paradisalogs | And if you close your eyes

Entry tags:

And if you close your eyes

Who: Joel Angrypants, Lucrezia Borgiapants, and Cassandra Cainpants
What: Saving lives, losing lives
When: Tuesday morningish
Where: the castle
Rating: R for violence

Typically, Cass isn't in the castle when the sun comes up, but she is today. It takes a long time to get her out of bed and it's only Lucrezia's voice over the journal that does it, pulls her away from warmth and affection and back to her own disused room for a quick shower, wishing up fresh clothes, and then she's off to search out her friend.

Come and meet me, Cassandra. I'll be waiting. That was really all it took and now here she is, on her way to find Lucrezia to find out what she'd needed. There's something odd to the castle today though, it's not quite noon and she hasn't seen many people, but she doesn't think they keep the same odd hours as her.

Doesn't really matter though. Today is going to be a good day, strange mood of the castle or not, and when she spots Lucrezia she has to grin. It's easy to sneak up on her and grab her around the waist from behind, spinning her in a circle and kissing her cheek before setting her down.

"Found you," she says, smiling as she goes to stand in front of the other girl. "What are we doing?"

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Only a fool would call Lucrezia considerate, even when it comes to those dearest to her. Her message to Cass is less an invitation and more of an order after all. Presumptuous and severely inconsiderate. A good friend would have allowed Cass this moment. Morning sex is the best thing after sliced bread after all. She blames it on ignorance, for now, so much so that that she goes as tense as a block of wood when Cass takes her by the waist to twirl her around.

This trip is one she had meant to keep hidden from everyone else, because she still keeps her most important possession (a letter) in the castle for fear of losing it (for fear of Joshua finding it). Only the kiss and her friend's voice has Lucrezia loosening up, trying a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. That's quickly followed by a suspicious arch of her eyebrow though.

"Did you eat one too many sweets today?"

Once, Dick had told Cass the story of a boy who never wanted to grow up and his faerie friend who was so small she only had room for one emotion at a time. Seeing Lucrezia's strained smile, Cass feels a bit like that faerie now, all her joy fades to be replaced by concern for Lucrezia.

She steps in closer, that question forgotten or ignored or just saved for later, maybe, and puts a hand against her cheek.

"What's wrong, Lucrezia?"

Lucrezia would be more inclined to believe herself to be such a faerie. The girl so small she can only feel for herself and not enough for others. That is what Spike has been telling her, isn't it? What a heartless person she is. But she can try, shaking her head and placing a hand over the one resting on her cheek.

"I would rather speak of sweets," and she tips her head down to prod Cass into spilling. Come on now. "Did Steph let you eat all the donuts this morning?"

The letter can wait.

It's not so much that Cass doesn't want to spill as it is she knows who she spent her night with isn't the important thing, here. She's really not going to be doing much talk about it anyway, but she doesn't particularly want to lie either.

"No, Lucrezia. There were no donuts." She reaches for Lucrezia's waist and guides her out of the hallway a little more, to somewhere more secluded. "Are you okay? Why did you... need me here?"

She's starting to worry now.

It's a pity that she can't read Cassandra's expression as well as the girl can, when she very much wants to. If not donuts, what then? Lucrezia narrows her eyes at her playfully. Curiouser and curiouser. She lets herself be led away for a few steps before stepping aside and reaching for her hand so she can lead the way, walking slowly toward her own room.

"A lady must have her escort. Preferably a knight. Though I wonder now if you have found yourself another mistress." It would be fine if it were Steph. Tim, not so much.

Linking their fingers together, Cass is able to smile at that and shake her head.

"Would never replace you. You're the only... mistress I need." Though that's an odd name for it, in Cass' opinion. She's not even really sure what mistresses have to do with anything but in any case that doesn't really matter.

No, she'll just swing their hands by their sides as they walk, still watching Lucrezia out of the corner of her eye.

"You're getting something, from here. Something important?"

Odd is right, but she likes it too. Mistress. It has quite a ring to it. There was a woman once named Mistress, though she doubts her parents named her thus. Not that it's such a terrible thing to be named by one's lover, one's friends, instead. Lucrezia swings their hands even higher and smiles to herself. Whatever Spiegel implies, Cass is still here. She isn't alone.

"Most important. A love letter. Perhaps I should write one for you next."

She had promised as much, hadn't she? That Lucrezia would never be alone as long as Cass was there.

"I'd like that. You'd have to... read it to me, though." She says with a sly grin. "Who's yours from?"

Her brother. Don't judge.

"My better half," Lucrezia just tips up her chin and smiles to herself 'cause she ain't telling without getting what she wants. "I might give you a name if you tell me what sweetness you took pleasure in this morning."

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Tess and Joel had been wrong to guess and chance that the infection wouldn't spread. They'd been stupid not to take Ellie (and Clementine, he has to find Clementine) and run the moment that bloater showed up. Nightmares are normally standard business -- he wakes from them to a quiet, undisturbed Castle, day in, day out.

This time the nightmares are real. It's spreading again. It's happening again.

Joel is hidden around the corner, listening: their conversation sounds to him like ominous, low screeches and a series of clicks. Click-click-click. What used to be a peaceful Castle is filled to the brim with them today.

Loading his shotgun as quietly as possible, he takes a steadying breath and weaves around the corner. He's far away enough that they won't see him or sense him yet, so he pulls the gun up and aims for a head-shot on the first one. The other won't hear him till he fires the first round, and he'll be good and ready when it does; he's armed to the teeth with intent to kill.

There's only two in this area. He'll make his way through, bit by bit, same as he always does.

Edited 2014-02-25 17:31 (UTC)

As good as she feels, as happy as she is to be spending time with Lucrezia even if it means dodging questions, she hasn't forgotten the strange feeling of the castle. She's still on alert, an entire life of keeping an eye on your surroundings so you don't get caught by someone, it prepares her for this. Her hand tightens in Lucrezia's and then moves to her wrist, gripping her and stopping them and turning to find...

"Joel?"

He's wrong, though. Something in him is wrong and he doesn't recognize them. That gun is a problem, so she puts herself between him and Lucrezia. If he fires, it will be Cass who gets the full force of that shot.

She doesn't have her Batsuit today. What would Bruce say, knowing she'd gotten complacent?

"Put it down, Joel." She says firmly, but she doesn't think he's going to listen. He hadn't last time, but the difference now is she can't dodge. With Lucrezia there, she'll have to take those bullets. She'll give him one chance, but then she's taking him out.

He doesn't hear his name, or see her face. All he sees is something that used to be a body with a fungal infection sprouting from the inside out, tearing through the skin, through the skull. More clicking, no movement.

It hasn't spotted him yet.

Joel steadies his aim and fires, straight for the head just as he first intended. Make this quick and easy. The blast of the shotgun resounds loud through the hallway and the kick of it in his grip reminds him of home.

He's prepared for when the other one rounds on him from the noise.

Edited 2014-02-25 20:11 (UTC)

Lucrezia wouldn't have noticed Joel creeping up on them had Cass not called attention to him, all ready to blind him with the brightest smile yet though it dies before it reaches her eyes. She knows what a gun looks like and what it looks like when someone means to use it. Gripping Cass's hand more tightly, she does take cover, standing stock still behind her friend as the man keeps... stalking them. As many enemies as her family has garnered, this is the first time she has remotely felt like mere prey for the kill. Does he intend to kill them?

Her mind speeds up, running through all the possible reasons why (what has she even done to him that she hasn't inflicted on others even less deserving?), just as she sees him taking aim.

Even amid all of it, she distinctly understands that Cass is standing here to shield her from the worst of it and guns are worse than cannons. Much worse. She can still recall those men on the fields torn in half with their guts strewn on the ground like vivid red ribbons. She spots her friend's face among the fallen just as she hears the deafening sound, remembering I would cover your ears, my dear, as she tries to shove to the ground. Much too late.

This would be so easy if Lucrezia wasn't there. A dodged shotgun blast, some ruined plaster on the wall, Joel sporting a bruised or broken jaw from her taking the gun and smacking him in the face with it.

Easy. Over in the blink of an eye, and after a few months maybe they could laugh over his poor attempt.

But she knows before she even starts to move that she's going to die today and no one will be laughing. A shotgun and no kevlar and a very important person to protect, those don't leave her with many options. But it won't hurt, and she'll come back. Everything will be fine.

She can see where he's aiming, but she's on him before the first shot goes off. Hand on the barrel she shoves it down, feels the impact rip her right shoulder back. Somehow, miraculously, her arm stays on, but she feels her lung protesting. Sluggishly she grabs for the gun at his hip, rips it and the shotgun from him and throws them down the hall. She can hear them clattering away, but her attention is still squarely on Joel.

Her friend. And he still has so many weapons on him. Maybe she'll laugh at how hopeless this seems, but now she leaps at him, hits him square in the chest and knocks him off his feet and onto his back. All those big weapons, they're pinned under him now. He can't get them unless he gets her off him and that's not going to happen, not with her pulling her arm back to punch him square in the face.

He's done this so many times, he doesn't understand how he's misjudged it.

One thing that can always be counted on with infected is their predictability, and here Joel is watching that rule fly out the window. Clickers aren't slow, but they aren't that fast either. They don't see -- so how the fuck did it make its way over just before he fired the first shot?

How the fuck does it know how to yank guns out of his hand, away from his person? There's no time to work it out. Panic overwhelms him when the shotgun shell does nothing except rip a hole through its chest and he's suddenly on the ground. Fear, adrenaline, that specific type of fear he thought he'd left behind after half a year without it. He'll probably die this time.

Terrified, but his movements are deft and precise through it all -- he pulls a shiv from his pocket and aims to jam it deep into the infected's jugular.

He's always got something on him.

Lucrezia knows she would make the worst wingman in any kind of fight that involves less repartee and more brute force and agility, both of which Cass has in plenty. She should feel grateful then, when she watches her friend launch into motion, moving like something more than mere human. A guardian angel. To her untrained eye, her friend seems just as fast as Joshua. Only Joshua would easily dodge that blade in Joel's palm now aimed for her friend's neck. Right? Perhaps Cass could be just as fast.

Still, the helplessness she feels is all too familiar. It feels as if the world is a tempest and she is trapped in the eye of the storm, resigned to watching everyone else fight against her, for her, die for her. Fools, the lot of them. There are many more worth protecting than her. Cass herself, for one.

She knows too that her rushing forward now to pick up the smaller gun thrown to the floor would hinder rather than help her friend. But that never stopped her before. The weapon nearly slips out of her hand when she aims it at the both of them, and she finds she can't remember how to turn the safety off. Damn Spiegel and his half-hearted lessons. Damn her mind for failing her when she needs it most.

"Sto--" her throat clenches shut and she has to force out a scream to make another sound. "Stop!"

With a knife sticking out of her neck, this has to end now. And the blade has to stay there or she'll only have seconds to finish this, so her hand wraps around Joel's, holds it against her neck and squeezes until she feels his fingers breaking under her grip. She doesn't stop until every finger is crushed and his hand falls away limply, that shiv still embedded deep in her throat. She'll have minutes now, and minutes is enough.

She reaches for Joel's other wrist and pins it to the floor, drives her fist into his hand and listens to those bones break too. He won't be hurting anyone else today, Lucrezia is safe from him, the rest of the castle will be fine. They're the ones that matter, one life for hundreds is a very good trade.

Cassandra, though, can taste her own blood on the back of her throat and her head is doing that fuzzy thing that happens right before you die. She's very tired now, she realizes, and maybe going to sleep for a little while would be fine. The hallway floor is no warm, soft bed, but it might do.

This gets stranger.

It's strange that his face hurts from what feels like a punch, that his guns were taken, that the other clicker hasn't come over yet (he hears it screaming and chances looking, only to be completely baffled by the sight: it picked up his gun?), that the one on him hasn't killed him yet. That shiv ought to do the job, except it doesn't.

The infected lives only to break his fingers. Joel grunts almost more out of confusion than pain, although the pain is intense and doubles up in intensity when it breaks his other hand. Another deep groan, sucking air in through his teeth.

He doesn't understand. With his hands disabled, useless and broken, he brings his knee up and shoves the weirdest clicker he's ever encountered off of him. Something's wrong, something's very wrong. This isn't--

He scrambles to his feet and runs for his life.

Edited 2014-02-26 21:13 (UTC)

It feels like forever passed as Lucrezia fumbles with the trigger and the gun, trying to make it fire while also trying to aim away from her friend but why, why, why the fuck won't it fire? Her mind goes at the speed of a mile a minute but she finds her hands moving much too slow.

It all comes to a halt when she sees that knife plunging into Cass's neck, because that's it. It's all over. They have lost and Lucrezia has failed yet again at keeping those she cares for alive. It's a curse, she thinks, and that somehow this too was also her doing by some convoluted chain of events. Something she said once to Joel, perhaps, the looks she gave him. Whatever she did to Spike. Being born a Borgia. There's a reason for this and her self-centered mind figures it probably goes right back to her.

She chokes out a sob as she drops the gun to run toward her friend, barely managing to catch her before her head hits the ground. It should be Cass, with that jarring blade in her neck, who should be sputtering, barely able to make out words, though she comes close to saying no, no, no, you cannot leave me, you would not dare, you promised between her sobs. But there is so much blood. How can anyone bleed so much?

Lucrezia brushes away any hair from Cass's face, leaning in to press her lips to her forehead as if that alone would make everything better, because she won't die. She promised. Dropping one hand to the knife's handle, she reaches to hold her friend's hand with her other to ease with the pain. All she has to do is take out the blade and Cass will heal and everything will be fine. She won't die.

Everything might have been salvaged, if that knife had stayed in. Lucrezia could have called for help, the blood loss could be reversed, doctors could have fixed her neck and that gaping bullet wound on her chest. She even manages a weak smile as she looks up at Lucrezia, golden hair blurry but still pretty as ever.

There's so much red on her though, and Cass raises a hand to try to brush some of it off just as Lucrezia pulls the blade from her throat. Her eyes widen, lips barely forming the word no but now it really is too late. That little bit of hope gone because Lucrezia was just trying to help.

She was so tired before but now she has nothing left, all of her strength floods out of her with each beat of her heart. Lucrezia still looks like an angel as she fades away, pretty blonde hair.

It's always pretty blonde hair and arms wrapped around her when she dies, Cass thinks to herself as she lets her eyes close, finally goes still. Pretty blonde hair and she winds up in the arms of someone she loves, to take her to the other side. There are worse ways to go, really.

The blood spatters her face and that pretty blonde hair slips out of their braids, the tips tinged dark red. She pulls out the knife and lets it fall to the floor.

To Lucrezia's mind, there is no more hope. As sheltered as she might be when it comes to other matters, death dwells close to her, her family. She knows a mortal wound when she sees one. There are no miracles here, even in a magical castle or the arms of the Pope's daughter. Even the Vicar of Rome can't pray for miracles to save his favored son, so where does that leave the rest of them?

She cradles her friend by the base of her head, as she would hold her own child, her other arm wrapped about her body to keep her warm. They say it is coldest before the end. Perhaps it's true. There are some here who have returned to tell the tale.

"Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine," she finds she can recall the entire passage: Te decet hymnus Deus in Sion et tibi reddetur votum in Ierusalem exaudi orationem meam ad te omnis caro veniet. But the words feel distant. They are cold and meaningless and she wonders how much comfort it would give Cass if she doesn't even understand the words. She holds Cass tighter to compensate, kissing her forehead again and again. She can think of little else to say (not I'm sorry, never that).

"Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna." She hopes her prayers prove unnecessary.

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And if you close your eyes

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