Lt. Debra Fucking Morgan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dearlydeceived) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2013-05-19 10:23 pm
dearlydeceived) wrote in ataraxionlogs2013-05-19 10:23 pm
Entry tags:
( closed )
CHARACTERS: Debra and Dexter Morgan
LOCATION: Dexter's quarters
WARNINGS: Talking about murders! Dark gray morality! Screwed up sibling relationships! Probable mentions of childhood trauma! Oh, and all the spoilers for Dexter up to the first episode of s. 7.
SUMMARY: No matter how willing you are to stay in denial, sooner or later you can't. (Especially when certain people are making arts and crafts projects out of dead bodies.)
NOTES: Backdated to a few days after the jump.
Debra Morgan had a brother, and she loved him very much.
She's really not sure what she has now. Aside from, of course, a roll of knives, a couple of vials of a clear liquid she can't identify, a reticulated saw, a long leather apron, gloves, and a wooden box designed for holding bloodslides. They're lying scattered around her in Dexter's quarters, fruits of some pretty vigorous searching through his belongings. But it was all easier to find than she would've liked: the hidden compartment under his forensics kit might have fooled her if it that hadn't been the first thing she looked for and emptied out, and all the rest were easy enough to dig out after that. She knew his routine, and she'd been sure to give herself a couple of hours leeway time before slipping into his room (they both had access to each other's rooms. He was the only person with access to hers) and beginning to methodically turn it upside down. She hadn't needed even half that much time.
It's like one of those Magic Eye pictures that were big back in the 90s, she finds herself thinking as she sits alongside his bed, knees drawn up to her chest. They would look like just a big mess of ugly colors, a repeating pattern covering the whole page. You were told there was supposed to be a 3D picture hidden in it, and you'd focus and unfocus your eyes and bring it up to your nose and all the things the instructions told you, trying to see it, telling your brother it was a fucking hoax and to stop trying to give you advice or tell you how it worked, there was nothing there. And then you crossed or uncrossed your eyes right and there it was, popping out at you: the shape of a letter, or a number, or a heart. And you wondered why the fuck you hadn't been able to see it before.
She hugs her knees and waits.
LOCATION: Dexter's quarters
WARNINGS: Talking about murders! Dark gray morality! Screwed up sibling relationships! Probable mentions of childhood trauma! Oh, and all the spoilers for Dexter up to the first episode of s. 7.
SUMMARY: No matter how willing you are to stay in denial, sooner or later you can't. (Especially when certain people are making arts and crafts projects out of dead bodies.)
NOTES: Backdated to a few days after the jump.
Debra Morgan had a brother, and she loved him very much.
She's really not sure what she has now. Aside from, of course, a roll of knives, a couple of vials of a clear liquid she can't identify, a reticulated saw, a long leather apron, gloves, and a wooden box designed for holding bloodslides. They're lying scattered around her in Dexter's quarters, fruits of some pretty vigorous searching through his belongings. But it was all easier to find than she would've liked: the hidden compartment under his forensics kit might have fooled her if it that hadn't been the first thing she looked for and emptied out, and all the rest were easy enough to dig out after that. She knew his routine, and she'd been sure to give herself a couple of hours leeway time before slipping into his room (they both had access to each other's rooms. He was the only person with access to hers) and beginning to methodically turn it upside down. She hadn't needed even half that much time.
It's like one of those Magic Eye pictures that were big back in the 90s, she finds herself thinking as she sits alongside his bed, knees drawn up to her chest. They would look like just a big mess of ugly colors, a repeating pattern covering the whole page. You were told there was supposed to be a 3D picture hidden in it, and you'd focus and unfocus your eyes and bring it up to your nose and all the things the instructions told you, trying to see it, telling your brother it was a fucking hoax and to stop trying to give you advice or tell you how it worked, there was nothing there. And then you crossed or uncrossed your eyes right and there it was, popping out at you: the shape of a letter, or a number, or a heart. And you wondered why the fuck you hadn't been able to see it before.
She hugs her knees and waits.