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
You know to walk spinwise, right? So you don't get sick. [ he points the way he and max had been walking and starts up again with the diligent clack of six boots against the grated metal beneath their feet. ] Pacing is gonna give you one hell of a tummyache, man.
no subject
My stomach's fine.
( there were other parts of him that fucking ached but there was no helping that. )
I didn't know about the walking though.
( actual admittance about not knowing everything, news at a eleven!! )
You go on a lot of jaunts around the station? Daily cardio?
no subject
[ frank shrugs, about as opposite from holier-than-thou as one could get. ]
Yeah, we love cardio, don't we Max?
[ the dog pins back his ears and gives frank what could only be constituted as a glare. he laughs at the dog's antics and max's turns back around, panting happily as his mag-boots hit the floor. he seems more or less completely used to them by now. ]
I'd rather do anything but if I'm honest, but the space guys say we gotta stay active. [ he gestures to his black and blue face. ] And I figured I should lay off the gym a while so I don't look too scary.
no subject
( he'd seen worse. he's been worse. at least frank's face lets him know that there were some people on this fucking boat that would maybe punch the shit out of him if he poked the right person. he kind of really wanted that to happen after everything. )
Don't tell me your fucking dog did that to you.
( what a hilarious envoy kovacs was. full of personality. )
Or did you piss off the wrong person? Walk around naked and offend their delicate sensibilities?
no subject
Don't be ridiculous, dogs don't have thumbs.
[ and therefore can't punch people. duh. ]
...This sounds oddly specific. There somethin' you wanna tell me?
no subject
No.
( it was oddly specific but he doesn't want to share. doesn't need to share either. )
Some people are easily offended. You'd think they were wrapped in fucking plastic all their lives.
no subject
Heard that, brother. Someone get the PC police after you?
no subject
( looking at you apollo and clara. but, he and apollo are cool. they kind of talked it out. it was still a fucking ridiculous situation. )
But it's over now. Fucking done. Happened during that music shit so it's not like anyone was thinking clearly.
( if they said they had been, they were fucking liars. )
no subject
Is that why your room's all torn up?
no subject
( to say the fucking least. )
And people wanted me not to be.
( that was totally how it went, really. )
no subject
Let me guess, you didn't go quietly?
no subject
( apollo was lucky he hadn't started a fight. he would have lost, sure, but he would have made a lot of noise while losing. )
And I didn't bring anyone else into it that didn't get involved on their own.
( positively saintly. )
no subject
no subject
( and they had a lot of weight with which to do that with. fucking apollo, you brick house. )
I've never really been that at following orders. Never got me fuckin' anywhere.
( quell had been the only one to really get him to settle down and listen and then shed fucking up and died. )
no subject
No, me neither. At least, nowhere I ever wanted to be.
no subject
( he'd been willing to follow quell but she was an exception to the rule, an exception to so many things.
and now she was dead. )
I tried that and got burned. What's the point in trying that again?
( fucking ctac. )
Done okay without all that.