Participants:
| Scene Title | How to Save the World |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Some men have more regrets than others. |
| Date | November 21, 2008 |
Dorchester Towers — Ethan's Apartment
Dorchester Towers is home to many upper class, or more wealthier inhabitants. This apartment seems to be no exception. First impressions of this place, give a homey, and well furnished feel. Lamps are put in the right place, decorations here and there. The living room consists of a large green sofa facing the wall of windows, which has a large flatscreen TV in front of it. Speakers are installed all around for the Surround Sound feel. Next to the TV is a cabinet full of DVDs. Most of these movies include a gun of some sort in each of them. A small coffee table sits in front of the couch, a few magazines spread out on it.
The kitchen is well stocked, with a microwave, coffemaker, and of course a toaster. There is an overhead pan rack hanging over the stove which has many pots, pans, and other utensils hanging from it for easy access. Three doors lead away from the kitchen and living room. Two are large, comfortable bedrooms, complete with posters on the walls, and one is a room that is furnished with a stand up punching bag, dumb bells, a treadmill, and other types of work out equipment.
The apartment is dark. Though the lights in the bathroom have been left on.. Other than that all lights are off. It is completely silent with no apparent signs of life. Though there are signs that life has been here recently. The most obvious being the shattered mirror in the bathroom and the blood in the sink and on the ground, there is a small trail of blood that leads to the kitchen, where Munin would find several open and empty or half empty bottles of booze. Some bottles are shattered on the ground, though the blood trail leads back to the bedroom. The door is closed.
Munin has always taken off her shoes at Ethan's door. Tonight, though, is an exception, and the sound of broken glass crunching beneath her ballet flats filters through the night, softly punctuated by an occasional hitch in the girl's breath as she surveys the damage, wandering from the bathroom through the living room and into the kitchen where she stops to crouch down and brush her hand across the linoleum floor. It doesn't take her long to find what she's looking for, her fingertips skimming across the sea of glass until she finds a piece big enough to pinch between them, careful not to cut the delicate skin of her thumb as she slowly begins to rotate it, fascinated by the way light reflects off the shard at different angles in varying intensities.
Standing up again, Munin sets the broken piece of glass on the counter — one less hazard for some barefooted person to impale their soles upon — and begins to make her way toward the bedroom door, making very little noise but for the creaking of the floorboards as they groan beneath her slight weight. "Ethan?"
Behind the door a sudden rush of movement is made. Thudding, things being closed, until finally the door swings open. Through the darkness, Munin might or might not be able to make out the wound on Ethan's head, or the wound on his hand. Though he grabbed a towel tab off the excess blood, he didn't do a wonderful job of it. "Princess." The man greets. His voice is uncharacteristically quiet and weak. "Didn't know you were stoppin' by."
Dubious, Munin watches Ethan from beneath her dark lashes, green eyes illuminated gold by the faint glow seeping out from the bathroom. Her gaze shifts from the wound on his head to the wound of his hand, though she says nothing about either. It's possible she doesn't recognize them for what they really are, but it's more likely she doesn't know how she should respond. "No," she says, "you wouldn't have. I didn't call ahead."
Awkward. A long moment of silence passes.. The shirtless Wolf finally says, "'ungry? Would you like me to make you somethin'?" The man asks, though he makes no move or any indication that he is going to move. He remains perfectly still in the doorframe.
In that long moment of silence, Munin continues to study Ethan, preoccupied by the sheen of his blood against his skin the same way she couldn't take her eyes off the glass back in the kitchen. When he speaks, she doesn't even offer him a shake of her head this time. Instead, she asks him, point blank, "What did you do?"
"I.. I was saving the world." Ethan says quietly as he retreats into the room. Going to sit on the edge of his bed. The mirror in there is shattered as well, glass scattered along the floor. Placing his elbows on his knees, he then supports his chin in his palms. The gun with the silencer still attached is laying on the middle of the bed.
Munin follows Ethan into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her with an almost inaudible click. She hopes to spare the man some of what little dignity he has left should anyone else happen to wander in unannounced. The last thing he needs is for Dina or Amato to see him like this — they might never let him live it down. "You're drunk." It isn't a question. It's a gently spoken reprimand, and it's accompanied by her hands on his bare shoulders as she slides onto the bed behind him, putting herself between Ethan and the discarded weapon.
"I think so." Ethan mutters softly. Breathing slowly, he looks up at the door. "I haven't been drunk in years." Says the Wolf who is not so Wolf-y, right now. "I think I should go to sleep. Or vomit." One hand, the not bloody one, comes to clasp hers on his shoulder. "Please don't tell anyone, Princess."
Munin's slender arms wrap around Ethan's neck, hands coming to clasp in front of his chest, and she tilts her head forward, burying her face in his hair. Even though she'd never wish for even a fraction of Sylar's power, she'd give almost anything at this moment to have his ears. If she did, she could better listen for discrepancies in the lazy pattern of his breathing and the beat of his heart. She's not sure if she should be calling an ambulance or if she should be calling Elias; either way, she doubts he's going to be very happy in the morning whether or not she seeks outside help. "What did you do?" Her voice is a little more insistent than the last time she asked, but it isn't any louder. As she speaks, her breath, warm and smelling faintly of peppermint, ruffles through the hair on the back of Ethan's neck.
His hand weakly grasps at her wrist. His eyes close for a moment, and his head bobs down. In the next moment he is a about to stand up, having forgotten that she was attached to him. Once that is realized, his attempt stops. Though through the darkness he looks longingly at the dresser across the room. "Something unforgivable… If Kazimir is wrong." Even the loyal Wolf's conviction is shaken. "I.." The man shakes his head slowly. "Don't tell anyone how I am right now.. Please, Princess." Finally his weight goes slack a little as he finally answers the question. His voice weak. "Go watch the news. I introduced America to its newest catastrophe. Pariah attacked the High School."
Ethan may be able to feel Munin tense, the muscles in her body growing tight, anxious. Still, she does not leave his side — the news and all its fear mongering can wait. Ethan the man is more important than Ethan's work. He always has been and, at least in Munin's eyes, always will be. As angry as she is, as embittered, disappointed and resentful as she feels toward Ethan and the Vanguard, she keeps her emotions to herself, her voice strangely listless as she eases him back into the pillows and uses her sleeve to wipe away some of the blood from his face. "Sleep."
He slowly rests against the pillows as she suggests. Though.. something must be done. Springing to his feet, the man quickly makes his way to the dresser. Opening it he pulls out something then returns to the bed. Surprisingly quick for an intoxicated man. He goes to lay back down, this time clutching the thing to his chest. A picture. His other hand goes to take hers again as he goes to lay his head down. "I'm sorry.." He whispers. What for is not exactly certain or even who he is saying it to, for that matter…
Ethan moves too fast for Munin to stop him. She's about to get up and pursue him, but he returns to the bed just as she's beginning to rise from her knees, one small hand gripping the headboard for support. The other finds itself once again in Ethan's grasp, though the young woman seems not to mind. She gives his fingers a small squeeze that's meant to be reassuring, assuming he can even feel through the anguish of his intoxicated state. "Sleep," she says again, her gaze drifting toward the photograph.
A woman and two children. The only picture he has of them. His most important posession. He doesn't offen look at it, but tonight it is specifically important. Ethan's hand returns the squeeze weakly as he lays his head against the pillow and slowly starts to drift off.
Munin waits until Ethan's breaths have grown long enough and deep enough for her to be sure she's asleep before she slips her small hand out of his much larger one, and begins treating his wounds with the materials that are immediately available to her. Setting the photograph aside on the nightstand, she finishes sponging the remainder of the blood off his head and his hand, then pulls the sheets all the way up to his chin so the sweat plastered to his chest and face doesn't leave him shivering in the dark.
A few minutes later, she's back in the kitchen with a dustpan in one hand and a broom in the other, a cellphone tucked between her ear and shoulder. "Elias? It's Eileen…"
 November 21st: Last Kiss |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 November 21st: This Is Fucked |