Participants:
| Scene Title | Smoke and Lies |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | In order to escape death, Eve is forced to make an offering. |
| Date | March 24, 2018 |
It didn't take long after meeting with Ray and Kaylee outside the warehouse and saying goodbye to Rex that Eve entered a alleyway nearby walking towards her car, the black and red 64’ Mustang that had seen her through before the war, during and after. Her baby. Roxanne was to be treated nicely and was worked on often by the seer but.. accidents were bound to happen when you were as manic as Eve could be.
The paint is needing a new coat, a few dents and dings, old patched up bullet holes and when she opens the door to throw in.. a box with holes in it and a couple other items from the warehouse the door creaks loudly, echoing down into the dark on the other end of the alley. She would need to oil that soon. Humming softly to herself she slams the door shut and goes to the trunk, the heels of her boots clicking on the pavement in the alleyway she parked in. The dress from earlier is still glittering in the shadows, the red contrasting nicely with her pale skin. Pale gray eyes flicker as she pulls out a nicely rolled joint and lights it, leaning against the trunk of the car. A lone light was on the wall not too far from the woman, casting the rest of the alley in a weird mix of shadow. Steam from a nearby grate rises up nearby, a fat brown rat squeaks as it scurries by.
Messenger bag sitting on the car behind her, Eve sighs and looks up to the sky, blowing the smoke into the air and watching it drift off and away dissipating before long.
Eve missed where the rat goes — and it's journey was interesting — because her joint is flicked out of her hand to land down on the asphalt. It thumps once, twice, drops ashes and glowing embers. She is moved in the same motion, jerked off of her feet and hoisted into the air with legs kicking and a tightness at her throat. She is spun around, thrown back-first onto the hood of her car, head hanging over the grille. The world is upside-down to her now, but the specter of death approaches heedless.
Death, in this instance, is a man in his seventies with wild gray hair and a tattered third-hand suit hauling an oxygen tank in one hand and pinching the last nub of a cigarette in the other. Eve feels the familiar pressure of telekinesis pinning her down, but he isn't even so much as making a gesture to do it. As he comes closer into view, stepping through a gout of steam issuing from a storm drain, Samson Gray flicks his cigarette onto the ground with visible disdain.
“Seer,” he croons. “Dream seeing, portentous visions of the future.” His thick gray brows furrow together and lower visibly. “Did you see this coming?” He wonders if anyone has asked her that before? Is he the first? He hopes he is.
The loss of her joint causes a quick groan, “Aww ma- whoaaaaaa!” The raven haired woman’s pale gray eyes grow wide as she is jerked off of the ground and put in that upside-down position. Trying to grasp at her throat, she makes a pained noise, a wounded hyena. Genuine fear in her eyes. She hears the wheels of the oxygen tank before his form breezes through the steam. As easily as he would breeze through her she's sure.
When his face comes into the light and the cigarette is seen being thrown to the side she blinks and thinks back to what Ray just told her about the man.
The transformation is stunning to watch. Her eyes wide and cross until she looks like she's literally looking at her nose. Tongue lolls out of her mouth as she lets what little control of her body drop her head in an effort to appear passed out. A beat and her eyes snap open as she peers up at the old man, “Dragon,” her voice coming out in a tight squeeze, face red from the telekinesis around her throat.
“When I met your son for the first time he stabbed me in the tummy with a samurai sword.” There's a strangled chuckle from the lady and she kicks her legs up and down on the hood of her car. If she could burst out laughing at the moment she just might. “You know.. you might be the first person to say that to me.”
“Maybe I did,” She says in a singsong voice eyes wild, burning with curiosity. Burning with excitement, she's too fucked up in the head to realize she's right near a dragon’s maw. Or she is and she thinks, “I met another dragon before. He was ice, so shiny. Woo.” It hurts to talk but that's what Eve does. Talk.
Samson exhales two jets of smoke out his nostrils as if to embody what Eve calls him. He approaches her, a short distance between them, and brings his respirator mask up to his face and takes in a long and wheezing breath before lowering the mask down again. “Leave it to my boy to play with his food,” Samson grouses, setting the mask back down and letting go of the tank’s handle.
“You know, cats eventually run out of lives.” Samson opines, leaning in to look down at Eve with narrowed eyes. “Why are you following me, pussycat? Did someone send you? Did you tell anyone you saw me?” His chest lurches, a cough suppressed for the sake of presenting strength in this moment. “Answer me!” He chooses to bellow instead.
“Do you like ham?”
The question is simple and very absurd. Eve shows no sign of recognizing that at all she looks way too serious. Wanting to know the answer. She notes the oxygen again. “You're sick, no healer will see you?” Of course not. “He was nice when I just saw him. The wolf was scary though, for a second I thought I was roadkill.” A choked laugh.
“I did die twice now, have you done it yet?” An honest curiosity, eyes squinting up at him trying to study him. The pussycat, hyena or whatever else looks death in the eye and flinches at the first and second barked question.
“I just got Gabriel to leave his depression cottage recently! I believe the next step to a healthy, happy Gabriel is a family reunion. “And whoa whoa whoa Mr. Dragon, I don't kiss and tell. Look at me, you can’t break this pudding here.” Banging her head against the car with a wince.
“Okay okay jeez, it's not like I'm going anywhere Sir Dragon. The only person I believe saw you was Richard,” She wiggles her fingers. “He said you killed him.”
“I did.” Samson’s eyes narrow, patience thinning. “Seems like you and him both have some stubbornness in common.” With a jerk of his head, Samson flips Eve around into her stomach and then lifts her up into the air and keeps her suspended over the hood of her car. He considers her for a moment, her ability, her attitude.
“You're broken, have you gone to see a healer?” Samson snorts derisively at the question, then slowly brings Eve forward and down, lowering her into his field of view so she's eye level. “I'm going to ask you one question, and if you don't — or can't — answer it to my satisfaction, this is where you'll die.”
Smoke and ash flakes off of Samson’s body, falls down like dust from an old shelf. “I'm not my son. I don't appreciate broken things. I throw them out.” He's close enough now that Eve can smell the disgusting mix of cigarette smoke and sickness on his wheezing breath.
“Tell me the name of a living regenerator.” Samson’s brows raise slowly. That’s the ask, that’s the question Eve’s life hinges on the answer to.
There’s another sound of shock that comes from the seer as she turned the other way and hovering in the air. She's always wanted to fly. “Whoa!” But the elation at hovering quickly turns to a bout of nerves. “Listen many have tried but this Humpty just ain't getting put back together.” Samson is not in fact like his son but in other ways, she's sees her friend there. She also sees… desperation. And while Eve is insane, she is not dumb. Especially with how obvious Samson is being. The pale woman tilts her head, trying not to wrinkle her nose at his rank breath.
She’d offer a Tic-Tac but that might result in her head getting lopped off, for the second time in her life.
She squints her eyes and looks him over before staring straight into his eyes. The dragon’s jaws were dripping with drool and Eve was beginning to understand that this question was indeed important. Luckily for her, she's looking for a certain regenerator and Samson can actually locate him.
With a flap of her eyelashes, it's a coy look. Not the one of someone facing imminent death. “Adam Monroe.”
Samson’s eyes narrow, go unfocused, for a moment it looks as though his attention is somewhere else. Then, slowly, he reaches up and points two fingers at Eve’s head. “Try again, preferably one closer than all the way to Hong Kong.” In that moment Samson reveals a horrifying ability, one that slows him to precisely locate someone named to him.
As if to emphasize his point, Samson creates a little telekinetic pressure at Eve’s right temple. It's not a saw like Gabriel’s ability, but rather something more blunt. It's like the feeling of a hammer being gently placed against flesh and bone. Primed for a strike.
“Last chance. Name a regenerator that isn't in China.” Samson tenses, stifling another cough.
“Are you sure? He's the cherryiest of them all. A real life immortal- Ah fuck.” She stops as she feels that pressure and her eyes shift from this way to that way. “If you really don't want a real life immortal.” she sighs and lets her chest fall, eyes closed and then she shakes her head. “She's a friend, I can't do this to her.”
Eve bites her lip, “Libby Case.”
She hates the woman, more than she hates bunnies and though the Dragon is trying to kill her she isn't exactly sure that she's on the menu. “She should be here. Somewhere in the red, white and blue.” Her face is in a grimace, a look of a damsel in distress. A woman who didn't think she would be in this position tonight.
Again, Samson’s head tilts to the side and his brows furrow. He stifles another cough and concentrates on the name, lips curling and head tilting to the side. “Nnnh, Texas?” Samson’s mouth curls down into a frown, head tilting to the side slowly. “Better.” He drops Eve, letting her fall to her knees in front of the car. But two fingers still warningly point at her.
“If this doesn't check out,” Samson warns, smoke wafting out of his mouth and gusting up slowly into the air. “I'll be back, and… I'll find you.” Finally, Samson lowers the two fingers, motioning to her joint he'd flicked out of her hand before, bringing it to float up between his index finger and thumb.
Samson tucks it away, for later, behind one ear. “If you see Gabriel…” his eyes wander for a moment, then settle back on Eve’s. “Tell him…” brows furrow, his head tilts, and then Samson just gestures in the air and turns partly away from Eve. “You know what, nevermind.”
There's a, “Oof!” As she lands on the ground and she stays on all fours head down, hair obscuring her face. It worked. For now. And she could already hear the clock ticking. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.
Eve’s head snaps up and she frowns as she sees him help himself to her joint. “Alrighty then! Nice seeing you! I'm sure me and Jazz-Gabriel will be having dinner soon! I hear Texas has fantastic BBQ bring me back a rib! Or a whole rack!” The woman is walking back to her car with a look up towards the sky. She opens the car door and the screeches as she slides in and watches the man in her rear view mirror.
The illuminated light of the clock on the dash looms before her. Eve’s not sure how much time she has. Or how long it’ll take for him to discover her ruse. But.. for now.. she needs a smoke.
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.