the_muses_stage prompt 45.3.a [quote prompt]
a) "Everything is backwards now, like out there is the true world, and in here is the dream." -- Jake Sully (Avatar)
To say that things were currently awkward between Sylar and Claire was putting things rather mildly. It was more of a question of who was more awkward at the moment. They had gotten to a point of having conversations, particularly in the morning, over a cup of coffee, while waiting for the rest of the Carnival to wake up so that they could start their day. They had even taken to talking at night before falling asleep.
In other words, they had fallen into an almost-easy companionship till the night of the eclipse.
With the fact that they had come very close to going further than cuddling and sleeping beside each other, there was new tension in their tiny trailer and between them. Claire had thought about pursuing the idea of her own trailer once more but the question never came up whenever she saw Samuel. Strangely enough, she found ways to conveniently forget till she was faced with Sylar and the silence again.
Tonight was such the case as they sat manning the Ferris Wheel. Sitting on a box by the controls, she leaned back against the fence while glancing sideways at her counterpart again. Sometimes she wished that he would say something -- even if it was something just to piss her off -- because she hadn't figured out anything as of yet.
He didn't, however -- or at least not immediately. Instead, he busied himself with the control panel under his fingers, picking at a silver of old, peeling masking tape that had stubbornly refused to part with the metal when whoever it was had peeled the rest of it off, pointedly ignoring her. Where his refusal to look at her had had something to do with awkwardness at first, in those days that had followed their near tumble into bed, his reasoning had taken a slow slide to something more familiar in the weeks that followed.
Awkwardness had turned to rage; he was angry.
Part of it, he could admit, was directed inwards. He'd never considered himself the type of person to take advantage of someone as messed up as Claire had been that night. He was a killer -- and damn proud of it -- but not a rapist. That was beneath him, his ambitions loftier, more important, more elegant, than screwing around with some drunk girl, and yet he'd almost gone there when there had been a Goddamn buffet waiting to be had just outside their closed doors.
The majority of it, though, was directed at Claire. Why the hell had she done that? He wasn't Nate or whatever flavor of the week name his memory-deprived self had chosen to go by. And, more importantly, what the hell had she done to him that he could take what he wanted? Why had he stopped then? It wouldn't have been rape, a part of her rationalized, something deep in her just a desperate for some sort of connection as the fortune-telling whore with the tattoos. Why hadn't just done it and then killed her afterwards? It would have solved so many of his problems. Why hadn't he stormed out of the trailer and killed someone on general principle instead of slinking into some dark corner of the trailer like a kid who'd gotten caught sneaking dessert before dinner? Why?
He chanced her a quick, dark look, tore a piece of the remains of the tape away from the sheet metal viciously, and pushed away from the controls. "Watch this," he told her, flicking the sticky remains away from his fingers. "I'll be back."
Claire glanced up in surprise because it was the first words she had heard from him in weeks and it was merely a command. Clenching her jaw to bite back a sharp retort about how he could stuff the controls, and his demand, somewhere where the sun didn't shine, she nodded as she moved over to take his spot.
She had sensed a few times that he was angry with her but she couldn't figure out why. Was he mad at her for kissing him in the first place? Or was it because she had stopped them from going any further? The last thing she thought he had wanted was sleeping with her, though. At least, not when she was drunk. Not that she had been drunk when her abilities had come rushing back but that wasn't the point.
God, she didn't even know what was the point was anymore. Sighing, she leaned against the controls and started picking at the same sliver of tape that he had been playing with seconds before.
He watched for a moment from the corners of his eyes, half-expecting her to try and stop him -- God, he wished she would, just so he could smash that pretty little head of hers against the nearest wall -- and when she didn't, he shook his head, almost more frustrated by that, then stalked off into the crowd. It occurred to him belatedly that he had no real idea where he was going, just that he'd needed to get away from her.
Pausing on the midway, people moving around him, never straying too close as if they could sense his fury and were afraid, he looked around. He couldn't go back to the trailer, Claire sure to follow him eventually. He didn't want to be bothered by Samuel, as much fun as it would be to track their mysterious benefactor down and rip his brain out through his nose just to prove he still had it. And escaping to one of the concession lines under the pretenses of getting a drink or something to eat seemed a pointless waste of time.
Everything seemed so pointless suddenly -- Claire, the carnival and the family itself, the fact that he had been complacently manning a Ferris wheel -- and he decided then that he would have no more of it. It'd spare the lives of the carnies for helping him get his memory back, but hell if he was sticking around for a minute longer. He had things to do, people to kill, and that in mind he moved for the endless wall of cars at the far end of the lot.
She was silent as she watched him walk away, half considering calling him back but she had a feeling that somehow it would only cause a fight. Still, there was something about the way he walked away that made her stomach twist. He walked with a purpose; he was no longer wandering aimlessly like he had been doing ever since she had found him again. This time, he walked with the intent of doing something and she was nervous because of it.
Motioning one of the carnies over, she gave him the job of taking over and then she was following right after the serial killer. As he made his way out of the carnival area, she frowned and that frown only got bigger as he moved to the rows of cars at the far end of the lot. Biting her lip, she continued to follow while waiting for his next move.
A part of him recognized that he was being followed and he paused for a moment, listening, before deciding he didn't care. If someone tried to stop him, he'd kill them; it was as simple as that.
Weaving through the lines of cars, he stopped again in front of one that had caught his fancy. He tilted his head to one side, eyes hard as he studied it, then raised a hand, the locks on the inside coming up as his fingers did. Smiling brutally, satisfied, he pulled open the door and got in.
She stopped dead at the sight of him getting into the car and she stopped nearby just on the edge of his sight with a curious frown. Glancing over her shoulder, she briefly wondered if anyone had notice them leaving. Looking back, she gave an awkward little wave to catch his attention as she wasn't sure what he would do if she just walked up and knocked on the window.
He ignored her, only half-noting her movements and then only out of the corners of his eyes, too busy trying to hot wire the car to start.
Daring to be a little bolder, she walked around to the passenger side so that she could peek in to see what he was doing. Arching a brow, she straightened as she glanced over at the Carnival again. Opening the passenger door, she leaned in. "If you're taking off, you might want to hurry. People are going to be coming out soon."
He leaned away from the steering column just in time for her to catch the end of an eyeroll. "And that's supposed to worry me."
Bracing her arms against the frame of the car, she continued to lean in as she caught the eyeroll and delivered one of her own. "Let me guess, you want them to come out because then you'd get to fight them, right?"
"Fight implies that both people walk away." Shrugging, he turned back to the inner workings of the car, a faint smile touching his lips when he twisted his fingers and it hummed to life.
She glanced briefly towards the hood as the engine started. "So you want to kill somebody?"
He shifted the car into reverse, though he left his foot still on the gas so it wouldn't move. "Why not?"
"Why would you want to?" The muscles in her body tensed in response to him shifting the car into reverse, waiting to spring back or forward into the seat if the car suddenly moved.
"Because it's who I am," he answered, anger bleeding into his tone. "Because I can't stand this place anymore. What the hell does it matter to you, anyway? Whatever you wanted me for died when your little boyfriend did."
He wasn't wrong, for the most part. She had lost quite a bit when the person she had come to care about faded away in the face of him getting his memoryes back. "I just wanted to know." She murmured numbly, wetting her lips. "Where are you going?" She didn't bother to acknowledge the last part of his comment out loud.
"I don't know. Away from here."
She would never know what possessed her to say what she did. "Can I come?"
Part of him wanted to say no. Another part, whatever part she had broken or taken from him, begged him to say yes. He growled softly, hoping the sound would put a halt to the war between his heart and head and put the car back into park. "Get in."
She was quick to slide into the passenger seat next to him, not giving him a chance to go back on his answer. Closing the door, she settled back and quickly slid her seat belt over her body despite the fact that she didn't need it.
He shot her a quick, dark look, and put the car back into reverse, sliding out of the parking spot in hurried silence, the tires of the car kicking up dirt and rocks as they moved away.
Part of her had to wonder what Samuel would say when he realized that they were gone. Of course, that was only if they were leaving permanently. She hadn't considered the idea of actually leaving some day though she knew she would have to. The Carnival had become a sort of save haven for her, a way for her to not face the real world and all the problems she had ran away from.
"Are we ever coming back?" She asked softly.
"No."
In honesty, though, he wasn't so sure.
"Okay." She bit her lip, glancing out the car window. "Does it sound strange to be nervous about leaving?"
He slid his eyes over to her. "Afraid Samuel will come after us?"
"I don't know," she admitted honestly. "I think it's more that I've been in the Carnival for months now. It was so easy to turn a blind eye to everything outside and now I can't help but wonder what's going on. About what I might possibly find."
"Guess we'll find out."
[Co-written with heroslayer mun. ♥]
To say that things were currently awkward between Sylar and Claire was putting things rather mildly. It was more of a question of who was more awkward at the moment. They had gotten to a point of having conversations, particularly in the morning, over a cup of coffee, while waiting for the rest of the Carnival to wake up so that they could start their day. They had even taken to talking at night before falling asleep.
In other words, they had fallen into an almost-easy companionship till the night of the eclipse.
With the fact that they had come very close to going further than cuddling and sleeping beside each other, there was new tension in their tiny trailer and between them. Claire had thought about pursuing the idea of her own trailer once more but the question never came up whenever she saw Samuel. Strangely enough, she found ways to conveniently forget till she was faced with Sylar and the silence again.
Tonight was such the case as they sat manning the Ferris Wheel. Sitting on a box by the controls, she leaned back against the fence while glancing sideways at her counterpart again. Sometimes she wished that he would say something -- even if it was something just to piss her off -- because she hadn't figured out anything as of yet.
He didn't, however -- or at least not immediately. Instead, he busied himself with the control panel under his fingers, picking at a silver of old, peeling masking tape that had stubbornly refused to part with the metal when whoever it was had peeled the rest of it off, pointedly ignoring her. Where his refusal to look at her had had something to do with awkwardness at first, in those days that had followed their near tumble into bed, his reasoning had taken a slow slide to something more familiar in the weeks that followed.
Awkwardness had turned to rage; he was angry.
Part of it, he could admit, was directed inwards. He'd never considered himself the type of person to take advantage of someone as messed up as Claire had been that night. He was a killer -- and damn proud of it -- but not a rapist. That was beneath him, his ambitions loftier, more important, more elegant, than screwing around with some drunk girl, and yet he'd almost gone there when there had been a Goddamn buffet waiting to be had just outside their closed doors.
The majority of it, though, was directed at Claire. Why the hell had she done that? He wasn't Nate or whatever flavor of the week name his memory-deprived self had chosen to go by. And, more importantly, what the hell had she done to him that he could take what he wanted? Why had he stopped then? It wouldn't have been rape, a part of her rationalized, something deep in her just a desperate for some sort of connection as the fortune-telling whore with the tattoos. Why hadn't just done it and then killed her afterwards? It would have solved so many of his problems. Why hadn't he stormed out of the trailer and killed someone on general principle instead of slinking into some dark corner of the trailer like a kid who'd gotten caught sneaking dessert before dinner? Why?
He chanced her a quick, dark look, tore a piece of the remains of the tape away from the sheet metal viciously, and pushed away from the controls. "Watch this," he told her, flicking the sticky remains away from his fingers. "I'll be back."
Claire glanced up in surprise because it was the first words she had heard from him in weeks and it was merely a command. Clenching her jaw to bite back a sharp retort about how he could stuff the controls, and his demand, somewhere where the sun didn't shine, she nodded as she moved over to take his spot.
She had sensed a few times that he was angry with her but she couldn't figure out why. Was he mad at her for kissing him in the first place? Or was it because she had stopped them from going any further? The last thing she thought he had wanted was sleeping with her, though. At least, not when she was drunk. Not that she had been drunk when her abilities had come rushing back but that wasn't the point.
God, she didn't even know what was the point was anymore. Sighing, she leaned against the controls and started picking at the same sliver of tape that he had been playing with seconds before.
He watched for a moment from the corners of his eyes, half-expecting her to try and stop him -- God, he wished she would, just so he could smash that pretty little head of hers against the nearest wall -- and when she didn't, he shook his head, almost more frustrated by that, then stalked off into the crowd. It occurred to him belatedly that he had no real idea where he was going, just that he'd needed to get away from her.
Pausing on the midway, people moving around him, never straying too close as if they could sense his fury and were afraid, he looked around. He couldn't go back to the trailer, Claire sure to follow him eventually. He didn't want to be bothered by Samuel, as much fun as it would be to track their mysterious benefactor down and rip his brain out through his nose just to prove he still had it. And escaping to one of the concession lines under the pretenses of getting a drink or something to eat seemed a pointless waste of time.
Everything seemed so pointless suddenly -- Claire, the carnival and the family itself, the fact that he had been complacently manning a Ferris wheel -- and he decided then that he would have no more of it. It'd spare the lives of the carnies for helping him get his memory back, but hell if he was sticking around for a minute longer. He had things to do, people to kill, and that in mind he moved for the endless wall of cars at the far end of the lot.
She was silent as she watched him walk away, half considering calling him back but she had a feeling that somehow it would only cause a fight. Still, there was something about the way he walked away that made her stomach twist. He walked with a purpose; he was no longer wandering aimlessly like he had been doing ever since she had found him again. This time, he walked with the intent of doing something and she was nervous because of it.
Motioning one of the carnies over, she gave him the job of taking over and then she was following right after the serial killer. As he made his way out of the carnival area, she frowned and that frown only got bigger as he moved to the rows of cars at the far end of the lot. Biting her lip, she continued to follow while waiting for his next move.
A part of him recognized that he was being followed and he paused for a moment, listening, before deciding he didn't care. If someone tried to stop him, he'd kill them; it was as simple as that.
Weaving through the lines of cars, he stopped again in front of one that had caught his fancy. He tilted his head to one side, eyes hard as he studied it, then raised a hand, the locks on the inside coming up as his fingers did. Smiling brutally, satisfied, he pulled open the door and got in.
She stopped dead at the sight of him getting into the car and she stopped nearby just on the edge of his sight with a curious frown. Glancing over her shoulder, she briefly wondered if anyone had notice them leaving. Looking back, she gave an awkward little wave to catch his attention as she wasn't sure what he would do if she just walked up and knocked on the window.
He ignored her, only half-noting her movements and then only out of the corners of his eyes, too busy trying to hot wire the car to start.
Daring to be a little bolder, she walked around to the passenger side so that she could peek in to see what he was doing. Arching a brow, she straightened as she glanced over at the Carnival again. Opening the passenger door, she leaned in. "If you're taking off, you might want to hurry. People are going to be coming out soon."
He leaned away from the steering column just in time for her to catch the end of an eyeroll. "And that's supposed to worry me."
Bracing her arms against the frame of the car, she continued to lean in as she caught the eyeroll and delivered one of her own. "Let me guess, you want them to come out because then you'd get to fight them, right?"
"Fight implies that both people walk away." Shrugging, he turned back to the inner workings of the car, a faint smile touching his lips when he twisted his fingers and it hummed to life.
She glanced briefly towards the hood as the engine started. "So you want to kill somebody?"
He shifted the car into reverse, though he left his foot still on the gas so it wouldn't move. "Why not?"
"Why would you want to?" The muscles in her body tensed in response to him shifting the car into reverse, waiting to spring back or forward into the seat if the car suddenly moved.
"Because it's who I am," he answered, anger bleeding into his tone. "Because I can't stand this place anymore. What the hell does it matter to you, anyway? Whatever you wanted me for died when your little boyfriend did."
He wasn't wrong, for the most part. She had lost quite a bit when the person she had come to care about faded away in the face of him getting his memoryes back. "I just wanted to know." She murmured numbly, wetting her lips. "Where are you going?" She didn't bother to acknowledge the last part of his comment out loud.
"I don't know. Away from here."
She would never know what possessed her to say what she did. "Can I come?"
Part of him wanted to say no. Another part, whatever part she had broken or taken from him, begged him to say yes. He growled softly, hoping the sound would put a halt to the war between his heart and head and put the car back into park. "Get in."
She was quick to slide into the passenger seat next to him, not giving him a chance to go back on his answer. Closing the door, she settled back and quickly slid her seat belt over her body despite the fact that she didn't need it.
He shot her a quick, dark look, and put the car back into reverse, sliding out of the parking spot in hurried silence, the tires of the car kicking up dirt and rocks as they moved away.
Part of her had to wonder what Samuel would say when he realized that they were gone. Of course, that was only if they were leaving permanently. She hadn't considered the idea of actually leaving some day though she knew she would have to. The Carnival had become a sort of save haven for her, a way for her to not face the real world and all the problems she had ran away from.
"Are we ever coming back?" She asked softly.
"No."
In honesty, though, he wasn't so sure.
"Okay." She bit her lip, glancing out the car window. "Does it sound strange to be nervous about leaving?"
He slid his eyes over to her. "Afraid Samuel will come after us?"
"I don't know," she admitted honestly. "I think it's more that I've been in the Carnival for months now. It was so easy to turn a blind eye to everything outside and now I can't help but wonder what's going on. About what I might possibly find."
"Guess we'll find out."
[Co-written with heroslayer mun. ♥]