Participants:
| Scene Title | Soon: Heaven or Hell? |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Yana is awakened in a state of unrest by a thunderstorm. With Moriarti at her side, she is forced to face the harsh conflict of leaving loose ends untied, and her position and fate in all of this. She comes up with her own plans for her future and the Red Death. But can she do it? |
| Date | October 7th 2011 11:40PM |
Hilton Penthouse Suite
Late clocks the hours on an all too quiet night, considering the events that make up the current state of her immediate world. Hazel eyes lift open as Yana drifts out of slumber when a rumble and a flash of thunder shines past the skylight. She stares for moments at a time at the heavy droplets of rain that drip down the reinforced glass. The luxury penthouse suite is dark, quiet and still, all save for the sound of the storm.
A glance to her side revealed the mass of slumbering man turned over onto his side, gone fast asleep that is Thomas Moriarti. For months now, they have been keeping a low profile, maintaining a suite at the Hilton until things are rebuilt and start to settle. She mentioned research into the ‘Red Death’ to work, taking a couple of months to work from home just shortly after leaving the hospital from her injury.
Poor Thomas has been working so hard, as his branch as be very busy trying to put out various bureaucratic fires throughout the city. And he was also ordered to keep an eye on her, for possible suspicion. What better way than getting as close as he possibly can to her. Her mind goes back to that morning when it all started to change for her, and got them closer than she ever thought would be possible…
Dorchester Tower Apartments - July 18th 2011
Once Yana finally woke, tangled in rumpled bedding, Moriarti was not there with her. But the smells and sounds coming from the kitchen would be enough to draw her curiosity. And once she ventured out, she would find him there, clad in a pair of black pajama bottoms and nothing more, tied about the waist and flowing about his lean legs. Padding about the kitchen in bare feet, availing himself of her foodstocks and kitchen itself to cook up a breakfast.
Gregori was a competent enough chef, and Moriarti seems to be as well. It isn't gourmet, but it is made with his own two hands. Eggs and bacon, toast and bagels, and tea and coffee set out next to juice.
As is the theme of late, Yana's best laid plans are turning up with a few hitches in them. Major ones, yet not anything that she can't quite handle. The gunshot was the least of her worries. It might have been close to being her life, but the body heals, and new opportunities arise, which brought Yana the idea to procure a token, a show of stature, and a way into the organization that has placed her on a brand new board and playing field.
Normally two steps ahead, her foresight is often shown to be impeccable, though there are forces and situations that even she is unable to factor in, the biggest of which being the return of the past she left behind. The place where she buried her heart, surfacing in the most unlikely of vessels, and now.. a the burn from her injury isn't the only warmth that she is starting to feel in her chest. She wakes, much like she always does in her bed, to the sounds of breakfast cooking, like she always does, and at first she believes it was all just a dream.
However, the woman is hot as daft as to mark it off as such, considering the unmistakable scent of a man's cologne upon her sheets, and the once familiar feeling of the morning after. Impossible. He had cared for her, touched her and loved her like they had known each other for years, but she thought it was a drug induced dream, but it looks like her suspicions were true. If it wasn't a dream then—
She is quick to rise to her feet, finding her sheer black robe and tossing it onto her shoulders, slipping her arms into it and stepping from her bedroom and into the area which contains the man cooking in her kitchen, that isn't the hired attendant. "So, it's true." she is calm, trying to muster forth that rigid behavior that she has acquired since the first time Gregori and she parted company. "For once in my life, I believe I have no words that I can offer. I'm just.. astonished."
Moriarti turns from the stove, saucepan in one hand, spatula in the other, flipping the pan full of eggs over. "Yes, it is true, although I never expected it to happen." he replies, maybe a little too cryptically. The pan is returned to the stove, sizzling away as the bare-chested man reaches to take a drink of coffee.
Lowering the mug, he motions for Yana to sit, "Sit, eat…" he offers, motioning to the spread laid out on her counter. "…since I'm sure you've a healthy appetite to go along with the questions that I've no doubt are forming in your mind." he says, outwardly far more calm than he truly is.
The pan is pulled from the heat once more, its contents flipped onto a plate, and then slipped into the sink to await his attentions after breakfast. "Probably the first being 'how' I bet…"
"Formed, to tell the truth. I'm always prepared, as you should well know. Even in the event of unforeseen circumstances." Yana makes notation to him, slipping the robe more onto her shoulder as it finds it' way to drape off. Those dark eyes of hers are collected, the wheels in her head are turning and churning out the possible answers and then questions derived from those answers, and so on and so on. All the while, she finds a seat at the table where indicated. Sitting straight, as proper as ever, and quite curious as to the question he proposed.
"How is one of the more prominent questions on the list, yes. It might be prudent to know that first before I proceed with the rest. And then possibly, we'll see just where things stand after that."
A slight murmur of 'touche' passes Moriarti's lips as Yana corrects him and finds a seat at the table. Moriarti continues to play self-appointed host, transferring the spread of food from the kitchen counter to the table, her place already set. A teapot is set on a small stand off to her left, steam escaping from the top.
And then Moriarti takes his place at the other end of the table, his own place set out infront of him. Leaning back, the man steepled his fingers as he regards his widow seated opposite him. With his secret out, more of Gregori's personality mingles with Moriarti's, surfacing like bubbles on a pond.
"Evolution, as several geneticists would say. As near as I can fathom, my Evolved ability is some form of ressurrection, although not in the classical Biblical sense." he begins, pausing to wet his lips with a drink of coffee, "…I died, there in the Hospital, with you clutching my hand, and then I woke up, in a sense, years later, as Thomas Moriarti. Some might say that what I was as Gregori, my soul, as it were, latched onto Thomas and blended with him."
Another pause here, as Moriarti leans forwards to pluck a piece of bacon from the plate, chewing and swallowing before he continues, "…I'm not Gregori, but I'm not Thomas, either. I have the memories of both men…" and then some, but that's not something to scare her with right now, "…up to that point when I woke up. And when I say I, I mean this new man, this amalgamation of the two."
If anything, Yana is a listener. She listens rather too closely to many things, in fact. And just as quickly as the words leave lips, she is already spinning them into the web that is her life in some way. There was always something a bit methodical about this process of hers. Meticulous and logical, lacking any hint of emotion, as such things disrupt the pattern in unforeseen ways. Though as she listens to Moriarti's explanation, she feels perhaps a small but very sharp pain in her chest. It isn't quite a knife, but it still hurts all the same. It sinks into the pit of her stomach before it is washed away by her more logical and better judgment.
Still, it was present, which poses her with a problem. One that she may or may not be able to deal with. "I see." she remarks, her eyes are upon her meal as she starts to cut it up into neat and nice squares, much like their former breakfast routine. Even eating was almost a formal event, proper and focused while topic were discussed. "So then, you've been through this before? Before you and I?"
While Yana listens to and digests this news, and starts in on her breakfast, Moriarti takes her silence as time to begin his own. Eggs well done, forked and scooped up onto slices of toast, with bacon and coffee. Not exactly Gregori's breakfast of choice, but there are little touches. Treating it with the same formality as he ever did, sitting across from Yana at a different table. No mess, no wasted motions. A touch of the napkin to the corners of his mouth, before it disappears back into his lap.
Her question is heard, and considered, as he finishes some of his breakfast. Washing it down with a sip of coffee, the familiar stranger nods as he watches her over its rim. "Yes." he admits, adding quickly, "..but it was before I ever met you, or worked at your father's hospital. Gregori Blite went to sleep one day, when he was seventeen, and woke up a changed man." The explanation is given simply, watching her reaction carefully.
It's not every day that you find out that your husband has a niche for coming back from the dead, after a fashion.
"On the level of a scientist, I find the prospect a bit… fascinating." Yana admits next, summoning the resolve to push through anything that she might very well be feeling at the moment. She hasn't felt anything in such a long time. No kind of remorse, no sense of emotional pain or real joy. All that mattered to her is.. Well.. it isn't something that she is privy to make other understand, but… That is Yana Blite for you. "And in other ways, I suppose that I find it a bit disturbing. From what you're telling me, the man that I married was merely just a role that you played. Another costume in your collection, a skin of sorts. And it makes me wonder if the life that you led was apart of that skin or if you really invested yourself to feeling what you did." Half of her food is eaten, and judging from the way her napkin is set down to the left side of her plate, she is finished. This was also a sure sign that she had things that were likely of concern, interrupting her appetite.
"I can respect this fact, as it is a trait that I picked up from you some time ago. Since your… initial departure, I've had to adapt. Considering what I came to discover shortly after you had gone…"
Moriarti watches Yana from across the table as he methodically works at his breakfast. His own thoughts on the situation carefully hidden behind controlled features, his own mask to keep himself steady as he treads through uncharted waters with his ability, and its ramifications. He does, however, scowl slightly, at her description of this as a costume. "Before the revelation that Evolved abilities exist, I took this as a sign from God…" he replies, quietly. Gregori was never a religious man, but different lives, different beliefs. "…that I was being given another chance to live my life, and do something right with it…"
He sets his silverware down, a hand catching up the handle of his coffee mug, lifting it to his lips to take a drink, taking that moment to steady his calm. "And I have lived each life as it was my own. Not a farce or a lie…" well, beyond keeping this whole ability a secret "…I was the man you met at the Spring Gala, and the man whose hand you held on his death bed. Everything in between was the truth…" he says, speaking against the rim of the mug, but loud enough to be heard as he makes that confession as to the nature of his life.
Then those eyes lift from regarding the spread of food still laid out on the table, up and across, back to Yana, a brow arching slightly in a silent question, waiting for her to continue.
God, the Devil.. notions which she tends to find rather still these days, considering man has made his mark in neatly ranking among such powers. The very notion in itself is something she finds.. amusing. So she doesn't offer anything to him in that regard. Moreover, she looks a bit relieved that he came to realize that God had nothing to do with it. "Well.." Now was the time; she had been practicing this, for some time now. In the even that something of this nature would happen. If Gregori somehow mysteriously woke up from that hospital bed, and miraculously fought back the disease that had taken his mind and body. It was a very impossible thing, but Yana has never been so foolish as to not expect the impossible.
"As it would seem, your death was in vain. Or rather… it shouldn't have happened. Shortly after you had gone, my ability developed in a much different way than it had been previously. I would like to attribute your death to being the very thing that sparked me psychologically to advance in that direction, because.." she lifts her gaze to look across the table at him, such an actress, reflecting pained regret, "As it turns out, I developed the power to actually have saved your life. Through force of will, and knowledge that I had gained through study and practice, I could seize the virion particles, and force them to… destruct, rather than to replicate. Thereby stopping the process, and curing what was impossible to cure before."
Upon rising to her feet, Yana carries herself over to the window of her penthouse apartment, gazing out into the view of the city, her arms reaching and wrapping around her slender torso. "Christopher himself; his loyalty to me comes from a purging of HIV from his system. Without a single trace, just… gone, just like that. The pain in knowing that I wasn't given the chance to save you in this manner hardened my heart to everything else around me. I no longer cared about anything else in a world that unfairly took you away from me, and then gave me the very means by which I could have saved your life…"
Her back to Moriarti, facing the skyline, she doesn't see him watch her path through the penthouse; although a glimpse might be seen in reflection, the outline of his head as it moves, following her steps. He listens silently, before rising from his chair. The clink of the coffee mug settling down on the table the only sign of movement as he pads across the penthouse on bare feet.
Moriarti comes up behind her, his hands coming to rest on her bare shoulders, a step to the side to look at her reflection in the broad window. "Life is not fair. I know that from my memories. Especially when it comes to death…" he says, his mind casting back to that first death, so many years before, body racked by the effects of tuberculosis. "Perhaps this has been a test.." or an experiment "…our loss, only to have this happen, once your abilities manifested…"
Yana's skin is not as cold as it probably should be. Quite the opposite to be exact, as the woman is quite warm, quite soft to the touch. It is just simply that no one has done so for quite a long time. No on has tried, no one has dared to. While many have found her beautiful, none have gotten close enough to warrant the ability to touch her without there being tension. Though as Moriarti touches her shoulders, she does not shy away, squirm or so much as go stiff at contact being made that she didn't invite. "At what cost?" she asks, trying not to sound too distant. There is a shift of weight, a distribution that brings her to lean back into his chest. "I died with you, that very night. Or rather.. the part of me that had the capacity to care for another. I've been so lost without you. And I'm afraid I would never have been found if you had never returned."
On her feet she spins until she has turned to face him, gazing the span of his height to find his eyes. "You were the color to my world, and you were unfairly taken away from me. For that, I find that I have been rather selfish. And at first, when you told me just now, about who you are? I wasn't sure what it was I wanted. But now, Gregori… Thomas, I don't want to go on any longer without you. Please, don't leave me again.." Gently she thrusts herself against the front of him, placing her face against his chest to listen to his heartbeat, her hands resting to hold at his forearms, keeping her close. This may not be the most logical road for her to take, pursuing this path. It could certainly cause problems in her adamant and ruthless ways, though it is a risk that she has no real choice but to take at this point.
Probably lucky for Moriarti that Yana has decided to go the emotional, warm-blooded route, than any other. Especially once those long-fingered hands settle on her shoulders, a rough touch that isn't quite familiar, even if he acts in a familiar fashion. Those hands slipping from her shoulders as she shuffles and leans back against his chest, forearms resting across her collarbone, his cheek against her head. Listening as she speaks.
As she turns, his arms go out slightly, enough for Yana to move unimpeded and lean into him. As her cheek presses to his bare chest, she can feel his heart beating a bit faster. His forearms tensing slightly under her touch, as his hands rest lightly at her sides, kept close by her grip.
"I won't, my sokrovishche…" he answers, tilting his head forwards to press his lips against the top of her head. "This is certainly different, but perhaps it was a test of some fashion, and our finding each other again has been your reward.." he murmurs into her hair, quite philosophically.
"But I cannot stay here all the time. I still need to go to work, after all…" he makes a light joke, even if he doesn't move to disengage Yana's grip on his arms. "..but I will endeavor not to die again."
A reward… or it is perhaps something to make her trip up. She has been so careful, so meticulous until now. Logic and reason go out the window when love is involved. This was one of her reasons for destroying Gregori the first time, and in one felled swoop, she's disarmed her most powerful instrument of destruction against him. Allowing, or sending a virus to attack him this time would certainly tip off the more sinister aspect of her ability. The fact that he survived makes her have to cut her losses for what they are. This is one time that Yana isn't able to cover all of her bases. She'll chalk it up as her one and only error. Besides.. if she is going to be attached to someone, it might as well be Thomas. In the interim, he fits her image, and her plans, and the possible implications of his ability are interesting.
"I know you can't. Not without people asking a bunch of questions. So really, the only other option we have from here, in order to bypass all of the more annoying speculation, and skip to the real stuff is to get married… again. Only for the first time so to speak. It'd be sudden enough to shock people, and it'll be a while before people in the circles I run in start asking questions."
Whether or not Moriarti was thinking about those unasked future questions, one couldn't say, with his cheek against Yana's hair and his eyes closed. Perhaps he was just joking about the fact that he does have to go into the office relatively soon. A light chuckle quivers in his chest, felt more than heard, at her comment of skipping to the real stuff and marriage.
"I meant that I needed to get dressed…" he murmurs quietly into her hair, "…but we could do that as well." But then he lifts his head from hers, his touch on her hips holding her there as he takes a step back. "…but I don't want you to feel forced into this, Yana.." he says, as if she did not just admit her continued feelings for him. "…I've lived each life on its own, before now…" he admits, which explains why he did not try to seek her out. "… we can still go slow, and let speculation be damned, or even in a completely different path… this doesn't have to be the only option…" he says, trying to be the gentleman even if inwardly he agrees with her assessment.
"Forced?" Yana turns her head upward to look at him. In reality, she kind of is. Though not by him. "What was forced was the fact that we never got complete our cycle as naturally as intended. The way I see it, we're rather picking back up where we started. A kick to the face of fate that decided to separate us in the first place. I don't think that you could have ever understood just how much of my world you really were." Nor did she, really, until he was gone. "I was never the same again. And I don't think that— I doubt that either of us will be making the same mistakes that we might have made the first time around." Her brows raises, which marks the first expressive look she has put on in quite a while. One might have to question as to if it hurt her face to do that.
"The only thing I'll need to get used to, is the change of name. I've fashioned myself to be Dr. Blite, but.. Dr. Moriarti does have a nice ring to it." she smiles. Actually, it has a more ominous sound to it than Dr. Blite to be honest.
Moriarti's features are a careful study in concern, that sturdy jawline with its light dusting of shadow. "Forgive me, Yana…" he replies at the start. "…this is new territory for me, returning to what I knew…" he says carefully. "…and I just wanted to be sure."
His lips do twitch upwards just a hint as she speaks of mistakes. "..yes, I will remember to pack bug spray the next time I go camping…" he jests, tilting his head to kiss her raised brow. But then he is disentangling himself in earnest, his hands slipping down to grip hers. His mind already working towards what he'll need to do on his way to work. The jewelers to visit and the like. "…but now I've really got to get ready to go, the skuttlebutt is that there's something coming up on the horizon, and I should probably be at the office."
It is likely a good thing that there aren't observers, or people who have been watching Yana through some type of surveillance. The… transformation that she seems to have gone through in a period of a few days would be rather uncharacteristic, if they could see her at this very moment. When he pulls away from her, take quick steps to rush herself ahead of him, turning once she blocks the doorway.
Her head shifts to one side, and she settles her eyes upon him intently, giving him a charming, seductive smile, speaking with a weighted tone that was filled with intent; wearing just what she is wearing now, standing in the doorframe with a sultry look on her face. "Not so fast." she smirks, "You haven't had dessert just yet. I know it's early, and we just had breakfast but…" her head turning just so to look back at the bed in the room behind her,. "I think there's room for just a little helping before you go?" she finishes while returning her gaze to him.
A shocking transformation and then some, but the kind that Moriarti likes seeing in the woman. She is a she-devil indeed, and surely she will drag him down into hell. But to a man that cannot truly die, that is half the fun. "I think I can make the time…" he replies, a broad grin across his face.
Hilton Penthouse Suite - October 7th 2011
Her thoughts return to the present, and here they are. And Yana is in a state of unrest. Gazing back at the skylight, she winces at the soreness in her side. Even after all this time, it still gives her trouble. Especially on rainy nights like this one. The pain in her side is nothing in comparison to the weighted feeling of confliction she has at her heart. This pressure keeps her staring at the blank space of the ceiling in contemplation of life. But, after a minute, she remembers who she is, and with an irritated toss of the covers off of her and an indignant grunt, she eases herself out of bed, and into the bathroom.
Once there, the doctor sighs, and places her hands upon the edge of the sink, staring up at her own eyes in the mirror. "What were you thinking? You've lost it." she scolds, and with another sigh, she opens the medicine cabinet, in search of her pain medication. Her search turning up fruitless, Yana closes the mirrored door, and nearly has a heart-attack at her reflection.
"Not yet, but close." her reflection responded in an icy tone. Her reflection was a representation of Dr. Blite. The frigid mad scientist part of her that sought to eliminate the human condition, through the use of viruses. Dr. Blite was just as elegant as, but she lacked the heart human feelings that caused her to consider ethics. "You've really softened your grip. And now your world is shaken."
Yana breathed out an exasperated sigh, slowly shaking her pretty head at the internal battle she had just engaged. "I'm fine. I've just stumbled a step or two. Gregori is back… somehow, I don't know. And I can start over." The side of her that is a woman, and whatever compassion that comes with it, obviously came to conflict with the side of herself that stood in the mirror. This is pretty much just a daydream right now, but it was how she conflicted with herself.
"You are losing sight of the bigger picture." Blite argued, "As well as that comfortable degree of control that you favor." Yana has always viewed the scientific woman she has built up to, to look strong, striking and possess a much shaper edge. In a world where men, such as her father, are blind to her being anything but his little girl, and not the son that would succeed him; Yana had to try ten times harder. She has to primp, and pull, and dress herself up to be noticed. Yet she had to present herself strong, while remaining feminine. Too much would seem like a threat, too little and she would invite views that were all too prehistoric in her mind.
She had to infiltrate, spread and overtake carefully. To the degree that her oppositiononce she pull the rug out from them had no option but to concede, and remain impressed. And this is why she always saw Dr. Blite as some type of fatale female dictator in appearance. "You aren't using your head, and it took you getting shot to shake off that delusion of invulnerability. So maybe now, you can think clearly. If you don’t mess it up, by slipping right back into that role of trophy wife, just like your father intended." Dr. Blite was very critical and her worst enemy.
Yana frowned disapprovingly of the assessment. "Plans can change. Things are simply going in a different direction." Yana stepped away from the mirror, returning to the room while she tightened the thin robe she had around herself. The conflict still ringing in her mind.
'There is no way that can happen. Not now. You are in this to the end, whatever end it may be. The virus is out there, and while you are playing both sides, where does it get you, if you simply give over the cure? And if it is traced back to you? If it is discovered that you are the source?' Blite retorted,
'I've considered all of that.' Yana defended,
'Yet you have done nothing to fix it. You're too distracted with things that will only cause you to fail. Create the virus; cure the virus. It makes your usefulness to them finite. Both sides need you to complete a task for them, and that takes you out of the equation. So how do you stay at the head of the table in both games? As well as ensure your safety in the event that the truth is discovered?'
'I don't know!' Yana cried in frustration.
'Yes you do.' Blite thought bitingly, 'Stop acting like a hysterical woman, and use your strengths. Think. Think with clarity. Stop letting yourself get distracted. How. Do. You. Do. It?'
Yana dropped back onto the bed, with her arms stretched on either side, almost touching Thomas in the process. Sighing heavily, she stared at the storm again. And as she contemplated heavily, her mind started thinking of things, thinking of concepts, such as war. "Sun Tzu said that supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting." Yana spoke aloud, talking to herself, as people of intelligence and high thought are ought to do.
And then, she squinted her eyes thoughtfully, the sentence bubbling an epiphany, her head canting ever so slightly, "Resistance…" she whispered, 'Of course! The antigenic shift will be the key. As of now, it only happens occasionally. Which… well… is why we have H5N10. But what if we had a strain that shifts after every week? Making it impossible for anyone cure the virus entirely. Anyone but me that is…'
Yana was thinking a bit more clearly than she had been. Even when creating the Red Death. Her plans even making her forget about the fact that her side hurt. 'I'll make myself indispensable by being the only one that can cure the virus, and making sure there is no one way to cure it. That is the kind of leverage I need right now. Of course, I'll continue to downplay my abilities, since it is well known already that I can supposedly see the weakness within viruses. And possibly—'
Yana suddenly sat up, leaning back a bit, her hands planted on the bed behind her, 'Wait. Why cure the virus at all? Yes, of course. That option would be better instead.' Like a sensuous and seductive serpent, Yana rose up from the bed, and walked her bare feet back through the bathroom.
‘An attenuated vaccine the doesn't only eliminate the first virus, but replaces it…' she gently drew back the shower door and reached in to turn on the water.
'This new virus, I'll program it to remain dormant for a set amount of time. A few years perhaps? That should be long enough. Its first direction to hide itself in bone marrow, attaching with a protein. Simple blood tests and biopsies would reveal its presence.' as the steam from the water shrouds over the room, she sheds the thin robe like a falling skin, stepping a dainty foot into the shower.
'I’ll announce it as finding a cure, and bargain it off to the big pharmaceutical companies to the highest bidder. Passing it off as the solution to the plague, possibly be awarded the Nobel Prize, and in actuality, the virus will require occasional vaccines that only I can make, otherwise, it will simply become the pandemic that it was intended to be… Eventually, everyone on earth will be vaccinated, because if a case of the Red Death pops up, the only solution is my special little vaccine.' closing her eyes and letting the waters baptize over her form.
'Once it spread to where I desire, I’ll be untouchable. Killing me would only ensure the death of the entire human race. If I don't survive? No one does… And it will also put me in a position of power that would be highly unlikely to oust me from. Of course, this does does mean that I may have to kill anyone that knows what I can really do, and the virus may just have to mutate to affect Evolved once more. At least until it's too late to stop me. We will cross that bridge if we come to it.' she stuck her head under the cascade of water, washing away her fears and concerns to replace with plots and ambition.
Yana caressed her hand over her abdomen, right over the place where she her scar from being shot,, opening her eyes, staring into thought-space, 'I will need to gather my own force that makes up for the area that I lack. It's time that I stop being a piece in someone else's game, and make it the last time I need to answer to anyone.’
She turns her head and looked through the glass of the shower door, gazing at the man asleep upon the bed, ‘As for Gregori… I’ll be his wife, yes. But only if he falls in line with my goals. Just how easily can he be seduced into the delights of my plans? Heaven, or Hell. It’s time for us both to make that decision…'