ꀘ꒒ꋬ꒤ꇙ ꂵ꒐ꀘꋬꏂ꒒ꇙꄲꋊ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
poppycock) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
snowblindrpg2015-08-16 11:25 am
poppycock) wrote in snowblindrpg2015-08-16 11:25 am
[network] @klausmikaelson; DAY 026: NIGHT [open] [warning: hallucinations, blood, self-injury]
[ he has no intention of dying here again, lost in the cold, every inch of him freezing in submission to this perpetual winter. klaus has not lived for over a thousand years to be bested by whatever has taken him from his home, from his daughter, and stranded him in this nightmare.
he will not relent nor fold, out of the necessity to slaughter his captives, out of necessity to keep himself whole; to keep the one other person he cares about here whole.
if that means he will go mad staying inside this night, caught in a storm the likes of which he hasn't seen in centuries, then so be it. the hallucinations are off-putting, but certainly manageable, and during the day he has the wherewithal to understand that. he experienced over fifty-two years of hallucinations and torture once, courtesy of the fledgling hunters he massacred, and so he will persevere through whatever this place has to deal until he can leave this room, intact.
so he can leave, find cami, and be done with this.
that is until he sees the walls morphing into the mangled wooden crib of his daughter's, constantly at the corner of his eye. the movement of her settled and trapped in it beckons him, but the walls are moving and swallowing her up whenever he turns his head. until he sees the blood dripping from the boards and wallpaper where it eats her up. visions of his treacherous family come next, telling him of their hatred, their disgust and disappointment and abandonment of him; family who should be dead and gone, and others that should have left him long ago. until he hears the screams of his baby girl, the plaintive, frightened cries echoing through the small, desolate home in which he is cooped up.
that beam of light, the increased paranoia, the starvation and dehydration and cold, making him human and helpless -- these are all inconveniences he can weather.
this, however.
he has punched, pried, and torn up a good portion of the walls and bookcase after the first several hours, trapped as he is during the night. he has thrown furniture and attempted to break the windows. if he meant to try to find the disembodied source, leave, or simply to quell and distract himself with the violence and agony, it's hard to tell. his hands are bloodied, knuckles sheared, staining the screen of his tablet as he broadcasts the video.
his face is smeared with red that is nearly black in the shadows. he is on his hands and knees. the ceiling, his tense, shaking shoulders and bowed head fill the screen. his eyes burn with tears and rage, directed off to the side. if he were in any right mind, klaus wouldn't broadcast this at all.
his voice is angry and promising, though strained and thick with tears, and his chest heaves. ]
I will find you, and I will kill you. [ he's lowered his head by the last, weighted down as if too heavy to keep up. the fear and uncertainty entering in his eyes is unmistakeable, for he has little power to protect himself or anyone. ] I swear I will kill all of you.
he will not relent nor fold, out of the necessity to slaughter his captives, out of necessity to keep himself whole; to keep the one other person he cares about here whole.
if that means he will go mad staying inside this night, caught in a storm the likes of which he hasn't seen in centuries, then so be it. the hallucinations are off-putting, but certainly manageable, and during the day he has the wherewithal to understand that. he experienced over fifty-two years of hallucinations and torture once, courtesy of the fledgling hunters he massacred, and so he will persevere through whatever this place has to deal until he can leave this room, intact.
so he can leave, find cami, and be done with this.
that is until he sees the walls morphing into the mangled wooden crib of his daughter's, constantly at the corner of his eye. the movement of her settled and trapped in it beckons him, but the walls are moving and swallowing her up whenever he turns his head. until he sees the blood dripping from the boards and wallpaper where it eats her up. visions of his treacherous family come next, telling him of their hatred, their disgust and disappointment and abandonment of him; family who should be dead and gone, and others that should have left him long ago. until he hears the screams of his baby girl, the plaintive, frightened cries echoing through the small, desolate home in which he is cooped up.
that beam of light, the increased paranoia, the starvation and dehydration and cold, making him human and helpless -- these are all inconveniences he can weather.
this, however.
he has punched, pried, and torn up a good portion of the walls and bookcase after the first several hours, trapped as he is during the night. he has thrown furniture and attempted to break the windows. if he meant to try to find the disembodied source, leave, or simply to quell and distract himself with the violence and agony, it's hard to tell. his hands are bloodied, knuckles sheared, staining the screen of his tablet as he broadcasts the video.
his face is smeared with red that is nearly black in the shadows. he is on his hands and knees. the ceiling, his tense, shaking shoulders and bowed head fill the screen. his eyes burn with tears and rage, directed off to the side. if he were in any right mind, klaus wouldn't broadcast this at all.
his voice is angry and promising, though strained and thick with tears, and his chest heaves. ]
I will find you, and I will kill you. [ he's lowered his head by the last, weighted down as if too heavy to keep up. the fear and uncertainty entering in his eyes is unmistakeable, for he has little power to protect himself or anyone. ] I swear I will kill all of you.
video »
[ Under normal circumstances, Jeremy wouldn't willingly engage in a conversation with the Original hybrid on the best of days let alone when he's obviously out of his mind with impotent rage. But the worst part about this place is also the best part in this very moment. They're all so isolated and separate from each other, and their movement is so restricted from day to day, that it's not like Klaus could easily come find and hurt him (or Jenna, for that matter). So he feels ultimately safe, if naturally still a bit cautious, in alerting Klaus to his presence here. ]
no subject
there's nothing welcoming about it, despite the the smile creeping over his moving lips. ] Ah, Jeremy. What a lovely surprise.
no subject
[ There's not any hint of mocking behind his words. Because despite not knowing that Klaus is the instrument of his own pain, it's frankly terrifying to consider the fact that their captors apparently have enough power to not only bring the dead back to life but also to effectively neutralize someone so terribly powerful himself... ]
no subject
no subject
How long have you been inside like that?
[ He thinks he's heard about this -- a kind of literal cabin fever. But it would be helpful to have a better idea about how long it takes to set in. ]
no subject
Oh, about a day. I'm certain it usually takes longer; I've lingered in one place before. [ his eyes find the screen and he smiles. ]
video @cami-oconnell
[Truth be told Cami is struggling herself; as the storm wages on she's seen ghosts of the dead all around her, Kieran and Sean, her parents and so many strangers, so many O'Connell's who disapprove of the choices she's made. A stubborn, selfish girl who claims to want to help people, yet ties herself to a monster because she can't control her own heart, who even helps him after he goes on a rampage against his own family while claiming it to be for his family.
She knows what's happening. Somehow, this place is getting inside her head. Why wouldn't it, after days without seeing another human save over video feed, or locking her in to this one cabin when she's so close to someone she trusts--not that she should, not when he bit her, left her to bleed on the floor of his home no no those thoughts aren't hers--and yet unable to reach him. She knows that's all this is, a temporary paranoia, a state of mental breaking brought on by some supernatural force, and like hell if Cami is going to let herself fall victim to it. So she takes to the network, and oh, there are so many other posts that mirror her own experience, full of fear and uncertainty.
But it's the one that features an oath being made that causes her to frantically reply.]
Klaus, stop it! Whatever you're seeing there, it isn't real. This place, the people in charge, they're doing something with our minds.
[They have to be. She has to be right, because what does it mean if she's not?]
no subject
and there she is. worse for wear, just like him, he'd say. just like the rest of these captives. their mounting fear has been most telling. no matter, he doesn't trust any of them despite it. he might be delusional at the moment, unsure what is up or down, reality or hallucination blending together in one terrible mass, but he's not entirely lost.
though he does see elijah pacing above him, in front of him, silent in one of his infamous suits, the edges of his cuffs now stained with blood. it's not real; he knows. he watches the phantom with a detached, vicious sort of amusement; a deep-seated chuckle of derision leaves him.
if elijah is not real, the hand he had shoved into klaus' chest to enclose around his heart certainly felt so. ] Of course they are, love. That's what they're good at. I suppose they've granted you with like delusions. Perhaps truths. [ about him, he'd wager. ]
no subject
She doesn't care. She refuses to let herself break because of them--just as she won't shatter for Klaus.]
It doesn't matter. True or not, I'm not going to let some hallucination decide what I do! [Her voice grows louder as she proclaims it, her gaze momentarily turning from the tablet to some unseen, unimpressed vision. She doesn't let her hard stare linger, however. Not when Klaus is so clearly hurt, pushed to his limit and perhaps this storm stands as a blessing, that he has no one else to tear into.] And neither are you. Whatever they are telling you, whatever they are making you suffer through, it isn't real. You have to hold onto that.
no subject
she wields it so fiercely, after all. it's what truly quiets him, the force behind her words. (it would be better if she did listen to those voices, he thinks.) they shock him into a quiet and a clarity he hasn't felt in hours. but the darkness waxes as it wanes, always, and the walls bulge and shudder. he feels rebekah's breath against his ear, crawling down his spine, her kneeling form warm beside him. she whispers how he disgusts her; she always wanted to leave him; how she even now wants him dead, and the world would be better off. their father was right.
klaus' lashes flutter and he bristles. he gasps quietly and turns his head from rebekah. (the problem is, he's always believed what the hallucinations are telling him.)
his eyes find the screen again. he catches her preoccupation, just barely. there's a sharp knowing in his gaze, from her outburst, from her darting eyes, and despite his state. she does have her own demons, he knows. his jaw sets as she goes on. he also knows she is right.
the storm will pass. the hallucinations will cease. the doors will open. that's not what he is afraid of. it's the fear that has dug into him since the moment he arrived here, haunting his every moment, hounding his every step:
what if they have her? what if they have hope?
he speaks quietly, slowly at first. ] But I do have something to hold onto. One day I will have them at my mercy, and I will tear them apart. [ spoken with such grave conviction. ] You will be safe, and so will I.
no subject
(But is that really such a heavy weight in her heart? She clings to it as an excuse, but Cami's turned her back on family, disappointed her parents, failed her uncle, her twin--)
She swallows, takes a deep breath, and watches Klaus through the tablet's screen. If she can focus on him, help him with whatever he's seeing, then it would be all the easier to ignore her own phantoms--or so she wants to believe. Either way of the pair of them she's far less dangerous, lacking his strength, his speed, his immortality as a hybrid, and never mind that his wounds have yet to heal, that the detail stands flawed. There are too many other things to look for, drawn in breaths and wary glances, hallucinations within his own head that she now fights from the distance.]
Look at me, Klaus. I'm real; whatever else you're seeing isn't. [Yet that isn't the whole cause to be concerned, is it? Certainly Klaus would have his vengeance, and Cami cannot with any truth say she doesn't support him in the quest for it. Yet when he talks about who would be safe, her and himself, there is another name omitted from that list. Klaus would do so many things for himself, and yes, for Cami as well.
But there is one person, only one, he would give up everything for.]
Hope. You--you think they have Hope. [And who was to say they didn't? Even Cami can't hold back a soft cry, the realization sharper than the cold of the storm raging outside. Cami would have put up a fight when they came for if she could have, and Klaus--Klaus would have left bodies, whether they succeeded or not. But Hope is just an innocent child, a helpless baby. If they had brought her here as Klaus fears, indeed, as they both now do, she would be dead in less than a day.
But that's the key, isn't it? Cami realizes this, and in that moment her despair morphs to something far less heavy to bear.]
Except they don't, Klaus. They wouldn't--they wouldn't bring her here like they did us. [Because if suffering in isolation is truly the point of all this, it makes no sense to kidnap an infant who can't communicate at all.] Think about it. She can't use the network. She can't let anyone know she's here, and they want to torture us. If they had her, they would make it clear, over the tablets and not when everyone is suffering delusions.
[Her logic stands true, doesn't it? It must. It must, because Cami cannot let herself believe anything else, no more than she'll let Klaus.]
They don't have her. They don't.
no subject
he does not deal nor rely on those weaknesses, and her pleading with him to do so incurs little reaction. his gaze wanders; he ignores another illusion, another cry of his daughter in the shadowed corner.
his eyes close and fill with tears he doesn't shed. his jaw tightens. his gaze only returns to her, alert, when she deduces much more than he intended to give away. his eyes round with the fear he feels, but by the time she has finished, something in them has deadened. ] There are other children here. [ he begins quietly, seeming unaffected. ] One died yesterday. [ baelfire. he remembers the name, the young boy, though they never spoke. he says it with the express purpose to impress upon her the ruthlessness of this place. he knows of a girl, too: so young, wary and sharp. ] Perhaps they have all my family, maybe yours, tucked away in the morgue, awaiting usefulness. Why wouldn't they take her, use her? She would be perfect leverage, perfect torture.
no subject
And in her heart, Cami knows they shouldn’t be. No doubt Klaus does as well.
Still, that impassive gaze shatters at his daughter’s name, and for a moment Cami dares to think she has a foothold. But she’s wrong, so wrong (always wrong, stubborn and wrong and she can’t save anyone), evidenced by the way Klaus so plainly lays out yet another horrible aspect of their hell. Children, innocent babes, not only brought to this world but killed by it. She wonders which of those names had belonged to one so young—if maybe more than one had. Her eyes go wide with horror and dread, knowing already she cannot offer the evidence she wishes to, that he needs her to. The nauseating truth is simply that there is no reason not to believe they would leave Hope untouched, when the evidence of their cruelty is so plain around them.]
They’re not using her now. This—this isn’t real. [Even if they have her, even if they intend to be so callous and cruel, Cami can only pray that for tonight Hope remains safe. She shuts her eyes, tries once more to will away the visions that would tell her just wishes are futile, even goes so far as to clasp her hands over her ears as if that might shut out the familiar voices echoing in her head with ever-loudening taunts. They’ve latched onto what Klaus has said, hooked their lines into those tiny sparks of doubt in her heart.
But she will not let them win. She will not let Kieran and Sean be made into monsters, again, and her shouts are no longer aimed at Klaus.] My family is dead! Even if they have them, my uncle, my brother are already dead, do you hear me?!
no subject
(it is fear and guilt weighing him down, a self-loathing and self-doubt amplified turning his gut. he cannot save her; not his daughter and not cami, in all probability; not anyone he cares for when enemies are nearer and nearer.)
he knows, the cords tense and visible in his neck, that she suffers. he cannot allow it to happen for reasons soft and caring, and she cannot slip as much as he cannot. ] Cami. [ he calls to her, firm and fierce to soothe and demand her attention. ] Cami, you're right. [ he'll wait however long it takes for her to look at him, or he will persuade her until she does. his face is ghostly pale in the low light, and though his words seek to be reassuring, to be comforting, they are calculated. ] You're right. You've left them at peace. [ she has buried them both, mourned and grieved, and he wants nothing more than for their peace -- her peace -- to remain undisturbed, but he has his doubts they will. what he knows: ] You will survive this. [ he says it with conviction he must believe for her sake. she has survived, despite every hand she's been given, in every brave choice she's made. by her hand, his, or another's, she has survived. ]
no subject
Klaus.
Are you okay?
no subject
Doubtful many of us are, but I'm certain I'll survive. [ beat, and klaus considers ] Or resurrect, in any case.
no subject
just realized he's probably not great at typing right now so VOICE
...haha oh shit she wouldn't be either lmao RETCON PLS
[ she's sane, okay?!?! if she hallucinates, that means tim did infect her. and if tim did infect her, then alex is going to want to kill her. ]
Everything that's happening to me is real.
ALL THE RETCON
and it only seems to be worsening, the rabbit hole deepening. ]
no subject
[ ahahahahaha if only you knew how funny that actually is klaus :') ]
no subject
So us both, despite your protests, suffer from those who are be gone. [ like his father, and his real father; both. like esther and henrik, kol and finn. she must see fault in her logic. ]
no subject
[ it's taken her long enough to accept that; now she has a whole new kind of denial. ]
How do you know they're not real?
no subject
What are your nightmares, Clarke?
no subject
Bloody.
no subject
he's quiet for a beat, and then responds with like confession, one designed to weave them both together in mutual suffering, in twisted camaraderie. that is what he needs. if he doesn't have it, surely there will be worse around the corner, be it by his hand or their kidnapper's. ] As are mine. [ spoken again with rare honesty. there is an earnestness in his voice that suggests concern, suggests care. ] What has happened to you?
private from here on;
It's more like I happened to people.
priiiivate
he can't say he doesn't relate. (he thinks of all that has happened to him, his eyes dropping to study the space before him; what useless wretchedness he brought into the world with existence, and the horrors he's wrought on it in vengeance.) ]
You've hurt others. [ it comes quiet, more truth than question. ]
WAIT i already permaprivated it lol disregard my stupidity
when it came to tim, she'd prefaced it with excuses, swearing that she'd never hurt anyone here. she'd wanted him to like her. or, at least, not despise her. there isn't that sense of need with klaus, that desire for acceptance. she can see that there's something dark in him too, swarming beneath the surface; at least, if his announcing his intent to kill everyone is anything to go by. their relationship is less of a friendship and more of an understanding, she thinks. she doesn't need him to like her, she just needs him to understand. ]
Yes.
text - @claytonator
[Granted, even if he wasn't suffering the effects of rapidly worsening cabin fever, he would probably end up doing something stupid anyways after seeing this kind of post. With it, though, his determination is doubled--paranoia drives him not to be wary of the people around him, as he has his own naturally trusting nature and the foresight and emotional stability of Enoch nearby to keep him from drifting off that edge, but to see their captors behind everything they do. The storm is their fault. The monsters are their fault. His frostbite is their fault. Klaus's distress is their fault. It's all unacceptable; the sooner he finds a way to stabilize everyone, the sooner they can put together who's doing this and show them just how much they've made the town suffer.]
[One step at a time, though. It's late after lockdown and Clayton's hallucinating bad enough that he doesn't dare look out from the drop cloth cloak pulled over his head and tablet, else he imagines the house's walls closing in, and he really doesn't need to be having a panic attack right now. So, for lack of good lighting (and perhaps to keep from alarming Enoch unnecessarily), Clayton sticks to text. He's seen enough, anyways.]
Okay, let me make it easy for you. Where are you right now?
voice
he sees the missive from the man who has claimed himself a doctor; he understands the words if not the ends that clayton seeks. (he doesn't trust any of it, and he knows the flare of fear and paranoia he feels at disclosing his location is a manipulation and amplification of his ever-present vigilance. why does he want to know?)
he doesn't attempt the text function; he's learned his hands are in no state. the question grates on him. it agitates, for if there was an easy solution, he would have thought of it. he considers the answer obvious: ]
Under the thumb of our kidnapper's, as they'd like us to be. [ his voice is rough from misuse, and that calm explanation had subtle bite. would clayton be one of the kidnappers, one of the wolves? klaus gives his head a little shake, but not because he doesn't wonder: a doctor would be indispensable and trusted, brought and ushered easily into the fold. yet there's no reason to reveal that suspicion at the moment, and all the reason to keep it close. ]
voice
Ain't that jus' the thing? [His voice, too, is a little odd--hardly more than a whisper and carefully measured in an attempt to keep it from wavering. Klaus is almost guaranteed to hear Enoch's breathing in the background from how closely huddled together they are.] There ain't enough folks lookin' fer a solution like you are. Let me help you. Please.
["Help" in the sense of "oh god that's a lot of blood and I hope I can get there in time," but Klaus doesn't need to know that.]
no subject
he might just be hallucinating it. ] And how could you possibly help me? [ spoken with challenge this time, an unmistakeable sort, considering he doesn't believe there's anything clayton could possibly do, and as such there must be motive behind the offer, said so conveniently with a compliment he might himself use to get what he wants. klaus' voice lowers, becomes icy and slick. ] Or more importantly: what's in it for you?
no subject
Well you said it yerself, didn't ya? "I'll kill 'em." [A beat, to add the appropriate weight.] Ain't nobody makes a threat like that without bein' ready few somebody t' accept it. An' if you got help t' follow through...then all a us get outta here quicker. I'd be willin' t' help turn them tables for ya.
@Engineering cw - Marie's canon has gross body horror stuff
Marie's face appears on the tablet. She's a tightly drawn bird of woman with deep rings around brown eyes. She looks harrowed, weathered and beaten down by circumstance, but her eyes are firm and steady. ]
My name is Marie Delacroix.
[ She intones it steadily. ]
hey, klaus' too
no, he's not short-sighted enough to mistake whatever is going on here for the enemies he faces back home.
he meets her gaze just as steadily, though weary he is. his voice might be a tad insincere. ] What a pleasure it is to meet you.
no subject
Isn't it, though.
[ Her tone is cooly mocking. ]
You've made quite a mess.
no subject
no subject
Always due to such thorough lack of control, I assume.
[ Her tone remains impassive. It had been her goal to interrupt his mayhem and perhaps talk him down into a more reasonable state, just because she now suspects he is... unpleasant hasn't changed that much. Such a scene in front of the others was not good for morale. ]
no subject
his father always did say his fatal, tragic flaw was impulse. the reminder brightens the rage in him. ] Funny. I don't remember inviting your criticism. [ there is no trace of humor by the end, merely the cold, promising fury he is so known for. ]
no subject
[ She responds bluntly. It is a war of interest in her, it would be to her benefit to talk him out of this ugly way of being, but she thinks success would be unlikely. He seems far too pleased with himself. ]
no subject
no subject
I am certain you will think of something.