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"Ssss...Ssssebassstian!"
Sebastian’s first instinct was to duck and hide. Then unwilling pity took over and Sebastian glanced over Sanctuary’s wall, frowning. Sure, Deimos might repulse him with every atom of his being, but he still had pity for the bandit-turned-rat. Still had that gun Deimos had given him, too.
So he poked his head over the edge of the wall, at what he hoped was a safe distance from the mutated freak of nature.
“What?”
"Kissss me MOMMY!"
“No…. also no.”
Clawed hands scraped on the blue tile as she dragged him forward, sliding easily across the soapy shower floor. Deimos whined, giving a brief, half-hearted struggle against the pointed purple nails that dug into his chin, his bald brow furrowed as he was forced to look at her face.
It wasn’t her face that interested him. Years had passed since the last time he saw a naked woman who wasn’t paper and print in a magazine, and he badly wanted to savor every curve and dip of honey-amber skin. "Rr…resssspect." It tumbled out of his lips a throaty growl, a serpentine hiss. Snatching her chin in his hands, the mutant hauled the cruel woman forward to force a sloppy kiss on her wet plum lips, ravenous and vicious.
Any prior reservations the Sheriff had in regard to killing the rat were fickle at best. Now however, with the horrendous flavor of what she assumed to be his last meal invading her mouth, Nisha decided that this one rat in particular could go to hell.
Scrambling back on the tile she made a furious attempt to claw him off, dragging her nails down his already mangled mug as amber eyes glared at him, hating and burning and evil. The towel whapped his neck, hand falling away from his face to grip the other end and not choke, but strangle the rat as his lips yet lingered.
The best kind of rat was a dead rat and that was what she wanted, wanted his skin a pretty shade of blue and his intact eye bulging out of its socket as she tore the life from his lungs.
Bad. Dog.
"Hnnng... pet pet pet thissss one!"
Ledi looked up from the newest necklace she was weaving and hummed softly. "Come here." She beckoned as her hands found his stomach and began to rub soothing circles on his tummy. She began to sing softly as he stretched out for her to reach more.
Pancakes A La Lynchwood
Despite the difference in size and strength between them, Deimos let himself be pinned, whining only at her knee in his twisted spine, subordinate to a fault to an alpha who had bested him. The moment she rolled off him though, he was on her with his misplaced affection, like some oversized dog left behind at home while his keeper left for a long and tiring work day. They had only dozed for an hour at most, worn out by their tussle in the sandy yard, worn out by psionic exchange, but it was plenty of time for the sun to sink over the horizon and a full, bright moon to rise high in the sky. It was plenty of time for his freakishly accelerated metabolism to leave his stomach rumbling again, too. The Sheriff’s hair smelled pretty good, he thought, and experimentally sucked up a mouthful, chewed on the ends, spat it back out again. Disappointingly, it didn’t taste as good as it smelled, and he shook his head. "Pancakesssss, Mommy? For the good boy?"
Nisha managed a dry glare, scowling at the now slobbery ends of her hair. "Pancakes?" She shook her head and tossed the blankets off, mumbling something to no one in particular, "Make a pancake outta' you buddy..."
How she'd managed to fall asleep next to that thing remained a mystery but she figured the fatigue attributed to it, muscles and fresh bruises aching from their afternoon tussle perhaps worsened by her awkward sleeping arrangements.
"You want pancakes," Nisha groaned, stretching her back and enjoying the sharp cracking noises, "I'll make you your goddamn pancakes."
She shot him a lopsided grin before padding out of the room, easily slipping out of Jacks button down and tossing it haphazardly behind her as she went. Pancakes A La Lynchwood. A dash of Rat Poison here, a splash of bleach there, a quaint little midnight snack for the freak.
Nisha chuckled to herself, plucking Wingers apron from the nail on the wall and slipping it over her head. It'd been comical when he'd worn it, but it made the Sheriff look more like a housewife than a murderer.
'Homicidal Housewife'. What a notion that was.
"Oh Deimos," Nisha cooed, turning the iron skillet over in her hands. "Come'ere."
Tired from the scuffle, sore, bruised and mentally drained, Deimos let himself be pulled off, stretching out beside the Sheriff on the sun-soaked pavement. He was smiling, barely, enticed by the promise of being allowed into the city for his fill of meaty treats.
Mesquite Skag-on-a-Stick. Teriyaki Skag-on-a-Stick. Cheese stuffed, beer-battered fetal skag skewered and wrapped up in bacon, and his absolute favorite, tempura Skag-on-a-Stick with wasabi. The rat’s smile was dreamy as he gazed into her eyes, pupils so dilated her iris was little more than a copper ring circling the black. "Can do it, for, for you.” he muttered, reaching out to gently cup her cheek with a freakishly enlarged hand. Deimos had spent plenty of time rooting around in Nikolai’s drug-addled brain to have plenty of inspiration for showing Nisha a good time. He gave her the sensation of total immersion in cool blue water, the south seas of Pandora, alive and vibrant with sea life; lime green coral, shimmering fish of gold and orange glass gleaming in the steaks of sunlight from the surface above. The taste of coconut and firemellon, the air ripe with woodsmoke and salt though she sat on the seafloor in the illusion, watching iridescent eel swim past. A crackle of static; a television channel not quite tuned in, white noise of a radio station off the air. Glitter and rum, bright lights and the distant thump of bass; orange fish swimming through the air, opalescent eel sliding through the club. A neon pink octopus crawled down the wall, crept across the booth, strangled to death the marauder DJ and began devouring him; was devoured by a bright red manta, devoured in turn by a rainbow striped sea-thresher that turned back on itself, swirled around and compressed to a singularity, bursting in a rainbow of confetti and black glitter that tasted faintly of bananas. Then, silence, the beat of her own heart, the distant rumbling of the 4:20 train to Lynchwood; distant shouts of bandits and the calling of rakk in the distance as Nisha came back around, left there on the pavement with Deimos and his faintly glowing eye.
His hand on Nishas cheek would've made her shrink back in any normal situation, but given her exhaustion she allowed it.
The illusions stunned her, dropped back into reality with a pounding heart and a buzz in her mind. Sheriff hummed appreciatively, almost forgetting how she'd gotten on the ground in the first place. This couldn't of been healthy, she knew it. Though was better than rakkale and she knew for a fact how many people that had killed. Nisha had a feeling this might become a habit.
She cracked an eye open, squinting at Deimos with lack of animosity and what might have been a smile, face barely visible smooshed into her forearm. Nisha sighed, sitting up with a hand on the pavement as she reclaimed her hat.
"You know kid," The Sheriff adjusted the stetson, amber gaze fixing on the rat from under the brim, "You might just make yourself useful with a trick like that." She was in a dangerous mood. Not exactly violent but dangerous. For both of them. Calm and slowly adjusting from a high, cogs turning behind copper irises as she thought.
"Maybe a little reward. 'Tasties'," She turned back towards him, star tattoo visible with her continued lack of a shirt, "Skag-on-a-Stick, Ice-cream," scratched under his chin as though he was one of her skags, purring, "There's plenty of 'tasties' in Lynchwood."
not-in-the-lab
While she was distracted with the floral offering, he took the golden opportunity to raise a long, warped finger and poke at the blue markings on her exposed hip, then jerked back with a positively psychotic laugh, knowing he’d done something naughty.
"Call thissss one, one, one. Opener of Waysssss."
Opener of Ways. Would that be the way out of the Hyperion Preserve, or something else?
"I prefer Maya."
She didn't recognize the flower, but the flora of Pandora had never been a focus of her research. As she considered this, the long nail and tip of a spindly finger pressed at the skin above her waistline, it's texture sticky- with something other than blood.
"Hey!" The Siren reflexively flinched away from the unexpected poke, sharing none of the Lab Rat's mischievous amusement. "I'm sure Nika's told you it's rude to touch..."
"Ssssiren, lady lady pretty, blue thing, ssstripessss?" Holding up a flower in his clawed hands, he gazed up at her, blank but hopeful.
“Uh… Thanks. You should call me Maya.” She insisted gently, taking the the bloom extended to her.
Maya wasn’t sure she entirely grasped the Lab Rat’s sentiment, but despite stories she’d heard about some of Deimos’s more unsavory predilections he’d only ever been kind to her.
She imagined that had something to do with her appearance during his escape from the Preserve, but she’d also noticed during her travels through the fridge that other Lab Rats had a particular reaction to her. Supposedly siren powers were tapped from another dimension. The way the rats screamed in her phaselock, she was inclined to believe they could somehow see it.
