#ch. ethan

[tothedevilsshowclosed]

 he knew it was pretty damned stupid to fall asleep in here. in her apartment. because here hes’ surrounded by her, by her dark allure, by her almost terrifying beauty that seems to have seeped into everything around him. everything he touches draws something of her to him. as if she’s still living. ridiculous. he knows that. but he feels like she’s ingrained something in him, something like a fire. burning drive to get him to solve this case. maybe it might give him a little rest. he’s been so damned restless, hasn’t he? the picture in the foyer he thinks doesn’t capture her enigma. which doesn’t make much sense. he’s never seen her for real. only with half her face gone, bleeding out in the door way. and the thought of that makes him feel real heavy. makes him feel all twisted up inside. who would wanna hurt vanessa ives? he dug. he found society’s elite, he found success, and so much envy he was choking on the green. but nothing else. he feels shaken. completely shaken. 

 so, it must be a dream when he wakes up. must be something to lure him back to the sanity he felt he had left ten paces back. he wonders what his old man would think, him all in over his head. he had told him he’d never make it as a cop out here. and maybe he was right. maybe he didn’t have the right head or stomach for it. only he knew better than to think like that. his dad would do just about anything to throw a chain around his neck and make him pay. past sins always dig deep. past sins was something he didn’t have the taste for. 

 he wakes with a start. hearing a whisper of noise from the room. he’s attuned to even the way the silence sounds in this place. he’s been here too much. he gets up to go towards it. moving with a sort of unease that he’s learned from his life before here. you had to learn some guard when you’re running. he sees her like an image from the dream. she has to be. the startling appearance of her silhouette faded to the pale wall. and then her figure cut out in the dimly lit room. it’s just her back. but he’s already all seized. it’s a dream. nothing more. so when he leans in the door way with his eyes leveled on her he doesn’t panic. why would he? he’s dreaming. he’s dreamt this one too many times before. “i’m gonna catch who killed you.” he says it like a man on a mission. he likes to think that if vanessa ives was really alive she would have believed him. made him sound like some kinda hero, maybe. 

 he knows he wants to be one for her. he needs to be. there was so much blood in this place and someone like her had deserved better than that. but he didn’t know her, did he? he knew all the talk. some of wild. some of it bleak. but truth was he was sitting here tonight because he was hungry for more. hungry for hearing her voice in the place. and now he’s seeing her? maybe he’s a little crazy. but that doesn’t matter much to him. he’d go through anything to save her. only it’s too late for any of that heroic idiocy.  “but this puzzle is only getting harder.”

@beforethescorpion

[tothedevilsshowclosed]

 he and wade have had their ups and downs. but ever since his secret got discovered the two of them have been dancing down a fine line. there’s wanted posters up for the both of them. but the weight of his secret could just about crack them. he’s been trying his hand at something of a compromise. something that would make the both of them do something they were born to do. pretend they have some righteous calling in their blood. and it might burn through them. so, he approaches him with something of a peace offering in hand. an old bottle of Tennessee's best. sets it down in front of him. he gives a look over his shoulder at the man in the back. now that man’s face had been just about on every wall of every town that they passed by. and he feels the weight of something heavy on his chest. do the right thing. but his head has been long clouded by bloodshed. he doesn’t know what it is. 

 but he’s talking faster than he’s thinking. “so, wade, i’ve got an offer for you.” he says, moving to sit down across from him. “there’s a man in this bar, been running on the bad side of the law for years now. what do you say you and i show him the law isn’t dead.”

 @discordandrhyme  gets the thing

[tothedevilsshowclosed]

 the night’s quiet. and he has to wonder if the nights are always gonna be like this. laced with the sense of dread, that heavy scent of darkness. it’s her, it’s the weak flicker of something horrible in her eyes, it’s the scent on her hair. and he’s almost sure he’s gone half mad because of it. he’s worn guilt like scars for years. but this one is a new one. this one is bold and bright red, right across his heart. her name. and he keeps running over the mistakes. staying in america so long, leaving her alone. maybe - but he knows there’s nothing he can get if he hangs everything on a maybe. she’s distant. she always had an other worldly air to her, something both mystifying and terrifying. and yet it’s different now. there’s a missing piece in his chest that tells him he’s lost her for good. was it leaving? was it that monster he had killed? it had been his fate and he had fulfilled it. what those fancy prophecies don’t tell you is the aftermath. but that sounds almost like blasphemy. so he’s got another heavy guilt hanging around his neck. 

 was he really her savior? he was a guilt and scar ridden one, a bad one. with blood stained hands and a conscience that hadn’t been clear for a long time. but here he was, willing to do anything to just keep her safe. malcolm thought it was a good idea to keep her in all things familiar. keep her sage here with everyone who cares about her. and yet there wasn’t progress, was there? there was on the outside, cleaning up the darkness from the world. the leftovers. but inside of her there’s nothing but the hollow empty he feels when she passes him. is she the same person? had she been that far gone? was he supposed to have killed her, too? he moves into the room completely, making sure she hears his entrance before he makes his way over to her. she hasn’t been sleeping. at least that’s what malcolm told him. and he’s half torn between trying to shake some sense into her or to take her to his chest, smooth her hair back and tell her he’s here. like she was for him, he can still taste the rain at the back of his throat. when they had bore themselves more to each other than he had to anyone in his life. but that felt like a lifetime ago. 

 “malcolm says you’re not sleeping.”

@beforethescorpion -- the thing

[tothedevilsshowclosed]

 it’s cold out. he can still feel the winter chill under his coat. he’s shivering. but maybe it’s the proposal. victor looks half mad, doesn’t he? his eyes wild, words running on and on. he wants to be able to jump on this idea. he wants to be able to tell him that they’re going to do this. he takes a step forward, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. he looks down at the table and he tries to picture it. her there on the metal slab. he tries but he can’t. he lets out a heavy breath and then a brief look back at victor. raising the dead. no, not just the dead. vanessa. he can still feel the shot running through him, ringing in his ears. her body limp against him. he closes his eyes briefly, trying to shut the image out. “victor...” he says, opening his eyes. “....this sounds like something like something unholy.”

@ofimaginarybeings gets a thing too