CLOSED ♔ this mirror holds my eyes too bright

[behindcloseddoors]

♬ lovers eyes - mumford and son

WHO || Myri, "Finnick" [Closed]
WHAT || En route to the castle, Myri is stopped by a familiar face...
WHERE || The Chicago-O'Hare Airport
WHEN || Immediately after this
HOW || Actionspam. Single thread.


[ The Chicago O'Hare Airport is bustling as usual when Myri arrives. They haven't often had to use completely public transportation but since she's going on her own, it'd be silly to fly privately. However, that means Amaranth is going to have to fly cooped up... ]

Comments

[scratchfever]

You seem mostly human. [ she holds up one spiky hand, rubbing her 'fingers' together ] Dimitris gave me these by way of his experiments.

[witchwoman]

That's because I am human. [She eyes the hand warily.] What will he do to me?

[scratchfever]

That depends.

His grafting experiments have hit something of a dead end. It hasn't done much to enhance our chip program after all.

[witchwoman]

I don't understand. [No but really. She gets some technology but you are going over her head. She understands the chips are implanted in creatures to control them, but that's about it.]

[scratchfever]

Shadowkind biology rejects the tech, for reasons we still can't fathom. We have to introduce something into their biological make-up - their cellular structure, to fool it into thinking they're human.

[witchwoman]

But why? Why do all this?

[scratchfever]

Because Shadowkind are the rightful property of humanity. You may think it inhumane, but consider the alternative: others in Dimitris' church prefer the option of genocide.

This, at least, allows for co-existence.

[witchwoman]

[She knows enough about the church to not find this information too jarring. But it's still so difficult to hear, given her history.]

So he seeks to control me. To own me.

[scratchfever]

Oh, sweetheart.

He already does.

[witchwoman]

[A shiver runs down her spine at that, the color draining slightly from her face.]

Why me?

[scratchfever]

[ she shrugs ] Something about Nadia. That's all I know. [ there's a strange sensation as they walk through some kind of invisible barrier... and find themselves standing in front of a large, dull looking concrete building, surrounded by barbed wire fencing. ]

[witchwoman]

[She hesitates when the structure comes into view. All that keeps her moving is the threat to her familiar.]

Nadia- [She focuses on her questions, hoping to piece together information that she needs.] And she's alright? She's alive?

[scratchfever]

For now. [ the answer is utterly impassive, and she moves to a gate, watched by a little guardshack. the doors swing open before her, and various armed men part for them to enter. ]

[witchwoman]

[Her eyes try to keep watch on all the armed men, but as they walk, it's hard to watch her own back. If they wanted to kill her, they would have done, rather than lead her down here... or so she hoped.]

Let her go. Please. I'll do anything you ask and more. But she doesn't deserve whatever fate you're sealing her into.

[It was still hard to pin down exactly why Nadia was so important to Myri. She saw good in the woman once, when she chose to hide them when she could have exposed their presence in her dressing room. Each time they met, Myri felt like she was meant to help the woman, and if there was a chance she could do so from here? She had to take it.]

[scratchfever]

It's cute how you think I have any say in their designs on that girl.

[witchwoman]

But you can talk to him. He must trust you to have given you the task to take me in.

[scratchfever]

He trusts me to carry out orders. That's very different than caring about my opinion.

[witchwoman]

Can you ask him for an audience, then? I can offer it myself that way.

[not. letting. this. go.]

[scratchfever]

I'm not sure what it is you're missing about your situation here. But he's not interested in your opinion, either.

[witchwoman]

He wants something from me, and obviously my cooperation is valuable if you needed to threaten my familiar's life to ensure it.

Besides- if you are simply here to follow orders, don't you think it should be up for him to decide if he wants to speak to me further?

[scratchfever]

[ they head through the large doors into the strange, sterile facility. ] It's not your cooperation he desires. It's your submission.

[witchwoman]

[For as long as Myri has lived in this world and slept in the most that modern convenience had to offer, she's still that girl that grew up living off the land. The pristine, sterile room makes her skin crawl, as does the tone with which the word submission is uttered. She does her best not to shudder (will 27, bitch. she's so good at swallowing her fear... for now).]

My submission. [She repeats it quietly, sinking in.]

[scratchfever]

Yes. Killing you is a display of power, but controlling someone is where real power lies.

[witchwoman]

Control me to do what? I don't understand what you hope to gain by this. Why not just replace me with the doppleganger?

[scratchfever]

Whatever he needs you for. Living creatures are useful. And we can learn much, studying what you can do.