He'd played this game before. He'd had Susan right in the palm of his hand, pinned to the wall, telekinetically cutting into her head. God, he'd been so close. So close he could nearly smell it. Not anything weird. It wasn't like he actually ate his victim's brains. It was the running theory, and, really, vaguely flattering, with the Hannibal-esque themes to it. At least it would have been if he killed just for the sake of killing. But he didn't. He had a method to his madness. A purpose.
But Susan Sto Helit had powers far too tempting to pass up. Between what he'd seen so far - the phasing through objects, the power of persuasion - there was enough reason for him to remain interested in the woman. Not to mention what she'd brought up on the Secrets Board. Powers up her sleeve that he didn't want to know? Oh, he was really fairly sure he did, and that little instance had just insured the obsession
( ... )
If Sylar recognized Susan's voice, she certainly recognized his easily enough as well. He didn't waste any time, did he? Bugger.
"Damn it all, Sylar, you need a hobby," she grumbled, glaring at him. She hadn't told Shaun about Sylar--the whole mess wasn't his business, after all--but she shot him a warning look now, a look that, knowing Shaun, would be utterly lost on him. "I don't know, I think I said pretty much everything I needed to say." She wondered if he tried to be that creeptastic on purpose. He probably did.
Shaun looked from one to the other. He'd never heard of this Sylar before, but that didn't mean a whole lot--he really didn't get out much. Shaun might not be the most perceptive guy on earth, but a blind idiot would have been able to tell Susan and this dude weren't on good terms. At all. "Aren't you broiling in all that?" he asked, chugging water. As he'd been running around like a fiend, he himself was roasting.
"Hobby?" he repeated, eyebrow quirked. "It's been suggested." Knitting. No, really. He'd think about it. After all, this had all started as a 'hobby', at one point. Repairing timepieces. Back before the hunger had taken over. He'd tried to fight it, but damn if this was too much right now for him to win against. Susan Sto Helit. Everything he wanted, balled up into one neat little package for his convenience.
He didn't bother with Shaun - only threw him an irritated sideways glance towards the comment. Shaun was not his concern. He hardly looked interesting. His gaze landed easily onto Susan's instead, that same, familiar sort of estranged hunger flashing in his eyes for a moment. Take her mind, kill the spare? It had definitely worked for him before. No guilt - Shaun was simply in the way. A casualty of war, if you will. "You know, that conversation I mentioned? It was just really enticing. I wish we could have hit a different point in it." He narrowed his eyes to her, fingers contemplatively
( ... )
((HAHAHAHAHA, YOU PUT IN 'BUTT'! YOU ABSOLUTELY WIN!))
Susan knew full well what he was on about. Shaun, on the other hand, did not, and his interpretation of the situation was horribly, horribly off. Who the hell was this guy, and was he out of his mind? Susan was freaking scary--the dude was either crazy, suicidal, or some combination thereof. He looked over at Susan, questioning, and caught her scowl.
"Are you really sure you want to do that?" she asked. He had no reason to think he couldn't catch her like he did last time, but still--he needed to learn a little respect. Before she could say anything else, though, Shaun piped up.
"Hey, man, I dunno what your deal is, but Susan's off-limits," he said. Jeeze, how had she acquired a stalker? And such a frigging creepy stalker, at that? He set his water bottle aside--both the poker and the cricket bat were not far away, and he had a feeling that between them they could totally take this guy out. Which showed how perceptive Shaun was, really
( ... )
The whole 'sleep' command thing, of course, unfortunately, lasted for just as long as last time. And a few hours in the lake wouldn't have sat well with anybody, never mind a certain psychopath who'd just been pushed to the edge by someone he should have taken down days ago. Add to the situation some duct tape and... well. There was a very unhappy man clambering out of the lake right now.
It was lucky this was at Hogwarts... that there was The Rule. Because otherwise, he'd have died about nine times over.
At least getting out of the duct tape had been damned easy enough. to get out of. Kind of so much as a flick of the finger with that, really. And then it was climbing out of the lake, soaking from head to toe, hair dripping from its regular spikes into his eyes... His fingers clawed into the mud as he dragged himself up, and there was at least one thing that he was absolutely certain of: Susan Sto-Helit? Was definitely going to die.
Delirium couldn’t have said what she was doing out by the lake. She was only aware in passing that she was near the lake. All she knew was that Sad Guy had just clambered out of the water, and he looked even less happy than usual.
"...You're all soggy," she said, her habitual butterflies shifting to fish in sympathy.
Gravity was being treated as optional today, and as she made her way over to him her feet hit the ground only by accident. "You need to not be soggy. Here." She poked him gently in the forehead, and though it did nothing to get rid of the fact that he was cold and wet and muddy, it would at least make him think he wasn't.
Drowning wasn't fun for anybody. That's right, kids, not even for serial killers. And even with all of his powers... none of them were going to relieve the effects of that, no matter how hard he tried. He was hacking up water just like anybody would be doing with their lungs filled with water. Nearly puking up lake remnants, just like any other Average Joe. ...Pitiful.
Mud-stained fist pressed to his mouth and his shoulders shaking with the effort to get up all that water, Sylar's eyes flickered up to the person towering over him through a blurry haze of drops. Just what he needed. Somebody to watch and point and... Wait.
That was the woman from his sorting. Delirium. ...The one who'd given him the bee, and told him not to be sad. ...He liked her.
He coughed again, sitting up a little on his haunches and eying the finger starting in for his forehead and... poking him? He blinked once, furrowing his eyebrows and... he wasn't all wet and soggy anymore! Except, well, he was, but as long as he didn't think about it, that was all that
( ... )
That coughing couldn’t be a good sign, but Delirium wasn’t exactly up ons the needs of the average human body--the whole concept of oxygen eluded her at times. The force of his sudden fury hit her like a slap as he stood, and she stepped backward, the fish darting back into her hair.
"That's not very nice,” she said, reproachful. “You shouldn't destroy people--that's my brother's job.”
She looked up at him, her mismatched eyes scrutinizing his face. “Now you're not sad, but you are angry. We should fix that.” Thoughgtfully she bit her lip, and her hair shifted colors like a psychadelic sea anemone. "You need ice cream," she said decisively.
Comments 67
He'd played this game before. He'd had Susan right in the palm of his hand, pinned to the wall, telekinetically cutting into her head. God, he'd been so close. So close he could nearly smell it. Not anything weird. It wasn't like he actually ate his victim's brains. It was the running theory, and, really, vaguely flattering, with the Hannibal-esque themes to it. At least it would have been if he killed just for the sake of killing. But he didn't. He had a method to his madness. A purpose.
But Susan Sto Helit had powers far too tempting to pass up. Between what he'd seen so far - the phasing through objects, the power of persuasion - there was enough reason for him to remain interested in the woman. Not to mention what she'd brought up on the Secrets Board. Powers up her sleeve that he didn't want to know? Oh, he was really fairly sure he did, and that little instance had just insured the obsession ( ... )
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"Damn it all, Sylar, you need a hobby," she grumbled, glaring at him. She hadn't told Shaun about Sylar--the whole mess wasn't his business, after all--but she shot him a warning look now, a look that, knowing Shaun, would be utterly lost on him. "I don't know, I think I said pretty much everything I needed to say." She wondered if he tried to be that creeptastic on purpose. He probably did.
Shaun looked from one to the other. He'd never heard of this Sylar before, but that didn't mean a whole lot--he really didn't get out much. Shaun might not be the most perceptive guy on earth, but a blind idiot would have been able to tell Susan and this dude weren't on good terms. At all. "Aren't you broiling in all that?" he asked, chugging water. As he'd been running around like a fiend, he himself was roasting.
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"Hobby?" he repeated, eyebrow quirked. "It's been suggested." Knitting. No, really. He'd think about it. After all, this had all started as a 'hobby', at one point. Repairing timepieces. Back before the hunger had taken over. He'd tried to fight it, but damn if this was too much right now for him to win against. Susan Sto Helit. Everything he wanted, balled up into one neat little package for his convenience.
He didn't bother with Shaun - only threw him an irritated sideways glance towards the comment. Shaun was not his concern. He hardly looked interesting. His gaze landed easily onto Susan's instead, that same, familiar sort of estranged hunger flashing in his eyes for a moment. Take her mind, kill the spare? It had definitely worked for him before. No guilt - Shaun was simply in the way. A casualty of war, if you will. "You know, that conversation I mentioned? It was just really enticing. I wish we could have hit a different point in it." He narrowed his eyes to her, fingers contemplatively ( ... )
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Susan knew full well what he was on about. Shaun, on the other hand, did not, and his interpretation of the situation was horribly, horribly off. Who the hell was this guy, and was he out of his mind? Susan was freaking scary--the dude was either crazy, suicidal, or some combination thereof. He looked over at Susan, questioning, and caught her scowl.
"Are you really sure you want to do that?" she asked. He had no reason to think he couldn't catch her like he did last time, but still--he needed to learn a little respect. Before she could say anything else, though, Shaun piped up.
"Hey, man, I dunno what your deal is, but Susan's off-limits," he said. Jeeze, how had she acquired a stalker? And such a frigging creepy stalker, at that? He set his water bottle aside--both the poker and the cricket bat were not far away, and he had a feeling that between them they could totally take this guy out. Which showed how perceptive Shaun was, really ( ... )
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It was lucky this was at Hogwarts... that there was The Rule. Because otherwise, he'd have died about nine times over.
At least getting out of the duct tape had been damned easy enough. to get out of. Kind of so much as a flick of the finger with that, really. And then it was climbing out of the lake, soaking from head to toe, hair dripping from its regular spikes into his eyes... His fingers clawed into the mud as he dragged himself up, and there was at least one thing that he was absolutely certain of: Susan Sto-Helit? Was definitely going to die.
Reply
"...You're all soggy," she said, her habitual butterflies shifting to fish in sympathy.
Gravity was being treated as optional today, and as she made her way over to him her feet hit the ground only by accident. "You need to not be soggy. Here." She poked him gently in the forehead, and though it did nothing to get rid of the fact that he was cold and wet and muddy, it would at least make him think he wasn't.
Reply
Mud-stained fist pressed to his mouth and his shoulders shaking with the effort to get up all that water, Sylar's eyes flickered up to the person towering over him through a blurry haze of drops. Just what he needed. Somebody to watch and point and... Wait.
That was the woman from his sorting. Delirium. ...The one who'd given him the bee, and told him not to be sad. ...He liked her.
He coughed again, sitting up a little on his haunches and eying the finger starting in for his forehead and... poking him? He blinked once, furrowing his eyebrows and... he wasn't all wet and soggy anymore! Except, well, he was, but as long as he didn't think about it, that was all that ( ... )
Reply
That coughing couldn’t be a good sign, but Delirium wasn’t exactly up ons the needs of the average human body--the whole concept of oxygen eluded her at times. The force of his sudden fury hit her like a slap as he stood, and she stepped backward, the fish darting back into her hair.
"That's not very nice,” she said, reproachful. “You shouldn't destroy people--that's my brother's job.”
She looked up at him, her mismatched eyes scrutinizing his face. “Now you're not sad, but you are angry. We should fix that.” Thoughgtfully she bit her lip, and her hair shifted colors like a psychadelic sea anemone. "You need ice cream," she said decisively.
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