He had been sitting in the corner, drumming the tune that played inside his head incessantly, probably driving his neighbour quite mad (which only encouraged him to do it more). The corner was a nice place to be, mainly because nothing could sneak up on him there (nevermind that he was in a barred cell. There was a bit of paranoia to contend with), and because it provided nice back support-- also, it was somehow more comfortable than the cot.
He stopped tapping when he saw the familiar eyestalk, and though it was unaccompanied by the telltale whirring of Dalek movement (not to mention the fact that it wasn't even lit up), his hearts-- no, heart-- still reacted as though there was a living Dalek around. He closed his eyes, ignoring Rayne for the time being, relaxing, swallowing that reflexive fear, before opening his eyes again. He looked more calm now, collected, despite the messed up hair, the rumpled suit, and the bit of stubble. That Rayne was completely armed didn't escape his notice, but he assumed that given his
( ... )
Rayne had no interest in the other captive. Her reasons for coming here were purely to exact a little mental revenge. She liked seeing her enemies in a position of weakness, of fear. Of downright neglect.
The dhampir had no reason to suspect he was anywhere near willing to repent, of course. She had grown accustomed to his mindset in various journal writings and it was not of the variety which tended to cower easily. Nevertheless, she had seen something not too unlike that, in the moments leading up to her own confrontation and kicking him, quite literally, into extermination.
He had been scared. If there was a cahnce to exploit that, no matter how slightly, then all the better.
His comment, however, set her off and she made for a sudden and animalistic lunge at the bars. Not quite an uncontrolled one, however, for it was followed by a fanged smile. He knew just how painful that immersion into water had been, but Rayne had every reason to let him know, in turn, that her temper would never let it be forgotten
( ... )
When she lunged for the bars, he laughed (despite the terrible urge to flinch)-- loudly and mockingly. For once, captivity had made him feel invincible. This wasn't likely to last, so he'd take advantage of it while he could. The laughter stopped then, abruptly, when she mentioned his smell. He looked at the adjacent wall, staring at it angrily, positively seeing red, before he turned his head sharply and looked past the bars, at the vile red-headed woman.
"It's merely temporary," he hissed, no trace of mirth or sick amusement in his voice now. "A genetic restructuring doesn't change what I am." He smiled, then, in a really ugly way. "Or what I've done to all of you."
This was where the predator beneath her mental surface came out to play. She was just staring now, with not a single blink breaking that green-eyed gaze. At times like these, it could almost be felt, looking, watching, imagining. Just one long period of silence. The woman apparently quite content to just observe, with nought but an occasional tilt of head, here and there.
That retrieved item of Dalek technology starting to move across the bars, in rat-a-tat-tat rhythm. Not that Rayne had any way of knowing it, but something with quite the resemblance to something else he often heard tapping away inside his mind, as if fate, itself, was using her as a tool by which to taunt him
( ... )
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He stopped tapping when he saw the familiar eyestalk, and though it was unaccompanied by the telltale whirring of Dalek movement (not to mention the fact that it wasn't even lit up), his hearts-- no, heart-- still reacted as though there was a living Dalek around. He closed his eyes, ignoring Rayne for the time being, relaxing, swallowing that reflexive fear, before opening his eyes again. He looked more calm now, collected, despite the messed up hair, the rumpled suit, and the bit of stubble. That Rayne was completely armed didn't escape his notice, but he assumed that given his ( ... )
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The dhampir had no reason to suspect he was anywhere near willing to repent, of course. She had grown accustomed to his mindset in various journal writings and it was not of the variety which tended to cower easily. Nevertheless, she had seen something not too unlike that, in the moments leading up to her own confrontation and kicking him, quite literally, into extermination.
He had been scared. If there was a cahnce to exploit that, no matter how slightly, then all the better.
His comment, however, set her off and she made for a sudden and animalistic lunge at the bars. Not quite an uncontrolled one, however, for it was followed by a fanged smile. He knew just how painful that immersion into water had been, but Rayne had every reason to let him know, in turn, that her temper would never let it be forgotten ( ... )
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"It's merely temporary," he hissed, no trace of mirth or sick amusement in his voice now. "A genetic restructuring doesn't change what I am." He smiled, then, in a really ugly way. "Or what I've done to all of you."
Reply
This was where the predator beneath her mental surface came out to play. She was just staring now, with not a single blink breaking that green-eyed gaze. At times like these, it could almost be felt, looking, watching, imagining. Just one long period of silence. The woman apparently quite content to just observe, with nought but an occasional tilt of head, here and there.
That retrieved item of Dalek technology starting to move across the bars, in rat-a-tat-tat rhythm. Not that Rayne had any way of knowing it, but something with quite the resemblance to something else he often heard tapping away inside his mind, as if fate, itself, was using her as a tool by which to taunt him ( ... )
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