Impulsive

eafoot-blog

Sylar’s jaw tightened as he listened. It wasn’t overly surprising to hear. “You’re on the right track,” he allowed with a nod, then turned in the direction of the nearest parking lot. “Hurry up, if you’re coming,” he barked the command without turning back. He could offer her protection if that was what she wanted. Or he would killer, and she would be defenseless against him. Options. Sylar enjoyed the power such a choice implied. What her previous owners must have done– to lead her into such a deal.

#{ oh man no worries }#{ like you're so canon its ridiculous }#eafoot #;91 #q

She figured it probably had angered him or something or maybe he was used to it. He was one of those on the top wanted. Serial killer, gaining more powers by the day- they were afraid of him and yet they so desperately wanted him. He could take care of himself but she couldn’t- even if she should have been scared. Still she followed after him, hurried steps meeting up with him as she strove to keep his pace. “Am I allowed to ask where you’re going?’ She questioned, but maybe she shouldn’t have spoken at all.

weaponslover

SOG Seal Team Elite (one great knife) and Sig Sauer Model 226 in .40 Cal.

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We're Breaking

The question struck him. It sounded both childish and morbid. Dying was something that had to be gotten used to by someone like him. It was like hitting reset expect you did remember it. It was dark and then it wasn’t. It was, there seemed to be something missing, a lot of things missing from this picture he was making. But he couldn’t exactly piece it all together.

He reverted back to her question. Better to keep things as they were. Better to not try and pry out everything he was, what he knew himself still to be under the steel layers his dad had so expertly crafted with the hands of Dr. Suresh. He knew who he was. And yet here he was, sitting here in this hotel room on a mission for Pinehearst.

91 had almost died. Or had she died? Could have been able to tell the difference. Could the healing factor in the blood bring someone back. He looked down at where he had cut himself on the thumb. And sucked in a breath.

“I don’t know.” he said with a small shake of his head. “Was it dark?”

#;peter #were breaking #;91 #q

Was it dark? The thought was uncertain and scary to remember. It had been dark. Like floating shadows blistering across her closed eyes. She could feel the bite of it, rising up inside of her chest and choking something straight from inside of her.

Hesitating at first she trailed her eyes away and closed them, brows furrowing as she nodded. ‘Very.” She whispered and she felt something of a shiver go through her.

That had been more than a brush with death, hadn’t it? That had been a full on encounter. A meeting of something both timid and certain. Death was the most certain thing and she had tasted it like it was something that was attached to her.

Would she always feel its claws?

Her eyes reached him again. Something tainted about him. Was he always that way? Was she always this way? Was death?

“Have you...died before?”

We're Breaking

He wanted to tell her that there wasn’t. That it could go on an endless cycle and it wouldn’t matter. That he wanted endless. But he knew that those words couldn’t leave his mouth. He knew that they had duty and missions. He knew. And for a brief, solitary moment he didn’t want to care. But he did.

She got up though. And it gave him room to breathe, to recollect thoughts that might have gone astray for a moment. When she was in the bathroom he took off the bedding. Rolling it up and tossing it in a bag into the corner of the room.

He heard the shower turn off when he was sitting at the table. Drinking absently from the bottle of water he had left there. Fragments. He collected that everyone lived their life in fragments. And then he heard her voice.

He lifted his eyes from the empty space he was staring at. Lost. He could see her just barely from where he sat. An mere outline. He stayed seated though. He wouldn’t go over to her, he wouldn’t face her. He lowered his eyes down to the table and swallowed harshly before speaking.

“It’s credit.”

Because everything had to be tracked. Every movement. Every breath. Did they know they were here now? What they were saying to each other? Paranoia easily slipped in when it came to his dad.

“But you can still get something.” He stood then and went over to her. She was more than outline now. And but he kept his eyes on the ground, kicking absently at the carpet. He crossed his arms over his chest. “We have to be quick.”

#were breaking #;91 #;peter #q

She should have known. She should have also known that sometimes darkness was a dimmer light than anything else she could grab onto. She wanted him to look into her eyes. She wanted him to tell her that they were going to be alright.

Because they were weren’t they?

“It’s okay...” she walked past him and grabbed the jacket she had been wearing, slipping it on in spite of the blood sticking to it. She zipped it up and then turned to face him. darkness was hovering outside and she knew that it made up both of their forms. They were entwined and she wasn’t even sure why he was still here.

“Peter?” she began, brows knitted in thought. “Did I die?”

And the idea was fascinating. That she could have died. That she could have looked into the darkness that awaited everyone only to be pulled back. Somehow she wanted that because that would have made her different. That would have brought her back to life.

“Like....for real?”

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“Through the storm, we reach the shore You gave it all, but I want more And I’m waiting for you”

#music #;left to fray #q

eafoot-blog

Sylar bowed his head, giving himself a moment before looking up to meet her gaze again. “You don’t know the half of it.” He wasn’t surprised. That didn’t make it any less annoying now, as it had been a year ago. “You’d think people would learn their lesson.” He shifted his weight, assuming a more casual pose. “Your knowledge is more powerful than your warning. Give me answers and I might consider letting you live.”

She knew that much. If people learned their lessons they wouldn’t attempt to play god. They wouldn’t go after people just because of how they were born. Gretchen knew and understood that. She’d been told to hunt what had been unnaturally birthed. But what did that make her? Considering she had been made into this. “What I know...” she began, sighing softly. “...I suppose it’s more than I assume I do know. I know that they are sending a whole squad after you in a few days- if I don’t come back. I know that they’re working on a way to suspend your abilities in order to attempt testing...is that what you mean?”

I was dying to hear someone say that I didn’t need to try so hard to be perfect, That I was enough and it was okay.

(via 1112pm)

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eafoot-blog

“I think you’re right.” This was adding up to be more and more like a trap. Even if she wasn’t in on it, she probably suspected something. Someone jumpier would have turned to run. Sylar was more sure of himself than that. He stared at her, wanting to know her take on the matter, “If you’re so smart, why did you come here?“

She nodded a little, grateful he was seeing something intelligent about her because she really hadn’t thought this through. “Well, for one I thought you should know they were out to get you again- doesn’t that ever get tiring? Ever want to retire to Hawaii or something?” She chuckled a little under her breath before shaking her head and focusing again on the conversation. “And secondly, I figured in exchange for mine coming to you instead of pulling an HRG and hunting you- you could give me some protection?”

#eafoot #;91 #q

becomesalion

“If I wanted you dead you would be dead. You still prove yourself useful to me.”

#tired of ur shit arrthur #;arthur #;91 #q

“Well there’s a comforting thought- when will I not be useful to you, sir?”

We're Breaking

He was surprised that she had reached up her hand and touched him. Locking her hand around his wrist. And it was cool and soft. Touched someplace deeper inside of him. A spot that he was unsure if he could actually really reach. He took in a breath. But it came in too late. She had already moved closer to him, bringing him down with her. Into the warmth of the bed, the heat of the blood. And her body fragile and trembling against his. Light tremors. He had to be so very still in order to feel them. He heard them in her voice.

And he was still. So still. Unsure of his next movement. He breathed slowly. Trying not to close his eyes or pull her closer. Trying not to get up and tell her that they had to move on. Trying to just be. Merely exist. Just be.

Not yet. So when? When would she be able to wash herself of the darkness, clean herself of the blood. He wanted to do it for her. And see what laid underneath all the missions and already paved roads. He wanted, he wanted so much. But it was a flat, ruined want.

No one gets what they want.

Except his dad did. His dad always had. But that was stupid, wasn’t it? Because Gretchen was alive. 91 hadn’t died. He had saved her. And that had gone against what his dad had wanted. Gone against his dads plans.

So, he wanted this. Whatever this was. The noise of their silence ringing loudly in the air. He brushed a kiss to her hair. Wanting to get strands caught in his teeth. He could have a piece of her. She had taken a piece of him. And it had closed the wound on her arm. Made her wet the front of his shirt with her tears. It made him want.

He shifted, turning onto his back away from her. Away from the coolness, from the warmth. Her hair stuck to the corner of his mouth and he left it there. Staring up at the ceiling. He let out a breath, burdened, overwhelmed. He used to make shapes on the ceiling when he was a kid. Horses and wild animals. Now he saw blurs.

“We can’t stay here too long.”

“Is there a time limit?” She questioned, brows lightly furrowing as she stared over at him where he had turned over. It would be nice to move over to him, rest her head on his shoulder and let her eyes flutter close. She was healed, sure but she was still so tired. Her whole body was really aching now.

But she knew better. They were human. they were agents and agents had no time at all for something as futile as resting together, their breaths mingling and their blood flow running at the same time.

“I’ll shower.”

And she slipped off the bed, moving to the bathroom and stripping off her clothes and stepping into the water. It didn’t matter that she would have to wear the same clothes as long as the blood on her body was gone.

Soon enough she stepped back out and dried off with the hotel’s towel. Sighing she leaned down and picked up the dirty clothes making to wash them.

“Do we have any cash?‘ she called out. She would actually head out to a nearby store in her towel for some new clothes. He said they couldn’t stay here long, they didn’t have time to wait for her clothes to dry, now did they?

Or was that an excuse to stay right where they were?

Leaning in the doorway she looked out at him. “I could use some clean clothes.”

#no pls #;peter #were breaking #;91 #q

We're Breaking

He didn’t think that he had saved her. He wished that he could say that he had saved her. That he could somehow have managed that. But saving people seemed to be completely against what he did now. Against all the things that he had done at Pinehearst. He was different now. A shade of something that should have never existed. He knew that. There was no salvation here.

He felt her shift on the bed. And he didn’t turn to look at her. He took in a breath and shook his head at what she said. No thanks. No salvation. This was just darkness. And he felt like the world was caving in, silence.

There was an ache deep inside of him. So large and overwhelming inside of him. He wanted to reach for her but he didn’t. He sat there, still. Looking at the knife, still. The dried blood in place of a cut on his finger. He reached and set the knife down on the nightstand. And then he turned to look at her.

She was close. Near to him. And breathing in the air she let out was almost painful. But she was okay. And that was what mattered. That she was okay. She made it out of there alive.

“You’re okay.” he said with a small nod of his head. He reached and touched her arm where she should be wounded. Gone. Erased. Just like everything else. He lifted his eyes to hers. They looked glazed. She looked tired. “Should get you cleaned up.”