ataraxionlogs | [closed....ish]

[Nill has never considered having children. All things considered, she was pretty sure she wasn't able to. She had never really found out if Granny Liza was actually the biological mother of those other genetic mixups or if she had simply adopted them all. But watching a child that felt like hers be stolen and otherwise mistreated hurts her on a level she can't describe.

Nill runs, as she has done many times this month, trying to find a place to hide until the headache pounding in her temples dissipates.]

[ Angel's on security duty - or maybe he's just on his own version of security duty because he wants to be, because it's a damn good excuse for trying to feel anything other than small.

It's how memories that weren't his own left him feeling, flickering behind his eyes with an uncontrolled terror. It's a memory that's hard enough to pin down and has a bad taste lingering in the back of his throat, and he's already been thinking about it for too long when someone too small to bowl him over nearly does so anyway. ]

Hey- You okay? [ And somehow this is familiar in its own way, and he finds himself staring a little too hard at the small girl, seemingly intent on trying to disappear. ]

[She doesn't mean to run into him. She had begun to feel the tickle at the back of her nose that meant another nosebleed was coming on, and her misery at having to deal with it again had made her stop paying attention to her surroundings. But once she hits him, it's like running into a brick wall. Nill isn't strong, and her bird DNA has made her a little more delicate than a normal person. But nothing is broken, perhaps only bruised.

When she looks up, she sees a man that seems familiar staring down at her and her first instinct is to run again. Except her head feels... better now, and she pauses with only a slight shift backwards. All Nill can do is stare back for a few moments, familiarity bubbling up, though she cannot say exactly why. Her wings flick behind her, and she reaches up to rub at her head, even though the pain is almost gone, now.

She steps forward, head tilted.]

[ It's a strange thing to watch her fascination and confusion tying together all at once. Especially after she looked like she would bolt all over again; not an unsurprising reaction to running into him. She's less than have his size it seems, looks like she could break apart if she were to sneeze. Angel doesn't even know what to say considering she doesn't, so he just watches.

It takes Angel nearly as long to figure out as it takes her to, that he's felt better than he has in hours, and considering the way she's looking at him, she might be having the same predicament. It's only when she steps forward that he smiles, trying to be comforting. ]

Think i'm the one that's been getting your memories. Want to stick with me for awhile, stop running?

[Nill takes a moment to consider the offer. He's probably right, to be honest. Something about him definitely makes her feel better, and there's a sense of familiarity coming from him that she can't quite place. With a ruffle of feathers she's nodding, squaring her shoulders a little. This will be okay. If she gets into trouble, she can call for Heine on her communicator. But something tells her that she'll be alright with him.]

[ Angel waits patiently, tipping his head slightly as if expecting some profound answer. But he doesn't get one, only more silence and a small nod, her wings fluttering in a way that almost distracts him for a moment. And really? He can't help but not mind in the slightest - Fred only ever offered non-existent words somewhat like this at the beginning, and patience in the midst of someone's terror is something he's grown used to. Adapting to the circumstances, he's not even sure if he should touch her or guide her helpfully along, sticking his hands in the pocket of his coat instead. ]

Any idea where you want to go? [ It's not a yes or no question, but she can still point in a direction. Any direction. And they can go from there. ]

[After a brief consideration, she points in the general direction of the kitchens. It was either there or the gardens. But at least in the kitchen she could make some hot food--not that she doesn't enjoy the freshness of the produce in the gardens, but warmth is more appealing at the moment.]

Abby can count on one hand the number of times she's bitten a child. It isn't something she's every taken pride in doing and, not counting the very last time it happened - when she lost control after he was already injured and bleeding in front of her - she's never done so of her own free will. So when she wakes up to memories of attacking not one, but two, children (as well as their mother) she knows what others on the ship have been talking about must be happening to her.

Of course knowing what's going on does very little to help. If anything, it makes it worse because, if it's true and she's seeing what someone else went through, that means there's someone on board who has a history of taking great pleasure in harming children.

In a way, Abby feels torn. On one hand, she wants nothing more than to simply ignore what she's seen. She doesn't want to know who owns the memories. She doesn't want to see them, doesn't want to learn their name, and definitely doesn't want to hear whatever convoluted reasons they might have for raping and murdering a mother, killing an infant, and infecting a young girl. She doesn't care who the darkly laughing, clearly wicked blond woman is who is helping, either, and is mostly grateful she's about ninety-nine percent sure she isn't on the ship, too.

Yet, at the same time, Abby knows she can't just let this monster walk free. Whoever he is, he's clearly a threat to everyone else on board and he needs to be dealt with. And while she knows she can always seek out security and try alerting them to the threat, she also knows that they might not take her seriously. Or, even worse, they might confront the guy and wind up hurt themselves.

So really, her choice is already made for her. She needs to find who he is and needs to confront him personally. She isn't sure how old he is - the memories are, she believes, from sometime in the 1700's but she can't be sure - and she frankly doesn't care. If he's more powerful, he might win if they fight, but it's a risk she's willing to take. There are children on board the ship, after all, and she can't sit idly by while they're possibly hurt. She just can't.

The only problem is, trying to track down a nameless, faceless being on such a large ship is easier said than done. So Abby goes about it the only way she knows how - she starts searching one floor at a time and hopes against hope that her own instincts will tell her when she's close.

Four hours, and an untold number of casual encounters amounting to much of nothing, later and Abby is about to give up on her admittedly pretty awful plan. She's irritated, her stomach is still in knots as the memories continue to bounce around inside of her head and, to make matters even worse, she has a headache of all things. Not to mention, she's becoming hungry.

Deciding to go to medical and get some blood and figure out her next move afterward, Abby makes her way back to the lift. She only passingly notices the man already standing there... until the doors shut behind her. Once they're alone, with nothing else to serve as a distraction, the reality of the situation asserts itself and Abby knows, knows, that this is the vampire she's been looking for.

A very dangerous, very evil, extremely terrifying vampire that she's now effectively trapped with while she's half-starved and isn't sure if she can even take him in a fight.

Yeah, that sounds about right. Why she thought she'd come across him in some other, not completely ridiculously dangerous, situation she doesn't know. Her luck is never that good.

Edited (edited because omg your reply does not have to be as long as this and also, if you'd rather action tags than prose ones i'm cool with that too!) 2013-10-24 06:22 (UTC)

It wasn't the first time over the past few weeks that Angel had considered exactly what memories he had to pass along. What parts of his mind would be dissected, passed over between fingers and pulled apart until his actions could be measured to create the sum of who he is now, and everything that he once was. There was too many to count, too many seconds to try and capture before someone else managed to find their hands stained in blood that had never been theirs to spill.

To be given a person's life by way of memories strung poorly together, glimpses of a past that was never meant to be experienced by anyone else - it was cruel. Ridiculous, considering everything Angelus had once done was cruel, to put it lightly. But least of all did Angel want anyone receiving memories seen through eyes that he hardly belonged to anymore, through a filter doused in blood and the screams of every woman and child he stole them from. No one would be experiencing his acts through a mind that viewed them as wrong, and as much as Angel wrung his hands about the affect that might have on another person on board, he couldn't lie about the fact that it was hardly how he wanted to be seen. And yet it was exactly how he should be.

It was a fact that became that much more apparent this time around. He was more than concerned (not for himself) about the memories he was receiving, like the harsh flickers of light from behind drapery, slicing across shadows and leaving cracks in its wake. A life that almost utterly opposed his own - someone who spent far too many years under the rule of someone like him. It was a problem almost immediately, Angel knew it was, someone connected to him through a past that drew centuries back through the sand. Not only that, but a past haunted by someone who took everything you had, everything you were and made it their own. Except in his 'companion's' memories, she was the one who'd been stolen.

Angelus had always been the one doing the taking. No matter the cost- the cost, in fact, was always the best part.

Someone was going to be incredibly, deservedly, furious with him. Or maybe avoid him at all costs, he wasn't entirely sure. But having hundreds of years to form opinions, to grow strong and find strength inside of your own independence likely meant he was going to be on the wrong end of someone's repressed daddy issues. Something he also wasn't entirely foreign to, considering how many of those he'd caused to grow inside of others, and something he could only blame himself for. He'd done this, and like throwing a stone into a pond, the ripples could only be seen as his fault. The insanity caused in those around him - he played a part, no matter how far the distance. Even if she wasn't from his universe, he still had far too much to answer for.

Heading from floor to floor, checking common areas and for kerfuffle's in the halls, Angel at least has security duty to keep his thoughts from staying into dangerous territory. It keeps him preoccupied, busy to a certain extent, and forces Angel into something other than utter seclusion. It does, however, put him straight into the line of fire, a moment he realizes as soon as a much younger looking vampire steps onto the lift with him.

It's obvious after only a second -- two seconds and it's agonizingly clear exactly who she is, and why he can't stay silent, staring into the lift doors and hoping they'll peel themselves back to reveal an exit.

"You can just say it." It's a piss poor introduction and Angel knows it, but he might as well make it seem as if he's aware of what's going on. Trying to side step the issue will only dig him in deeper, and he glances over slowly, making fast moves entirely out of the question.

Abby stares at him for several moments after he speaks. She's stuck between struggling to keep her temper in check, not to fly off the handle and attack him for what she's seen, and the overwhelming feeling of being trapped, afraid, and wanting nothing more than to get as far away from him as she can manage. It's as though she's stuck between flight or fight and has no choice but to, instead, try to discuss things in a civilized manner.

It won't end well. She already knows that much. She isn't civilized. Neither is he. They're monsters. Civility disappeared along with what made them human. But even if she knows this is likely going to go bad, quickly, she's going to try.

Hands clenched into fists as her sides, she keeps her wary-filled gaze directly on him and tries to force words past the sudden thickness in her throat.

"Holtz."

It's the one name that she was able to pluck from his memories. The last name of the little girl that he infected, and her family members that he slaughtered. She doesn't say anything more but instead just waits, unflinching, for his reaction.

Edited 2013-10-30 04:08 (UTC)

Angel stays exactly where he is, doesn't move, doesn't even think about moving. He's fully aware of the fact that she seems fully sprung, as if seconds away from leaping and tearing every piece of him into... littler pieces. Which is exactly why he does everything he can to seem non-threatening; which is exactly what Angelus would do in this situation.

He can't make any of it better; he can't make himself into a being that's any better than who he ever was. But as long as he's not the one to make the first move, he's fairly sure that should count for nothing.

Until that name is spoken aloud. He freezes, jaw tightening- if he had a heart, it would be left pounding in the back of his throat because the name does nothing but swell rage into his chest. And loss, a feeling that he lost everything while simultaneously taking it all. It was deserved, but his son never deserved the abuse - it should have been Angel who took the punishment. Not a child barely able to keep its head upright. He'd become a father, and the universe had reminded him of the simple fact that his child was a freak of nature. A child that shouldn't even exist.

"What part did you see? Everything?"

He tries to ask as calmly as he can, looking at her without doing anything but leaning back against the back wall of the lift.

Abby gives a shake of her head because she knows she hasn't seen all of it. It goes deeper than what she's glimpsed, further than she can hope to understand. His reaction, too, tells her that there's something she's missing. Something big. The tightening of his jaw, how still he goes, it's all indicative to anger when he has no right to be angry over what she saw.

But she doesn't care. It doesn't matter what revenge has been heaped upon him in return. She doesn't give a damn about any retribution he's faced, it still isn't enough. Not for the things he's done.

"The girl wasn't much younger than I look," she finally manages.

Abby doesn't have the girl's first name. She can look, see if the mother screamed it while she was attacked, but she's trying very hard to keep the memories out. Idly, she wishes she had the need to breathe. It'd give her something to focus on.

Instead she turns things back on him, because this whole exchange goes two ways. There's a wariness about her but for an entirely different reason now. She doesn't like people knowing things about her.

"What about you? What did you see?"

Sadly, that's not much of a clue as to what the hell she actually saw. Angel wants to say that, some part of him says that he needs to say it -- he doesn't know a nameless girl, can't pick one out from all the rest. It could be his sister for all he knows, and that's one step further past anything he could possibly want to share. And yet... he doesn't deserve his own silence when it comes to the lives of those he took -- it's not his right to take that away from them. To take away their acknowledgement; the things he stole. And yet he can't, not like this. Not in a space where there's nothing but misunderstanding, and Angel can feel his own memories pulling away like threads.

He would have shared; he does share. He does. He just can't like this. In a trapped space, where neither of them have room to run? It's only asking for a fight, and he can't help but think that one of them would end up dead because of it.

And then there's the other half of the question, the one that sends him staring off in a different direction, because it's just as much not his place to share other peoples lives. Or hold their memories in storage in the back of his own mind. But he didn't steal them. They're just there. Even if it'll look exactly like they're tarnished because he's the one holding them in his palms.

"Your sire. His manor. Everything."

All things that maybe, he deserved to see. He deserved to feel. Though they're not even close to his right to possess.

Abby doesn't know what she's expecting him to say but that definitely isn't it. Her stomach drops sharply at his words and, for the briefest of instants, there's a truly terrified gleam in her eyes. It's gone as quickly as it appears, though, and she quickly schools her expression back into a more neutral one.

"Oh."

She's still angry with him for the things she's seen. She's still disgusted by how much his behavior in those memories reminds her of things her own sire did to her. She doesn't like him even though she doesn't really know him and she wants to be furious at him for seeing a part of her that not one single person knows exists. But she also knows it isn't his fault. He didn't pick what memories of hers to view and even though it might feel good, blaming him isn't going to solve anything.

So instead she turns her attention back to his memories. As selfish as it sounds, even inside her own head, she's much more willing to dwell on the things he's done than discuss the ones that were done to her.

"The blonde that helped you attack Holtz' family. Who was she?"

[Eric hates this. He's been over this for centuries now, this constant hunger that he keeps feeling in flashes, despite the fact that Eric keeps himself pleasantly well-fed and has done for as long as he can remember. That coupled with the random flashes of self-loathing, it's enough to actually drag him out into the ship to look for whoever the hell this is that's making him put up with all of these stupidly conflicting emotions. It's like being in Bill Compton's head, and as far as he was concerned Bill Compton is an idiot.

Angel, they said his name was, when Eric goes looking for someone who meets the description of the person he's remembering "being". What the hell kind of a name is that, he mutters to himself, as he stalks down the hall, angry at the headache forming from the fact that it's taking him as long as it is to find him.]

[ For once? It's nice to not think about being hungry; to not have to devote every other second to the wandering thought of food, of which there is none on board. If the blood situation was different, maybe he'd feel a little better, but he can't fix the problem, and so it stays. Not that he thinks the feeling will last, considering it's come about with its own new flashes of memories.

That make the whole not being hungry thing nowhere near as much of a perk.

As if he needed more issues with his own sire. It was enough to make him want to put a fist through the wall -- someone else's memories of their sire, of being sent away, was more than enough to send his own feelings welling up into the back of his throat. Why did it always have to be about family. Darla was something of the past in more ways than one, and he didn't need anyone else's conflicting familial feelings being injected into his own. Being sired was a nasty business and there wasn't room for someone else's feelings on the matter. It marred his concentration until he realized he wasn't even paying attention to his rounds anymore.

Or to the fact that there was a rather obviously distressed vampire heading his way. A sigh, and Angel's fully aware of what's about to transpire. ] This should be fun. [ Understatement of the past few centuries. ]

[Finally, Eric locates the person he's looking for. He doesn't have to have seen him before to be able to recognize him, it's there in the way that the other's looking less than happy to see him. Eric crosses his arms across his chest and regards the other vampire levelly.]

You do realize the irony of being a vampire called Angel, don't you? [God he really hopes so.]

[ it's not hard to pick angel out from the memories, once she sorts through them. ]

So. Still wanna talk about it?

[ it's meant to be her usual barbed teasing, but instead it's half an honest question. if anyway stands to get the shit going on in her head, it's angel. always has been. ]

Not really.

[ it's an easy response, since he's so far past coping with this, that he can't keep any of it straight. combined with the fact that smiley went on about his son, whose clothes showed up last month, he hasn't quite been the same. desperation is a terrible thing, and sometimes angel remembers he wants family more than anything else. ]

Don't know why I tried to begin with.

I mean, hate to ring the 'told you so' bell, but uh... told you so.

[ it's a joke, though, and she sighs before hipchecking out of the doorway to his room so she can enter herself. ]

Yo, Miss Manners. Move. [ sharing this much with people sucks, but she's already been in his head and he knows everything in hers. could be a worse deal. ] So. Gonna hold my hand, big guy? Might even let you cop a little feel if you're lucky.

[ angel would laugh if it was funnier, but he knows she's half serious in a weird kind of way and he's not going there. because he's not going there with anyone, not anymore. it's twisted and after he shifts to make room, he gives her a look that's all too bemused. ]

I think i'll keep my luck exactly where it is, thanks. [ the kind of luck that's only been bad lately, but he holds his hand out because otherwise this'll be torture. he's not even interested in trying to cuddle, trying to make this comfortable and comforting and safe because he doesn't know how right now. it's not getting any better, and he can't fix the things that've all become so incredibly wrong. ]

And whether or not you told me so, I still can't believe that i've gotten off scott free. Doesn't matter what anyone knows, thinks they know- I haven't scared anyone off. But there isn't anything else to talk about. You know that.

[ it's probably fucked up to keep hitting on a guy who is never gonna go for it, especially after you've rounded a few bases together— but angel's a self-denial champ, and if he's ignoring the true love shit he's definitely not going in for less. so she sidles up to actually offering, he acts like it's not going on, everybody's tucked nice and tight in their safe zones. ]

Dude, you looked around lately? Your luck sucks. [ she laughs, low and husky and grabs his hand with an ease that's only borne out of beating the shit out of each other a few thousand times. ]

I didn't ask to talk, just saying— could be the vampire's protesting a little much, maybe.

[ angel sometimes wishes... he doesn't know what he wishes about, actually. because he tries not to. he tries not to think about much of anything when it comes to physical contact so this whole thing has been vaguely horrible in the sense that even touching others makes him feel foul inside. like he's breaking a carnal rule against humanity. doing wrong by not knowing how to do at all.

angel just shrugs at the comment, well aware that he can't do anything about his 'luck', and let's her take his hand without complaint. it's easy that way. he doesn't have to think about it. ]

The vampire isn't protesting, the vampire's telling the truth. [ protesting. fine. FINE. ] ... You're the one who thinks i'm going to give you emotional cooties if I say anything.

See? Told you. [ she yanks on his arm triumphantly, swinging it a little like a five year old just because she can, and because whatever's going on in angel's head echoes dimly down the link, feels a little too much like her own self-disgust to let it be. ] And I said already. You're my exception, all right? I mean, if you try and hug it out I'm gonna have to laugh at you, but you gotta admit that's fair.

[ she pauses, then sighs at picks at a ragged cuticle on her free hand with a fingernail. ] I'm never gonna be great at talking feelings, but it's not like you didn't stop a couple suicide runs in their tracks. Couple feelings chats isn't exactly above and beyond after that shit, you know?

[closed....ish]

STAGE TWO (OCT 11 - OCT 24)

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ajdkfls; my apologies for how late this is!

my apologies right back at ya

perfectly fine! take as long as you need

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Re: STAGE TWO (OCT 11 - OCT 24)

SHUSH I LOVE TLDRING

Re: SHUSH I LOVE TLDRING

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STAGE THREE (OCT 25 - NOV 7)

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sorry that this is a million years late >>

THE SIXTH WHAT NOW dates aw yeah

DATES EVERYWHERE!

dateapalooza!!!!!!!!

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the closest i have ever come to shipping it ihu

DON'T EVEN SAY THAT you're going to cause problems ajskl;fda

ME THIS IS ON YOU GOOD SIR