[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

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CW: Pain, torture(ish?), death

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We can do this all night, son. [break][break]

Dane's fingers tightened around the phone in his hand while his tear-stung eyes darted across the words. Sprawled across his bed on his stomach, suspended in a blessed moment of brief respite, his breath skipped from parted, trembling lips. Sweat slipped down his face, clung from his jaw and the tip of his nose, and dampened the sheets beneath him. The cool air from an overhead fan chilled the sheen of it that covered the rest of him. [break][break]

He grit his jaw and shook the wet bangs from his eyes, fingers trembling as he started a reply, Go to hel — the phone slipped from his hands completely, clattering to the floor with its message unfinished, as pain exploded across his back in another relentless sweep. Another round. Another fresh wash of agony returned only once the sting of the previous had nearly faded. His muscles coiled impossibly tight, his body protesting the tension as he clenched involuntarily. His father's ink — all of it — danced under his skin, across his shoulder blades, down his arm, and across his back; a ripple of unprecedented torment that blossomed blinding white behind his eyelids and deafened him. It felt like hundreds of needles gouged into his muscles, ripping and tearing across him like a sick, filthy wave. [break][break]

He wasn't going to pull through this round — it covered too much of him, assaulted too relentlessly, and his body was exhausted. He could feel unconsciousness tug at him. Like a comforting caress, the blackness blotted at the edges of his mind while he smothered a tight, wide grimace into his crossed arms. But it, too, chose to be merciless — only teased. And all Dane could do was bear it, feeling a scream build in his chest and claw its desperate way up his throat. [break][break]

He refused to let it pass his teeth. [break][break]

Eventually, the pain receded once more to a buzzing throb and Dane choked out a tortured exhale. His breath panted from him as he let his body relax and shudder. Distantly, as if through a dense fog, he heard his phone buzz from its place on the floor. Slowly and reluctantly, he blinked his eyes open and lifted his swimming head. It buzzed again and he scrambled forward, lips pursed tight with sudden rage as he scooped it up and looked at it. An unknown number pulsed across the screen and he rejected it before pulling himself to his knees and chucking the device across the room. It burst into small pieces with a satisfying crack against the white brick of his apartment wall and he quaked with the satisfaction. [break][break]

Then the pain began to worsen again, ramping up like a turn dial slowly inching toward MAX, and Dane fumbled gracelessly from the bed to the floor. Like a desperate, unthinking animal, he clawed a box of unused phones from under his bed, powered one on, and dialed his father's number. Each slow ring was accompanied by a worsening pulse across his skin and a tighter clench to his jaw. Then the agony stopped as the line picked up. Dane swallowed at the expectant silence. He could almost hear Antonio breathe. Could picture him seated in his office, ankle propped over a knee while he waited wordlessly. [break][break]

"Give me an hour." Dane whispered haggardly, wanting to make the words venomous, to saturate them with hate, and terribly loathing how they only sounded breathless. Cowed. "Good boy." The line disconnected and Dane dropped the phone back in the box. His fingers clenched and unclenched into fists, nails biting into the divots he'd already made in his palm during the pain. [break][break]

Then he pulled himself to his feet and moved across the room to the full-length mirror posted next to his bathroom door, body aching and worn. He appraised the ugly sight of himself, slicked entirely by sweat. Met his own eyes and couldn't hold them. He angled to gaze upon the tattoo stretched across his back. It had shifted and changed; the beast's maw twisted into something uglier and meaner. Its stance was lower to the ground and its face turned upward as if preparing to be devoured by something bigger and scarier. Cornered and beaten. Ears pinned back to its skull. Loomed over. And it was larger, too — its threatening filth reaching further down his spine and wider across his shoulder blades, sneaking even over the tops of his shoulders now. [break][break]

He snarled at the image, at himself, and then began looking for a shirt to wipe himself clean. [break][break]

- - - - - - - -

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Thirty minutes later, not having bothered to shower, he knocked on Silene's door and smiled ruefully when she greeted him. He looked a mess and was a mess, with his sweaty hair dried in stringy crisps across his forehead and bruises of exhaustion beneath his eyes. At first, she was angry with him for showing up when she hadn't beckoned him. Her girlfriend was home and sleeping. But then she'd taken in the state of him, he'd croaked that he needed her, and she'd grabbed her coat. [break][break]

Fifteen minutes later, she was dead. Dane snapped the picture, sent it to Antonio, then sat with her long enough to brush the hair from her paling face and smile sadly at her vacant gaze. He apologized for meeting her. For his father's many eyes. For his weakness and his inability to hold out against the punishment. Then he brushed her eyelids closed, squeezed her still-warm hand, and left her in the street. [break][break]

- - - - - - - -

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Another thirty minutes later, Dane found himself seated in a swing in the worst playground he'd ever seen in the worst neighborhood Los Eurosia had to offer. It was dark. Neglected. Illuminated only by a single, dim streetlight that buzzed loudly and flickered every now and again with the struggle to remain lit. He listened to its disorienting, electrical hum as he sucked the last bit of life from his third cigarette. From a pack he'd bought on his mindless amble to the park, along with the bottle of vodka that remained unbagged and unopened at his feet. Snowcone was seated beside him, her head resting in his lap and her mournful eyes peering up at him. He jostled a hand through the hair of her neck and flicked the butt to the grass.

[newclass=.lstripe2 b]color:#8A3F3A;font-weight:bold!important;font-family:arial!important;font-size:9pt!important;[/newclass]

[Noah St Cloud]

[nospaces]

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[attr="class","Noahpostname"]noah st. cloud

[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostlyric"]Just as a flower does not choose its color,[break]
we are not responsible for what[break]
we have come to be

[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostingbox"]


OOC: yolo *throws noah at dane again even though I owe other posts*[break][break]

----[break][break]

Most of Los Eurosia’s residents were soundly asleep in bed, waiting for the sun to rise before greeting the new day. Noah, however, liked to wander at night. Liked meandering down different streets and alleys, getting himself lost, figuring out how to find his way back. He enjoyed the desertion, the blue tones and the hush to everything, and he liked the thrill of making eyes at other shady wanderers to see whether they’d like to fight or flirt. But even in the rougher neighbourhoods it tended to be quiet at that time of year, not yet warm enough to warrant loitering outside for hours on end, and those who were awake were far more likely to be found in clubs or bars – in the livelier parts of night that Noah himself had earlier staggered from. [break][break]

A few clouds scudded over, keeping the moon hidden more often than not as he strolled through a park. He hadn’t liked playgrounds much as a kid. It had all felt a little pointless; there was only so much he could do by himself before he got bored, and approaching others had never really ended well. It was only when he became a teenager that he began to find merit in them; racing to the swings to determine who got the first swig of stolen alcohol, spinning the merry-go-round until someone threw up, breaking equipment not meant for them and enticing willing participants into enclosed parts of climbing frames… That had been far more enjoyable. The memories made him snort, so when sauntering past once such place he actually spared it a glance.[break][break]

He noticed movement. A vague shape. Two vague shapes barely touched by the dim glow of a streetlight. One person crouched – no, one dog sat on the floor in font of what looked to be a man having a smoke on the swing set. Noah squinted at them, finding more familiarity in the huge canine than the man it laid its head on. He was sure he’d seen them both before. Sure enough that he slowed to a halt. The darkness and lingering buzz of inebriation hindered his recognition, and yet the man flicked the cigarette butt to the ground and, after another long look at the dog, it clicked in Noah's head.[break][break]

“H– Sass! Sassy!” Noah threw his arms up in the air, grinning wide. “It’s you! You live!” Usually, Noah could safely assume that his acquaintances would carry on living after he parted ways with them. He couldn't be so certain with Dane; with a lifestyle like his the possibility of a sudden death was a little more likely.[break][break]

He quickly dropped his hands and left the sidewalk, cutting a straight line across a sparse patch of grass to reach the pair. “Heya, Snowcone! Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl?” As much as it pained him he resisted the desire to pat her head and ruffle her fluffy fur, only cooing at her as he flopped down onto the swing seat next to Dane and immediately started to sway. That girl had teeth. He wasn’t particularly eager to test how they felt by reaching out to grab at her without invitation.[break][break]

“How’s your leg? How’s your –” he gestured to him vaguely and blew air through his lips – “life?” Presumably he'd been hunting people. Killing stuff. Noah didn't really care, but hey – maybe there'd be a funny story to hear. Or other hunter shenanigans that Noah might benefit from having on his radar.[break][break]

He glanced around at their surroundings, suddenly noting the crumminess of it, the smoke in the air and the multiple cigarette butts on the ground, and squinted at his companion again, finally starting to feel as though his cheery demeanour was not reflected in Dane. “I gotta say, this scene feels a bit emo. Like a funeral without the good funeral food, y'know? Shouldn't you be living it up on your ridiculous hunting money?”



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[attr="class","Noahdark2PostTag"]Tag: Dane Wayland

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[Dane Wayland]

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The passing stranger might have gone unnoticed — the park too dark, the sky too starless, and Dane too apathetic and uncaring — had it not been for Snowcone's trained vigilance. She raised her massive head slightly from his leg, lips parting around a quiet, warning whiffle and ears perking with interest. Dane didn't lift his head but only shifted his gaze to follow; eventually picking out the play of shadow she'd transfixed upon. He continued to ruffle his hand through the pelt of her neck, settling the summon and allowing the person to pass uncommented upon, watching them only from his periphery. But then the figure paused — apparently noticing them — and Dane's lids fluttered over his eyes while his fingers curled in Snowcone's long fur. [break][break]

If someone tried him tonight, would it make him feel better? [break][break]

Perhaps hurting someone carelessly — intentionally and enthusiastically, by his own choice — would help him brush off the fact he hadn't wanted to hurt her. He could forget it as he cracked his fists against ribs and teeth. Or maybe the other person would leave him broken and bleeding in the dark and he could pay for Silene's blood with his own. He would lay on his back through the night, motionless, watching the sky slowly lighten in the comforting embrace of his earned hurts. The sun would eventually rise and he'd probably live. Death just had a curious way of denying him; some form of professional courtesy, he imagined, or maybe punishment. [break][break]

The figure called out, raising his arms in the air, and Dane lifted his head to watch the man cut toward them. The park was too dark to pick out the person's features but the name he'd yelled through the night was tell-tale enough and Dane was unsurprised to find Nick's face when he entered the halo of dingy light that surrounded the swing set. He was clearly inebriated and far too cheery. Any other night, Dane might have been more than happy to match the buoyancy; far preferring it to the cautious pacing that'd defined much of their initial meeting. Nick had been like a big, capable cat at first, carefully toeing around a beast of similar ilk while still undecided of their intention. [break][break]

As it was, though, the other man's high spirits were misplaced in the somber silence Dane had chosen to wallow in. Snowcone embraced it more enthusiastically, answering Nick's cooing address by bouncing over to his swing and shuffling her paws beside him, entire body swaying side-to-side with the wag of her fluffy tail and mouth parting and closing around short, encouraging whiffs; begging to be jostled and pet. Dane's lip twitched, unable to imitate her canine ardor. Nick's babbling to the summon only reminded him of his father's words. Good boy, he'd said. As if Dane were some well-beaten dog inevitably come to heel. Which he was. [break][break]

"Hey Nicky," he rasped quietly, tonelessly, the words untouched by his snarl while he let a corner of his mouth quirk into something more acknowledging. He pulled another cigarette from his pack and placed it between his lips, holding it there unlit as he rolled up a pantleg and angled it so the sparse light could illuminate the ugly, raised welt that stretched across his calf. It was hardly noteworthy, just another scar to add to the collection that mottled the rest of him. "Leg's fine. Not the prettiest work. My doc was a bit of an amateur but I'm not fussed about it. And I'm still breathing, so life's fine, too." His lip quirked again, the grin sardonic. He supposed the state of him didn't quite match the statement but he didn't plan to elaborate much. [break][break]

"Mm, ridiculous hunting money, huh?" he scoffed a mirthless chuckle, kicking the toe of his shoe into the ground beneath him. He recalled the bounty he'd shown Nick on his phone. Ray Donovan had been a special case, his payout only so high because of how dangerous he was, the nature of his departure from the Guild, and how much blood he'd spilled to protect himself. And Dane hadn't even been paid for him. In the end, Antonio had deemed the work too messy. Unprofessional. Too inspired, too careless, and too much of a hassle to keep under wraps. It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. "It's not as absurd as you think. Lots of overhead, y'know — most of the money ends up in the big man's pocket." Especially where Dane was concerned. [break][break]

"And you know what Nicky, you're not wrong," he paused to pull the lighter from his pocket, finally lighting the cigarette between his lips and sucking the flame down an already itchy and irritated throat. He took a deep inhale and blew it out, watching the smoke trail away from him and blinking slow before continuing. "This is a funeral." He reached for the bagged bottle at his feet, face pinched with concentration as he unscrewed the cap and let it fall to the ground. "Not everyone is as fun to kill as Tub Guy." [break][break]

He lowered his cigarette and replaced it with the lip of the bottle, swallowing down two very generous gulps and pinching his eyes shut at the sharp, burning taste of it. He laughed then as he lowered the bottle and shuddered; feeling the heat settle like a hot coal in his stomach. He sounded like his brother. In fact, he could remember the many times when he'd been in Nick's place — happily sat beside the moping Wayland's side; cheery and unbothered by the carnage while Dino drowned in penance. [break][break]

He tipped the bottle toward Nick, brow quirked with the offer while he finally let his eyes peruse the man's face. "Anyway, you've obviously had a better night than me. What have you been up to? Regale me. Cheer me up, Doc. How's life going for you?"

[newclass=.lstripe2 b]color:#8A3F3A;font-weight:bold!important;font-family:arial!important;font-size:9pt!important;[/newclass]

[Noah St Cloud]

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[attr="class","Noahpostname"]noah st. cloud

[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostlyric"]Just as a flower does not choose its color,[break]
we are not responsible for what[break]
we have come to be

[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostingbox"]


Noah beamed at Snowcone’s warm welcome, more than happy to ruffle her fur and continue cooing praise as Dane greeted him with markedly less vigour. He glanced across at him. Noted the clumpy strands of hair falling across his forehead and dark circles shadowing his eyes. Noah hadn't thought much of it a few seconds earlier; he'd assumed Dane always looked like that, having seen him in a similar state of unkemptness when they’d first met. But he’d been injured, then. And there was no obvious sign that he was injured again now. Something was definitely wrong with the man, appearing in lower spirits than he had when bleeding on Leslie's carpet, and Noah half-regretted his decision to approach. Became tempted by the idea of skipping away before Dane’s mood could sour his own. [break][break]

Thoughts of leaving were quickly dismissed when Dane rolled up a pantleg, however. Bright-eyed, he doubled over to appraise the results of his work more closely (ugly, yes, but it had healed – had been successful) until Snowcone took the opportunity to lick the inside of his ear, making him almost fall off the swing as he jerked his head back up with something between a yelp and a laugh. He playfully chided her, squishing her face between his hands and scritching her fluffy cheeks, then turned his grin on Dane. “Well, that amateur would love to stick a needle in you again if you’re ever in dire need. He’s friendly like that.”[break][break]

Upon hearing Dane didn’t receive most of the hunting bounty, he offered a sympathetic tut and a shake of his head. It was weird to think Dane had some sort of boss, the implication being that hunting could work like a regular career with managerial positions and a business rudder to climb. Although, maybe his ‘boss’ was simply a distributer of some sort. Someone who informed hunters of each target and asked for a cut in exchange. But then again, it seemed a little unfair for that cut to be larger than that of the person actually doing the work... Whatever. Noah, not for the first time, was glad he didn’t have to worry about such office politics. And remembered he didn’t really care if hunters got shafted on the bill. It was actually kind of funny; they deserved to be screwed over for their stupid life choices. Dane deserved it.[break][break]

Dane lit up another cigarette with the sombre admission that Noah was right; it was a funeral. Noah frowned, briefly scanned their surroundings in search of a procession or freshly churned grave he’d somehow missed, and shrugged to himself when he found neither. Dane reached for a bagged bottle at his feet before he could be asked to elaborate on what he said. Judging from the clearness of the liquid that sloshed down its neck when Dane tipped it back, it was probably vodka or gin. Not Noah's favourite. He preferred drinks with colour. But when it was held out to him Noah took it without question and swallowed down a hearty gulp himself. Vodka. He tried not to taste it too much. At least it was the better of the two guesses.[break][break]

Noah waved the other man off. “Oh, you know how it is. Taunting billionaires, breaking into their mansions, uncovering crazy secret lairs. Drinking. Playing. Letting the pigeons think they’re cats…”[break][break]

He took another swig. Quirked his brow and smirked wryly once he'd lowered the bottle again. “These days I like to scare them off juuust when they think they’ve got me. It’s more fun than you’d think! You let them get all comfortable and smug and bold, and then you take out a knife or say something completely batshit and watch how they recoil. Sometimes one or the other isn’t enough. They get brave and think they can handle it. So then you just keep on stacking up lie after lie until finally you discover what their limit is.” He chuckled, allowing it to peter out into an amused sigh as he returned his gaze to Snowcone. “People are just so arrogant, aren’t they?”[break][break]

After a brief pause he leant his temple against the chain of the swing, settling his stare on Dane again with a glint of curiosity as he offered the bottle back. Sure, accidents happened, or sometimes it was necessary to lay someone to rest if they'd witnessed other bad behaviour, but Noah didn’t see why Dane would be so down about it. Killing was something Dane enjoyed (or at least, that’s what he’d said), but if it wasn’t fun – [break][break]

“Why’d you do it then? If you didn’t want to kill them, I mean.” Noah’s face scrunched, brain working hard. “I know clean-up can be a real hassle and all that but – ohhh.” He blinked, understanding dawning on his features as he straightened. “You’re upset because you liked them. Damn. Sorry to hear that, man. Did they walk in on something they shouldn’t have? Refuse to be reasoned with?”


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[attr="class","Noahdark2PostTag"]Tag: Dane Wayland

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[googlefont=Mr Dafoe:400|Roboto:400,400i,700]

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","lstripe2"]

Nick took the bottle from Dane's hands and tipped it back with the same steely resolve he himself had moments before, coaxing one corner of the hunter's lip into a half-hearted tuck. As he offered a brief rundown of his own recent shenanigans, Dane watched him with muted curiosity. Billionaires, mansions, and secret lairs? It occurred to him that Nick knew an awful lot about him — his hobbies, his "profession", the ins and outs of his summoning ability, and even his proclivity for needing stitches — and Dane knew very little in turn. Could only guess what he did with his time (besides snooping, breaking into strange women's apartments, and doctoring murderers). He was used to the shoe being on the other foot — used to him being the mysterious one — but it wasn't particularly unsettling. Especially when Nick continued on about pigeons and cats; describing games Dane, too, enjoyed playing. [break][break]

He took the bottle back when Nick offered it and snorted. "That does sound like fun. I know so little about you, Nicky. You'll have to share some of these escapades with me someday. Maybe invite me out on one if you desire the company. We never did get our second date." He took another generous pull from his cigarette, eyes fluttering at the swirling buzz of nicotine that lapped kindly through his skull. "Though I get it, sometimes two foxes in the henhouse is one fox too many." [break][break]

He felt Nick's observing gaze on him and studied the smoke curling through the air before them as he began prodding for the particulars surrounding their ongoing funeral. When the other man trailed off, abruptly understanding without the need for explanation, Dane didn't confirm nor deny (suspected he didn't need to), and only blinked slowly. [break][break]

Nick was right. He had liked Silene. She was beautiful. Wild. Mean and fiercely vindictive every time her girlfriend shut her out for the night. Seeking Dane's company — or likely anyone else's if he was too slow to answer her beckons — just so she could return the next morning reeking of him. He'd been more than happy to be used by her. To let her rip and claw at him in her hungry hunt for vengeance. To suffer the bared teeth and curled lip she pressed in the space between his neck and shoulder; the furthest thing from the soft, adoring touch she reserved for someone else. It suited him just fine. And now she was dead in the street. He should have left her alone. Let her sweat out her frustrations with someone else. [break][break]

"Nah... nothing like that," he returned the bottle to his lips and pinched his eyes shut as he tipped it back, forcing himself to gulp greedily despite the burn. When he let it fall back to his lap, he shook his head and blew out his cheeks with a grimacing cough. "Her only real crime was knowing me." He pushed the heels of his feet into the ground, starting a soft sway in his swing. [break][break]

"My boss," — he could have said father, almost did, but knew he'd loathe the sound of it; knew the word would drip with loathing at the admittance — "Didn't like that I was sleeping with a Gifted." The words still came out undeniably bitter and he huffed a short, derisive breath. "Or more likely, just didn't like I was enjoying myself." He lifted the cigarette and inhaled, flinching as he sucked straight fire from the filter. He lowered the finished butt to his lap and dropped his gaze to study its scorched end; smashing it between his fingers, unraveling the paper, and picking apart the yellowed material within. "Anyway, it all boiled down to me or her. And I chose me." [break][break]

He flicked the cigarette away and shot Nick a sneaking grin that lacked any true amusement. "I'm selfish like that." He sucked in a breath and lifted his hands to grip the chains on either side of him, tipping his head to peer up the starless sky. "I'll get it over it, though." He attempted to make his voice lighter, less troubled, and sighed airily. "She was just a girl. There'll be better fights and better fucks tomorrow and I'll forget about it." [break][break]

Or, at least, until the next time Antonio decided he was having a bit too much fun. There would always be a next time. Up until his stupid, disgusting tattoo covered the entirety of him or he let his father win and died.

[newclass=.lstripe2 b]color:#8A3F3A;font-weight:bold!important;font-family:arial!important;font-size:9pt!important;[/newclass]

[Noah St Cloud]

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[attr="class","Noahpostname"]noah st. cloud

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[attr="class","Noahpostlyric"]Just as a flower does not choose its color,[break]
we are not responsible for what[break]
we have come to be

[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostingbox"]


Dane took the bottle back and snorted, with the suggestion that they ought to spend some more time together. Noah had been intending to message him at some point, their brief encounter interesting enough to warrant a reconnection, but then he’d gone home and found Tawny’s gift basket on his doorstep. There hadn’t been much room for anyone else in his head after that. Months later, there still wasn’t. In some ways his preoccupation had gotten worse.[break][break]

“Aw, buddy. Hey,” he cooed. The swing's chain pressed more firmly into his face as he reached across to the other man, intending on pinching Dane’s cheek, but he lacked the reach and didn’t quite trust his balance enough to attempt leaning from his seat. His arm flopped down, boneless, and his easy smile was unaffected by his failure. “We can hang out! I’m sorry for not calling; I’ve been a little busy. Plus, since I doubt you work regular office hours, it’s hard to know whether my call could interrupt a meeting of yours. Would be a bit awkward if you got killed because your phone rang.” Actually, inadvertently causing Dane's death could be kind of hilarious. He'd probably never know he'd done it though. Not unless someone cared enough to investigate and called him back.[break][break]

Through drags of his cigarette and the occasional swig of vodka, Dane explained how his recent murder had been forced by his boss. With a small, unconvincing smile he claimed he’d get over it, and tipped his head back to look at the dark sky above them. The scene was all too pensive. Too gloomy. If he’d heard the story a year ago, Noah might have let out a low whistle. Might have commented ‘yikes, that sucks’ and allowed that to be the extent of any sympathy shown before daring Dane to chug as much vodka as he could in one breath to forget the whole thing and be less depressing company. But hearing it now… [break][break]

A frown had slowly encroached on his features as he’d listened. “You or her?” he muttered, his hands slowing their movements from where they’d absently played with Snowcone’s ears. He considered the concept of being commanded to kill. Considered being commanded to kill someone whom he had no need nor desire to – someone he enjoyed the company of enough to mourn in the way Dane appeared to be. His lips pressed into a line. Albeit blearily, he eyed Dane’s side profile, brow twitching. “Was your boss there?” [break][break]

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was something else. Noah imagined (knew) he was going to sound insensitive, but for some reason Dane’s story and the bitter resignation he was conceding to had struck a nerve in his foggy brain, and he spoke his mind anyway. “Had you considered – I don’t know – letting her go? Pretending you killed her?” And once he’d said that, he couldn’t stop himself from barrelling on in a stilted (sometimes slurred) manner, picking up speed with each word.[break][break]

“‘Cause sometimes – sometimes it’s weird but – knowing someone is alive is sorta… nice? Like… you can feel the same way about someone else’s life as you would feel for your own. Like, you’re actually interested in what happens to it – you ever have that? Logically you should clean up the loose end and if it were anyone else you would have done it without a second thought but you can have this… trust instead. And you did that. And they know you did that. And you can really get to know them afterwards and I mean, that’s – that’s gotta bond your souls or something, right?” [break][break]

He twisted in his seat to face Dane as much as he could, his eyes bright with an excitement that had been absent at the start of his speech. His stare flit eagerly across Dane’s face for any sign of agreement. For confirmation that he was right. “Their soul should know it only still exists because of yours, so really that person belongs to you.”[break][break]

The declaration seemed to echo in the empty park. He heard himself say it, and blinked in sudden awareness of himself and his surroundings. “Ah.” He’d forgotten, briefly, what they'd been talking about. Who he was talking to and the tone of that conversation. The words leaving his mouth hadn’t been carefully considered and picked out either, just thoughts allowed to gush out like water from a burst pipe. Dane was unlikely to relate. His lady-friend was dead.[break][break]

The chains creaked and the swing swayed as Noah settled back in his seat with a sigh, expression grim as he looked ahead at nothing in particular. “I suppose it’s a tad too late for all that… Maybe next time, hm?”[break][break]

Maybe that could pull Dane from his slump: a next time. Someone to save. Noah wasn't quite sure how he could orchestrate such an event though. Imaginings of dragging some random girl into the park for Dane to 'rescue' from him were not quite appealing enough to suggest aloud. Besides, Dane would probably want to be attached to the person first – attached in the way he seemed to be to the recently deceased. Yet without Tawny's gift at hand he'd have to bond the old fashioned way, and that process would take far more time than Noah was willing to sit around for.[break][break]

A scowl swung back onto his features in full force. “Hang on – fuck that. There's not gonna be a next time. Both the problem and the solution here are obvious: your boss has their nose in your private business, they take most of your earnings, they don’t like you enjoying yourself, and they forced you to kill the girl you’re seeing.” The look Noah sent him was a mix of disbelieving and stern, honestly unable to imagine why Dane hadn't thought of (and followed through on) the third option to his supposed 'me or her' dilemma. “Sassy-Pants. C’mon. You’re a stabby guy, why not stab your boss?”[break][break]

Revenge, Noah thought, had the potential to cheer Dane up much faster than any overly-complicated 'damsel in distress' plot. Hunting was a risky occupation; surely no one would bat an eye if Dane's boss appeared to have been bested by one of his targets. Surely, if Dane's hunting group was as much a business as Dane had implied, his boss would be replaced easily enough. He started nodding to himself, accelerating the motion as his resolve grew. “Yeah – yeah, you know what? Let’s go!” He shot to his feet and wobbled. Snowcone wisely edged sideways to avoid him. Undeterred, his grin was sharp as he spun to face Dane. “C'mon, with two on one it shouldn’t be a problem, right? What's their name? Where do we find them?”

[break][break]

[attr="class","Noahdark2PostTag"]Tag: Dane Wayland

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[googlefont=Mr Dafoe:400|Roboto:400,400i,700]

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","lstripe2"]OOC: I fckin speedran this, hope it's somewhat coherent lolol~ [break][break]

Nick frowned, considering the details of his predicament and looking pensive, as if catching the disease that was Dane's melancholy. He wondered aloud if his boss had been there, or if he'd considered lying, and Dane only closed his eyes and let a corner of his mouth tug into something half-heartedly sardonic. [break][break]

He momentarily searched for a way to explain without revealing too much or without inviting too much scrutiny. To make it clear that Antonio — just a nameless, faceless figure to Nick — would have known and didn't have to be present to force a hand. That Dane wore his disdain across his body like a caging cloak he could never shrug off. That his muzzle was permanent and could be tugged and tightened at any moment, no matter where his father was, what he'd been told, or how much of what he'd been told was true. How little convincing Antonio needed to bring the hammer down on Dane's fingers. [break][break]

But he imagined it would sound too much like excuses. Whiny and petulant. Like he was trying to justify his actions when he couldn't. And, more so, didn't really want to. He wouldn't whittle Silene's death down to something inexorable; it had been avoidable... just, not by the time Antonio took notice. [break][break]

Nick saved him from having to find the words as he continued on, sounding more apparently drunk as he launched into a hurried, almost fanatic explanation about the rewards of sparing a life. Dane's eyes flickered open and he squinted into the night sky, lips parting. The spew was oddly specific. In a way he knew might be alarming to someone less conditioned than himself. When he asked if Dane had ever felt that — as if truly caring for someone was something inexplicably novel and rare — he looked at him, watching the side of his face with curiosity while he went on. Did Nick not feel much empathy? Dane thought back to Leslie and Ray, Nick's careless (and funny) quips about Dane's own life, and his obvious nonchalance in the face of all the shady shit that defined their short-lived relationship.[break][break]

Nick turned to meet his stare, eyes intense and bright, searching for confirmation with a final comment about souls, and Dane startled a bit. He lifted a brow, reminded of when Nick had approached him in Leslie's bathroom, hands outstretched as he asked for a rat. Like then, he felt the immediate impulse to ask again if he was a bit of a freak. The whole thing sounded obsessive and exhausting. People didn't belong to anyone. If he had spared Silene — which he couldn't have, but if he did — she'd have owed him nothing. How could she, when her life would have been all the better if Dane hadn't entered it at all? [break][break]

Before he could open his mouth to comment, cluck his disapproval, or perhaps just claim he wasn't "drunk enough" to relate, Nick fell back, appearing to reign himself in. And, ah, what did it matter if Dane disagreed? His opinion on the matter wouldn't change Nick's thinking. And what did he care if the other man was out there, shackling souls to him and the like. "Hm, yeah, next time." He agreed tonelessly and, despite his decision to not weigh in... the whole thing couldn't go entirely uncommented upon. "Though I dunno man, might be better to be dead than to belong to someone or whatever. That's just fucking weird." [break][break]

Nick was animated again, launching from his swing with the eager proposition of taking matters into their own hands. Dane pinched his eyes shut and laughed, genuinely tickled. Killing his boss was a wonderful idea. One he'd entertained plenty of times — mostly on nights just like this one, when Antonio's punishments hit deep and personal. Rather than quietly and defeatedly admit that the whole thing was impossible, Dane did his damnedest to latch onto Nick's enthusiasm. To replace the gravity with a moment of imagination, no matter how faulted. He pulled himself to his feet, tucked his hands into his pockets, and took a couple steps around the small playground area, humming thoughtfully. [break][break]

"Okay, yeah, fuck it, let's kill him. But I warn you, Nicky, it won't be easy." He began, tone jaunty but touched with the subtlest of sarcasm. "The guy's a fortress. Surrounded by a lot of people he can control just like that. Real Big Brother type." He turned lazily, kicking at gravel. Snowcone sauntered over to him, jaws parting to pant happily as her tail swished back and forth. "Total asshat. Self-important. Big britches and wants everyone to know." He tousled a hand between the mastiff's ears and shot Nick a measuring look. "He made some pretty handsome sons, though. They're kinda the worst, too. Where is he right now? Hmm... what time is it? Let me think. Oh." [break][break]

He arched a brow, a corner of his mouth tugging askew. "Very probably curled up in bed with his wife. My mother." Dane cocked his head, grinning wide now as he turned his attention completely to Snowcone and cooed at her cheerily. "Isn't patricide the worst of sins or something like that, Snow-baby? It'd just break Mama Wayland's heart, wouldn't it?"[break][break]

Noah St Cloud

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[Noah St Cloud]

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[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostname"]noah st. cloud

[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostlyric"]Just as a flower does not choose its color,[break]
we are not responsible for what[break]
we have come to be

[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostingbox"]


Despite the urge to whine and pout (or perhaps bristle and get defensive enough to fight with fists rather than words), Noah decided he was better off ignoring Dane’s comment and only spared him a brief look of pity. Of course Dane didn’t understand. He’d killed his girl. How could he know what it was like to meet someone whose life was more than just their beating heart and blood running through their veins? He didn’t understand at all – belonging to Noah wouldn’t be bad! He wouldn’t confine her to his home or anything. He’d simply take care of her. And she would choose him, be with him, return to him, because she’d feel in her soul that it was right. That he was right. For her.[break][break]

It was easy to let the topic slide as the suggestion of killing Dane’s boss was met with a hearty laugh. At first, Noah grinned as Dane joined him in standing up, pleased with himself to think he’d convinced Dane to see sense. The other man warned that it wouldn’t be easy, that his boss was heavily guarded, and Noah had to admit that a full-on assassination attempt would be new territory for him. Deaths by his hands were usually accidental, unplanned, spur of the moment – though, he supposed killing Dane’s boss could technically still fall into the latter category. Maybe it wouldn’t be that different from his past experiences after all. [break][break]

As Dane continued, however, briefly confusing Noah with his seemingly random comment about handsome sons, it was revealed that his boss was not simply a random unknown bastard hired by higher-ups. It was his father.[break][break]

“Ah,” Noah said after a moment, staring a little dumbly as Dane busied himself with fussing over Snowcone. He frowned, shifting his weight onto one leg and putting his hands on his hips. He kissed his teeth. “Well then, that’s pretty fucked.” [break][break]

Supposedly a familial tie could make the plan a little more complicated. Not for Noah of course, but clearly Dane had a few hang-ups regarding the situation and, being drunk as he was, Noah took Dane at face-value and assumed he really did have concerns about patricide being more sinful than his other murders. [break][break]

He clasped his hands. “Okay, so, first I’ll say – you can’t really rank sins. The circles of Hell or whatever was just Biblical fanfiction written by some guy in the thirteen-hundreds, whereas Hell as the Bible tells it would be pretty much the same for everyone no matter what they did, so I think you’re fine. If you’re worried just go to church and say however many ‘Hail Mary’s’ you need to for your slate to be cleared.” He blinked. “Though – that’s assuming you meant Christianity. If you meant something else, never mind.” [break][break]

“Anyway, Sass, if your family treats you like shit, don’t just let them get away with it!” He flung his hands up, exasperation clear on his features. “Why should they get what they want while you have to suffer and obey? Sometimes you just gotta bury them. Move on. Everything will be better afterwards.” It had been for Noah. He’d never felt anything like it – the relief when it was over. The weight lifted. And the money he received afterwards? A reward for his actions, essentially gifting him the ability to go wherever he wanted, do whatever he wanted, and buy whatever he wanted? It was incomparable.[break][break]

Not that Dane would be receiving such an inheritance if he was planning to keep his mother around.[break][break]

He slowly made his way closer to the other man, waving his hands around as he spoke. “Your mom – psshh, she’ll be fine. If she actually likes him for whatever reason, well, that sucks but she’ll get over it! Life goes on. If you’re worried about her being lonely you could just… wait a couple of months before setting her up with someone normal. Get him Daney-boy approved: someone you can keep in line but makes her happy. She’ll be right as rain. Let’s not be so quick to scrap the idea because of her feelings, hm?” He stopped beside him and clapped his shoulder with a big smile. There. That covered everything giving Dane pause, right?[break][break]

Withdrawing his touch, he reached for the vodka bottle again but thought better of it at the last moment, hand flopping back to his side with a sigh. If they really did end up going hunting he probably shouldn’t be black-out drunk for the occasion.[break][break]

“So, let's talk logistics. Just how big is your hunting gang, huh? Does he actually live in a fortress or something?” Noah supposed he had a little experience from breaking into Acker’s high-security mansion, but that had been completely by chance and he imagined the brief presence of Acker’s cousin and his theft of Acker’s gift had been the only things stopping Noah from getting ripped to shreds by the house’s techy defences. “And the whole –” he waved his hand, searching for the right words – “being surrounded by people thing. Do you mean that literally? Do you reckon they could be paid off? Would they hate him enough to look the other way or maybe even join in?”

[break][break]

[attr="class","Noahdark2PostTag"]Tag: Dane Wayland

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[googlefont=Mr Dafoe:400|Roboto:400,400i,700]

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","lstripe2"]

CW: Animal death, blasphemy/mocking religion (?)

[break]

OOC: Hello, another speedrun, forgive me if it's messy lolol. I took some liberties, too, so lemme know if you think changes are needed! [break][break]

Dane watched the "big reveal" dawn, carding his fingers through Snowcone's fur while he studied Nick subtly from his periphery. When the other man planted his hands on his hips and surmised it up (quite succinctly) as "pretty fucked", he barked another short, mirthless laugh. That was certainly one way of putting it and he couldn't agree more.[break][break]

With a groan, Dane plopped himself down on the ground, shouldering Snowcone away as she shuffled about him excitedly, threatening to shove him over. Setting aside the vodka bottle and moving slowly (wincing at the angry, raw pain that was his entire back), he eased himself to lay in the gravel, then splayed his arms wide and peered up into the sky. Nick went on another small tangent, this time about sins and the Bible and Hail Marys. Dane listened idly as he tried to pick stars out beyond the city's glow.[break][break]

What a weird fucking dude. Dane would have never guessed Catholic. Then again, why not? Most religions provided loopholes for people like them — he'd decided tonight he and Nick were similar enough to be considered a 'them', even if the other man had said some things so far that begged examination (and that invited some curiosity and future prying). Nick's words suggested he'd already discovered these loopholes. Played into them. Discarded the whole thing as fancy. [break][break]

Sarcastically, and with a roll of his eyes, Dane lifted a hand to draw a cross over himself; forehead, chest, shoulder, shoulder. Something he'd seen in movies and would likely scoff at if witnessed in-person and done sincerely. He pressed his fingers to his lips, mouthed a silent 'amen', and then lifted the same hand to the sky, all fingers folded down except the middle. Whatever. It was all silly. It didn't mean anything. Stories people told to comfort themselves when they were dying. Human arrogance, thinking something bigger and better awaited them when they started to rot. He could have laughed.[break][break]

Nick moved on to address the remaining point of Dane's mother, only after mentioning how sometimes it was necessary to see your family in the ground. What a therapist he was making. While it didn't strike him as fanatic and specific as his earlier drunken spew, Dane did make a note to inquire about Nick's family life and childhood. For now, though, he mentally shelved it, mulling over the matter at hand instead. [break][break]

"We kill my father and God or whoever will be least of our worries. The whole damn organization will come down on us. I'd have to run. Say 'bye-bye Mama' and disappear." His eyes half-lidded and he curled the fingers of one hand into the playground gravel, mind inevitably traveling to Dino. His mother already knew grief. Had already been taken from. Why would Dane want to steal more from her? Leave her with no one? "My mother wouldn't be alright. She wouldn't get over it. You don't know her. I know her." He'd seen what loss had done to her. How she still carried it around, pretending it wasn't heavy. How they both did, unable to even share it with one another. [break][break]

"But okay, logistics." Levering himself back into a sitting position, Dane bent his legs in front of him and reclaimed the vodka bottle with one hand while he tossed a small, round pebble at Nick with the other. After taking a drink and setting it aside, he clasped his hands on the ground between his knees and began a small, distracting summon. Beside him, Snowcone whined. Her tone was low and dejected as she felt the new beast sap at her strength, but quickly galvanized as he bumped his shoulder into her reassuringly and whispered: "Fetch." She straightened then shot off across the playground and into the adjacent grass with a low whiffle.[break][break]

"My hunting gang?" A large, wild hare bloomed beneath Dane's hands and he pressed it firmly to the gravel as it immediately began to kick and squirm, its sides heaving with fearful, labored breaths. He could feel the frantic pitter-patter of its heart beneath thick, downy fur. "It's huge. Probably even bigger than I think it is. Walmart big, Nicky. We're everywhere." When Snowcone stopped her trot and peered back at him, ears perked and joyous panting reeled to an at-attention part of the maw, he released the rabbit. It ripped away from him, kicking a small spray of gravel into his lap, and tore into the field. [break][break]

He sighed, watching the hare make a hard cut when it noticed Snowcone bounding toward it, its powerful haunches and long hind legs hurling it sidelong out of her path. "No, my father doesn't live in a literal fortress. He lives in a house." Despite the hare's speed and clever maneuvering, the chase was short-lived and Dane didn't blink as his mastiff zeroed in on her prey, tossing her head in the air and giving a good, couple of shakes. When the summon disappeared, he simply made another and let it spring away as hapless as the first. "And no, he doesn't like... move with an entourage, I didn't mean that literally either. But every person in our massive syndicate is bound to him. He keeps a tight muzzle and a short leash. His dogs are never too far off and will come at his whistle, afraid of the switch should they hesitate. Funny what a great motivator pain can be." [break][break]

Another rabbit. Another chase. Pulling his knees in closer, Dane settled his forearms lightly atop them and lifted his eyes to Nick once more, squinting quizzically. "I suppose if you took his Gift, he'd lose hold of that leash. You never did confide with me how you do that, though." In their time apart, Dane had entertained a few theories. And of them all, the one that made the most sense was that Nick's power-borrowing was related in some way to being affected first by the Gift he meant to steal. It would explain the ask for a nippy rat. He suspected it'd be useless, lest Nick was down to get some ink. "Though I came up with a few guesses." [break][break]

Dane grinned crookedly, then offered the vodka bottle up to him. He'd noticed Nick stop himself from claiming it earlier. "Come on," he insisted, quirking a brow and rolling his eyes. "As much as I love your enthusiasm and have told you as much, it's not happening tonight. He won today." [break][break]

He always won, he nearly added. No matter what Dane did in the day, Antonio would have his say (and his retribution) by night. It was just how it was. "Have another drink and, hell, make a couple of rabbits." He pressed his lips together, tipped his head invitingly, and shook the bottle so its contents sloshed enticingly. "Please."

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[Noah St Cloud]

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[attr="class","Noahpostname"]noah st. cloud

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[attr="class","Noahpostlyric"]Just as a flower does not choose its color,[break]
we are not responsible for what[break]
we have come to be

[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostingbox"]

Excuses. That’s what they sounded like to Noah. Dane was adamant that killing his father would lead to a life on the run, and apparently that wasn’t an option if it meant leaving mommy-dearest at home. Noah blew a puff of air from his lips and began to make a slow, unbalanced spin to look around at their surroundings. “Even if we’re really sneaky about it?” he muttered, though the time for genuinely wanting an answer had passed. His enthusiasm for the endeavour had significantly waned in the face of Dane fretting over his mother, as Noah became less and less able to relate to Dane’s position.[break][break]

Something small and hard hit him in the chest, stopping his slow turn, and Noah looked down in time to see the pebble responsible drop to the floor. He blinked at it. “Ouch.” Then lifted his stare back to Dane with an amused quirk to his brow. Maybe he was a bit of an attention-seeker too, one who liked being watched when he was speaking. Or maybe he was just a brat. Regardless, Noah chuckled and faced him fully, making sure to focus his attention again. He was content to learn whatever he could about the huge hunting gang – their numbers, their territory… It was important stuff for a gifted person to know![break][break]

Light sparked in Dane’s hands, indicating the arrival of another summon, and Noah’s eyes brightened in response. He stepped closer, eager to see what was made. [break][break]

A sizeable hare flashed into existence as Dane started to speak. A lithe and sinewy creature with large straight ears and a collage of browns for a pelt. Noah grinned. A fluffy pet rabbit might have been cuter but hares were still endearing in their own way – the rabbit’s weird and wild cousin. He almost quipped about Dane doing the trick wrong (where was the hat he was supposed to pull it out of?) but the way the other man pressed it to the ground stopped him.[break][break]

The hare struggled. It was distracting. Noah almost didn’t catch how vast the hunting group was and was half-tempted to tell Dane to be gentler, to ease up a bit and give the hare a stroke or else let it hop around unimpeded, but he supposed the summons weren’t the same as real animals. They were gift-made. They only looked like living creatures. There was no need to bother. His gaze pulled across to Snowcone, drawn there by a low whiffle and the motion of her swaying tail. [break][break]

A second too late, Noah realised what Dane intended. “Aw dude–” [break][break]

The hare sprang forward, dashing towards presumed safety in the grass, only to be intercepted by Snowcone awaiting jaws. Noah’s mouth downturned, a small frown encroaching on his forehead as Snowcone shook her prey. But there was nothing he could do and, again, he supposed they weren’t real animals. Just illusions that could be touched, if he really thought about it. [break][break]

He turned his face away from the display to look at Dane instead, expression neutral. Dane continued, explaining that the hunters were bound to his father by some kind of gift. Ah. Did he have mind control like Ray? Did that factor into why the bounty had been so expensive – because Dane’s dad wanted to be the only one? [break][break]

Another hare was created. Noah’s gaze briefly drew to it but didn’t follow as it dashed away to meet the same fate as the first. Although… was the second also the first? The same rabbit, stuck in some kind of grotesque groundhog day scenario, dying the same way again and again? Dane had mentioned that Snowcone retained her memories…[break][break]

Dane squinted at him and he blinked back, tilting his head thoughtfully as the hunter mused over Noah’s gift and whether he’d be able to borrow his father’s. Surely if it was as simple as mind control, the answer would have been an easy and resounding ‘yes’. Nevertheless, Dane claimed his father had won that night. He grinned, offering up the bottle of vodka and the chance to make some rabbits. Maybe he would. As long as he didn’t have to feed them to Snowcone.[break][break]

“Well, you did say ‘please’,” Noah hummed, bending slightly to take the offered drink. He swayed as he straightened and took a swig. “Probably for the best, the whole not chasing down your dad thing.” [break][break]

Though performing while drunk wasn’t usually an issue, the inebriation was sure to make his thoughts and movements a little more sluggish and he wasn’t supposed to be seeking out violence anyway. In fact – he probably shouldn’t even be talking about it either. He imagined Tawny looking through his eyes, watching the conversation, and he closed them hurriedly with a flutter of panic in his chest, leaving a mumbled, slurred message under his breath for her: “Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean it. Jus’ kidding around. Guys being dudes.” He opened his eyes in time to see another panicked hare tear free from Dane’s hands. He winced. “Not real bun-buns either. Context: buddy-boy’s a little messed up. Sorry.”[break][break]

Noah eased (half-fell) down to the floor next to the messed-up-buddy-boy in question, sitting cross-legged and leaning back on his hands once he’d safely deposited the bottle by his knee. He sighed, realising he’d misjudged the distance and left a metre of space between them, and had to scoot closer until they were in arm’s reach.[break][break]

“Gimme bunny,” he ordered, flexing his fingers in a grabby gesture towards him. “I’ll show you the ol’… stealeroo. And you can tell me what happens if you make two Snowcones at the same time. You said she kept her memories, right? But if there’s two of her – does one’s memory take precedent over the over? Do they merge afterwards? Is that something you'd even know?”


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[attr="class","Noahdark2PostTag"]Tag: Dane Wayland

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[googlefont=Mr Dafoe:400|Roboto:400,400i,700]

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","lstripe2"]

OOC: Yet another speedrun, this one done with neck-breaking abandon, YOLO ;v; [break][break]

Dane could tell Nick didn't particularly care for their morbid game of fetch. But he let another hare rip from his caging hands without hesitation. Even when the other man tipped away and began muttering under his breath, he only blinked with a marked lack of concern. Someone else might have felt shame. Like a child revealing something terrible that they didn't know was terrible until they saw the stricken faces turned to them in horror. But Dane couldn't give less of a fuck. Nick, or anyone else, could be discomforted or openly disdainful and he would have only scoffed. Been not only unbothered enough to continue, but continued perhaps just because of the disapproval. It was simply in his nature. [break][break]

Still, once he was done talking to himself, Nick took the offered bottle, plopped down, and scooted closer. With a touch of amusement, Dane wondered if it was only the offer of Gift-sharing that enticed him to do so. Perhaps he could put up with someone he didn't like — willing to tolerate bad behavior — if it meant getting the chance to play around. [break][break]

He decided to relent a bit and whistled softly for Snowcone, who bounded across the grass; bloodied maw parted in an excited pant as she planted herself before them, dancing from paw to paw with continued anticipation. "C'mere, you big goon," Dane called, beckoning with a hand. With a whiffle, she plodded to his side and he patted at her back until she sat down beside him, still wriggling. "Good girl." [break][break]

He tapped at his jacket pockets, relocating his half-smoked pack of cigarettes and pulling another one free. He tucked it to his lips, lit the end and gave it a starting pull, then tossed everything aside and outstretched his hands between his knees once more. His brow furrowed with concentration as he puffed out his smoke and summoned another rabbit — something smaller, more docile, and less keen to bolt. Snowcone whined beside him, her tail swishing across the gravel, but he hushed her and picked up the rabbit by its scruff, passing it over to Nick. "Here ya go. Show me how it's done, big boy."[break][break]

He settled more comfortably, propping an elbow once more against his knee and plopping his chin into a cradling hand while he recalled Nick's earlier inquiry. "There is no making two Snowcones at the same time," he started simply, switching the cigarette to his other hand when he realized he ran the risk of singing his crisp, stringy hair. "I can summon a lot of dogs at once, but not a lot of — or even just two — Snowcones. The ones like her, the smart and good ones, are more... individuals than mindless copies."[break][break]

"Fuck that, though," he laughed, dipping his head to his chest, smothering his forehead into his forearms briefly before he lifted again, face splitting into a grin. "It's always all about me, me, me when we're together. Do you ever stop talking about yourself Nick, fuck. Someone is going to think our—" his mouth twisted. What, friendship? That felt like a leap. Instead of finding a proper word, he just motioned between them flippantly. "Is awfully one-sided." He shook his head. "For someone who talks a lot — like a lot a lot — you certainly don't say much about yourself." He knew it was likely very intentional and the sidelong glance he made at the other man made the suspicion clear. [break][break]

"Let's change the record for once. That's bound to be more interesting anyway. What's up with the secret lair stuff? How much do you hate your father? What the hell were you just muttering about? Or whatever, I don't care, just..." he flapped his hand on the air again, then took another drag from his cigarette. "Enough about me for fuck's sake."

[newclass=.lstripe2 b]color:#8A3F3A;font-weight:bold!important;font-family:arial!important;font-size:9pt!important;[/newclass]

[Noah St Cloud]

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[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostname"]noah st. cloud

[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostlyric"]Just as a flower does not choose its color,[break]
we are not responsible for what[break]
we have come to be

[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostingbox"]


OOC: gah sorry Noah talks a lot in this one and I couldn’t decide where to cut him off to give you enough to actually work with akwfnakjfnsj[break][break]

---

[break][break]

Noah half-wanted to ask for the hare instead, if only to give the pitiful creature a brief reprieve from the apparent Hell-cycle it was stuck in. And yet, its suffering was easily forgotten in the face of the smaller offering and his eyes practically sparkled when the rabbit was plopped into his waiting hands. [break][break]

He quickly cradled it to his chest before it could leap away, holding all four of its feet against his body and making sure to support its back and hindquarters– the way he’d seen on TV. Although far less panicked than the hare had been, it still wriggled in his grasp, decidedly imbued with enough animal instinct to recognise the scent of blood in the air and the excited pants of a nearby canine.[break][break]

“Easy there,” he breathed. “I got you. Don’t fight.” [break][break]

Captivated, he gently began stroking along its ears and back, barely listening to Dane as he answered the question about multiple Snowcones. He’d never held a rabbit before. Not a live one, anyway. So soft. So sweet. Big dark eyes reflecting the world around it, little nose twitching… He swore he could feel its tiny heart pitter-pattering against him, and he shot a quick, wary glance towards Snowcone, checking she had remained by Dane’s side, before bending to give the rabbit a light peck on its forehead. “You’re much safer with me than on your own, trust me.”[break][break]

Dane decided he’d shared enough about himself. It was Noah’s turn, he said, and Noah let his head fall back and drew out an unnecessarily loud groan in response. “But I’m such a good listener and a pleasure to have in class! Talking about me is bor-ing. I already know about me.”[break][break]

It was the bunny that made him relent. His head fell forward again and their eyes locked and it occurred to him that if he didn’t do as Dane asked, the other man could make his new pet disappear into thin air – and wouldn’t that be sad? He’d only just gotten her.[break][break]

He sighed. “Fine. Okay, my job is like… background checks, I guess. Sometimes people have weird little basements or things hidden around that make you think: hm, maybe this kid is a little too weird to invite to the birthday party because they’ll try to drown the other children in the pool.” He gave the hunter a pointed look, then returned his attention to the rabbit in his arms and sweetened his voice to a coo. “Gotta keep my little flock safe for the plan to work, don’t I?” [break][break]

“Anyway, the fancy folks in Grey Pebble don’t have shady basements. They have secret lairs for all kinds of mischief. Real supervillain shit, sometimes. Too much money, too much time.”[break][break]

“As for my father…” Eyebrows raised, he blew a puff of air through his lips. “Don’t have much t’say about him. ‘Hate’ would suggest I care enough to.” [break][break]

Although, the Thanksgiving thing… And the liquor store incident… [break][break]

His stomach flipped warningly, his mouth clamping shut along with his eyes. “Ugh. Christ… too many drinks mixed together in one night. One sec.”[break][break]

After a steadying breath the sudden wave of nausea became a little less noticeable. He reopened his eyes and tipped his head, filing through his brain for something else as if nothing had happened. “I guess, when I was a teenager, he did tell my mom to tell me to leave my church ‘girlfriends’ alone, but then – he never told me to kill them so (if we’re comparing) he’s a little better than yours in that regard.” A sly, lazy grin crept across his face. “I just thought it was funny to see how quick I could make them break their vows, y’know? He didn’t get it.” He blinked. Snickered. “Huh. Maybe that’s it. Maybe he didn’t get it. Maybe he waited until marriage and felt bitter… Hah. Loser.”[break][break]

Who knew if that were true? Jacob’s life before and after Noah's birth was a mystery, and Noah felt no desire to investigate. The warm fluffball in his arms was far more interesting. [break][break]

“Hey – what’s her name?” he asked eagerly, looking to Dane once more. But his eyes caught on Snowcone instead, her stare transfixed on the rabbit while her tail brushed slowly over the ground behind her. As if waiting. As if she were guaranteed to be given it eventually. Noah scowled.[break][break]

“With peace ‘n’ love, doggy-doo, if you try ‘n’ take m’bunny I’m gon’ punch you in the fucking snoot.” His glare scraped across to the blurry figure of Dane. Was he always so fuzzy to look at? “Same goes for you, buckaroo.” It was very nice of him to give Noah the bunny in the first place, though. A little random, but nice. Wait – not random. He’d done it for a reason, right?[break][break]

“Oh. Right. Powers thing,” he muttered. While one hand kept the rabbit against him, he used the other to carefully take hold of one of her front feet. “Gotta scritchy-scratch.” The action seemed to disgruntle her a little as she tried to pull her foot away, but he didn’t relent and pressed his thumb against the underside, feeling around until he found a claw to drag across and break his skin. Warmth instantly bloomed into his palms as if he’d hovered them over an open fire, and his resulting grin was triumphant. “Ta-da! There. Mine now.” [break][break]

Should he summon Frederick again? Try to make him a little more structurally sound and apologise for the whole ‘having to kill him’ thing? But – oh. Oh no. How was Noah supposed to use Dane’s gift if his hands were already busy with a very important task? He couldn’t just set his charge on the ground to hop around as she pleased. Snowcone would gobble her up for sure.[break][break]

Eyes rounded with mounting dismay, he stared down at his rabbit. The rabbit stared back, her dark gaze as fathomless as before. “I can’t put her down.”


[break][break]

[attr="class","Noahdark2PostTag"]Tag: Dane Wayland

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[googlefont=Mr Dafoe:400|Roboto:400,400i,700]

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","lstripe2"]

OOC: Phew, this is a wreck. Lemme know if you need more to work with, I know Dane didn't respond to much and I'm sorry ;v; [break][break]

Looking very much like a sugar-starved kid handed a lollipop, Nick took the offered bunny. He soothed it, gave it a little peck, and Dane watched him amusedly while he smoked. Though the other man made a childish (or perhaps just drunken) display of being reluctant to turn their conversation on him, eventually he sighed and began. [break][break]

Dane turned his gaze away and listened passively, finding he actually didn't have much to say about the whole thing. Background checks, scary basements, weird kids not being trusted to play with the others (he didn't miss the pointed look leveled in his direction and let a smirk pull at the corner of his mouth). Nick mentioned a plan and keeping his "flock" safe, which was strange, but what about Nick so far wasn't weird? The dude would have likely been setting off alarm bells in any sane, well-adjusted person's head from the moment they'd met in Leslie's apartment corridor... what with his nonchalant wave, gloved hands, and pocketful of lockpicks. [break][break]

Dane nodded along, taking the occasional drag of his cigarette as he stared detachedly into the night. He supposed, in a roundabout way, his own job in the Guild was something similar. Hunters were always on the scent for things amiss. Sniffing out "strange kids" who couldn't be trusted among the rest. Their mission, at its fucked-up core (when you peeled back the layers and layers of politics and hypocrisy), was to keep Humans safe. Not that he'd ever bought into that or even needed such a reason to do what he did. Or had ever been given the choice of doing something different. [break][break]

Nick moved on to his father, claiming there wasn't much to disclose — he simply didn't care enough to hate him. Dane felt his eyes harden and he shucked his shoulders in a silent laugh. That'd be nice. For a moment, Nick looked like he was going to be sick, and Dane's gaze flickered to him appraisingly, ready to make fun of him for being unable to hold his liquor. But the other man took a steadying breath and realigned himself, then resumed his story-telling; eventually suggesting his father was a bitter prude and earning a soft snort.[break][break]

And with that, Nick was apparently done. With hardly a break, he asked the rabbit's name and leveled a slurred threat at both Snowcone and Dane if they tried to take or harm the summon under his watch. Dane quirked a brow and tapped at his cheek some more, wondering briefly if Nick intentionally steered the conversation away so as to not allow room for any follow-up questions or further prying. Maybe he felt he'd said enough to sate Dane's curiosity and the door was now closed. [break][break]

Oh well, Dane didn't care enough to shake him down for more information. Especially when Nick seemed to abruptly remember why he had the bunny in his hands at all and focused on activating his own Gift. He turned to watch more closely as the other man forced one of the bunny's claws against the skin of his thumb.[break][break]

Like before, in Leslie's apartment, Dane felt nothing. No indication that his power had been taken. But at Nick's triumphant grin and pleased exclaim, he reached for that familiar spread of warmth in his palms; imagined another bunny and tried to will it into existence beneath his hand. No result. Obviously, it was less alarming than it had been before. But still, it threaded something cold and uneasy through him. Lifted the hair at the back of his neck. Made his palms tingle with a strange feeling of loss. [break][break]

"It doesn't have a name," Dane answered finally, trying to flick the phantom feeling of absence from his fingers. The bunny wasn't anything special. Didn't have a personality. Wasn't useful in any way. It was one of dozens; the few, harmless types of creatures he'd perfected as a child, still trying to make something right without getting himself maimed too terribly. He'd cooed and fawned over them back then, too, simply mystified by what he could create. But then he'd quickly abandoned that kiddy fascination when he moved on to bigger, more dangerous beasts. "Chew Toy, maybe?" He lifted his cigarette to his lips, pausing to smile fleetingly. "Target Practice?" He huffed to himself; a breath that wasn't almost but not quite a chuckle. It sounded too hollow, lacking of any genuine amusement or malice. [break][break]

Taking a long, indulgent drag, he looked at Nick — so obviously distressed as he gazed down at the tiny creature cradled to his chest. When he said he couldn't put her down, Dane's mouth pulled tight. He lowered his cigarette, blew out the smoke, and leaned back on his forearms to give Snowcone a more unobstructed view of the pair on his other side, eyes crinkling at the corners. As if on cue, the big mastiff drew her tongue across her chops. "Oh come on, sure you can," he quipped lowly, voice half cheer and half challenge. "It's just a rabbit. And not even a real rabbit."[break][break]

Distantly, he wondered if his father had thought something similar when he sent Silene's name to him. Sure, Silene was — had been — a real-life human being and not some quickly-made, near-witless summon... but then, she'd also been Gifted. Had his father scoffed and rolled his eyes at Dane's refusal as he lanced the earned agony through him? She's just a girl. And not even a real Human. [break][break]

She was just a girl. Dane had said that, too, hadn't he? [break][break]

"Ugh," Dane dropped his head back and rolled it on his shoulders, settling his gaze on Nick and pursing his lips. Before he could think too much on it, he shoved off his forearms and sat forward, flicking away his cigarette and holding out his hands, fingers wriggling. "Give her to me, I'll hold her while you play." Snowcone pulled to all four paws with an excited shuffle and he gave her a light shove. "I won't let the big brute eat her, promise. Swearsies even." He lifted a brow, trying to show his sincerity, then pointed at the vodka bottle. "That, too."[break][break]

"But in return for bunny-sitting, I'd appreciate it if you warn me before you decide to like... make a bear or something crazy. I'd like a headstart if I'm gonna end up treed or stuffed in a filthy playground slide tonight."

[newclass=.lstripe2 b]color:#8A3F3A;font-weight:bold!important;font-family:arial!important;font-size:9pt!important;[/newclass]

[Noah St Cloud]

[nospaces]

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[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostname"]noah st. cloud

[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostlyric"]Just as a flower does not choose its color,[break]
we are not responsible for what[break]
we have come to be

[break]

[attr="class","Noahpostingbox"]

The names Dane offered were not appreciated in the slightest and Noah did well not to grumble a few choice words in response. Fine. If he was going to be like that, he’d have to name her himself. Maybe… Hazel. Yes. That would work. Both a literary reference and a nod to her brown fur. Easy. He didn’t know why Dane hadn’t named her already.[break][break]

The answer came almost immediately as Dane reminded Noah that Hazel wasn’t real. He considered this. Opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again with a dissatisfied downturn to his lips. How could Noah explain something he didn’t completely understand himself? How could he explain that a rabbit felt more alive to Noah than Dane did? [break][break]

Human faces were all the same. Masks on mannequins. Predictable. Machines that could fix each other when they had faults in their software, injuries and diseases and the like. Animals couldn’t do that. They couldn’t mend each other. At the risk of sounding like his mother, they were natural. Pure. Each with their own unique forms – not copies, made in the image of some unknowable God, one who had given some of them (but only some) the ability to create as He did. To know. To summon light or read minds or bend reality itself. [break][break]

(There was a slight chance he was at that stage of drunkenness where he thought about religion.)[break][break]

He sighed through his nose, closing his eyes briefly before looking down at his charge again. Just as he was considering the logistics of tucking her into his sweater while he played with Dane’s gift, Dane sat up and offered to take her from him.[break][break]

Noah eyed him with open mistrust. [break][break]

Although Dane promised to keep her safe from Snowcone, he’d probably also promised his 'girlfriend' that he wouldn’t kill her. Or maybe not. Maybe promising lovers that he wouldn’t kill them was just something Noah did. But the point was – he couldn’t be sure Dane would stay true to his word.[break][break]

There were little other options that he could think of, though, so he had to consider it, and after a moment…[break][break]

“Fine.” He scooted closer to the other man, both for ease of passing Hazel over and so he might be able to snatch her back if he sensed anything amiss. “Careful,” he mumbled as she transferred hands. Then, as an afterthought– “Thanks.”[break][break]

He licked his lips, looking at the vodka bottle Dane had requested. Part of him wanted to point out that it could be risky to juggle Hazel and the bottle at the same time; he imagined both hands were needed to hold her securely and prevent her from hopping into Snowcone’s all-too eager jaws. But then, if the vodka would keep him amiable, he shouldn’t tempt Dane to drop Hazel on purpose by withholding it from him. He grudgingly reached for it and placed it by Dane’s knee. [break][break]

Brow furrowed, he flexed his fingers, concentrating on the warmth in his palms. Dane had cautioned him to give warning if he decided to conjure a bear, which Noah took to mean ‘start small’. That was fair enough. Wise, considering the warnings he'd given Noah in Leslie's apartment about summons being temperamental. Maybe he’d give Hazel a nice boy rabbit to be friends with. He nodded to himself. “I’m gonna get it right,” he muttered. “You said practice makes perfect, didn't you? Any other tips?” [break][break]

He barely waited for a response, already picturing another rabbit – a black one – and doing his best to will it into existence. A spark appeared between his hands. He thought about how Hazel felt. Tried to replicate that softness along with her general form. Remembering how Frederick had seemed unable to blink, he took the time to picture eyelids and whiskers, a nose and all the important internal organs. The light dancing between his palms grew. He could almost hear its bones snapping into place. [break][break]

The summon manifested a second earlier than he expected and he barely managed to catch it before it could fall into his lap. It was… vaguely rabbit-like. But its torso resembled a gigantic slug, pulsating with uneven breaths. Four limbs were haphazardly attached as though they'd been resewn onto an raggedly old toy, its hind legs hanging limply – uselessly – and appearing to be shaped more like a small dog’s than a rabbit’s. Its dark fur glistened as though wet, hanging from its frame in the same unnatural way Frederick’s pelt had, and its ears were overgrown, as long as – if not longer than – its body. The eyes could blink but they were dull, lacking the quiet inquisitiveness and sense of life that Hazel's had. It was gross. He wanted it gone –[break][break]

In a flash, the almost-rabbit was no more and his hands were empty. He blinked away the spots it left in his vision. “It’s okay. Practice makes perfect.” His voice was a little absent as he repeated himself, and he restarted the summoning process with eyes narrowed in concentration.



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[attr="class","Noahdark2PostTag"]Tag: Dane Wayland

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[googlefont=Mr Dafoe:400|Roboto:400,400i,700]

[Dane Wayland]

[nospaces]

[attr="class","lstripe2"]

After a moment of what seemed to be reluctant deliberating, Nick finally scooted closer and carefully transferred the bunny to Dane's waiting hands. The delicate creature struggled a bit at the changeover — nose wriggling and feet twitching — but calmed easily enough, perhaps lulled into a sense of safety by the gentle treatment of its previous caretaker. Dane tucked its soft body into the crook of one arm and pinned it gingerly against his ribs, holding it much like a quarterback might a football, with two fingers splayed across its tiny, slightly-heaving chest. [break][break]

He glanced down at the summon and smoothed a finger between its ears, taking a moment to admire its round, black eyes and to feel the pulse of its hammering heart against his palm. Although he didn't care for the useless thing, he was still proud of it. It was pretty. And perfect. A testament to the art that he'd worked almost twenty years of his life getting right. The corners of his mouth quirked and a sense of warmth threaded through the heat of intoxication that was finally beginning to seep through him. [break][break]

As if sensing this moment of adoration (and deciding she didn't like it), Snowcone edged forward to press her cold, wet nose to his elbow, trying to snuffle around it at the offending creature soaking up his attention. With his free hand, Dane pressed a finger against her snout to redirect her gaze. "No. Lie down." He ordered, keeping his voice soft — not wanting to disturb Chew Toy more than necessary and knowing Snowcone didn't really require a firm tone. The dog heaved a huffy snort — as if to make her disdain known — but settled obediently, tucking her muzzle between her massive paws. [break][break]

Nick was concentrating now and Dane lifted an amused gaze to watch him work. When he requested any "tips", he grinned. "Don't be drunk!" He laughed gleefully, and then, as if it were a cue, leaned forward to grab the vodka bottle Nick had placed beside him. "And working joints are important." He scooched the tiniest bit away — just in case the other man didn't take his warning seriously and decided to summon something with big teeth and a wonky temperament — and took a hearty gulp. So long as Nick was closer to the thing when it came to life, he should be fine. At least for long enough to get himself somewhere marginally safer.  [break][break]

Would his Gift return to him, if Nick were killed? Or would it die with him? In hindsight, it was a question he should have asked before they played around while drinking.[break][break]

There was a brief flicker of light and Dane craned forward to get a good peek at the resulting creature that fell into Nick's hands. His lips twitched. Although it was clear what the summon was supposed to be, it was wrong enough to inspire unease. It was gross. But Dane barely had time to truly probe his gaze over all the places it lacked before it had disappeared in another flash. Apparently, Nick had disliked the thing just as much. [break][break]

Dane put the bottle aside and shifted in the gravel, turning himself so that he could lay slightly back and settle his shoulders against Snowcone's side. He stretched his legs before him, crossed his ankles, and let the rabbit scoot onto his chest. He stroked at it, testing whether or not it would move if he lessened his hold, but kept his hands wavering just above in case it tried to suddenly bolt. "You ever have any pets?" He asked flippantly, gaze flickering between the rabbit and Nick's hands, seemingly poised for another go. "Y'know, a family cat or puppy? It's always been easier to make something based off something real. The first thing I ever got right was my sister's stupid hamster."

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