different levels of the devil's company.

[oleanderknife]

Hasibe, as she informed the internet at large she would, has spent most of the day indoors (that is, unless trips out onto her balcony to people-watch count), but now she is quietly winding down for the evening.

Comments

[twofoldbeing]

He makes almost no sound when he walks, although she may be able to tell he's there anyway. On some levels he would like this; attuned as he is to her. But in other respects, the element of surprise is invaluable, and he has gotten so good at picking locks.

Wednesday's rain returned briefly earlier this evening, so he smells more like ozone than blood, but something is immediately strange - as if the appearance of another person when one is alone is not in and of itself disorienting - the shadows in the mirror are liquid, black, and the whole and flesh and blood but no less dark. He stands in the doorway, head tilted, just watching her eyes in the mirror.

"Aren't you a vision." Such ...flat affect, like he's half-asleep, or just inhuman.

[oleanderknife]

One hundred, and a voice slices through her reverie.

She can feel him, in fact. And yet, she is startled - jumping, briefly breathless and wide-eyed, hand going to her collarbones as if to catch her heart from flying up into her throat. She sees him in the mirror, and settles, but- not completely. She remembers she told Henry she'd break it off, and she isn't sure how exactly to do that, but she does plan to figure something out. Since now would seem an appropriate time, particularly. Hasi sets the brush down, hands flat on the edge of her vanity table.

"Thank you," she murmurs, automatically, watching his reflection instead of turning around, "but how many times have I asked you not to break in here?"

How many times has he failed to care, more like. Something does seem off, but she can't put her finger on what immediately, so she stays contemplatively watchful, the strap of her camisole slipping over one shoulder, as her tops often do.

[twofoldbeing]

"One less time than it will take." The way he moves is briefly jittery, camera static flooding and then dissipating like he exists only in halves, one minute here and the next not, crossing the room in waves rather than steps.

Her reflection seems to pull him; he watches the Hasi behind glass rather than the Hasi at the little table, moving close enough to touch her. He slides the errant strap up slowly, left-handed and ritualistic, like a religious rite performed backwards - in the mirror it appears on the right side. There is blood under his nails, but they're cut short enough that it's not easy to tell even from this distance. "Have you missed me?"

While she's been away.

[oleanderknife]

The way he moves has always puzzled her, but it was one of the ways she immediately sensed he's not quite normal, more than human. Maybe mixed with something, who knows; the hybrids happen in the strangest places. She shifts under his hand, like she's not sure whether she wants to move into it or away, and looks up at the question. Her eyes don't betray anything, because she is so good at that, but her heart-rate might.

"Yes," she admits, because it's true, and it doesn't change anything.

Hasi watches him for a moment longer, the quietness and the stillness to him. When he's soft this way it means either he's been- sated, if only very very temporarily, or something is going on under the surface. Maybe it's a little bit of both, she can't say.

"Is something wrong, Hyde?"