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
( he'd wanted to fling himself into space after reileen's body several times over the last few days. the fact that he hadn't was both annoying and fucking irritating. he didn't want to die. she hadn't had a choice. )
Maybe you'll get lucky and the eggheads opening the doors will find a portal to another fucking world. Get you out of here.
( they could only fucking wish. )
no subject
( happy was relative. satisfied, settled. better off, perhaps? )
Somewhere that was not your home.
( as terrible as her life had been it was still home )
no subject
( that was a fucking fact. )
So yeah, I'd be fine. Send me there now and I'll be fucking good.
no subject
( vanessa knew why he'd be happy to not be here but why anywhere? )
Would you not be concerned of what else you could walk into?
( something worse than here? )
no subject
( it wasn't fucking likely that another place would drop his sister's body in front of him and make him brutalize her body. )
I don't give a fuck where I go.
( the only thing he doesn't want is to die but even that had been touch and go for awhile. )
no subject
Then hopefully whatever you do find suits you.
( and she means it. their last conversation may not have been particularly pleasant but she's polite the same. she'd liked him for some reason before )
no subject
( there was no way he was going to get that fucking lucky. he wasn't going to be granted a way off so soon after the shit he'd gone through. )
You don't have to sympathize or empathize or whatever the fuck you're doing. Stop.
no subject
( it was likely improbable but not impossible. they'd made it here, they may be able to find another way out )
And it isn't sympathy.
( kindness. empathy, perhaps, but this was vanessa. she could be no other way )
no subject
( he knows it's not impossible but a lot of things feel fucking improbable after recent events. he just has a feeling he's in for more shit here. )
What is it then? You don't need to pretend that everything's fucking fine.
( it wasn't. )
no subject
she also deeply knows that everything isn't fine -- with her, them, this place. but she needs to do something to not fall apart. again )
Should I instead admonish you? Pick apart your own lies?
( because there was at least one that she was certain of, perhaps a few others she could intuit )
We were all affected by something.
( though whether she blames him at all for anything he may have said is unknown )
no subject
( because she doesn't and kovacs isn't sure if he's up to sharing with her right now. but that would be true of anyone who wasn't there. every time he closes his eyes, his sister's body is there, stinking and falling apart, smeared with blood and bits of her own stack. )
But, I would love to see you try and pick apart my lies because you don't fucking know what you're talking about there.
( he lied to everyone, even himself. )
no subject
instead, vanessa reaches across and takes the bottle that he'd kept near him, pouring herself a drink with it. he's difficult to read but she knows more than he would like to think )
Perhaps one day.
( she's also not in the mood for his bullshit. vanessa has a sip of the drink, purposely not looking at him )
Though there is more about you than you would wish to believe.
no subject
( or is she trying to tell him she knows his secrets like some fucking drug addled wannabe back on earth? he'd run into plenty of people who'd snorted shit up their noses and thought they could tell the future. )
Go on, then. Prove to me that you know what you're talking about. Show me that you know me.
no subject
her eyes stay fixed on his as she searches and, with how strange his life is, it's harder to make sense of than usual. the bodies, the jumping. but there are some strong memories that vanessa can latch onto, things that are clearer than anything else )
Your home was lost but that was only a place, somewhere that you'd left long before that. But you carried that feeling in another -- anywhere could be home with your her. Your sister. ( she pauses momentarily, focusing more ) You thought that you'd lost her too. You had no reason to care about your life, your purpose. Until she gave you one.
( simply seeing her again, seeing a person that you cared for could do much. particularly if it brought back something that you lost.
she lets go of his wrist, holding his gaze for only a few seconds more before she looks back down at the bar )
no subject
The fuck did you just do to me?
( there was no way she could just know that. there was no way she could just tell that from looking at him. )
no subject
( he'd asked her to prove that she knew him, that she could decipher his lies. she'd done exactly that. some people just couldn't handle the truth.
vanessa isn't looking at him, not out of shame or any feeling, instead, reaching for her drink again )
no subject
( after recent events, he didn't think he could be blamed for getting angry at even the fucking possibility. )
You touched me. I've killed men for less. And after what happened --
( he's walking a fine line between okay and not okay. most days, he's falling on the not okay side. )
Don't ever do it again. I'm giving you a reprieve. Take it.
( he barely cares about what she'd said. it's how she'd done that's pissing him off. )
no subject
( was it a possibility where he had come from? most would say no but he had experienced strange things during his life
she doesn't back away or back down, not afraid of him. killers don't scare her )
What did happen?
( had she seen that too or is she giving him a chance to explain it. vanessa doesn't expect that he will, he's angry, but so often anger can be felt in place of loss or confusion )
no subject
( there was video, she could go find it if she wanted to. he wasn't going to rehash it so soon. he doesn't want to talk about it ever. )
Don't fucking touch me again.
( maybe he'd take that back at some point in the future but things were so, so perilous right now. )
If you really want to know what happened, talk to Miller. Or Ricki. Not me.
no subject
( who better to know the details than kovacs himself. it seems strange that for something so clearly painful, that he would send her to ask another, or even allow them to share it rather than keeping it private. but he had, she had always felt, been an odd man )
no subject
( so yes, in this matter, he'd let them speak for him. it wasn't like they were going to interject their own opinions. )
Or I'm sure there's station video. I don't fucking care, I'm not talking about it ever again.
no subject
so instead vanessa pushed the bottle back towards him, holding her own glass a fraction away from her lips to say one last thing )
If, one day, you decide otherwise-- ( she doesn't need him to say that it won't happen to know he thinks it, but she makes the offer anyway ) --you know how to find me.