entrancelogs | [closed] if you must die, sweetheart,

Iris has been putting on a brave face for Clementine, but there really is no bullshitting this twelve-year-old.

Pardon the narrative's French.

Everything happened at once, and Iris felt like she had to be the one standing tall, like a tower as the surrounding edifices crumbled around her. Barry isn't healing as fast as she hoped that he would, and because he's a speedster, painkiller medicines only work for so long. They only work up to a point. He's been in pain, drifting in and out of consciousness, and Iris has been watching over him like a hawk, when she isn't watching over everyone else like one, too. She's been run ragged, and she can't remember the last time she slept.

Tip-toeing her way over to the door, she gives Clementine a wan smile, her voice barely a whisper. "Hey," she answers back, noting the goodies Clementine brings. And not for the first time. Iris opens the door wider, and: "I told you you didn't have to do that."

Damon does not want this moment to end in the same breath, same way he does not know how to keep it. He is not the same. He is pieces. He is hollowed out. He is a broken and torn out and remade example of the one she loves. He does not know how to get those hollowed out parts back for all the warmth it gives him now as she inches so close, as he feels her lips against his chest.

His fingers spear into the strands of her hair.

He does not want to reveal it but he doesn't want to deceive her either. He doesn't want her to never talk to him again.

"I had to check on you."

It's part apology, part reasoning.

Peter makes a face when she mentions him being kinkier, and then blinks abruptly in utter confusion at the 'better' training- Uh. Does she mean like with his fighting? Cause he's had none of that. This part of the conversation's going over his head. He's only ever had sex with Bonnie, and while that could get kinky, there's just- This is not. What.

His leg hurts like hell. He's pretty sure the bullet's still lodged in there. Last time he got shot it went straight through, but this time he's going to have to pull it out of the hole in his leg. He glances over at her, wondering just how much she's figured out about him. His life is fucked up back home. His life is kinda fucked up here, but that's not important.

Not nearly as important as tying her up.

"I'm not a hero." Peter has never claimed to be. He's railed against the idea. "I'm just a guy with some really sticky webbing, who's tying you up to keep you from going evil mirror on anybody else." He winces as he shifts off of one leg on to the next. "Is that the favor you're trying to extend to everyone on this side? Cause funny, you say, favor. I say, murder."

Edited 2017-05-24 05:05 (UTC)

Oh, dear. The poor guy doesn't get it, does he?

Her lips spread into a thin, predatory grin. "If you were even remotely attractive, I'd train you myself. Break you into someone who isn't a total waste."

She makes a sound of pity as he shifts his weight onto his injured leg, but the grin doesn't disappear. Does it hurt? Too bad. She regrets not shooting him more, and more accurately. She'll know better next time how fast he is.

"But you make the world a worse place just by existing, Peter. Because of you, your Uncle Ben is dead. Your aunt is miserable. You really think they're the only ones who suffer because of you?"

He hadn't been sure how it would be received. Damon was a wound spring at this point, and Regis could not be certain of whether or not their relationship had progressed to a point where the younger vampire would be comfortable with that kind of affection.

It seems, however, that his judgement had not been wrong. Damon calms down, grips his arm, and Regis begins to believe that they will be able to work together to find a way out of here after all. His own mirror is wily, they won't be able to trick him easily, but perhaps they can find someone on the other side who would be willing to see to Damon's.

"We certainly are. Now, who may be best equipped to assist us in that venture?"

Clementine has learned to be perceptive for bad reasons. She's learned to be perceptive so she can read people (and know who to blackmail and who to manipulate so she can survive, not that she thinks of it that way, but it's what happens.) It's nice to be perceptive for another reason, and she sees how it affects Iris though she's being strong and taking care of everyone else who is hurting now.

Iris is hurting, and that matters to Clementine. She matters to Clementine.

"I know." She lifts an eyebrow with a little smirk at Iris to indicate she's going to do it anyway. Clementine keeps her voice quiet.

She steps inside, setting the food on to the table and looking in Barry's direction with a frown before she turns back to Iris. "How's it going today?"

Now Peter gets it, and now he feels more than a little nauseous as she talks. He's never been more grateful for being unattractive to someone than he is in this moment, and it's clear from his expression he's uncomfortable. And nauseated.

He's about to find a sign to tack on over her head, which essentially says 'Bad Mirror. Leave her alone for your own good.' when she says the rest. There's only one way that anyone in other than a select few people would know about his uncle (Bonnie, Elena, he doesn't mention him if he can help it because it hurts), and he never told the full story to anyone. The only way-

The only way someone would know is if they read it, if they saw it on their screens, and isn't that always a fear deep down? They see it or read it, and they know the truth about him. He didn't act when he should have, and it's there for anyone to see at any time. The worst moment of his life-- the one he caused himself for the whole world to read and know.

He means to act rationally. He means to act like he should. Instead he reaches up and shoves her.

Hard.

She flies back, landing against the wall. There's a faint grunt as she hits, but then all signs that she might be in pain are gone as she looks up at him and smiles.

Because he's breaking.

Which means she's winning.

"Shoving a lady? What would your uncle say?" She pauses, looks as if she's considering it for a moment. "Right. That's a moot point now. I forgot."

She sighs dramatically. "We should probably change the subject, right? We can't always talk about how you got your uncle killed. What about who you're going to fail next? A friend? Someone you barely know? Someone you care about?" Her grin returns; she can't suppress it any longer.

The message lies underneath the words - who is Peter going to get killed next?

( Damon has grown from the person he used to be to who he is now. He used to be a reckless monster. Any time he got hurt, he'd hurt back. He'd lash out. He's grown since then. He's not that person anymore, but it doesn't mean he's any less susceptible to anger and violence and lashing out when the pieces fit together in the right order.

He threatened to rip his own mother's heart out and bronze it like a trophy for what she did to Elena, because it was her idea.

And Elena died. She died, and when she came back, she's been hurt. All of it, it's hurt her to be a sacrifice again, to lose her blood, to be targeted and feel responsible for all the hurt and deaths caused by Freya's mirror. It stays with her, and he sees how it does. He sees it in her eyes, in her expression, in the way she holds herself. How it makes her numb sometimes. He doesn't leave her at all until the mirrors are forced back where they belong, and then- then-

He can't sleep. He paces the floor with the useless anger built up in his chest, tangled and angry, and it's what has him finally leaving the room, searching for the one of the one's who is responsible for letting mirrors come over at all (he can't get his hands on Freya's mirror. He can't, but he needs- he needs to be understood). It's all over the network. It's the same scientist who knew he was a vampire before Damon ever talked to him. Scientists always trying to control magic, to understand, to use what can't be regardless of the fucking cost.

He's on the prowl. )

This time Peter thinks, because he gets what she's trying to do and he gets it's working. His hand shakes, but he closes the distance between them, firing a small web over her mouth and nose. It's not the first time he's done it. Before, he'd take his slow time to open holes where the webbing exists over the man's nose. He'd been searching for a certain tattoo, which would identify his uncle's killer (the one Peter let get away with it all, because he was angry and upset and irresponsible).

This time he's immediately taking off the top of the webbing so she can still breathe through her nose even if her mouth's now covered.

He hasn't had his mask on this entire time. Peter hasn't been able to hide behind the mask and the persona, to shrug it off like Spider-man would. To roll with it, to not be Peter.

Jemma died last Event, and Peter couldn't stop that.

And he'll find out Elena dies during this Event, and- and he didn't stop it either (and he wasn't with Bonnie when she died or able to stop it when Fitz did. He's losing track of people he's actually saved. There was one time he did and someone was pissed at him for it. He can't-). The words ring too true. They're worries he runs through his head over and over again. For all his trying, he can't do enough. He breathes out through his teeth, writes 'mirror' on a piece of paper and sticks it to the webbing, and then turns and leaves.

[Insomnia isn't a unique affliction. Since the incident, Fitz hasn't been able to handle his sense of responsibility. It's his fault that all of this has happened. He's been forgiven by his loved ones, but he shouldn't have been. None of them should be willing to give him the time of day. He's been an abomination. Every death should be on his shoulders.

There's no lab for him to visit as he rides his grief in waves. It's been destroyed, wiped from the mansion. In a week or so, it'll be as though it was never there in the first place.

This place is full of magic that cleanses. That's the point, isn't it? If they stay here for long enough, they'll be cleansed too. Wiped clean, without any memory of home. Without any understanding of escape. It hasn't been long since they'd glimpsed that future. Perhaps they'll be happier then.

He ponders this as he pours tea in the kitchen. Presently, he's tapping a spoon along the edge of his mug, frowning. Had he used two sugars or three? He'd gotten so lost in thought, it was hard to remember...]

That ought to be the end of it, but she isn't done with him, not yet.

As he leaves, she hums a taunting song.

In time, the webbing will fall away, and she'll renew her pursuits.

He should have killed her when he had the chance.

Elena's eyes open the rest of the way.

The words start to sink in, and as she processes the meaning behind them, the full weight of her consciousness emerges, and with it comes all her intuitive observations. It's not that this isn't still Damon in someway. She feels him all the time when they speak, but in many respects they're not the same. In just a minute alone, Elena can wade through some finer details to tell them apart.

She almost leaps out of the bed in an effort to straighten and back away.

This mirror's been nothing but kind to her. He's come to her when she is sad, and they discuss books. But after her experience with Freya, Elena's flight response is far greater, tinged with a certain degree of irrationality that doesn't feel irrational at all. But Mirrors were not created to be their friends, and Damon has warned her more than once his mirror might have underlying intentions. She can't not be scared.

"Please don't."

Edited 2017-05-25 15:48 (UTC)

Damon lets out another breath as he shakes his head at the question.

He has a limited number of people he trusts, and there are even fewer people who trust him. More than that, it doesn't seem likely anyone would trust something written on a mirror, and it was their only means of communicating with the other side.

"Not sure."

Maybe Caroline. Maybe Stefan. But even then, as far as he knows, Stefan doesn't remember anything- doesn't remember they were brothers to start with. "Your mirror's over there. What's he like?"

Is he dangerous? It's the underlying question.

( Damon is quiet as he enters the kitchen, taking a good look at the man from the side. Being a vampire, it means he's earned a certain level of stealth, which comes naturally to him. He still thinks of Elena being dead. He thinks of Elena's brokenness. He thinks of- of how this was allowed to happen to her again.

He thinks of a lot of things.

And he sees the bruising on Fitz, the injuries clearly already on Fitz who has been all over the network being guilty for what he has done and what it has led to. )

Who did that to your face?

[He doesn't notice that anyone else has visited until long after Damon's entered. He moves on to adding a splash of cream, giving it a thoughtful stir. When Damon speaks, it sends his heart up to his throat. He cringes and shrinks first, then straightens as an afterthought. He turns to face the stranger, but doesn't raise his eyes.]

Hello to you as well. [He doesn't recognize the voice, but that hasn't meant anything lately. When someone's had something to say, they've been coming to him instead of the other way around.]

Last week happened. [It's been his go-to summation of everything that's gone wrong. People don't need the details, even if that's what they keep insisting they want.]

Damon sits up too though it's less abruptly than she does.

He sits up on the bed, and he winces at her reaction though he can't blame her, can he? She was killed by a mirror. He is not her Damon. He is hollowed out pieces of what is left of him after a siren gets a hold of him. It didn't stop his need to come over.

It doesn't stop his wince as she tries to get away from him, as far away from him as she can.

He swallows thickly.

"I don't want to hurt you."

It's said quickly.

"I just needed-"

To see her. This doesn't happen often. They're not just allowed to come over, and- he needed to feel those sparks, those little streaks of light in person.

Was it a mirror or someone who actually suffered because of your choices?

( Damon says the words as he decreases the space between them. Already, Fitz is basically a whimpering, injured puppy at this point. His gaze darts over him half in frustration, because he knows he is not going to get the outlet he wanted here.

It doesn't stop him from speaking.

It doesn't stop him from pushing the issue because he has to, because his girl was dead (drained of blood in a bed) and his girl- his girl still hurts from it, and he has to act. He has to. )

[Oh. This is going to be one of those exchanges. Frankly, Fitz is surprised there haven't been more of these. Jemma is probably working herself ragged to keep the others at bay.]

It was one of the mirrors. She didn't approve of me trying to have them sent back.

[That's not the answer this man wants to hear. He's intimately aware of it.]

...But I'm sorry for your loss.

[There must have been a loss. So many people died...]

( Of course. Of course, it was one of the mirrors instead of someone who died, instead of someone who was hurt by a death, instead of- It was one of the mirrors having their way with him over something trivial and important like sending them all back where they came from. If he ever meets another mirror, he will kill them on sight.

He lets out a low growl, aware Fitz is already afraid, already ready for whatever he has to dish out, and Damon can't say it would be satisfying to dish out any violence on someone already so low, already so aware.

He doesn't give a damn about sorrys because sorry does not prevent Elena from dying. Sorrys do not prevent her from being used and broken like a thing again. Choices do not erase what she carries now, how it weighs on her, how it makes her afraid and alert and feel unsafe now in her own home.

Damon erases the distance between them until he's just a breath away from Fitz. )

Your choices got my girl killed.

And now she carries the guilt of every fucking thing that mirror did to get to her.

[But that's the rub of it. The mirrors are petty and ridiculous, but they still want things. They crave things. Their entire existence comes from want. There was a time when Fitz thought he could be sympathetic to them. That was before the last time. Before they'd killed him.

The man is suddenly too close. Fitz presses himself back against the counter as if that could possibly provide more room between them.]

I -- I know. And there's nothing I can say to change what's happened... [He trails off there, ineffectually. What could be gained by saying anything? He can't reach into the past and stop her from going through something horrific. There's nothing but this moment.]

( He's like some small whimpering puppy already kicked too many times, and Damon can't say there'd be any satisfaction in laying a hand on him now. Another growls escapes him. )

I'm Damon. ( Damon had stayed away before, afraid of Fitz, afraid of the science, afraid of what it would lead to like what happened with the Augustine though he would never admit to such fear. )

I know you already know who I am, and now you have a face to go with it.

( Damon got the sense he was already terrified of him long before Damon had any clue as to who the scientist was.

It's always scientists isn't it? Poking, prodding- tearing his eyes out with a scalpel and acting like the experiment was worth it. )

[And then, Damon gets real terror from him, as effectively as if he'd lay several hands on him. Fitz's eyes grow saucer-wide, and he clutches the counter behind him, knuckles white, as if it could provide some kind of security.]

Y-you're...

[It's Damon and Damon is here to do harm. He's come to use him as some kind of weapon against Klaus. Or maybe he'll do something to harm Peter for -- for whatever malicious little games evil vampires like to play with one another.

This is the side of things he didn't want to have to know.]

What do you want?

[ Damon has absolutely no idea what could have been said about him to elicit this sort of reaction. At the moment, it serves him for his own purposes. He hardly has to do more than to say his own name for Fitz to react as if he's the boogeyman himself.

It's funny coming from someone who makes friends with Klaus, but Damon is not here for any of that. He needs to make his point clear, and he'll use the fear already present to do so.

His face shifts into fangs, into veins, into his eyes becoming red around the center. his hands hook on to the counters on either side of Fitz's, and he leans in the rest of the way. If he wanted, he could sink his fangs in but he doesn't. For Damon Salvatore, this is remarkably controlled, but even he knows, all his violence is really aimed at everyone who has ever turned Elena into- who has reduced her to being a thing- being her blood.

And nothing else. ]

If anyone I love ever gets hurt because of one of your poor choices again, I will make certain you regret it.

[A whimper rises up in his throat, unbidden and unwelcome. But he swallows down the noises that would chase after it. His shoulders hunch up as if that could protect his neck that way. (do they even need that sort of access? Rebekah had used his arm when she'd fed from him) He fights against a tremor in his voice; now isn't the time for that.]

I already do. You can't possibly make it worse than it is.

[closed] if you must die, sweetheart,

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