Dream 1: Snip
Sep. 4th, 2011 07:42 am![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nightrayseweratDream effects: Melancholy leading up to euphoria, ending in calm, an almost satiated feeling.
Warnings: Gore in Vince’s thoughts, spoilers for recent PH chapters
The scissors feel lighter in his hands than they did as a child, though they have the same ornate handles, the same very sharp blades. He holds them more easily, fitting better in his palm, bounces them a little as he considers what he will cut with them, this time.
His eyes are slitted, nearly closed, and for a moment all that can be seen is darkness, but a rather textured darkness, not quite pure black, not quite still or unwavering. What is lacking in sight is made up for in sensation, as his fingers slip along the cool metal of one blade, and then brush against that textured curtain, revealing it to be course strands of hair that part under his fingertips almost reluctantly, clinging.
Then skin, warm and precious and thin, barely covering pulse and life and flow of blood, barely concealing everything that would flow out so easily. It’s so easy to trace the spine downward, to press fingers and the side of one wicked blade against the nape of the neck, to scrape with a nail as if considering what it would be like to cut.
"Vincent."
The voice is a warning, but it sounds as if it comes from far away, and it’s not in the voice of this person before him. It’s entirely the wrong voice, and Vincent frowns, as if something is broken by the wrongness of it, as if the fact that tone is indisctinct to the man himself destroys something.
"My apologies."
His own voice is wrong too, far too sincere, more sincere than it should ever be, open and revealing too much. The scissors are too light in his hand, lighter than when they first drew blood, lighter than when they pressed against eyeballs, squishing them deep into the sockets before they finally burst and crushed and became nothing but frail balloons spewing vile jellies. Lighter than when they rent flesh from flesh, failing to spill blood from corpses already cold.
They’re too light, and what he intends to cut with them is too light as well, the strands falling away so simply and without any real difficulty at all.
Snip.
Snip.
Snip.
Dark hair littering the ground around his feet, and he keeps his eyes on the back of the boy’s neck, fixed on a collar that’s slightly crooked, half turned-up, messy. Messy like the hair that is clinging to Vincent’s shoes, messy like the turmoil of thoughts swirling in Vincent’s mind as he gets closer and closer to his goal.
Then there’s that second, that last moment where he steps around before the young man, where he snip-snip-snips those last few times and then he’s reaching one gloved hand out, he’s parting those last few strands in order to find...
Vision becomes nothing but a blur of brilliant white, and there’s a clatter as the scissors hit the ground. Did they fall? Or did his hands simply float away from them, light as he is light now, as if the weight gone were from his own head, not someone else’s. Light, everywhere, and a smile touching his own lips as he speaks, finally.
"There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Master."
Warnings: Gore in Vince’s thoughts, spoilers for recent PH chapters
The scissors feel lighter in his hands than they did as a child, though they have the same ornate handles, the same very sharp blades. He holds them more easily, fitting better in his palm, bounces them a little as he considers what he will cut with them, this time.
His eyes are slitted, nearly closed, and for a moment all that can be seen is darkness, but a rather textured darkness, not quite pure black, not quite still or unwavering. What is lacking in sight is made up for in sensation, as his fingers slip along the cool metal of one blade, and then brush against that textured curtain, revealing it to be course strands of hair that part under his fingertips almost reluctantly, clinging.
Then skin, warm and precious and thin, barely covering pulse and life and flow of blood, barely concealing everything that would flow out so easily. It’s so easy to trace the spine downward, to press fingers and the side of one wicked blade against the nape of the neck, to scrape with a nail as if considering what it would be like to cut.
"Vincent."
The voice is a warning, but it sounds as if it comes from far away, and it’s not in the voice of this person before him. It’s entirely the wrong voice, and Vincent frowns, as if something is broken by the wrongness of it, as if the fact that tone is indisctinct to the man himself destroys something.
"My apologies."
His own voice is wrong too, far too sincere, more sincere than it should ever be, open and revealing too much. The scissors are too light in his hand, lighter than when they first drew blood, lighter than when they pressed against eyeballs, squishing them deep into the sockets before they finally burst and crushed and became nothing but frail balloons spewing vile jellies. Lighter than when they rent flesh from flesh, failing to spill blood from corpses already cold.
They’re too light, and what he intends to cut with them is too light as well, the strands falling away so simply and without any real difficulty at all.
Snip.
Snip.
Snip.
Dark hair littering the ground around his feet, and he keeps his eyes on the back of the boy’s neck, fixed on a collar that’s slightly crooked, half turned-up, messy. Messy like the hair that is clinging to Vincent’s shoes, messy like the turmoil of thoughts swirling in Vincent’s mind as he gets closer and closer to his goal.
Then there’s that second, that last moment where he steps around before the young man, where he snip-snip-snips those last few times and then he’s reaching one gloved hand out, he’s parting those last few strands in order to find...
Vision becomes nothing but a blur of brilliant white, and there’s a clatter as the scissors hit the ground. Did they fall? Or did his hands simply float away from them, light as he is light now, as if the weight gone were from his own head, not someone else’s. Light, everywhere, and a smile touching his own lips as he speaks, finally.
"There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Master."
![[identity profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 01:01 pm (UTC)He tries to pinpoint the voice, that one name it spoke, but he's unsure what to make of it. But most importantly, what makes him the most uncomfortable is the hair. Messy, long, black, standing out everywhere, eerily familiar.
The kind of hair that crowns his very own head.
But why... Why would Vincent be cutting his hair? And it can't be him Vincent is calling master, can it? No, that's simply... not possible. Right? Why would Vincent ever put himself in that position?
Why would he ever let anyone cut his hair, even more so Vincent?
But then why does that idea fit scarily well with Vincent's reaction when he greeted him?
Why, why, why?]
...master Vincent?
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 01:10 pm (UTC)He needs to just tell Leo everything, and yet he can't, can he? Because with Elliot here, with Elliot living and breathing here, even if it doesn't mean anything at all in the grand scheme of things... Leo isn't that person.
Even though the same soul resides within him.]
Yes, Leo?
[The look on Vincent's face is nothing short of dangerous, really.]
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 01:19 pm (UTC)Even if the truth frightens him like hell, even if asking in the first place takes every ounce of courage.]
That...
[First of all:]
Did that happen? Back home?
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 01:22 pm (UTC)Doesn't matter, except that he needs to move forward, somehow. He'll go mad if he doesn't.]
Are you sure you want to know?
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 01:56 pm (UTC)[That just makes him even more worried, more scared. He feels like anything else is just going to get stuck in his throat and never come out because he doesn't want to say that yes, yes he does.
But that just makes him need to know even more. Just what happened?]
Yes.
[He wishes his voice sounded a little more sure, less quiet.]
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 01:59 pm (UTC)[It's an easy enough answer, really, just parroting the same word back to the boy.]
Yes, my Lord, that is what happened.
[There's no mockery at all in his tone, for once. A longing, even, perhaps.]
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 02:06 pm (UTC)[How did that.
How would that happen? It couldn't be... Vincent is a Pandora member, isn't he? So if it's connected to the voices... to Glen-- But why would Vincent make someone like him his "master" if it wasn't for a specific reason?
He has pieces but no clue how to connect them. And... this is his best bet right now.]
Do you know anything about me?
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 02:14 pm (UTC)[Vincent is smiling as he says the words, his expression quite amused, a little cruel as well, perhaps.]
Do you believe I would follow someone I knew nothing about?
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 02:22 pm (UTC)Tell me.
Everything.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 06:29 pm (UTC)[It's a test, you see? And he doesn't think you're going to pass it.
With Elliot there, you're not his Leo.]
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 06:32 pm (UTC)[Don't test him. He can't deal with this he can't hecan't--]
Why not?
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 06:33 pm (UTC)[It's not just a childish taunt, it's the real reason.
Leo isn't really of any use to Vincent, like this. And Vincent has to figure out how to make him so.]
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 06:36 pm (UTC)If you know something, I need to know, master Vincent. No one else does.
[And he's scared that it's so unknown. Don't make him do anything drastic.]
no subject
Date: 2011-09-04 06:40 pm (UTC)[He's not going to make this easy, at all.]
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2011-09-05 05:25 am (UTC)Seeing him made Noel feel uneasy. Uneasy like whenever Jin was present... She's reasonably quite hesitant about contacting this person.
But... It should be sooner than later. Knowing which world he hailed from, and how much value Ada put on this man... He was probably living under the same roof as Noel. She needed to see if she really had to keep her guard up or not. Taking a few deep breaths first, she attempts to maintain her composure as she places a call.]
So... You're Vincent. I... I didn't expect we would officially meet so soon. My sincerest apologies for accidentally viewing your dream.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 10:19 pm (UTC)[It's obvious as he speaks that he doesn't think that at all, of course. And he's wearing a smile the whole time he speaks, but he's also wondering who this person is, how much they know about him.]
I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, though, since I don't know your name.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 03:09 am (UTC)Oh, um...! Y-Yes, please excuse me for my rudeness. I'm Noel Vermillion, and though I come from a different world, I live with Miss Ada and the others. P-Pleased to meet your acquaintance. [... She thinks. Despite the smile he gives, Noel can't help but be (unsure) about this whole situation. Polite as ever, she give a slight nod in place of a bow.]
no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 08:48 pm (UTC)[Now he's definitely curious, and his eyes narrow a little.]
Well, that just won't do. We can't be complete strangers and live together. Surely you and I should get to know each other, shouldn't we?
no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 10:24 pm (UTC)I... suppose that's for the best, s-since we'll inevitably be encountering each other often. Plus, I'm sure Miss Ada would have wanted to introduce you to me, regardless...
no subject
Date: 2011-09-07 10:31 pm (UTC)[The curiosity gets dialed up a little here. He really wants to know how this person fits in, and why exactly they live here.]
Are you close friends with my dear Miss Ada then? I feel so out of touch with her life here, so I would love to meet everyone she is close to.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-08 07:24 am (UTC)Well, I guess we are pretty good friends... Even if her hobbies scare me sometimes. [For a brief moment, Noel turns slightly oale as she recalls Ada's fascination with the occult. As if her traumatized mind refused for her to stroll down that subject, she carelessly steers herself toward another subject:] Though, I've known Elliot much longer..
no subject
Date: 2011-09-09 02:21 pm (UTC)[He leans in, definitely more interested now. Ada was one thing, but Elliot...]
So, you claim friendship with both my-
[No, he can't make himself say the word, no matter what Ada has told everyone.]
With Ada. And with my brother. Obviously you and I should become good friends as well, don't you think?
1/2
Date: 2011-09-10 04:18 am (UTC)2/2
Date: 2011-09-10 04:22 am (UTC)I... I suppose it would be nice if we weren't strangers to each other...
Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-09-17 12:43 am (UTC)[He's quite pleased by this, it sounds like.]
We'll get to know each other, you and I. Once I get settled in. I look forward to it.
[Not creepy at all, really. Look at this nice smile.]