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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 10, 2012 19:48:22 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
Anytime.
He murmured in response to the thanks. He may dislike people, but he rarely wanted them dead, after all. He watched as she rose to her feet, noting the wince - he'd hurt her. A brief flash of guilt immediately appeared on his face, though it didn't stick around long at all. Instead, he reached up for her hand to help pull himself off the ground. He brushed himself off once he was on his feet, giving her a very faint smile.
That makes me both relieved and concerned.
He replied within a split second of her response for having been worse. It was a good thing he clearly hadn't hurt her too much - but the fact he'd hurt her at all wasn't exactly ideal either, and the thought she'd been hurt far worse in the past was unpleasant at best, even if it was expected. He brushed it off for now, though - he could worry about all that later.
For now, he rolled his head, neck crackling, though it hadn't fractured any. He did snap a broken finger or two back in place while she wasn't quite looking and twisted an ankle back into the appropriate place. He settled his hands on his hips as he waited, noting the look in her eye. Here came the questions. Lovely. Just lovely.
I jumped, of course.
He could have lied, could have mention that he'd scaled a wall here or there are something - but he doubted she'd buy it. It wasn't that dark in here, after all. He knew she'd doubt this, would question it, and that he'd have to tell more details than he cared to share - but there was no way of mistaking the truthfulness in his eyes, either. This was no lie, and the fact he'd been up there proved it was no crazed delusion either.
emily prentiss ...tagged 307 ...words --- ...playlist ohgoditsterrible ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 10, 2012 20:26:44 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
She let go of his hand once he'd made it to his feet, though giving him a bit of a frown at his response- not only was he relieved that she was okay, but he was concerned by the fact that she'd dealt with worse than a few bruised ribs before. She watched him, scanning for some kind of sarcasm or mocking she might be missing out on and surprised to find that the comment had been genuine- either that, or he was lying, and she really didn't care. It wasn't like it'd matter in the end anyways- though it was still a surprise to learn that he wasn't as heartless and- god forbid- psychopathic as she'd assumed.
She was quickly distracted by his answer to her question, though, and while he still seemed to be telling the god-honest truth, his response itself was ridiculous. As she'd observed before, the roof was tall, and by the sound of it he'd hit it with quite some force. There was no way in hell he could've jumped high enough to reach the rafters, let alone the roof. She watched him for a moment more, trying to look for any sign that he wasn't telling the truth- but at the same time, his explanation made sense. It wasn't like there was any other way he could've gotten up- but she wasn't quite ready to believe in something so impossible, not yet.
Just give me the goddamned truth, Tesla. And what exactly are you doing here, anyways?
She raised one hand to massage her injured ribs for a moment before letting her hand fall to her side again, keeping her eyes focused on him. He may not be heartless, but she still didn't entirely trust him- especially not when he was such an asshole most of the time. As far as she was concerned, he had no reason to be here, whereas she was at least doing something useful in the meantime. He was snooping around the rafters- she was actually trying to save a life or two. There was a big difference, last she checked.
349 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"No particular notes for this post."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 10, 2012 21:21:24 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
She frowned - he wasn't entirely sure why. It wasn't like he was exactly some cruel serial killer or something, and she didn't know what he was yet. She had no reason to think he wouldn't care, as far as he was concerned. Admittedly, he didn't really care much with regards to most people - but, like a select few, he'd taken a liking to her. She had spunk. He admired that. Or, at least, that was what he told himself - he didn't like admitting he didn't know why he was doing something, particularly to himself.
She snapped when she assumed he was lying though - didn't believe a word of it, though she'd hesitated. She'd hesitated, which meant she'd seen the truth in his eyes - she just didn't quite want to believe it. The problem, of course, was that he wasn't particularly good with spilling secrets like this. He was also so blunt, direct - straight forward and to the point and when it came to talking about the unknown, that scared the shit out of a lot of people. He, of course, loved it - but that was merely in his nature.
I am telling the truth. I thought of something that may help, I just came to check it out. It involves the rafters is all.
He kept his voice quiet and calm - he'd seen Helen and Will do it a thousand times now, at least. Perhaps he could mimic it, somewhat - at least at first. It was worth a try. It couldn't be any worse than having Kate break it to the poor woman - that girl had no tact at all. he loved it, sure, but it was useless in situations like this. Declan, though - he wished he'd brought Declan. The quiet, bookworm-type fellow would have done a splendid job at turning her world upside down while making it seem like not such a big deal.
He did, however, notice her rubbing at her ribs and - given this was all a little more on the mundane side for him - he was easily distracted by that, a faintly worried look crossing his face once more. He doubted they were fractured, knew for a fact they weren't broken - but bruised ribs could be hell. He motioned to them with a finger, eyes falling to the spot a moment until he realized just how close to her chest the spot was, and he quickly averted his eyes back up to meet her own.
We've got stuff back at the infirmary which could help that heal faster. No side effects, too, not like acetaminophen and the like. If you're interested. It'll take all of a few minutes; we can discuss this somewhere a touch drier. It's starting to rain, and I'll bet you ten pounds that this place leaks like no tomorrow. I can show you some of the files from the other cases, as well, while we're there, if you'd like.
emily prentiss ...tagged 496 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 10, 2012 21:49:17 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
What do the rafters have to do with anything?
That was what confused her the most about this whole situation, too- the fact that he'd been on the roof of all places. Examining the surroundings or the bloodstains on the ground, she could've dealt with at least somewhat calmly. But no- he'd had to go up to the damn rafters to follow an idea that made absolutely no sense. She tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, sure- or at least, as much of it as she could given just how much of a pain in her ass he'd been earlier- but even with that, this was really pushing things, and she was determined to find out just what thought had encouraged him to pull such a ridiculous stunt.
Her eyes remained on him the whole time, though, and she was immediately aware of his gaze dropping to the spot she'd rubbed, which happened to be close enough to her chest itself that she barely managed to keep herself from making some snappy remark regarding where he let his eyes wander off to. Soon enough he was looking back to meet her own, though, and that was enough to make her relax again- she hadn't even realized she'd tensed- though she didn't intend to take him up on his offer.
I'll be fine- like I said, I've had worse. Just a bit sore- that's all.
Of course, that wasn't the entire reason she'd turned him down, even if it was a very large portion of it. She simply wasn't eager to spend any more time alone with him than she had to- didn't trust him, really, and with good reason as far as she was concerned. Concern for her he'd shown at her injury aside, he was an asshole, and he seemed pretty damn heartless at that- he'd treated their victim from earlier that day like a piece of flesh to be studied rather than a human being, and that royally pissed her off, even if part of that was likely because of her connection to the case. Regardless, he'd given her no reason to like or to trust him, and so she wasn't accepting his help- simple as that. There were bigger things to worry about in the meantime, anyways.
So, care to go into detail about what you were doing here? Or do you always sneak out to crime scenes this late at night?
403 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to angel with a shotgun -- the cab
"No particular notes for this post."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 11, 2012 7:11:14 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
I've been on this case longer than you; I believe I've got a good idea where they clues are, wouldn't you think? High vantage points help with this guy. So- rafters.
He replied easily enough, and it wasn't anywhere near a lie. He just conveniently didn't mention that the clue were on the rafters rather than just better seen from them. She was skeptical, and he really couldn't blame her for that. If he didn't know better, he would have been equally so. Still, though, he wasn't overly fond of being questioned like this, and it wasn't like she could really do much to him, as he'd aptly run through in his head upon arrival earlier that day.
Your loss. Guess you'll just need to take it easy the next few days instead of a single day, but, you know, to each their own, I guess. Not my problem.
Despite clearly accepting her decision, he certainly didn't sound entirely happy about it. Part of that was, naturally, because it meant her not going to the Sanctuary - which left him as the only example available should she continue to question how he got up into the rafters. He wasn't keen on the idea of being shot a couple times tonight, or contaminating a crime scene with his blood. Still, though, he dared to turn his back to her, heading to the rafter and kneeling to peer at it, rolling it over so he could see all sides - and there. A small smile crossed his face. He'd been proven correct - she'd be unable to deny it now. It wasn't like either of them were bleeding, after all.
Insomniac, and I ran out of paper work. It was more productive than lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.
He replied offhandedly to her question, eyes skimming the dark, rusted material for each spot of blood. Jack was smaller than he was, after all - lighter. Smaller, even, than Agent Prentiss. The rafter could have held the abnormal, he was fairly certain, given it took moment from him in the very middle of the bar to crack it, not just his weight. Jack would be faster, and not hanging from a single spot - it was all very clear, to him at least. There were smudges at approximately equal intervals along the rafter, too - he'd crawled along this one. His eyes rose up, taking the direction of fading blood spots to figure out which way Jack had headed. Only two windows, both on the same wall. He'd have to check those out, but for now it could wait. Instead, he rose to his feet, picking the rafter up again and spinning it in his hand so the blood faced outwards, then turned towards her to show her
See? What did I say? Missed evidence. I know it may be hard to believe, but I do know what I'm doing with this, Agent Prentiss. You should be glad I'm helping. Your chances of getting the guy shot up exponentially the second the Sanctuary Network and I came on board.
Emily Prentiss ...tagged 513 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 11, 2012 11:29:15 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
His explanation as to how the rafters fit into all of this was far from satisfying though she let the topic drop for now, if only because he had saved her from a particularly unappealing head injury that flying rafter might have caused had it ended up hitting her- and as far as she was concerned, she'd had enough concussions for one lifetime already. She shot him a bit of a dirty look at his bitter response to her refusal, though- as far as she was concerned, he was just trying to irritate her into letting him help for some reason and like hell that was going to work, even if the irritation part was going quite smoothly.
I'm not taking anything easy.
She wasn't sure why it mattered so much to him that she accepted- and it did matter, she noticed, even if he didn't pester her to rethink her answer afterwards- but at this rate, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. She raised one hand to brush her wounded ribs one last time before moving over to the bloodstain that the dead ambassador had left. Maybe there was some kind of clue there- a pattern, hell, or even the dying woman trying to claw out some sort of message. Anything that might show that the other ambassadors were in danger, as Emily had come to assume they were- and even if the killings were centered in England, there was still a chance her mother would be transferred last minute and end up in the murderer's field of vision. It was a long shot, sure, but it wasn't a risk she was willing to take.
She glanced back up at Nikola as he spoke, and she couldn't say she was surprised- he seemed like the kind of person who didn't spend much time sleeping, even if he didn't typically seem particularly tired either, or at least, he hadn't both times she'd run into him. He had that personality to him, though- he could sleep when he was dead and all that. She only wished she could say the same thing- but sleep was more of a luxury to her than anything, especially when she was sometimes far too frightful to get a good night's rest anyways. Being personally targeted as many times as she had tended to have that effect on someone.
So you came here to follow a lead that may or may not lead anywhere?
She asked, her voice still dripping with skepticism, though she had returned her eyes to the bloodstain. There was nothing there, though- at least, nothing obvious enough for her eyes to pick up in the dim light, and she was soon standing back up and reaching in her pocket for the flashlight. She flicked it on and used it to send her gaze around the warehouse, looking for anything that might catch her attention that hadn't in the daylight hours before, though she came up empty. It was Nikola's words that roused her from the trance-like state she'd fallen into, and she turned to face him again with the flashlight raised. It didn't take her long to notice the blood on the rafter, and her brow furrowed with confusion at the sight. She tried to remain calm with his words afterwards as well, though a cool remark did still slip out even as she questioned the blood spots.
Get your head out of your ass for a few minutes and focus. It can't be our killer's blood- how could he have gotten onto that rafter in the first place? For all we know, it's just a bit of spattered blood from the victim.
607 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"No particular notes for this post."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 11, 2012 11:47:22 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
All leads may or may not lead anywhere. You still should follow them, Agent.
He replied dryly, not appreciating her tone in the slightest. It hadn't made him hesitate, though, and it never would. She could shot him full of holes and he'd keep going - a few skeptical words were hardly going to make a difference. He lived his life battling against skepticism, always had. Edison's doubts that alternating current would be better than direct current, for example - a bitter, bitter example, but an example nonetheless.
He waited and watched her confusion - something that brought him more satisfaction than it really should have - as she looked at the bloodstains on the rafter. He snorted in derision at the thought of this being splatter, of all things. Getting that high without getting too far outwards? Please. After the struggle, in which there had been a few small wounds, the ambassador had been killed quickly and efficiently. The rest, the coroner would find, was post mortem - meant as a warning to others to stop looking. The message no one ever got. Hopefully, her Interpol agents wouldn't be added to Jack's list. It wasn't like they were looking for him specifically - he could only hope. It would be a shame to see her turn up at one of the crime scenes as the victim.
He paused a moment to rub at the dried blood with his finger, a bit of it crumbling off to stick to his finger - along with some rust, but c'est la vie. He raised the bits to his nose, rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger to get a better scent off it. It matched perfectly. He brushed his hand on his pant leg, then took the time to slowly spin the rafter back and forth.
The victim's blood for sure - but in handprint and footprint shapes, Emily? Come now, be reasonable. There's more at play here than you want to admit.
He didn't keep a hold of the rafter, though, letting it fall back to the ground with a clang and stepping back towards her one step, eyes darting to the rafters once more. He needed to get up there and check the windows - but she'd never leave now that she was here, damn it. There was no way he was just going to leap up there, not with her right there, especially not with the flashlight out. It would require at least a partial shift in features to make it, after all. She'd see - and that would be harder to explain than the jump itself, and whole hell of a lot more threatening to her, too. He hadn't quite resigned himself to taking a few bullets this evening - not yet. His eyes landed back on her as he brushed by, leaning to whisper in her ear a bit as he did.
But you already figured that out, haven't you? Just couldn't prove it.
emily prentiss ...tagged 491 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 11, 2012 12:09:31 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
I know how leads work, thanks. I just think this was a bit of a crazy one to actually look in to.
He was an easy man to hate, she'd give him that- not that hard on the eyes, but easy to hate nonetheless, and she found herself keeping a bit of a distance as she eyed the spots of dried blood from where she stood at the moment. The flashlight made it considerably easier to see them at the moment, and even before he rubbed some of the blood off on his finger, she could tell it likely wasn't splattered after all. The rafter had been pretty high up, after all, and it wasn't like there had been much spatter off to the side- the murder had been relatively clean, even if it was a bit gruesome. Her eyes flew up to his as he spoke again, though, and she snapped out a few more words before she could stop herself.
Don't 'Emily' me.
He was right about the shapes he'd mentioned, though- there was a distinct handprint shape on the rafter and a footprint near to it, and there was no way either of those was just spatter from the victim. She sent him a glare as he dropped it back to the ground, though- she'd need to get that shipped to forensics to check for fingerprints and make sure the blood belonged to the victim and not a second party. She didn't have time to retrieve it before he'd moved closer to her, though, and her eyes narrowed warily as he leaned in to whisper a few words in her ear, using that leering tone of his she'd already come to hate with a passion.
It's not spatter- I get it. I'll have it brought to forensics for analysis. For now, though, I'd love it if you'd just stay the hell out of my way.
She shoved past him then, her shoulder rubbing harshly against his in the process, and reached into her pocket for a glove- he may have handled it with his bare hands, but she wasn't about to contaminate it any further if possible. She slipped the glove on and picked up the piece of the rafter, momentarily relieved that the piece that had broken off was small enough for her to bring with her back to the Interpol office until she could get a hold of the forensics team on the case and have it sent to them instead. She turned back to him then, rafter still in one hand, as she sent him one more cold look. Her words were laced with sarcasm, though at the same time she did want an answer- and she would be heading back to the office. There was nothing here to help her tell if her mother was in danger.
Anything else I should know before I head back to the office?
480 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"No particular notes for this post."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 11, 2012 12:34:56 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
He shrugged as she went to pick it up. If they even found something akin to a fingerprint, it would be useless - Jack wasn't exactly in the system. She could take it. It wasn't helping him any. He did, however, have to get to that window. He glanced to the crates - but if the metal failed, the wood certainly wouldn't hold his weight. He sighed, hand coming to run through his hair. He couldn't leave the windows. It was raining, they were broken - the evidence would be washed away within an hour. He cursed softly in Serbian. He really didn't have a choice.
And then she was mentioning heading back to the office. He could have died from sheer relief. She'd leave him alone after all. He didn't let it show, of course - no, instead, he took one last look around and shrugged, slipping on that face that practically screamed that he couldn't care less.
Not that I can think of. Beyond that you should probably get some sleep. It's when your body heals the most, according to scientific studies.
He motioned to her injured ribs again with the last comment, though his attention wasn't really on her at all - and the fact he was distracted proved that well enough. His eyes trailed back up to the rafters, looking for a good one to leap up to in order to get to the proper windows. He should have known better than to focus on that alone - but he assumed she was leaving. Spotting a rafter that would do, his mind set about calculating trajectory, speed, power - everything that would dictate the best takeoff point that wouldn't end in him whacking headfirst into another rafter. Finding it, he moved over, eyes still glued to his landing spot.
And this time, he made it. Nearly tipped off again, but he made it - without hitting the roof, without dangling, and the rafter was thicker, sturdier - safer. Carefully planned footsteps led him to the farther target window - the one dust prints lead to. There was nothing there, though, and he let out a soft breath with a shake of his head, whispering a few soft words, though they echoed down loudly enough.
Jack, you sneaky bastard...
emily prentiss ...tagged 377 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 11, 2012 12:56:40 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
Shut up.
She muttered, and with that she turned her back to him and went to leave. She headed back to her car without another word, wasting no time in throwing the passenger's side door open and resting the rafter gently against it. It was late at night, and there was almost no one on the roads- she'd be able to drive slowly enough to stop it from being jostled around, she was confident. However, she wanted to take a look at the handprints first, in case they were damaged in the process of getting the rafter back to her office. The light was too dim out here, though- she reached for her pocket to withdraw her flashlight, only to realize it wasn't there. It only took a moment for her to remember exactly where it was, too- she'd turned it off and sat it on the ground beside her when she'd went to put the glove on. Therefore, it was still in the warehouse.
She wasn't eager to go back in, especially not when he'd likely have some jeering remark to make in regards to her forgetting the flashlight, but she had a feeling leaving it there for good just to spite him wouldn't be her best move either- and so she went back into the warehouse, head held high. She'd just slipped back in when she realized he wasn't there anymore- which was odd, considering she hadn't seen or heard him leave, though the dim light the moon was giving her was probably good at keeping him hidden as well. She'd just returned to the spot where she'd left her flashlight when she heard the words, and immediately had her gun out as well and the flashlight clicked on, searching for whatever direction they may have come from- and that's when she spotted Nikola, this time on the rafters once more.
You- how the hell did you get up there this time?
She slipped her gun back into its holster, confident he wasn't any danger to her but still curious as to how he'd managed to get up to the rafters so fast, especially when there was nothing around here for him to climb, either- nothing save for a couple of crates scattered around the empty building. She kept the flashlight trained on him, though, watching his every move and still not entirely trusting him. It was clear enough that she wanted an answer, and she wanted it now- and just telling her he'd 'jumped' wouldn't cut it this time around.
419 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"No particular notes for this post."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 11, 2012 18:53:38 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
She came back in - he hadn't expected that, but it was too late. She'd noticed him and looked up, and there was no way he was getting out of this. The flashlight was on him before he could get out the window, too, and he froze in the light, a string of curse words flying through his head. He stared blankly at her a moment before properly hearing her question and replying, though clearly a touch stunned as he spoke.
Same way as before.
His eyes skimmed the floor for a moment looking for the best place to land. Near the wall, he decided then - he'd still break something, landing anywhere. There were no soft spots. She wasn't going to like this, he knew - and he'd probably get shot too, really, with how she always reached for that gun. Jamming her trigger would be useful to prevent that - so he did just that, with every intention to fix that before they parted. But they weren't about to part just now.
His eyes moved to the wall, nails sliding out on one hand as he leaped to meet the wall, nail sticking holes into the walls and tearing streaks down as gravity and momentum both pulled him back to the ground, leaving gashes in the side of the warehouse as the screech of ripping metal echoed through the air. As his feet touched down, he paused to check his nails - no damage, as anticipated - then hid them again, glancing over at her.
This would have been a much easier talk to have at the Sanctuary, but you decided to be particularly stubborn, I'm afraid.
He murmured softly, though his voice was surprising soothing. He understood how fearful this was at first - he'd felt the same at his first change. For that reason alone, he didn't step any closer to her - didn't dare, even though the rain began to pound on the roof and slip through the cracked, slowly soaking him to the skin through his suit. It was chilly, yes, but it wouldn't make him sick. He didn't get sick. It merely didn't happen, save a few particularly strong poisons at higher concentrations.
There are things in this world even I cannot begin to explain or understand - though I'd appreciate that not get around. It's too... humbling.
emily prentiss ...tagged 389 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 11, 2012 19:50:55 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
She hadn't expected him to be so surprised that she'd actually returned to the warehouse- obviously, he hadn't noticed the flashlight she'd left on the ground, or hadn't thought she'd actually come back to retrieve it. Either way, he sounded considerably stunned when he spoke, and her mouth was soon falling into a skeptical and even annoyed scowl at the fact that he was still trying to convince her he'd jumped. If there was one thing she hated, it was liars- call her naive for believing that honesty's the best policy, but that's exactly what she thinks.
Her flashlight remained trained on him the entire time, and therefore she noticed almost immediately when the nails shifted out. At first, she thought they were just tricks of the light- his fingers casting shadows on the wall behind him, or something like that- but then she realized the nails themselves had shadows, and before she could do anything else he'd jumped towards the wall and driven the nails deep into it. Her flashlight fell out of her hand as she scrambled for her gun, bringing it out and firing blindly in his direction only to find the trigger jammed, and that soon slid free of her grip too as she dropped to the floor to scramble for the flashlight once more. She found it and had it aimed at him again in seconds, this time with him on the floor and her scrambling back to her feet, her eyes trained on him and wide with fear and betrayal.
You- your hand-
She glanced from him to said hand and back, noting that there was nothing there now- but no, it had been too vivid to have been a hallucination or trick of the mind. His words didn't do much to reassure her, either, and she kept the flashlight pointed at him even as she reached for her gun again, adjusting both so she could both see him and shoot him if it came down to it, though a quick tug of her finger on the trigger was enough to tell her that it was still jammed. She continued to watch him with that fearful fire in her eyes as he spoke again- it was that look akin to a wolf that had just been cornered by something bigger and more dangerous, but intended to go down fighting nevertheless. It was an accurate description of her at the moment, really.
You- you just- what did you just do? What the hell are you?
416 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"No particular notes for this post."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 11, 2012 22:20:29 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
He waited patiently as she tried to shoot him again, letting her get organized and not moving a muscle. He had no intention of being a threat to her - to anyone, really, save those who got in his way during something particularly important. Right now, though, he had all the time in the world. He didn't even move away from the rain. He could deal with the cold.
She finally got out a few coherent questions, though, and they brought a faint smile to his face. She was accurate - asking what he was rather than who he was. He glanced away a moment to gather himself. As appropriate as it was, being asked what he was often stung a little. It was just another reminder that he wasn't human - which he was okay with - and that he was a monster - which he was a little more iffy on.
...You mean this.
He murmured softly, though he didn't phrase it as a question even if the words alone would suggest otherwise. He held a hand out in front of him, where she could easily see it in the beam of light she cast upon him. Slowly, carefully, he let the nails slide out again, turning his hand, twisting the light across them a bit - they reflected it like clean metal, after all. He sighed softly and shifted them away, raising hesitant eyes to her once more. This wouldn't end well. It never ended well.
...I'm a vampire, Agent Prentiss.
He didn't shift, didn't do anything to suggest he was telling the truth - not immediately anyway. He allowed her a few moments to hear it, a few more for it to sink in, and then another minute for good measure so that she could react how she liked before he - very deliberately - shifted out the nails, the fangs, the eyes, and even the bone structure. She may as well see it all, he figured.
emily prentiss ...tagged 326 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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Post by EMILY PRENTISS on Oct 11, 2012 22:55:35 GMT -5
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speech - thoughts - narrative
She froze with those first three words, breath catching in her throat and staying there as she watched him wave a hand in front of the light. Slowly and deliberately, what looked like completely normal fingernails darkened and grew into what she could only describe as claws. She felt every muscle in her body tense as the typical fight-or-flight response kicked into action, though she had a feeling neither would be a good idea right now. Besides, she still wanted to find out just what he was, because he sure as hell wasn't human- that, what he'd managed to do as far as the jump and the claws were concerned, wasn't human. Not in the slightest.
Had he not shown her the claws himself- not to mention, obviously managed a ten foot high jump at least twice- she wouldn't have believed his next three words, and even with the proof she had she still had trouble coming to terms with it. Vampires- they didn't exist. They weren't real, and this was all just some crazy scheme he'd come up with to royally humiliate her, or scare her half to death. She was proven wrong mere minutes later, though, as the nails grew in on both hands, fangs protruded from his lips, his eyes went black, and his whole skeleton reformed itself into something she could only describe as monstrous. Everything that happened next was no more than a blur- she felt her legs lose strength beneath her, and the next thing she knew she was on the floor and moments later, unconscious.
When she came to, she was immediately aware of her head pounding, and soon after that the fact that she was in a bed, and a rather comfortable one at that. For a moment, she assumed it was her own and turned to bury her head in the pillow to hide from the light. It didn't take long for everything to come back to her, though- at least, everything up to the point when he'd shifted entirely. Anything after that was a blur, and she had a feeling that was more of a blessing that anything. However, it was now quite obvious that this wasn't her bed after all, and her eyes flew open in seconds as she tried to sit up, though her bruised ribs flared up in pain then and her eyes scrunched shut in a wince. Wherever she was, she was in a lot of pain, though finding out where she was quickly took priority.
418 words for nikola tesla
written while listening to nothing
"No particular notes for this post."
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Post by NIKOLA TESLA on Oct 12, 2012 8:39:58 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true] | [atrb=background,http://i1189.photobucket.com/albums/z431/poshiloh/Remember%20the%20Name/middle.png]
speech - thoughts - narrative
He had anticipated the shock, of course, but when it came to how she would react past that he had fully expected her to try and shoot him again, to scramble away, or to run. What he hadn't expected was for her to faint. As she began to fall, he'd leaped into action with every intention of catching her, but he merely didn't react fast enough. Her head hit the ground before he could reach her, and his first thought was to make sure she was okay - except he couldn't really ask her, given she was unconscious. So, he gently scooped her back up. Her car was forgotten - not to mention, he didn't need theft added on top of kidnapping accusations when she woke up - and so he brought her back to the Sanctuary the same way he'd gotten to the warehouse: on foot.
He'd passed Declan in the halls, had the Brit go to get her some dry clothes from Kate's closet as well as make some warm chamomile tea. He, personally, couldn't stand the stuff - he was rather biased towards black - but it would help calm her nerves when she woke. With that, he brought her to his bedroom, slipping her under the covers despite her being soaking wet, tucking her in and stoking up a fire in the fireplace. From there, he waited for Declan to bring the tea before going to change himself, into something drier. His clothing choice wasn't much different this time - dress pants and button up shirt of almost identical color, but this time a sharp, body-hugging black vest to go along rather than a suit jacket.
He was just stepping out of the bathroom when he heard her shifting in the bed, and his eyes glanced over to see her burying further into the pillow for a moment. It managed to bring a small smile to his face for a brief moment - though within seconds she was attempting to bolt up, and he was at the bedside in an instant, gentle but firm fingers pressing against her shoulder to ease her back down, eyes undoubtedly worried. He wasn't used to not making it in time to stop someone from getting hurt - at least, not when he was right there.
Easy - you hit your head pretty hard when you fainted. Are... Are you alright? Do you need anything? Want anything?
emily prentiss ...tagged 403 ...words --- ...playlist --- ...notes
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