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ttlymostspecial in purgatorium_log

(Untitled)

Sep 21, 2008 19:24

Who: Sylar, B, and Claire
When: Hmm... afternoon sometime, September 21
Where: Sylar and Claire's house
Rating: I can't imagine anything higher than PG-13, but who knows :o
Warnings: Sylar and B in the same room = extreme creepiness?
Summary: Sylar takes B to his home to give him jam and cheer him up about life. Claire comes home. HILARITY ENSUES?! ( Read more... )

death note: beyond, !complete, heroes: claire, heroes: sylar, !incomplete

Comments 24

beyondback_up September 21 2008, 23:39:19 UTC

B was gnawing on his thumb, gnawing his little L mannerism, hearsay but true, true rumor, A had told him, Joshua-

His teeth dug further into the skin, AAAJoshua, his Joshua, staring staring with those eyes, You're mine, you have me, then I have nothing. Blood began to trickle down B's thumb, L-like appearance marred by the bristling of his back, by the sharp edge on all his features like a cornered dog ready to gnaw off it's own leg to get out of a trap.

Sylar calmed him somehow, Sylar friend, like him, so like him, he knew. To be the best... that's what they needed. B crawled onto the couch, sat with his knees pressed to his chest innocently, childishly though far too warped to be anything truly other than a false image. A copy.

"Where is Claire?" B said suddenly, drawing the last word out like a held breath as his red eyes darted to Sylar's back.

ttlymostspecial September 21 2008, 23:52:31 UTC

"Out." Sylar replied in a flat tone that said he didn't necessarily approve of her being out, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it.

He walked over to the couch and sat down next to B, putting the jar of jam on the his lap before taking Beyond's bloodied hand in his own.

"Now, look what you did here." He said mock-chidingly. "That won't do. No, no, not at all. Why would you hurt yourself?"

beyondback_up September 22 2008, 00:29:51 UTC

B's lips curled around his bleeding thumb, outoutout, bad Claire. One day she may need to learn a lesson in manners. She seemed soso fun. A screamer.

His eyes slid over to Sylar, the only reason Claire wasn't in pieces over Purgatory just yet, making wide L eyes as his thumb was taken from his teeth and the copper taste from his tongue.

"I wanted to see," B said, all smiles with flecks of red on his teeth. "If it tasted like L's."

He caught the flash of red, sticky smell, eyes wide again and again before his free finger tips snatched up the jar, a loot of utter and complete delight.

"It's, it's... back." he trailed off, choking on his laughter before placing the jar down between them, lunging his hand in and pulling his sticky fingers back out, sucking the jam from each digit with a look of contentment. Peace.

ttlymostspecial September 22 2008, 00:40:26 UTC

In a thoughtful manner, he pulled B's hand up to his mouth and licked his thumb. "Would you like it to taste like L's? It'd be better if it tasted different. You know, better. Don't you strive to be better?" With a smile, he released his hand and watched B have his jamgasm.

Sylar tilted his head curiously, analyzing the situation. "I got it from L, actually." He chose to leave out the part about how he stole it. "He said it was a gift. Would that gift be... from you?"

beyondback_up September 22 2008, 00:48:25 UTC

B's smile was brilliant and all teeth, Sylar understood. Sylar did, he understood, better, if L was good B was great, if L was strong B was strongest. He had to be.

"Yes, yes, my gift, Rosemary, for rememberance." B said almost sing song, the hand limp in Sylar's grip suddenly twisting and grasping Sylar's wrist. He licked the jam from his lips, thumb pressing into Sylar's pulse, thumpthumpthump.

"I left him this too." B leaned forward, sinking his teeth into Sylar's wrist, enough to cut, enough maybe to scar, not like L's ravaged bite but almost playful. Friendly.

ex_regenera246 September 22 2008, 01:00:00 UTC

She hadn't expected diving off the clock tower to be as messy as it had. Not that she was expecting there to be no blood, but...

Well, she hadn't expected to look as bad as she currently did. Her normally golden blonde curls were matted and stained with still gooey but drying blood. She was pretty sure that somewhere in said curls were also lovely traces of brain matter, and rubble from the ground that had abrubtly ended her freefall from the tower. Her clothes were bloodstained, and torn in the side, where her ribs had broken through skin and fabric to become exposed. Her jeans were torn where her leg had broken and bone had shoved its way through the denim, and the blood was still wet and dripping down her legs and onto her shoes. But she didn't have a scratch on her, no. Every little piece of evidence, torn clothes and profusely bloody body aside, was erased. No signs that she had jumped off the tower at all ( ... )