[too much to ask for]
[ooc: From the future of - wayformetobleed. Sylar is heroslayer, who is definitely not mine, but I put him back where I found him, and all of my efforts of trying to sort out this version's head, and any errors of that sorting, are completely mine. I did it with love and hope that I didn't make him wrong.]
At first the coolers were good. The warmth of her skin would nearly cling to the cold chill of steel, the hint of frostbite edging beneath fingernails and at the tips of her toes. There was, apparently, no such thing as too cold and Elle was relishing in the way her lungs could push air out of them, unneeded for survival, but still pretty to watch it hang in the air above her head as she tried to will herself to sleep. Small puffs of a cloud that came from her and had no real purpose. Frozen sighs.
Over time though, she grew bored. Lifting a limb off the surface to feel that slight sting of pain when the skin would pull taut before releasing from the frozen tundra of brushed metal. He'd bought her a regulated bed - top of the line. It wasn't as if he couldn't just tell the budgetary committee that they needed it. He spoke - they feared. It was a perfect system. She just didn't like the small spaces. Truthfully, she didn't like the cold at all.
The air was dry and it made her ability that much more reactive. Things around her always felt more charged; no humidity, no heat to cut through it, to push it down. Her hand would catch static against nearly every surface when she slept. The smallest pops and sparks that would catch off of her fingertips would turn her to wince slightly, the smallest of sounds slipping from between her lips, just enough that his own acute hearing would pick up on it.
"Elle..."
Of course, for him to need his acute hearing, he needed to be further than just across the room from her.
Exhaling through her nostrils, she watched the warm air coil into the chill of the room, making her seem much more like a dragon than whatever it was she could consider herself. The vampirism, if it really was that, seemed secondary to her own ability - still thriving away inside of her. Keeping her body pulsing even though the heart had given up on her months ago. Her body rolled onto her stomach, folding her arms beneath her to prop herself up to look at him.
"Yes?" She let the word draw out to nearly a hiss, her eyes bright and blue - a near match to the chill in the room and the faint hint to her lips - gazed up at him, with something akin to adoration, though upon closer inspection one could deem it obsession. Whatever this was, it had crept into every single dark gap that had been put to her and filled it with something else, a deeper craving, a near lust for something that she could never have enough of. In most moments, when she couldn't be satiated, when the blood wasn't enough -- Sylar -- he often did very nicely.
"You do realize that you don't have to sleep on the floor, not even in the cooler anymore."
Pouting, she rested her chin to the heel of her hand, nodding along with her lack of words, watching him with a morbid curiosity. He was working on something, which was nothing new, but she was tired of 'not sleeping' and even more exhausted with seeing how long it took her skin to freeze to the floor. This wasn't an evening of the game where Sylar wants Elle to stay as quiet as she could be, and she could tell that it wasn't headed toward the loud games either.
Rising to her feet, she was at his side nearly without much effort at all. The girl on the wind; a streak of blonde and a smile. They never saw her coming. Her hands rested to his shoulder, both of them folded neatly atop the other as she watched his hands move over the smaller mechanisms. He'd been fiddling with it earlier, a meaningless task that had been put on some shelf in R&D years ago possibly. He just couldn't leave well enough alone. Countless projects abandoned on the walls of Pinehearst and Sylar, well, he was going to fix them all.
After watching for a bit, she let her fingers filter to the file on the desk. A file number, different patents that had been filed, research notes, varied remarks that he never looked at. Instead he just looked the item. He saw the pieces and usually in a day he had it at least assembled. Most times the designs were flawed, things that were doomed from the start. Much like them, now stuck in the fate that they had been given. Feeding off of others, waiting to be fixed, just seated on the shelf.
Letting the file land unceremoniously on the workspace again, she exhaled, "You could work on that other project you know."
He exhaled, almost dismissively and she smirked. He didn't want to, which was mostly out of some odd pride that he'd developed for what he'd become. It hadn't been too long. Possibly half a year, but he liked what they'd become, and she wasn't complaining either, but it was rather interesting. The project had been just handed to them. The sharp dressed one said that it was a legacy project and the moody one just said that it could help. She knew he meant help him, but she wasn't beyond pushing a few doors open just to ensure there was a window to force them out of.
"They shouldn't have a chance at life again."
Elle nodded, sort of agreeing with him for the most part, but she did miss the way her skin would pink up when she was excited or the thudding of her heart in her chest when she was anxious about something that was going to happen in a few moments. Even with all the things that she had now, she missed parts that she had before.
Leaning in closer to him, she let her mouth hover near his neck, whispering the softest of words, nearly a prayer to some unknown force, "Wouldn't you want to have it all? This... and life to give to whoever you see fit?"
There was a soft sound that came from him, whether it was because she definitely heard the click of a mechanism falling into place or if the idea had finally registered as something interesting, she wasn't quite sure. Rather than risk it, she continued pressing the soft tones toward him, beckoning him toward the project, like a Siren calling lost sailors to her cold seas, she let her words curve around him, "I could make your pulse race again with the thrill of a real kill... not one for survival, but one just for you."
Pushing up and away from him, she circled his chair, the metal stool that swiveled with no sound, since the squeak was often more annoying than the way she'd wince in pain when she got stuck to the floor too many times. Perching near his other shoulder, she leaned in even closer, her mouth pressing to the soft space of skin just near his ear, her tongue moving to trace lightly to the edge of a lobe, retreating back to the cool of her mouth, "To feel the heat of my breath against your skin, the warmth of my touch along your body... I miss my blood making me warm, rather than the stain of someone else on my skin."
As she pressed a kiss to his temple, she could feel his jaw clench. That solid motion of his features that set to his temple, as teeth clicked and set tight. There was a second dismissive tone, one that had an edge to it, and it made her stand up straighter. His eyes glanced to hers, from beneath darkened shadows, the haunted look to his features more stark with the pallor of his skin. In an odd way, she felt transfixed by it, even though they both knew the myths about thrall were ridiculous. It was a seductive gaze that lured her in with that mystery of not knowing if he was going to snap her neck or haul her onto his lap.
Instead, he just leaned back, his foot hooking to the metal bar near the floor as he glanced at her. It was very unnerving to be looked at this way. Her foot rocked slightly, letting her ankle pop out of the way it was meant to support her weight, her arm crossing over herself, trying to protect the fact that she wasn't wearing much else other than a tank top and a pair of cotton panties. It wasn't as if she needed to be dressed. They weren't going to do anything and she was supposed to be sleeping. Just, apparently, not on the floor where her skin would stick.
"Do you not like what you are?"
Her shoulder shrugged up, the feel of her own hand shifting over the rough skin at her elbow as it moved, didn't do much other than remind herself that she needed to take better care of her skin. Her foot rocked back, letting her height even out as her chin lifted up slightly, "There's nothing wrong with how I am now, I just want more."
His own foot rocked, an idle motion almost, that transferred up the length of his leg to his knee, that too swaying slightly as he watched her; examined her. It was as if his body language was more amused than the darkness that he kept locked in his eyes.
"So you want me to look at that... Mick St. Asshole's project and make it work so that you can -- what -- pretend to be like you were before? Because, I thought you remembered what it was like before. No one wanted you, Elle. Your own father was ashamed. I took you in. I helped you become who you are."
Her features knit up slightly, things were hazy, still not exactly in focus when it came to what had happened all those months ago, but she was almost certain that she was the reason they were the way they were. It hadn't been him sent out after that vile man in the alley. It had been her.
Arguing though -- that would do nothing. She knew that, and besides she thought there was some sort of flawed logic in the fact that maybe she would've just died if he hadn't helped her. Alone in an alley...
Her gaze dropped down to his knee, watching it wave back and forth before her eyes snapped back up to meet his, "I know, I just thought, if we were going to do anything, why not do it all? Live, die, and whatever comes after."
His mouth twitched slightly, the motion itself nearly making her flinch in worry, but when it shifted into a smirk, her fear melted away, sliding down her skin much like the way the condensation from the cooler would. His knee stopped moving and she moved forward, letting her palm reach for that plateau. Fingertips curved against his knee and inched up along his thigh, as her own hip settled beside him. His hand reached for her hip, a thumb straying enough to move the bottom of her tank top away, to leave a small inch of her skin for him to touch.
All she wanted, was for that touch to feel like something other than a chill running through her. She didn't think it was so much to ask for.
At first the coolers were good. The warmth of her skin would nearly cling to the cold chill of steel, the hint of frostbite edging beneath fingernails and at the tips of her toes. There was, apparently, no such thing as too cold and Elle was relishing in the way her lungs could push air out of them, unneeded for survival, but still pretty to watch it hang in the air above her head as she tried to will herself to sleep. Small puffs of a cloud that came from her and had no real purpose. Frozen sighs.
Over time though, she grew bored. Lifting a limb off the surface to feel that slight sting of pain when the skin would pull taut before releasing from the frozen tundra of brushed metal. He'd bought her a regulated bed - top of the line. It wasn't as if he couldn't just tell the budgetary committee that they needed it. He spoke - they feared. It was a perfect system. She just didn't like the small spaces. Truthfully, she didn't like the cold at all.
The air was dry and it made her ability that much more reactive. Things around her always felt more charged; no humidity, no heat to cut through it, to push it down. Her hand would catch static against nearly every surface when she slept. The smallest pops and sparks that would catch off of her fingertips would turn her to wince slightly, the smallest of sounds slipping from between her lips, just enough that his own acute hearing would pick up on it.
"Elle..."
Of course, for him to need his acute hearing, he needed to be further than just across the room from her.
Exhaling through her nostrils, she watched the warm air coil into the chill of the room, making her seem much more like a dragon than whatever it was she could consider herself. The vampirism, if it really was that, seemed secondary to her own ability - still thriving away inside of her. Keeping her body pulsing even though the heart had given up on her months ago. Her body rolled onto her stomach, folding her arms beneath her to prop herself up to look at him.
"Yes?" She let the word draw out to nearly a hiss, her eyes bright and blue - a near match to the chill in the room and the faint hint to her lips - gazed up at him, with something akin to adoration, though upon closer inspection one could deem it obsession. Whatever this was, it had crept into every single dark gap that had been put to her and filled it with something else, a deeper craving, a near lust for something that she could never have enough of. In most moments, when she couldn't be satiated, when the blood wasn't enough -- Sylar -- he often did very nicely.
"You do realize that you don't have to sleep on the floor, not even in the cooler anymore."
Pouting, she rested her chin to the heel of her hand, nodding along with her lack of words, watching him with a morbid curiosity. He was working on something, which was nothing new, but she was tired of 'not sleeping' and even more exhausted with seeing how long it took her skin to freeze to the floor. This wasn't an evening of the game where Sylar wants Elle to stay as quiet as she could be, and she could tell that it wasn't headed toward the loud games either.
Rising to her feet, she was at his side nearly without much effort at all. The girl on the wind; a streak of blonde and a smile. They never saw her coming. Her hands rested to his shoulder, both of them folded neatly atop the other as she watched his hands move over the smaller mechanisms. He'd been fiddling with it earlier, a meaningless task that had been put on some shelf in R&D years ago possibly. He just couldn't leave well enough alone. Countless projects abandoned on the walls of Pinehearst and Sylar, well, he was going to fix them all.
After watching for a bit, she let her fingers filter to the file on the desk. A file number, different patents that had been filed, research notes, varied remarks that he never looked at. Instead he just looked the item. He saw the pieces and usually in a day he had it at least assembled. Most times the designs were flawed, things that were doomed from the start. Much like them, now stuck in the fate that they had been given. Feeding off of others, waiting to be fixed, just seated on the shelf.
Letting the file land unceremoniously on the workspace again, she exhaled, "You could work on that other project you know."
He exhaled, almost dismissively and she smirked. He didn't want to, which was mostly out of some odd pride that he'd developed for what he'd become. It hadn't been too long. Possibly half a year, but he liked what they'd become, and she wasn't complaining either, but it was rather interesting. The project had been just handed to them. The sharp dressed one said that it was a legacy project and the moody one just said that it could help. She knew he meant help him, but she wasn't beyond pushing a few doors open just to ensure there was a window to force them out of.
"They shouldn't have a chance at life again."
Elle nodded, sort of agreeing with him for the most part, but she did miss the way her skin would pink up when she was excited or the thudding of her heart in her chest when she was anxious about something that was going to happen in a few moments. Even with all the things that she had now, she missed parts that she had before.
Leaning in closer to him, she let her mouth hover near his neck, whispering the softest of words, nearly a prayer to some unknown force, "Wouldn't you want to have it all? This... and life to give to whoever you see fit?"
There was a soft sound that came from him, whether it was because she definitely heard the click of a mechanism falling into place or if the idea had finally registered as something interesting, she wasn't quite sure. Rather than risk it, she continued pressing the soft tones toward him, beckoning him toward the project, like a Siren calling lost sailors to her cold seas, she let her words curve around him, "I could make your pulse race again with the thrill of a real kill... not one for survival, but one just for you."
Pushing up and away from him, she circled his chair, the metal stool that swiveled with no sound, since the squeak was often more annoying than the way she'd wince in pain when she got stuck to the floor too many times. Perching near his other shoulder, she leaned in even closer, her mouth pressing to the soft space of skin just near his ear, her tongue moving to trace lightly to the edge of a lobe, retreating back to the cool of her mouth, "To feel the heat of my breath against your skin, the warmth of my touch along your body... I miss my blood making me warm, rather than the stain of someone else on my skin."
As she pressed a kiss to his temple, she could feel his jaw clench. That solid motion of his features that set to his temple, as teeth clicked and set tight. There was a second dismissive tone, one that had an edge to it, and it made her stand up straighter. His eyes glanced to hers, from beneath darkened shadows, the haunted look to his features more stark with the pallor of his skin. In an odd way, she felt transfixed by it, even though they both knew the myths about thrall were ridiculous. It was a seductive gaze that lured her in with that mystery of not knowing if he was going to snap her neck or haul her onto his lap.
Instead, he just leaned back, his foot hooking to the metal bar near the floor as he glanced at her. It was very unnerving to be looked at this way. Her foot rocked slightly, letting her ankle pop out of the way it was meant to support her weight, her arm crossing over herself, trying to protect the fact that she wasn't wearing much else other than a tank top and a pair of cotton panties. It wasn't as if she needed to be dressed. They weren't going to do anything and she was supposed to be sleeping. Just, apparently, not on the floor where her skin would stick.
"Do you not like what you are?"
Her shoulder shrugged up, the feel of her own hand shifting over the rough skin at her elbow as it moved, didn't do much other than remind herself that she needed to take better care of her skin. Her foot rocked back, letting her height even out as her chin lifted up slightly, "There's nothing wrong with how I am now, I just want more."
His own foot rocked, an idle motion almost, that transferred up the length of his leg to his knee, that too swaying slightly as he watched her; examined her. It was as if his body language was more amused than the darkness that he kept locked in his eyes.
"So you want me to look at that... Mick St. Asshole's project and make it work so that you can -- what -- pretend to be like you were before? Because, I thought you remembered what it was like before. No one wanted you, Elle. Your own father was ashamed. I took you in. I helped you become who you are."
Her features knit up slightly, things were hazy, still not exactly in focus when it came to what had happened all those months ago, but she was almost certain that she was the reason they were the way they were. It hadn't been him sent out after that vile man in the alley. It had been her.
Arguing though -- that would do nothing. She knew that, and besides she thought there was some sort of flawed logic in the fact that maybe she would've just died if he hadn't helped her. Alone in an alley...
Her gaze dropped down to his knee, watching it wave back and forth before her eyes snapped back up to meet his, "I know, I just thought, if we were going to do anything, why not do it all? Live, die, and whatever comes after."
His mouth twitched slightly, the motion itself nearly making her flinch in worry, but when it shifted into a smirk, her fear melted away, sliding down her skin much like the way the condensation from the cooler would. His knee stopped moving and she moved forward, letting her palm reach for that plateau. Fingertips curved against his knee and inched up along his thigh, as her own hip settled beside him. His hand reached for her hip, a thumb straying enough to move the bottom of her tank top away, to leave a small inch of her skin for him to touch.
All she wanted, was for that touch to feel like something other than a chill running through her. She didn't think it was so much to ask for.