Closed - Everybody wants to get evil tonight

[tolduimapsycho]

Who: Scratch and Zoey
Where: The Streets and Alleys of Haven
When: Late night, June 27th
What: Scratch is drunk and disconnected and looking for someone to blame.

CW: Aggression, stalking, drunkenness, violence, depersonalization. Will add as needed, Mister Scratch is a mess.



The last couple of days have sucked ASS.

Scratch is the envoy of the Darkness. He's the 'improved' Alan Wake, the harbinger, the urban legend. That's what he knows, what he has known for as long as he can recall. Generally speaking, that's all good with him. He enjoys what he is, enjoys what he does.

So getting cut off from the Darkness? It has him, against his will, wondering what that means for him exactly.

Everything feels a little brighter without that natural mantle of shadows, and it churns his stomach. Attempting to cut his losses, he opts to hole up in Pour Intentions for a while, knocking back enough that e won't remember what the problem is. He gets there, and as he walks in, he spots her. That little upstart. Sneering, he slips around a corner and into a secluded spot, out of her sight.

Wasn't she the one who asked him if he wanted to be his own person? His hands ball into fists on the table. Ordering a whole bottle of whiskey, he takes one shot, two, three. Brooding. Thinking it over. Forming...a plan.

He'd show her who he really is, all right.

At the end of the night, when Zoey leaves, he settles his check. Hours of shots in, he swaggers out the door and into the street, scanning the horizon until he sees where she's walking. If his powers are gone, so are hers. Good. He's careful as he follows her, biding his time, feeling the weight of his knife in his pocket.

Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise.

Comments

[pythianwoman]

That’s the complete opposite of what Zoey wants, actually. Knowing anything at ALL about him feels... like too much. Too intimate, too much like an invitation. Too... everything. Except she’s already SEEN, already EXPERIENCED a part of him that feels... voyeuristic. Intimate in a way that is unsettling. A memory that she will never be able to forget. A part of him that she won’t be able to forget. (A curse of her gift, she thinks, her memory, but she’s never been certain about that.) And she has already infuriated him, drawn his ire and attention and that is as much an invitation to him as anything else COULD be, she thinks. She won't be extricating herself from him any time soon.

She steps closer, pulling a clean handkerchief out of her pocket and holds it out to him, gazing up at him. “No, I don’t.” An amused smile flickers across her face. “Not that I think you’ll believe me.” Not that she cares if he believes her, either. But it’d make this walk to his home easier.

[tolduimapsycho]

Look. Scratch got more than he bargained for too, yeah? Trying to wash the taste of sympathy from his craw is gonna take a whole other bottle. For now, he's opting to pull back, let her usher him home, let her bleed out a while...but she won't be so lucky in the future.

He snatches the handkerchief from her with a little huff, dabbing it across his throat.

"No. I don't believe you at all." A lopsided grin. "...But it's this way."

And he leads, a little sobered by the interaction, but movements still swaying side-to-side.

[pythianwoman]

Yup, his not believing her isn’t a surprise at all, but the grin and the acquiescence IS, a little. She’d half expected them to go back and forth a while longer before he decided to let her walk him home the rest of the way. Drag it out. Next time, then. Because oh, she is CERTAIN there will be a next time. She doesn’t need her gift to see that.

Once again she reaches out and takes a fistful of his coat, to keep him on course a little and from taking out any more trash bins as he sways from side-to-side. Or faceplanting into a fucking brick wall. As amusing as that might be.

[tolduimapsycho]

Don't flatter yourself, Princess. He's not used to getting tired and it's starting to weigh on him a lil' bit. But there will DEFINITELY be a next time...and he's gonna make sure it goes according to plan.

When she grabs his coat, he glances back at her briefly, grinning with still-reddened teeth.

"Should have known you'd be into leashes."

[pythianwoman]

He can certainly try. But plans have a way of going awry, no matter how carefully you might try. Especially when you’ve been dropped down into a strange little corner of the multi!verse.

She looks pointedly down at where her hand grips his coat, and then back up at him... and she smirks, giving it a tug like before. Sharper, this time. “Who’s into leashes here?” she retorts, cheeky and brazen. Pretty sure you’re the one on the leash at the moment, Scratch. And yeah, she’s kind of enjoying it a little. But not for the reasons he thinks.

[tolduimapsycho]

ESPECIALLY when the powers that be have a wicked sense of humor.

She might regret that tug a little when he lets out a type of sound she definitely hadn't heard from Alan before, eyes blazing, cheeks going a little red under all that blood. "Guilty as charged." The words are practically a purr.

Not so far from the Cabin now. He's making the mind games count.

[pythianwoman]

Oh, there’s definitely a little regret there, and something else Zoey can’t put her finger on at the moment. That’s... not a sound she’s ever heard from Alan before. She’s... not entirely certain that’s even a sound in Alan’s repertoire. Nor does she ever plan on finding out. (Wouldn’t THAT be an awkward series of questions. That she could NEVER tell him the reason for.)

But she’s too stubborn to retreat, to back-peddle, and mind games beget mind games, particularly with this motherfucker; so she tugs on his coat once more, hard. Hard enough to yank him back against her. “Interesting. I’ll keep that in mind.” It’s a low, sultry murmur, pitched for him and him alone... before she’s shoving him away again.

Putting that ‘leash’ to good use.

[tolduimapsycho]

If Alan DOES have that sound in his repertoire it probably sucks anyway. >=|

When he yanks him back, he makes the sound again, but louder - dramatically taking a couple heaving breaths and looking back at her through his lashes. "...Mmm...please do."

Then he's getting shoved, and he stumbles forward a step or two before finding his feet and laughing. The laugh is as wicked as ever, but...maybe, just maybe, he's having a little bit of fun at this point.

[pythianwoman]

Such a fucking dramatic little shit, isn’t he. Heaving breaths and looking at her through his lashes. Bad as a goddamn romance novel cover. Of course, she never expected anything ELSE from him. She’s pretty sure he wouldn’t know the meaning of the word subtle if it came up and bit him. Scenery chewing pain in her backside that he is. “Something for you to think about until next time.”

She rolls her eyes at him, watching him stumble as she shoves him away in case she ACTUALLY needs to use the leash to keep him on his feet. But she doesn’t; he finds his footing and laughs. How’d she get stuck with him again? Oh right. She pissed him off and he followed her home. Metaphorically speaking. (Since he doesn’t actually know where she live. Thank FUCK.)

[tolduimapsycho]

"Oh, I will, Princess. I will."

He can't help it if he's just a lil' stinker that way. After all, he's only what people wanted Alan to be, right? And now you know that all too well, don't you, Zoey?

Satisfied with the teasing, he leads her further on, down a road working into the residential area of Haven. The night air is, at least, not so very oppressive...if it weren't for the attempted assault and murder it might even be kinda nice.

Yeah, really is a shame it wasn't a SUCCESSFUL assault and murder.

"'S this way. Almost there. Look for Cauldron Lake Street."

[pythianwoman]

She might have to give him something to think about for real, after this. Probably not the smartest idea she’s had, but she’s lost some blood now and it seems like a fun way to needle him. She just has to find somewhere that sells leashes.

Joy. Something to look forward to. Him trying to kill her when he has his powers back. Oh yeah, she is DEFINITELY strengthening the wards on her home after this. She wants to make sure she can keep him OUT. For as long as possible, anyway. She lets him lead her further on, towards wherever the hell it is he lives.

“Oh good. You remember where you live. I was beginning to wonder.” It’s spoken drily, a little sarcastic, a little deadpan, a little teasing. Cauldron Lake Street. Well that... sure is a street name. And she’s got a bad feeling that has nothing to do with the almost murder or the lack of powers. (Well maybe a little to do with the almost murder.) And everything to do with familiarity. She knows this area of Haven. All too well.

She lives near here.

FUCK.

Suddenly, her walking him home is a very good thing. She knows where he lives, now. Knows how close he is to her. Knows to be careful.

[tolduimapsycho]

"Yeah, well, having someone else's memories jammed into your head has a way of being sobering," he retorts without thinking. Then after a beat, the irony hits him and he heaves a heavy sigh, something more tired than anything. "Guess you know that, huh?"

Fortunately for her, he's oblivious to her realization, being without powers and having his back turned. They turn down a street with the name he had indicated - and there in the distance, a dark, imposing cabin is slowly coming into view.

Scratch is kind of...quiet.

[pythianwoman]

That’s maybe the most... surprising thing of all out of this whole evening, she thinks. He doesn’t know, of course. Doesn’t know that she has lived with experiencing that since she was almost seven years old. Not that it ever gets any easier. But it is a... familiar experience, at least. “Yeah,” she murmurs softly. Tiredly. “I do.”

When they finally turn onto Cauldron Lake Road and she sees a dark, imposing cabin sloooooowly coming into view... she’s not entirely surprised. She’s not sure where she pictured him living but a spooky cabin sure as hell was possible. But so was a streamlined flat with all the windows covered over with blackout curtains.

He’s quiet, though. That’s odd. Then again he’s not used to being human. Or drunk. So maybe it’s just that. Maybe.

It is... supremely eerie, the closer they get to it, and it reminds her of how he felt to her when they first met. But she doesn’t let go of his coat. She’s in this to the end. Once he’s safely ensconced in his home THEN she can leave.

And she’s probably going to regret it, going to regret even the slightest show of concern, but she does anyway. “You all right?” Not that she expects an answer.

[tolduimapsycho]

The closer they get, the nicer the Cabin actually looks from the outside. It would be cozy, if it weren't for the windows looming in solid black. There's seating on the porch, a cellar door, beautiful wood work. If it belonged to anyone else, it would maybe even be inviting.

When she asks after his well being, however, he stops walking. He doesn't look back, he just stands still a moment, thinking.

"...Why? Do you care?" It's not teasing. The words are flat.

[pythianwoman]

The architecture is nice. Still creepy, but it’s a nice building. But she’s still not planning on visiting regularly. Absolutely not. (That very well might end up being completely false, once she learns that Alan and his wife have moved in.)

She ought to know better. She really ought to know better. She has no doubt he’ll use it against her, later. A perceived ‘weakness’. But Zoey answers honestly all the same. Her hand loosens on his coat, instead resting pressed against his back. “Yeah. I do.” It’s the honest fucking truth. And she doubts that he’ll believe her. But the words are absolutely meant. As was her question.

[tolduimapsycho]

When she presses her hand to his back, she can feel his muscles tense under the suit - a far cry from the languid, leisurely stroll he had been cultivating. He still doesn't look back, his voice Alan's but not, but even more not than usual.

"...'m tired. Not used to that. Sucks."

He casts a sidelong glance over his shoulder.

"So no. Not okay. Maybe will be later."

[pythianwoman]

Somewhere Dorian is wanting to beat his head against a wall and doesn’t know why she thinks to herself. He would be BEYOND frustrated with her and her apparent inability to understand the meaning of the words self-preservation. Here she is, her hand pressed to the back of the man who had tried very hard to kill her, asking after his well-being. And who would be trying very hard to kill her in the future, no doubt.

He is tense under her hand, proving just how much his languid, leisurely stroll had been an act. Much like a lot of him, she thinks. Her hand stays there, on his back.

But he’s not used to being human. There, she has the advantage on him. There... she can help. If he’ll let her. “You’re going to want to eat something. And drink something. That’s not alcoholic. Water would be best, or Gatorade. Trust me. You’ll be in a world of pain tomorrow if you don’t.” A pause “And I know it sucks... but let yourself sleep. That will help, too. Won’t make anything more okay. But it’ll help.”

[tolduimapsycho]

Huh. He was expecting more mushy shit, honestly. The advice on literally being a human is a surprise, and he turns on his heel, expression confused, but...listening. Calm, for the moment.

"...Huh. Okay." A long moment of quiet. A nod, maybe the closest to a thank-you he can muster.

Then he turns back around, continuing to approach the swiftly-nearing Cabin.

[pythianwoman]

He turns on his heel and she half expects another stabbing attempt. But he doesn’t. He just… looks at her, expression confused. But listening. And calm. (whether or not that will last… well, she’ll take it for however long it does.) The quiet lingers after his words, and she just… nods back.

And then she falls into step with him, keeping pace as they approach his cabin.

[tolduimapsycho]

For a couple more minutes, he's silent - now that she's keeping his pace, she can see that his expression is...unsettlingly hollow. Maybe he's trying not to feel anything right now. Maybe he's failing at that.

Turning into the path up to the cabin, he draws a breath in, forcing the grin back on and twirling around, throwing up his arms.

"Here we are! Home away from Alan's home. It ain't much, but it's dark."

[pythianwoman]

She watches him thoughtfully, unable to miss how unsettlingly hollow his expression is. Given… everything, though, she thinks she can see how hard he’s trying to not feel anything. She’s not sure how much success he’s having, though. It’s… yeah.

It’s easy to see, now, the act and façade that he wears, especially as she watches him literally put it back on in front of her, forcing the grin back and twirling around and throwing up his arms. “It’s cozy,” she replies. Because it is. It’s also just creepy as HELL. “Let me guess. You nailed the curtains shut?” She doesn’t even need her gift to figure that out. He likes it dark. No way in hell is he going to risk sunlight peeking in. Not even a little.

[tolduimapsycho]

"Well, yeah. Of course I fucking did. We're in the desert with two fucking suns."

He snorts, trotting backwards towards the door. It's a good thing he's sobered a little bit, huh? But he doesn't fully disengage from Zoey, still keeping just close enough to be able to reverse course and be a threat.

"You got your attempted murderer home safe. You happy, Princess?"

[pythianwoman]

Two suns too many for a creature made of shadows and darkness the way he is. Still, it amuses the fuck out of her. And sort of makes her want to sneak in with a hammer and loosen a few nails. Keep him on his toes a little.

He trots backwards towards the door. Still close enough to be able to be a threat if the fancy strikes him. Of course. She doesn’t disengage either, though, following him up towards the door. Call it... making certain. And maybe she won’t turn down the chance to needle him a little more before she leaves.

“Oh, I’m thrilled,” she retorts with a smirk. Which, she’d done what she set out to do, get his ass home safely without dying for it and keeping anyone ELSE dying for it. So yeah, she actually is.

[tolduimapsycho]

"Well, great."

He stops on the porch, leaning on the front door in a languid fashion. Grin still wicked, he drums his fingers against the wood, watching his current companion with his usual predator-level intent.

"So. Guess this is it, huh? Unless you, uh...wanna come in."

He waggles his eyebrows, which is awful with blood still smeared all over his face and hands.

[pythianwoman]

He’s still watching her predatorily, and she’s watching him in return, the picture of insouciance. It’d be hard to miss the intent of his words, his... invitation, between the waggle of his eyebrow and the wickedness of his grin. She’d have to be thoroughly oblivious to miss it.

She smirks at him, closing the distance between them with a graceful saunter, taking each step up to the porch slowly and deliberately. And then just as deliberately stepping right into Scratch. Close enough for him to catch the now-familiar scent of her; something dark, and sultry, with a touch of petrichor, as well as something else that’s harder to put a finger on. A spark.

She rises up on tiptoe once more, until they’re almost close enough to kiss... “You wish,” she murmurs, breath warm against his lips. And then she’s turning to leave.