patheticvillain | thirty-eight ➢ private video & spam

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thirty-eight ➢ private video & spam

spam } horatio

[When Cassel picks the lock on Horatio's door and slides inside, silent as a cat in the dark, he finds the man asleep in a hammock hanging gently above creaky floorboards. For a moment he regards him in the dim light coming from the hallway, considering all of his options. He could easily turn Horatio into something unspeakably vile as punishment. It might even be right.]

[Instead, he pulls a black silk cloth out of his pocket and, leaning up on his tiptoes, ties it around Horatio's eyes and behind his head. Then he sits in the corner of the room, legs crossed and eyes half-open, waiting for the man with his naked hands to wake up.]

private } daneca

I need your help with something. Or someone, I guess.

What do you do for blowback? I have some techniques that I used on my mom, but - you probably have better ones. She never really tried to control it.

private } needy

[In between all of this, he's almost surprised by the arrival of Needy's file. He's still a warden here. Even though Czeslaw's gone, he gets another chance.]

[As he reads it, a smile grows on his face. Nothing he's reading is good, but it's not - foreign, either, even when it technically is. He doesn't feel lost. He feels - intrigued.]

[He's still half-smiling when he opens the feed, cocking his head at her through the connection.]

So. You pissed?

open spam } gardens

[He sits under a tree, making statues.]

[Maybe this will frighten people, now that they have some context: he's got his gloves off, folded carefully at his side. There is scrap metal - soda cans and piles of paper clips - by his knee. This he uses to build his statues, long, thin, somewhat overwrought looking things, melded and twisted by his transformation into something vaguely human.]

[Occasionally he pauses and takes a sip of the open mug of steaming coffee at his other knee. Then he goes back to building ugliness.]

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[Chris, out walking his dogs, is coming up on Cassel.

'Walking' is sort of a misnomer. Really, he's only walking the big St. Bernard. Bowie, the yappy little Pomeranian, is sitting quite happily in a dog purse Chris has slung across one shoulder]

You're not going to turn into a crazy pigeon lady in Central Park, are you?

[His dreams are strange, since the end of the flood. Not complicated, or memorable, but vivid. A stream of short bursts of strong feeling that leave him breathless, upon awakening. Then the shock of being awake catches up to him, and he finds himself shaking and clutching the sides of his hammock, trying to force himself to calm down enough to function.

Waking up blindfolded changes that, a little. It softens the transition to wakefulness in a strange way. Hi breath hitches, he's jolted awake, but the real world doesn't bombard him as immediately as it has done for the last few days. He brings up a hand to his face, feels the fabric bound there... and he realises that he's blindfolded.

Then he realises that waking up blindfolded means that someone has been in his cabin while he's been sleeping, and touched him, and suddenly he's gasping and clawing at the cloth, mindless with panic.]

Shut up.

[He speaks quietly, his chin on his arms, which are crossed over his knees.]

I'm not going to hurt you. Not like you hurt me. So you should be quiet and hold still, or you'll make everything worse.

[Cassel glances up at him, smirks, then goes back to his work. This statue has unsettlingly long legs and arms with a very short torso.]

Only if you promise not to start collecting little yapping dogs.

[He tilts his head at the statue, a little weirded out but generally okay with it. He's seen weirder shit at MOMA and if Cassel wants to express himself, well, fine. He can deal.]

Uh, no promises. I've decided I like little yapping dogs. I'm with you, aren't I?

Buurn.

[There's someone in his room.

That's the first thought. That whoever this was, came in, blindfolded him, then sat back and waited for him to wake up. They watched him sleep.

Horatio thinks of being chained to cinderblocks in an unfamiliar room. Of people who move faster than his eyes can see.

He doesn't speak. Doesn't scream. Doesn't move other than to press his hands down hard over the blindfold, causing splotches of white static to raise over his eyes. It's not obedience, so much as it is a paralysis of fear.]

[She wants to ask if this is about Horatio, but that's possibly wasting time if he's experiencing blowback.]

It'll sound stupid, but a lot of deep breaths. A lot of them. I usually just try to be on my own as much as possible. Less people around, less likely I'll take it out on someone else.

Other than that, I just... I don't know, normal things when I'm feeling upset? Just listen to music or write down what I'm feeling so I don't have to say it and end up accidentally hurting someone.

[She hesitates before somewhat shyly adding,] Sometimes I just cry until it hurts. I try not to fight it too much because I know I can't really and I'm only going to make it worse if I end up getting frustrated because of that. You... You know how it is. Sorta.

[Elena is trying not to coop herself up in her room too much lately. She feels that the last time she was here, she did a lot of hiding from both herself and other people. Some more than others.]

[She can't claim to have that much of a traditional friendship with Cassel. Or much of a friendship at all for that matter. But they have...something. A weird sort of understanding that they used to be worse people than they are today. Cassel is still somewhat of a work-in-progress. Elena feels she is some days and some days she's doing just fine. But that understanding is decent. It's even good enough once in a while.]

[She stops, watching him for a moment as he builds his little statues. Elena isn't as uncomfortable watching him work as she expected she would be. But she's also not as comfortable as she would like either.]

Mind if I sit?

[Since Nathan disappeared, Brownie now owns Duke. The two of them frequently wander the garden, she leading the way at a slow trot and he ambling along behind her. Usually the garden is all plant-smells and other-dog smells, so when she catches Cassel's scent in the air she follows it and circles the tree once before sitting down beside him. Hello, friendbeast.

Duke stands a short distance away, observing Cassel's alchemical artwork. When a moment arises when Cassel looks less distracted, he nods in greeting.] Hi.

Um...about what, exactly? The back and forth nightmare mental bullshit that happened during the flood? Or, the whole 'warden' thing?

[She sounds wary, not angry. And she's 99% sure he doesn't actually mean the first thing either. But what she feels mostly right now is confused, so she's trying to pull a distraction from the real subject.

When she thought about getting a warden, she never considered it might be someone close to her own age, or someone she already sort of knew. Someone she was starting to maybe consider a friend.]

That won't help.

[He's still quiet, like a radio turned way down low.]

Nothing will help but stillness and time. You're just going to have to ride it out.

I know. I've seen it happen enough.

Are you scared?

[There's a scratching noise. He's actually taking notes. Some of this he knows, some of it's common sense, some of it he definitely needs told.]

It's only time in the end that fixes anything. I know that much.

I sort of know how it is.

Daneca, I didn't like this flood. There were too many of us. [Us. Workers. It occurs to him too late that she might take offense to being included in that group.]

[He glances up at her when she arrives and gives her a smile that is neither welcoming nor distant. It's just a smile, like normal people smile at each other. He nods to her question.]

Anywhere you want. I only need a little space.

[This one has long fingers, like an aye-aye's. He strokes its arm and watches them lengthen before his eyes.]

I didn't realize it was gonna be a show. I would've brought popcorn.

[Elena sits down cross-legged a little ways away to give him that space. She folds her hands in her lap. She has a faint smile as she watches him.]

I wouldn't buy any though. You'd just overcharge.

[It's weird being put in the same category as Cassel. She doesn't feel like she is and it's not out of some weird snobbery either. The difference between them is that Cassel spent most of his life wanting to be a worker and Daneca never wanted to be one.]

[But she knows what he's saying because she agrees.]

I know. That's why I gave Scott charms for emotion work. One for him and one for Stiles. I should have made it for him sooner after the second time on the other Barge. Maybe even before that.

[That's neither here nor there, however.]

I was actually wondering if you wouldn't mind making a charm for Scott at least?

[It's not that she doesn't trust Cassel. At least not any less than usual. But she's not sure how trustworthy he can be if there's a flood and he's not totally himself or when there's a flood of new workers who definitely can't be predicted.]

[He smirks, putting the finishing touches on it. When he pulls his hands away, it turns a burnished bronze.]

Yep. I sure would.

I was considering maybe just leaving them on people's doorsteps, when I get back to the world. You know. For shits and giggles.

[He's awash with gratitude at the request - should have thought of it himself, too, and is a little shocked that he didn't.]

Yeah. Yeah, absolutely. I should make them for - a lot of people. I've been enough crazy people here, it's safer.

God, I haven't made a charm in forever.

[The quiet of Cassel's voice should be soothing, but the panic of his blowback takes it and runs with it. Instead, it's like Cassel's whispering in his ear. Low and smooth as a snake, intimately dangerous.

He's glad of the blindfold, now, because it hides the fact that his eyes have welled up with tears. His breath comes in shuddering gasps, and after a moment of silence, it occurs to him that Cassel might actually want an answer to that question.]

Nnn-- No.

[Very convincing liar, such navy.]

[This was actually Daneca's first time, but she doesn't say so. Maybe Cassel already knows. Maybe not. Either way, she did it and that's what counts.]

I can make some more. You know for you, Chris, and whoever else you want.

[She doesn't say that so long as they don't know they came from her, but Daneca figures that doesn't need much saying. Cassel knows where her comfort level is when it comes to that being public knowledge.]

Then I'm not promising shit. That was awful, by the way.

[But it was good awful, and he's grinning.]

Don't fucking put me in a purse.

Yes, you are. You're scared of everything. Soon you'll be angry at everything. Then you'll hate everything, then you'll love everything. But it'll be all too much, like going on a rollercoaster all day. You're fucked.

Do you remember what blowback is, from being him? Because that's what it is. That's how fucked you are.

Yeah. That'd be great.

. . . Do you think you could make one for Horatio?

[He's just finishing up one piece and starting on another when he notices Brownie trotting up to him. Gleefully he discards his work and presses his face into her soft side, then grins sideways up at Duke from underneath her ear.]

Hey, pirate.

[He's mildly amused by her attempt at distraction, but not too worried about it. After all, it's not like they don't have all the time in the world.]

I don't know. Either or. Maybe both. Although I'm pretty sure you know I wasn't actually trying to yell into your brain.

No. That was...that was an accident. Right? Sort of on both our ends. Although, man, that dream of yours seemed really fucked up. That was other-you, right? That's not a normal Cassel Sharpe feature.

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