(no subject)
Who: Dexter Morgan, Brian Moser; open to T'Pol and Spike, otherwise closed unless you'd like to propose something. <3
Where: Dexter's room - level 5, cabin 16.
When: Right now!
Warnings: Serial killer mumbo jumbo, creepy brotherly love, creepy creepiness.
The chaos in my head is suddenly like a sickness. Nothing is helping. When I garroted Alastair, the chaos began to sway in the breeze of my unacknowledged dysfunction. He always seemed more active -- tangible -- in my head when I was on the precipice of a kill. When I plunged my knife into Alastair, I was already wrapping the chaos back tightly so it could be unwound slowly over the weeks I knew I wasn't going to be mobile enough to kill again.
...but when Alastair came back, everything I had ever worked for, every check, every balance, came undone. The levees broke and now I'm here, completely helpless, and at the mercy of my Dark Passenger. With my self control on the precipice as it is, letting Brian into my world again is a very real thing. A thing I know well, and know is wrong, but a thing I can't prevent as I hold the bow-tied syringe in my hands.
Maybe he could help wrap my chaos. I'm suddenly an uncontrollable animal, unable to tend to himself.
----
Dexter sat in his room patiently waiting, still clutching the delicate syringe by the glass tube that held everything together. He had found it under his pillow when he was restlessly rearranging his room for the tenth time. What he held in his hand was a metaphor for everything he needed right now. A sacred statement meant for Dexter alone: "You're in control, little brother".
Brian couldn't have any idea that this statement would cause Dexter to yield his control to him with only the slightest bit of coaxing. Dexter hoped he could keep it together long enough to say something, anything to keep Brian from realizing it.
Where: Dexter's room - level 5, cabin 16.
When: Right now!
Warnings: Serial killer mumbo jumbo, creepy brotherly love, creepy creepiness.
The chaos in my head is suddenly like a sickness. Nothing is helping. When I garroted Alastair, the chaos began to sway in the breeze of my unacknowledged dysfunction. He always seemed more active -- tangible -- in my head when I was on the precipice of a kill. When I plunged my knife into Alastair, I was already wrapping the chaos back tightly so it could be unwound slowly over the weeks I knew I wasn't going to be mobile enough to kill again.
...but when Alastair came back, everything I had ever worked for, every check, every balance, came undone. The levees broke and now I'm here, completely helpless, and at the mercy of my Dark Passenger. With my self control on the precipice as it is, letting Brian into my world again is a very real thing. A thing I know well, and know is wrong, but a thing I can't prevent as I hold the bow-tied syringe in my hands.
Maybe he could help wrap my chaos. I'm suddenly an uncontrollable animal, unable to tend to himself.
----
Dexter sat in his room patiently waiting, still clutching the delicate syringe by the glass tube that held everything together. He had found it under his pillow when he was restlessly rearranging his room for the tenth time. What he held in his hand was a metaphor for everything he needed right now. A sacred statement meant for Dexter alone: "You're in control, little brother".
Brian couldn't have any idea that this statement would cause Dexter to yield his control to him with only the slightest bit of coaxing. Dexter hoped he could keep it together long enough to say something, anything to keep Brian from realizing it.