

In truth, I am not certain what the catalyst was. Either a moment of neglect or of pity. The lover of my captor's son had negated a portion of the spell used to bind me which then allowed me to enter the dream of one of the guards they had watching me at all times.

Edited 2024-01-17 07:20 (UTC)

[ The son's lover? Perhaps love had kept them from entirely losing their humanity, then. What of the rest?

Looking back up to him, she begins to reach to cup his cheek. The sight of her own wrist has her quickly dropping her hand back, but it doesn't halt her curiosity.

She should bandage her wrists before she ruins his sheets, but she detests the thought of doing anything else. Ever again. Unless any of those responsible for this story are still alive, that is. ]

And did you punish him? Your captor?

[ he'd been turning his face away as if he didn't wish to face his retelling, but he looks back to her, even after her aborted gesture. ]

No. He died before I could bring my revenge upon him. A scuffle between he and his son, intentional or not, ended in his death. Too simple an end for an abhorrent creature such as he.

[ Far too simple. It sounds like he didn't suffer enough. ]

Why did his son not free you once his father was gone?

[ Perhaps he was as bad as his father?

Her hands settle against his chest, her thumb brushing idly at his shirt as she peers up at him with a creased brow. ]

What did they want with you?

[ his own hands settle on her waist, the embrace light but nevertheless present. ]

Because he is a coward. Frightened of his father's shadow and of what I would do to him once I was freed. He had murdered my raven, Jessamy, at the behest of his father, after all. I might have forgiven him for such savagery if he had freed me in that moment following the death of his father, but the hold his father still had over him dominated over any decency he may have had.

In his fear, he only asked for the promise not to harm him or his. It was not what his father had demanded, pleading for gifts that were not mine to give nor mankind's to receive. But I still remained just as silent, and for this, he refused to release me for decades.

[ as he spoke, the grip on her waist had tightened, fingers digging in slightly. he sighs gently then, letting out a tension that had been growing in him, and the embrace loosens once more. ]

It was not me that he wanted.

[ It's rare to hear Morpheus speak so much on his own troubles, and she listens all the more intently, even without the urging of his tighter grip. That only urges her to lean closer. Focusing on someone else's pain has always been easier than processing her own, or it is something that helps her through it. Taking it as her own.

So he says that they might have released him if he had done what they wished, but she doubts it. And if they did, then would that not have been giving even more of himself than what they had already taken? They did not deserve mercy.

Vanessa could have tried to curtsy through Dr. Banning's wishes sooner, since she mostly understood what it was they all wanted of her. It still would not have worked to her favor, but she hadn't known until trying. Some hours had felt like days, and some days had felt like years, but in truth she was only trapped in the white room for five months. What would decades have done?

What had it been to feel the loss of his raven while so caged? And then to linger in that grief for so long? How can she not feel that kind of pain down to her bones?

Who? she wants to ask, but something else is more important, even while she blinks as though holding back tears. The tears are for him, but the quiet anger that tremors through her words are for any involved in keeping him in such indignity. ]

What did you do to them?

Edited (relevant word missing!) 2024-01-17 21:20 (UTC)

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