Moonlit Sonatas


eve_icon.gif sylar_icon.gif

Scene Title Moonlit Sonatas
Synopsis Revelations in the ruins, as well as a waltz.
Date November 8, 2008

Ruins of Midtown

Standing in the ruins of Midtown, it's hard to believe New York is still a living city.

There's life enough around the fringes — the stubborn, who refused to rebuild somewhere else; the hopeful, who believe the radiation is gone, or that they somehow won't be affected. Businesses, apartment complexes, taxis and bicycles and subways going to and fro — life goes on. Perhaps more quietly than in other parts of the city, shadowed by the reminder that even a city can die, but it does go on.

Then there is the waste. The empty core for which the living city is only a distant memory. Though a few major thoroughfares wind through the ruins, arteries linking the surviving halves, and the forms of some truly desperate souls can occasionally be glimpsed skulking in the shadows, the loudest noise here is of the wind whistling through the mangled remnants of buildings. Twisted cords of rebar reach out from shattered concrete; piles of masonry and warped metal huddle on the ground, broken and forlorn. Short stretches of road peek out from under rubble and dust only to disappear again shortly afterwards, dotted with the mangled and contorted forms of rusting cars, their windows long since shattered into glittering dust.

There are no bodies — not even pieces, not anymore. Just the bits and pieces of destroyed lives: ragged streamers fluttering from the handlebar which juts out of a pile of debris; a flowerbox turned on its side, coated by brick dust, dry sticks still clinging to the packed dirt inside; a lawn chair, its aluminum frame twisted but still recognizable, leaning against a flight of stairs climbing to nowhere.

At the center of this broken wasteland lies nothing at all. A hollow scooped out of the earth, just over half a mile across, coated in a thick layer of dust and ash. Nothing lives here. Not a bird; not a plant. Nothing stands here. Not one concrete block atop another. There is only a scar in the earth, cauterized by atomic fire. This is Death's ground.

There are few places in the city wherein Sylar can just "hang out", as it were. After the fiasco in Rapture, that's one less place to haunt. That is, in his true face, which he wears as the lighter sky slowly starts to bruise into more nighttime tones, clouds heavy in the sky. It'll start raining soon, and the scent of decay and destruction of Midtown is mingled with the ozone smell of a coming storm.

Sylar keeps his distance from the more radioactive center of this burnt out place, but not far enough where people would come. Unless you like to come here typically. He sits, expectantly, as if waiting for someone - and perhaps he is - but the person he does meet was not whom he expected. There's a piece of building half buried into the ground, broken cement, metal structures - he perches on this, feet just above the ground as he waits, and listens.

"Well hello there stranger" Eve says in a teasing manner to Sylar as she makes her way into the moonlight. Her grey-blue eyes study the man she hasn't seen in awhile. "Haven't seen you in a while, keeping busy?" Eve's eyebrow raise as she goes to sit just under him. Heels clicking, did Eve dream of them meeting tonight? Who knows.

Sylar doesn't turn his head when she calls out, but one eyebrow twitches up in surprise when the source of those footsteps, that heart beat turns out to be that of Eve Mas. "I've been very busy," Sylar agrees, only looking to her when she comes to sit near him. Like a bird perching on the shoulder of a wolf, who could well turn his head and snap and break neck and wings, but chooses not to. "I've been keeping your little PARIAH busy too."

"Have you now? I hadn't heard of that yet" Eve tilts her head back to look up at Sylar, "I'm sure you know, of the PARIAH split" she blows air out of her mouth and then looks up at the night sky. "Things are changing Sylar, you had better be careful" her warning should seem weird to the serial killer.

It does seem weird, and he studies her now with more interest than before. There is a little bit of silence, and fall winds blow through the area - only heightened due to the wind tunnels created by gapped buildings, making the lapels of his woolen coat flap a little, the breeze tugging at Eve's hair. "The split," he repeats, and gives a nod. "What side did you come to stand on, Eve?" And the warning is given little attention now.

Eve shrugs her shoulders lightly, "The more non-violent side" she says simply. "I'm not to sure on how well we are going to do though. Your thoughts?" The wind blows the seer's hair into her face but she doesn't try to move it. "And how have you been keeping us busy? Killing people?" Eve closes her eyes for a moment and then takes a deep breath. "So many things"

The non-violent side. Crazy twist. "I think this city is carved out of violence," Sylar says, smoothly, serenely. "I think it's the only way to stay alive." There's the sound of gravel crunching underfoot as he makes to stand, but not leave, just pacing along the large piece of concrete and metal he'd been sitting on. "And yes, I have. Do you ever dream about them, Eve? No, wait. I have a better question. Do you dream of who I'm going to kill next? I know exactly who it is."

Eve takes to standing as well and tilts her head at Sylar, "I agree, it would take nothing less than a miracle to save this city from itself" Eve runs a hand through her hair but the wind blows it back in her face. "I dream of them sometimes, but I'm always too late. Always" Eve licks her lips and her hands relax on her sides. "I haven't dreamt of your latest victim, who may that be? Is it me?" An eyebrow is raised.

Sylar gives a slow smile at the dark-haired woman, then shakes his head. "No, Eve. Not you. Not tonight. The next one has red hair, and she's beautiful. Scared and alone right now but I'll end her suffering soon," and he's taking steps back towards the precog as he speaks, "and when I do, I'll be able to make the rain fall like knives. I could show you some day."

Eve shakes her head and puts her hands on her hips. "Not yet huh?" but nothing else is said on /that/ subject. "Why kill her? Let her go Sylar" Eve isn't begging just talking to the man normally. "Make rain fall? That would be something to see I admit" Eve doesn't mention that Helena can control weather. "Why kill at all. Don't you have enough abilities?" Eve tilts her head at the serial killer and then snickers softly. "I thought you had stopped with the killing of folks"

"I did too. But let's just say, I've found a group of people who accept me for who I am," Sylar says, and then he brings his hands up. Eve will feel compelled— no, forced to follow suit. In fact, her whole body is no longer her's to control, aside from facial expression, the ability to talk, involuntary movements - everything else is Sylar's. As he steps towards her, she steps towards him in perfect timing. "And no," he says, now taking her hands. "I will never have enough power." You don't have to play Moonlight Sonata to imagine it, when the two will begin to waltz among the gravel in a pace that starts awkwardly, grows smoother as Sylar gets used to the mechanics of controlling both his movements and her's. "Why should I let her go?"

As Sylar controls Eve's movements, her eyes momentarily widen and then she blinks, "A new gift I see" she says in a impressed tone. "I like it" as the two dance, "A group of people, would they accept a crazy like me?" Eve is of course kidding! To humor the man, Eve begins to sing a slow and 'waltz-worthy' song. She takes a brief break of singing to say, "Because she is an innocent, she hasn't done anything to you, I realize that you are power hungry, I get that. But maybe you can spare this one?" Eve takes to singing again as she waits for Sylar's reply. Her eyes only on him.

The waltz is nothing elaborate - the basics one might learn in an enforced ballroom class in highschool, for example, which is likely where Sylar is getting it. But there's still a certain grace, especially coupled with the singing which draws an amused, throaty chuckle from the killer. "Spare her life, spare another life. Maybe I'll spare someone one day in your name, Eve, but not this time. This time, she dies." The dance is broken by a basic turn on Eve's part, Sylar holding her hand obligingly, and then forcing her to curtsey while he stands still. "One last thing. When you chose your side… did Alexander follow you? Helena?"

Eve sighs and nods her head, "Well if you promise to not kill someone one day, okay" Eve knows she can't defeat Sylar, not alone. "Thanks for that dance" Eve winks as she is made to curtsey and then her demeanor gets serious. "Of course they did. Helena heads the new faction, who heads yours?" Eve blinks and then sighs, "You know, this is beginning to feel a little weird. Mind letting me control my limbs now, hun?" Eve bats her eyelashes and her hair blows into her face again. "Like my singing?"

He smirks in the way that suggests he may or may not keep that promise… but he's always had a warped perception of justice and deals. And the man who remembers everything remembers something at the words 'new faction', and his eyes flash a little in intrigue. Grafitti covering old slogans. "Rise up," he murmurs, then nods once - Eve will suddenly be able to move her own limbs once more. "Yes. You sing like a bird. What about Claire? Did she follow your path of ashes and ressurection?"

Eve wiggles her fingers and nods her thanks at Sylar, "Oddly interested in our activities are we?" Eve tilts her head and circles around Sylar before coming back to a halt in front of him. "You should know the answer to that yourself. Claire isn't the same girl that you terrorized those years ago" Eve drags a hand through her hair and looks at the moon. "I haven't seen Peter lately. Have you?"

Not the straightest answer he could hope for… but he's been getting lucky so far and so he doesn't complain. He can likely guess the answer. Sylar stands still, hands sinking into the pockets of his coat. "I've seen Peter," he says, with a mild smile. "But not in the flesh. You're not the only person who can see glimpses into the future. Perhaps you should be dreaming a little harder, Eve."

Eve blinks, "You see the future too? Does it haunt your dreams? I doubt it would, seeing as you can sleep easy as you murder people. Just curious" the woman then shakes her head. "Is he alright and I dream just fine Sylar" Eve seems a little miffed that Sylar would insult her ability. "Helena hasn't said anything to me other than that he is fine. I am starting to get worried about your counterpart"

Despite the questions thrown at him, Sylar doesn't answer any right away. He cants his head to the side a little, and when he speaks, there's amusement in his tone. "My counterpart?" But he doesn't dwell on it, or push her to explain - he rather agrees. "And no, it doesn't come to me in dreams. It comes to me in pictures. Right now, Peter is a little conflicted. Divided, even." He starts to back away from her, now, in casual backwards strides. "If there's anything left of him by the time we're finished, maybe you can be the one to pick up the pieces."

Sensing that their meeting is over, Eve nods her head and begins to back away as well. Her eyes squint at the mention of 'divided' and she sighs, "Be careful Sylar, he isn't a pushover, but you would know about that" Eve's heels click on the cracked cement and she looks up at the moon, "Please make the woman's death quick, don't torture her" and with that Eve has disappeared behind the ruins and out of sight.

November 8th: On Proximity of Friends and Enemies
November 8th: Don't Shoot the Messenger
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