o4 🔥 bitter bitter sweet no more

[pillz]

Who: Kavinsky + Andyr + some hallucinated guests ;;; also a separate Ronan
When: Early January 2017
Where: The floor in the tower with all the corpses. Also, Andyr's imagination.
What: Kavinsky being http://37.media.tumblr.com/acc0449d5631384dd581e69a17a3dfbe/tumblr_n4b43yL9nv1qiju81o5_r1_250.gif, elaborate creep revenge, the usual. Edited now to include Ronan Lynch's murder-shaped revenge!
Warnings: R for death, corpses, psychologically manipulative revenge, mention of suicide, concerning themes from Andyr's character history, murder attempt



closed to andyr;

[after the initial discovery of the second floor, it'd been crowded with a brief spate of investigators, some of them properly equipped-- hopefully— for the act of scavenging residual supplies, and others merely do-gooders, concerned and hopeful of survivors. of course, that latter hope died pretty quick. the air itself is noxious and filled with bacteria. you'd have to have a pretty strong constitution to want to stay for any length of time, no matter how promising the allure of overlooked supplies in better-protected spaces.

fortunately for andyr princes involved, andyr prince has a very good constitution. supernaturally so, by the measure of ordinary people, like the one who's been casually stalking him for the past few weeks. no doubt, it had neither surprised nor particularly concerned andyr, to find the skinny bulgarian boy with his gas mask wandering in the periphery of his vision as he moved between corpses and sorted through shelves. or merely watching him when he entered the tunnel heading up. kavinsky is a creeper. andyr knows this. tangling with him had led ronan to try to kill himself, but kavinsky seems to tend to skirt the laws prohibiting murder and andyr's survived worse than anything the silly kid could throw at him short of that.

so it goes.

this is andyr's second day scouting. he enters the fetid murder morgue, bag empty, and not even his impressive senses can pick it up, when a gas begins to release out of a cannister under one of the corpses nearest the entrance.]

closed to ronan;

[on this fine and fatal night, the sky is full of stars. camp is quiet. by now, most people are in bed, barring a few nocturnal revelers up to comfort each other or perhaps speculate what their future beyond the ingress will hold, perhaps the scientists hard at work on the great machine high in the tunnels. and of course, one ronan lynch.

kavinsky's been planting his tent near medical, the heart of camp— tactically intelligent, if you care about keeping yourself alive against irish vengeance. it's hard to tell, sometimes, how many fucks kavinsky actually gives about his life. but this decision would suggest he had at least one.

but then he leaves camp. so maybe half a fuck.

fifteen minutes later, and ronan finds him out in a shallow cave, huddled out of sight of camp. there's something moving by him, a flicker of firelight.

but change the angle a little, and it's clear that it is nothing built for cooking or for warmth; instead, it's a creature made of glowing smoke and strange, sharp teeth. a dragon, which stands no higher than kavinsky's crouching knees. it capers and hisses and crawls harmlessly into kavinsky's stitch-marked arms, wriggling. it would appear that kavinsky made himself a friend, a macabre revision of the thing that killed him in henrietta long ago, when ronan had been trying to save him.

hell. the time for role reversal seems ripe.]

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[pillz]

[they're gone by the time kavinsky moves again, his lip curling into a sneer. he turns his head to look at the doorway they went through, picturing their paired silhouette. how they'll look when he's done with them. he doesn't yet know what he'll do.

but he'll think of something. he always does.

he closes his eyes, and lets his head fall back on the pillow. on his chest, the smoke dragon walks a tiny circle, then curls up, hissing low in the quiet of medical machines.]