Takeshi Kovacs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
resleeves) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
reverielogs2018-07-11 01:06 pm
resleeves) wrote in reverielogs2018-07-11 01:06 pm
open ⇉ here we go 'round the mulberry bush
» WHO? takeshi kovcs + ota
» WHEN? after the event
» WHERE? his room, bar, mess hall, various corridors
» WHAT? just fuck me up
» WARNINGS? violence, violent imagery, gore, possession, terrible things, language
( the ceiling is white.
the ceiling is white the ceiling is white the ceiling is white. he's been repeating that to himself for the last two minutes because nothing else is working. he's breathing. he's blinking. but he can't move. he's been staring at the fucking ceiling for long enough that he hates the color white.
at first, he thinks it's some side effect of the music but it's been quiet for a few days now. quiet enough that he'd been able to sleep in the wrecked remains of his bed. it's quiet right now.
the ceiling is white. kovacs blinks and
-- he gets up. )
( he's staring at the bottles.
most of them are empty, upended or broken and he's just staring like just his gaze alone will make alcohol magically appear in the bottles. but, they remain empty. hadn't this been someone's job, to get them more alcohol? hadn't that been assigned to someone as a top priority? wasn't there any fucking responsibility on this fucking station?
in the absence of alcohol, kovacs unfolds his long frame from the stool and finds himself some water.
sips it. finishes it. repeats the process until he feels his thirst receding. then, he resumes his spot on the stool and keeps staring.
thoughtful. introspective.
vacant. )
( a man has to eat.
there's a tray of food in front of kovacs that he's been picking at for a few minutes now. he barely tastes the food, barely even processes what he's eating but it's tasteless, inoffensive. whoever fixed the replicators did a halfway decent job. compliments to the chefs and all those fucking sweet nothings.
kovacs picks up one piece of food, brings it up so it's right in front of his eyes and then he flicks it towards the door, uncaring if anyone's making their way in and gets a fucking piece of food stuck to themselves.
one corner of his mouth lifts up and a brief, sharp laugh slips out before he's back to frowning, back to his food. )
( when he sees her, he smiles.
down the hall, a few feet away, lies the body of his sister. reileen. reileen who'd watched as he'd killed their father. reileen who'd been given to the yakuza. reileen who had left him. left him so along ago.
back where she belonged. with him. as he steps closer, boots echoing off the floor, he inhales deeply and smells the rot, the death. her hair is a halo around her head, some strands clinging stubbornly to her cheek and chin.
her eyes are open.
when kovacs is close enough, he crouches down beside her and rubs a tender, feather light hand over her cheek and up her forehead. her skin is clammy and grey. cold. she's so cold. she needs to be warmed up.
his hands are strong and assured when he reaches for her shoulders and turns her over. they're soft and efficient when he brushes the hair off the back of her neck, exposing her skin.
he has no knife. so he uses his fingernails.
with only the slightest tensing of his jaw, kovacs digs his nails into the back of her neck like a rabid animal. he scrapes and pulls, pushes and tears until blood spills over his hands, and onto the deck below.
he doesn't stop. an envoy's strength is significant and he uses that to brutally dig a gash into the back of his sister's neck. his thumbs pull apart the raggedly cut skin until he can see the muscle and bone below.
he reaches in and breaks her spine at the neck. the sound of bones popping echoes off the walls and kovacs moves those aside to grab what he's looking for.
with a grunt, he rips the stack out of her neck and holds it up. it's covered in blood and tissue, still glowing a brilliant blue color.
with his sister's neck open and smeared with blood, kovacs gets to his feet, turns and smashes the stack against the wall over and over again. blood from his hands transfers to the wall, leaving behind smudged bloody palm prints and fingerprints.
the stack cracks. it breaks. it bends. it shatters to pieces that fall harmlessly to the floor.
and then kovacs steps on them, grinding them down into his sister is reduced to dust underneath his shoes.
kovacs sighs. with that done, he turns back the way he came, covered in reileen's blood and body tissue. he tucks his hands into his pockets and walks off as if there wasn't a scene of horror behind him. )
( kovacs is a mess by the time he's back in his room.
well, that just requires a shower, doesn't it? stripping himself of his jumpsuit and stepping into the shower. he washes himself free of the bits of his sister that have clung to him and then he steps out, dries off, puts his clothes back on and lays down.
he closes his eyes. takes a breath and
-- gets up again. )
Fuck.
( the word is a whispered note of pain. of terror. of unbelievable anger. he has no idea what's just happened but he remembers it all. he remembers every fucking detail and with a growl that reverberates down the hall, he shoots out of his bed and down the hall.
he takes a path that he wishes weren't sickeningly familiar until he's standing at the end of the corridor staring at the carnage he'd just inflicted.
staring at his sister with the back of her neck a gaping maw and her body ignored and abused by the one person she'd trusted. by the one person she'd loved.
for once in his life, kovacs doesn't know what to do. )
( what's up, party people! just wanted to put a few notes down here for a few things. obviously, the first two prompts are kovacs but not. but, it's a very close replication and though i'm cool with people being able to figure it out, if you don't know him well, you wouldn't be able to tell there's a difference. if you know him well, you would.
in the prompt with his sister, you're not going to be able to stop him from doing what he does. feel free to witness it or try to stop but in the end, he's going to complete the process of destroying her stack.
in the last prompt, he's going to end up spacing the body (because safest, most hygienic option) but might need some assistance because, you know. )
» WHEN? after the event
» WHERE? his room, bar, mess hall, various corridors
» WHAT? just fuck me up
» WARNINGS? violence, violent imagery, gore, possession, terrible things, language
( the ceiling is white.
the ceiling is white the ceiling is white the ceiling is white. he's been repeating that to himself for the last two minutes because nothing else is working. he's breathing. he's blinking. but he can't move. he's been staring at the fucking ceiling for long enough that he hates the color white.
at first, he thinks it's some side effect of the music but it's been quiet for a few days now. quiet enough that he'd been able to sleep in the wrecked remains of his bed. it's quiet right now.
the ceiling is white. kovacs blinks and
-- he gets up. )
⇉ 01. bar
( he's staring at the bottles.
most of them are empty, upended or broken and he's just staring like just his gaze alone will make alcohol magically appear in the bottles. but, they remain empty. hadn't this been someone's job, to get them more alcohol? hadn't that been assigned to someone as a top priority? wasn't there any fucking responsibility on this fucking station?
in the absence of alcohol, kovacs unfolds his long frame from the stool and finds himself some water.
sips it. finishes it. repeats the process until he feels his thirst receding. then, he resumes his spot on the stool and keeps staring.
thoughtful. introspective.
vacant. )
⇉ 02. mess hall
( a man has to eat.
there's a tray of food in front of kovacs that he's been picking at for a few minutes now. he barely tastes the food, barely even processes what he's eating but it's tasteless, inoffensive. whoever fixed the replicators did a halfway decent job. compliments to the chefs and all those fucking sweet nothings.
kovacs picks up one piece of food, brings it up so it's right in front of his eyes and then he flicks it towards the door, uncaring if anyone's making their way in and gets a fucking piece of food stuck to themselves.
one corner of his mouth lifts up and a brief, sharp laugh slips out before he's back to frowning, back to his food. )
⇉ 03. corridor cw: violence, violent imagery, gore, creepiness
( when he sees her, he smiles.
down the hall, a few feet away, lies the body of his sister. reileen. reileen who'd watched as he'd killed their father. reileen who'd been given to the yakuza. reileen who had left him. left him so along ago.
back where she belonged. with him. as he steps closer, boots echoing off the floor, he inhales deeply and smells the rot, the death. her hair is a halo around her head, some strands clinging stubbornly to her cheek and chin.
her eyes are open.
when kovacs is close enough, he crouches down beside her and rubs a tender, feather light hand over her cheek and up her forehead. her skin is clammy and grey. cold. she's so cold. she needs to be warmed up.
his hands are strong and assured when he reaches for her shoulders and turns her over. they're soft and efficient when he brushes the hair off the back of her neck, exposing her skin.
he has no knife. so he uses his fingernails.
with only the slightest tensing of his jaw, kovacs digs his nails into the back of her neck like a rabid animal. he scrapes and pulls, pushes and tears until blood spills over his hands, and onto the deck below.
he doesn't stop. an envoy's strength is significant and he uses that to brutally dig a gash into the back of his sister's neck. his thumbs pull apart the raggedly cut skin until he can see the muscle and bone below.
he reaches in and breaks her spine at the neck. the sound of bones popping echoes off the walls and kovacs moves those aside to grab what he's looking for.
with a grunt, he rips the stack out of her neck and holds it up. it's covered in blood and tissue, still glowing a brilliant blue color.
with his sister's neck open and smeared with blood, kovacs gets to his feet, turns and smashes the stack against the wall over and over again. blood from his hands transfers to the wall, leaving behind smudged bloody palm prints and fingerprints.
the stack cracks. it breaks. it bends. it shatters to pieces that fall harmlessly to the floor.
and then kovacs steps on them, grinding them down into his sister is reduced to dust underneath his shoes.
kovacs sighs. with that done, he turns back the way he came, covered in reileen's blood and body tissue. he tucks his hands into his pockets and walks off as if there wasn't a scene of horror behind him. )
⇉ 04. kovacs' room, corridor
( kovacs is a mess by the time he's back in his room.
well, that just requires a shower, doesn't it? stripping himself of his jumpsuit and stepping into the shower. he washes himself free of the bits of his sister that have clung to him and then he steps out, dries off, puts his clothes back on and lays down.
he closes his eyes. takes a breath and
-- gets up again. )
Fuck.
( the word is a whispered note of pain. of terror. of unbelievable anger. he has no idea what's just happened but he remembers it all. he remembers every fucking detail and with a growl that reverberates down the hall, he shoots out of his bed and down the hall.
he takes a path that he wishes weren't sickeningly familiar until he's standing at the end of the corridor staring at the carnage he'd just inflicted.
staring at his sister with the back of her neck a gaping maw and her body ignored and abused by the one person she'd trusted. by the one person she'd loved.
for once in his life, kovacs doesn't know what to do. )
⇉ ooc
( what's up, party people! just wanted to put a few notes down here for a few things. obviously, the first two prompts are kovacs but not. but, it's a very close replication and though i'm cool with people being able to figure it out, if you don't know him well, you wouldn't be able to tell there's a difference. if you know him well, you would.
in the prompt with his sister, you're not going to be able to stop him from doing what he does. feel free to witness it or try to stop but in the end, he's going to complete the process of destroying her stack.
in the last prompt, he's going to end up spacing the body (because safest, most hygienic option) but might need some assistance because, you know. )
no subject
"Hank. An' he's an AI, not a robot - got no body, far as I can tell. He lives in the computer systems."
He checks the read out for the space magic system, and feel utterly relieved that they finally have a med bay at all. Thank fucking god.
"You think we should hit him up? See if he can figure out if somethin' is happenin' to him?"
no subject
no subject
"Hank 127," He replies helpfully, while putting the bandage on. It's all he can do to keep up with Miller, looking a bit like a worried mother hen who wants to just sit him down and make sure his feathers are in order, but knows they've got more important things to do.
"If Kovacs is still in a public area, he'll be able to find 'im."
no subject
no subject
"Yeah, no, I'm comin' with you. I ain't lettin' you get anywhere near him by yourself. I already found you bleedin' out on the floor once today. You really think I'm gonna be open to doin' that twice?"
no subject
no subject
He's keeping pace, pretty easily. Turns out training with a Martian Marine every morning has its benefits.
no subject
no subject
He sounded less sure of himself, though, mostly because Miller seemed so much more sure.
no subject
"What are you gonna do, Alex? Knock out an Inner?" Miller shakes his head as he ducks into his room, already starting to peel himself out of his bloody clothes with no regard for the other man being there whatsoever.
no subject
He crossed his arms, not seeming to notice the fact that Miller was stripping, though he politely kept his eyes on his face rather than anywhere else.
"What're you plannin' on doin'? You think you're gonna be able to get through to 'im?"
no subject
no subject
"The guy is built like a freighter - there ain't a lot of people on this station that could keep him down, and without a heads up..."
no subject
"Hey, can you check that dresser for my hat." He'd dropped it inside the wardrobe when Alex was looking at his feet. "You know, I swear I'd lose my own damn head if it wasn't attached."
no subject
Alex makes a slightly frustrated sound, but turns to do as he's told, pulling out the dresser and rifling through it a bit.
"I really don't see how a hat's gonna help you on this one, Partner--"
no subject
/end
"God damn it, you melodramatic son of a bitch," he complains, hitting the console and getting an error.
Great. Call Amos, try not to have a panic attack. Great, great, great.