Extract of Cherry Blossom
Title: Extract of Cherry Blossom
Author: Mrs_Rezwood
Characters/Pairings: Sylar, Candice, Maya, Original fic character: Eloise
Rating: I think ‘M’ for Mature Audiences
Warnings: Angry!Sylar, violence, slightly spoilery for the start of season 2 and just a hint of sexy.
Disclaimer: It sucks to be me, because I don’t own Heroes - but I do own any original characters featured in mah stories ^_^
A/N: Written for mission: insane prompt “Breathless”
Summary: Candice takes the form of someone she really shouldn’t have.
He sat still in his chair, unable to draw another breath.
She was lazily leaning on the hard metal bench, tracing around the edges of his coffee mug slowly, her right hip sticking out awkwardly. Her underwear was inside out and back to front; and his too-big button up shirt was barely covering her pale chest. All too familiar long golden hair hid mossy green eyes and smeared makeup.
She was beautiful.
She was perfect.
But he knew it wasn’t, couldn’t be her…but old habits die hard. He couldn’t help but drink in her pale skin, her long legs and crimson lips. He desperately wanted it to be real.
‘Eloise’, he whispered finally.
Candice couldn’t help but be pleased with herself; she knew she’d figure him out eventually. So she smiled widely with Eloise’s smile and picked up a small square of paper off the table between Eloise’s long, pale fingers.
She held it up so he could see that it was, in fact, a photo.
A photo of her, the only one he had.
In it, she was looking exactly as Candice did now, only smiling brightly up at the Polaroid camera with which she was photographing herself.
Candice flipped the picture around so that he could see the other side. He read, for the thousandth time that month, her words to him in long, delicate writing:
“What is the difference between a King and his Horse?
Eloise, xo”
Candice put the photo back down and stared deep into his endless black eyes.
“Eloise, huh?”, she said, smiling brightly.
Wrong.
She only had to take one step with Eloise’s long legs to be standing in front of him.
“This has been bugging me ever since I found that photo”
He glared back at her not saying a word, a deep rage silently building.
So wrong.
She knelt down to the ground and propped her elbows on his knees.
“So who am I?”, she asked with a devilish grin.
That smile evoked a string of memories, each one better than the last. He couldn’t help but smirk.
She sat herself down and winced as her barely covered flesh touched the achingly cold cement. She leant her head against his knee, and looked up at him with a deep hunger fixed in her eyes.
“Am I your sister?”, she asked, her fingertips trailing slowly up his shin to rest on his knee.
His smirk grew wider, his heartbeat quickened. Candice mistook the smile for a sign that he’d finally joined the game.
She smiled wider and said in a cutesy voice, “am I your bestest friend in the whole wide world?”.
His eyes darkened as her index finger made a slight indent in his black jeans as it trailed up his inner thigh.
“I think I know who I am”, she whispered, her finger stopping to add effect to the words.
Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly in a pose he recognized all to well. He could almost swear he could hear her heart pounding excitedly in her chest.
“Am I your lover Sylar?”
Her left hand now trailed up his other shin and over his knee until it was in line with the other on his thigh.
His eyes glowed with malicious intent and his nostrils flared threateningly. She’d gone too far the second she posed as Eloise. She was already dead, but before going through the motions once again, he just wanted to do one small thing, something he used to do when everything was so new and pure, back when Gabriel was King.
He leant forward slightly, licking his lips in a way that made Candice shiver, not from cold, but from heat. He stretched out his arm until his murderous fingertips were brushing against the golden threads of her hair.
She felt like liquid fire against his skin, evoking memories long lost to the majesty of time. Familiar feelings of lust and love and despair swallowed him whole for a few beats, before he leant closer to her, their noses just touching. He inhaled deeply through his nose, expecting the familiar mind-numbing scent.
But it wasn’t Eloise.
He pulled away and glared into her eyes viciously.
“Candice”, he growled.
“No”, she chuckled softly, “It’s me, baby, Eloise”
She shifted his hand so that it hovered over her lips and began kissing the tips of his fingers.
“Candice”, he growled again, “you’ve gotten it wrong”
She stopped kissing him and met his gaze defiantly. She was terrified of what she saw there, of what she saw in him. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot as the realization dawned on her of how blind she’d been, of how she’d underestimated a man capable of almost anything. She released his hand and began to slowly edge away.
“What do you mean by ‘wrong’”, her voice shook as she tried to buy more time.
He reached forward with great speed and grabbed her roughly by the back of her head. Candice cried out and tried to pull his hand away, but he just pulled back harder with each desperate attempt. He stood and grabbed one of her arms, nails digging deeply into her white skin. She began clawing at him with her free arm to no avail.
He lifted her with great ease and slammed her harshly into the edge of the table. She screamed as loud as she possibly could, tears streaming down her face, partly from pain but also at her own stupidity for keeping a pet serial killer in a place where no one knew where she was or could hear her screams.
He pressed himself against her, one hand yanking her hair down so that she could the only place she could look were his eyes, the other holding her arms behind her back.
“Firstly”, he spat, “her voice sounds completely different”.
He pulled hard on one of her arms in a twisting motion, and felt chills run up his spine and the delightful cracking noise and shriek that followed.
Candice was finding it harder to breath, little black spots danced across her vision mockingly whilst white hot pain throbbed in her hip from where the table struck her, and up her left side as he put more and more pressure on her broken arm.
“Secondly”, he said breathing heavily from the rush of adrenaline, “her eyes had more green in them”
“P-p-lease”, she sobbed heavily.
“Shut up”, he hissed, “and listen”.
He threw her into the ground as though she were some broken toy, quietly laughing as her head cracked loudly against the concrete. She whimpered and tried to morph into someone else, but he got to her first. He bent over her, holding her to the ground with his hand clasped around her small, soft throat.
“I said listen”, he yelled, “she also had a tattoo”, he chuckled softly, “two of them”.
He ripped open her shirt so that buttons flew in various directions, clinking off hard surfaces and rolling away quickly, as if they knew what was coming and couldn’t bear to watch.
He grabbed her left breast roughly, causing her to scream and shake violently. She feebly tried to strike him, but failed once more.
“One here”, he said, emphasizing his words by painfully jabbing a fingernail into the soft tissue.
He grabbed her thighs, which she desperately tried to keep closed, and violently pulled them open, causing angry red welts and purple bruises to rise to the surface.
“And the other one here”, he hissed jabbing another finger in between the muscle and bone on the top of her right thigh.
Candice sobbed heavily, her tears and pain blinding her. Sylar grabbed the mug off the table.
“And lastly”, he grabbed her head so that his lips barely brushed against hers, “but certainly not least”.
He kissed her with a softness that only Eloise deserved.
“No matter what, Eloise always had the scent of cherry petals on her skin”.
His eyes shot open and he grabbed her wrist tightly.
“Gabriel, is everything alright?”, Maya asked quietly with a serene smile.
He straightened himself and got his bearings again. He recognized the familiar smell of leather, sweat and dirt that the car would forever be marked with, no matter how hard anyone washed it.
He smiled to himself and reassured Maya that it was only a nightmare, nothing to worry about. He shook himself mentally, telling himself to focus on what was ahead.
But since waking up from his memory, he couldn’t shake a feeling, a sense within him that somehow, Eloise was somewhere unseen, watching, waiting. He could almost feel her despair over his actions, past, present and future, growing inside him, ready to swallow him whole.
Sylar silently cursed Gabriel for the memories and feelings he had passed on to him, and chastised himself for the hundredth time.
After all, the scent of cherry petals had died a long time ago.
Author: Mrs_Rezwood
Characters/Pairings: Sylar, Candice, Maya, Original fic character: Eloise
Rating: I think ‘M’ for Mature Audiences
Warnings: Angry!Sylar, violence, slightly spoilery for the start of season 2 and just a hint of sexy.
Disclaimer: It sucks to be me, because I don’t own Heroes - but I do own any original characters featured in mah stories ^_^
A/N: Written for mission: insane prompt “Breathless”
Summary: Candice takes the form of someone she really shouldn’t have.
He sat still in his chair, unable to draw another breath.
She was lazily leaning on the hard metal bench, tracing around the edges of his coffee mug slowly, her right hip sticking out awkwardly. Her underwear was inside out and back to front; and his too-big button up shirt was barely covering her pale chest. All too familiar long golden hair hid mossy green eyes and smeared makeup.
She was beautiful.
She was perfect.
But he knew it wasn’t, couldn’t be her…but old habits die hard. He couldn’t help but drink in her pale skin, her long legs and crimson lips. He desperately wanted it to be real.
‘Eloise’, he whispered finally.
Candice couldn’t help but be pleased with herself; she knew she’d figure him out eventually. So she smiled widely with Eloise’s smile and picked up a small square of paper off the table between Eloise’s long, pale fingers.
She held it up so he could see that it was, in fact, a photo.
A photo of her, the only one he had.
In it, she was looking exactly as Candice did now, only smiling brightly up at the Polaroid camera with which she was photographing herself.
Candice flipped the picture around so that he could see the other side. He read, for the thousandth time that month, her words to him in long, delicate writing:
“What is the difference between a King and his Horse?
Eloise, xo”
Candice put the photo back down and stared deep into his endless black eyes.
“Eloise, huh?”, she said, smiling brightly.
Wrong.
She only had to take one step with Eloise’s long legs to be standing in front of him.
“This has been bugging me ever since I found that photo”
He glared back at her not saying a word, a deep rage silently building.
So wrong.
She knelt down to the ground and propped her elbows on his knees.
“So who am I?”, she asked with a devilish grin.
That smile evoked a string of memories, each one better than the last. He couldn’t help but smirk.
She sat herself down and winced as her barely covered flesh touched the achingly cold cement. She leant her head against his knee, and looked up at him with a deep hunger fixed in her eyes.
“Am I your sister?”, she asked, her fingertips trailing slowly up his shin to rest on his knee.
His smirk grew wider, his heartbeat quickened. Candice mistook the smile for a sign that he’d finally joined the game.
She smiled wider and said in a cutesy voice, “am I your bestest friend in the whole wide world?”.
His eyes darkened as her index finger made a slight indent in his black jeans as it trailed up his inner thigh.
“I think I know who I am”, she whispered, her finger stopping to add effect to the words.
Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly in a pose he recognized all to well. He could almost swear he could hear her heart pounding excitedly in her chest.
“Am I your lover Sylar?”
Her left hand now trailed up his other shin and over his knee until it was in line with the other on his thigh.
His eyes glowed with malicious intent and his nostrils flared threateningly. She’d gone too far the second she posed as Eloise. She was already dead, but before going through the motions once again, he just wanted to do one small thing, something he used to do when everything was so new and pure, back when Gabriel was King.
He leant forward slightly, licking his lips in a way that made Candice shiver, not from cold, but from heat. He stretched out his arm until his murderous fingertips were brushing against the golden threads of her hair.
She felt like liquid fire against his skin, evoking memories long lost to the majesty of time. Familiar feelings of lust and love and despair swallowed him whole for a few beats, before he leant closer to her, their noses just touching. He inhaled deeply through his nose, expecting the familiar mind-numbing scent.
But it wasn’t Eloise.
He pulled away and glared into her eyes viciously.
“Candice”, he growled.
“No”, she chuckled softly, “It’s me, baby, Eloise”
She shifted his hand so that it hovered over her lips and began kissing the tips of his fingers.
“Candice”, he growled again, “you’ve gotten it wrong”
She stopped kissing him and met his gaze defiantly. She was terrified of what she saw there, of what she saw in him. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot as the realization dawned on her of how blind she’d been, of how she’d underestimated a man capable of almost anything. She released his hand and began to slowly edge away.
“What do you mean by ‘wrong’”, her voice shook as she tried to buy more time.
He reached forward with great speed and grabbed her roughly by the back of her head. Candice cried out and tried to pull his hand away, but he just pulled back harder with each desperate attempt. He stood and grabbed one of her arms, nails digging deeply into her white skin. She began clawing at him with her free arm to no avail.
He lifted her with great ease and slammed her harshly into the edge of the table. She screamed as loud as she possibly could, tears streaming down her face, partly from pain but also at her own stupidity for keeping a pet serial killer in a place where no one knew where she was or could hear her screams.
He pressed himself against her, one hand yanking her hair down so that she could the only place she could look were his eyes, the other holding her arms behind her back.
“Firstly”, he spat, “her voice sounds completely different”.
He pulled hard on one of her arms in a twisting motion, and felt chills run up his spine and the delightful cracking noise and shriek that followed.
Candice was finding it harder to breath, little black spots danced across her vision mockingly whilst white hot pain throbbed in her hip from where the table struck her, and up her left side as he put more and more pressure on her broken arm.
“Secondly”, he said breathing heavily from the rush of adrenaline, “her eyes had more green in them”
“P-p-lease”, she sobbed heavily.
“Shut up”, he hissed, “and listen”.
He threw her into the ground as though she were some broken toy, quietly laughing as her head cracked loudly against the concrete. She whimpered and tried to morph into someone else, but he got to her first. He bent over her, holding her to the ground with his hand clasped around her small, soft throat.
“I said listen”, he yelled, “she also had a tattoo”, he chuckled softly, “two of them”.
He ripped open her shirt so that buttons flew in various directions, clinking off hard surfaces and rolling away quickly, as if they knew what was coming and couldn’t bear to watch.
He grabbed her left breast roughly, causing her to scream and shake violently. She feebly tried to strike him, but failed once more.
“One here”, he said, emphasizing his words by painfully jabbing a fingernail into the soft tissue.
He grabbed her thighs, which she desperately tried to keep closed, and violently pulled them open, causing angry red welts and purple bruises to rise to the surface.
“And the other one here”, he hissed jabbing another finger in between the muscle and bone on the top of her right thigh.
Candice sobbed heavily, her tears and pain blinding her. Sylar grabbed the mug off the table.
“And lastly”, he grabbed her head so that his lips barely brushed against hers, “but certainly not least”.
He kissed her with a softness that only Eloise deserved.
“No matter what, Eloise always had the scent of cherry petals on her skin”.
His eyes shot open and he grabbed her wrist tightly.
“Gabriel, is everything alright?”, Maya asked quietly with a serene smile.
He straightened himself and got his bearings again. He recognized the familiar smell of leather, sweat and dirt that the car would forever be marked with, no matter how hard anyone washed it.
He smiled to himself and reassured Maya that it was only a nightmare, nothing to worry about. He shook himself mentally, telling himself to focus on what was ahead.
But since waking up from his memory, he couldn’t shake a feeling, a sense within him that somehow, Eloise was somewhere unseen, watching, waiting. He could almost feel her despair over his actions, past, present and future, growing inside him, ready to swallow him whole.
Sylar silently cursed Gabriel for the memories and feelings he had passed on to him, and chastised himself for the hundredth time.
After all, the scent of cherry petals had died a long time ago.