Day 4 - Oh, Memory and thought, jet black and clawed

[cordelisse]

Day: Four
Who: Zoey and Morpho
When: After this
Where: Outside the House of Dusk
Any Warnings: Um... prior trauma? And cussing. Oh yes the cussing.

Comments

[mothmanmenace]

When the call had gone out over the communicators, Morpho couldn't have cared any less

[cordelisse]

Zoey certainly didn’t expect anyone to come around the corner, let alone speak to her. So when she heard a voice, she jumped into surprise, her back slamming into the wall of the House of Dusk.

“AH! Motherfucker!” She grit her teeth against the spike of pain (it shouldn’t actually hurt, it was only a DREAM for fuck’s sake; portent or no), hand pressing harder against her chest. She twisted to face the newcomer, managing a hoarse laugh at his words.

“You could say that,” she told him. “And yes... I’m sure I do.” Her eyes dropped to his wrist. He was like her, trapped in the Carnival; the comm gave it away. Well, damn. It sucked to be them.

[mothmanmenace]

Okay. That was funny, actually. He laughed a little at her jumping, smirking wryly at her words. There was a moment of silence where he just stood there, looking down at her, following her gaze...and then, shrugging, he held up his wrist. Showing off both the comm and the thick black mark across the back of his (very scarred - so were his arms and hands, pockmarked with countless tiny scars) left hand.

"Yeah, you guessed it. Part of the fucking collection." Leaning back against the wall, he slid down it, seating himself beside her and resting his elbows atop his knees. There was a faint shifting under his skin, visible if she was paying attention to his arms...but he had it under control for the time being. He could see the way she was clutching her chest...he didn't REALLY need to give her a heart attack or something. Besides, she looked like she might have already had one.

"What's the matter? Should I be calling a medic? A shrink? Or a bartender?"

[cordelisse]

Zoey started relaxing a little at his laugh. She wasn’t getting the same feeling of wrongness that she had from the Carnie... so maybe he was all right. Slowly being able to breathe a little easier, she uncurled some, sagging back against the wall. The pain had eased a bit, she thought, or at the very least he was distracting her from it. Either way it was a relief. Her hand slid from where it pressed against her chest as the sheer panic slowly seeped from her veins.

He slid down next to her, and she welcomed the presence of someone who wasn’t fucking creepy. “Are we just the luckiest fucking pair,” she replied, intrigued by his choice of words. ‘Collection’? Maybe he had an idea of just how... bad this place really was. It would be interesting to see.

Tilting her head back Zoey laughed. “How about a priest and a bartender? I could use the bartender, and this PLACE could use the fucking priest. Possibly several.” She shook her head. “As for what’s the matter... not sure you’d believe me if I told you.”