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Post by Sylar Grey on Jul 17, 2015 3:27:19 GMT
"I," he paused, hesitating on his response because frankly, he didn't know. The boy he left was just that- a boy. Not old enough to look out for himself and he hadn't been around to see if he was capable of keeping himself safe now. It made a sick pile of guilt build in the pit of Sylar's stomach, anxiety pressing at his pulse as he worries. Is Xeon safe? Could he get hurt? Shaking his head, his eyes flutter shut, face pulled taught as he stresses over all of the possibilities, "I don't know." It was honest, and blunt. He could fill her with hope, spill a tale of how he made it, so his brother must have been strong enough to get through it all too, but he couldn't. "I know he's smart," he confides, eyes still slipped shut, "And I know he won't get caught, but I don't know if he'll be okay." Nibbling on his lower lip, he sighs, draw so thin with the whole mess of it all.
At her second question, Sylar couldn't help but meet her eyes, brows drawn in close with thought. Did he? Did he really want to bring his brother back into his life? After everything- was it even safe to? He didn't know what Xeon was capable of, not anymore. He could hurt Zoe, and that wasn't something he wanted to risk. With a quick jerk of his head, he thought 'no', but instantly replied with, "What if he doesn't want to be found?"
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The Capitol
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Megan
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Post by Sylar Grey on Jun 26, 2015 5:22:53 GMT
It's not sane. | “I just,” Sylar groaned, slamming his palm against his left eye and grinding it to dull the whirlwind of thoughts just beyond it. His head tilted down on reflex, once again unable to meet her gaze as he squeezed his eyes shut and continued to rub at his eyes as he tried to put his thoughts into a sentence. “Of course I trust you, Zoe. You shouldn’t ever question that. I let you out, didn’t I? I trusted that you wouldn’t run and put me away. It’s just that- that I didn’t think I’d ever have to bring him up. I thought he would be in there for good, just because he was safe, you know? He couldn’t get hurt anymore. Not by me, not by anyone.” Shaking his head softly as if to stir the mess inhabiting his brain, he dragged the hand that’d been petting his eye through his hair before it lazily settled at his side with the other. Inhaling sharply, he glanced back up at Zoe, really considering her question. There was definitely pros and cons to it all, and he didn’t even know if he’d see the kid again, but, “Of course, of course I’m happy he’s out. He’s free, but I don’t know where he is or how he’s handling himself and I don’t know what to do.” It was all too much, but he didn’t dare voice that. This was his problem, and he didn’t really need to drag his girlfriend into it with him. | Words: 352 |
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The Capitol
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Megan
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Post by Sylar Grey on Jun 19, 2015 5:43:30 GMT
It's not sane. | Breathe in. Breathe out. Sylar had to remain relaxed, for he couldn't risk an outburst. If he snapped and hurt Zoe? God, he would never forgive himself. So when she yanked herself away from his touch and growled out him in a tone he had never heard leave her lips, he inhaled sharply, closed his eyes, and then slowly exhaled. Granting himself a moment to just let the moment seep in, he nodded to his own tune- debating how to go about explaining little Xeon. With pursed lips, he hooked his hands behind him and glared at his shoes in concentration. "He's not dead," Sylar quietly reassured her, keeping his voice hushed as if to prevent a shout from clouding his words, "And he is important, just-" He halted suddenly, raising a hand to stroke and scratch at the nearest eyebrow. How does one go about explaining how they corrupted their sibling and drove them to insanity? Hm, this is proving more difficult than he thought. Better to just spit it out, he supposes. "I didn't tell you because I didn't think he'd pose a problem, but it seems he has. Xeon, uh," it was rare that Sylar didn't know what to say, but right now he was drawing nothing but blanks, "After what happened with my mother, he was left alone. He'd seen the ordeal- I hadn't known at the time that he had, but he was always good at hiding- and when I fled, there was no one to watch over him. My father had left, my mother was dead, and I couldn't stay there and get caught, so he just," he paused, dropping his hand from his face to wave it in the space in front of him, "Entered an asylum. Seeing what he did had messed him up, and it was easier for the government to keep him there even after he was better than to search for someone to care for him. I couldn't risk visiting him, let alone contacting him I would have been caught, and I couldn't- I wouldn't go to jail. You know what my mom did, what she was going to do," he nibbled on his bottom lip, recalling that day so clearly. His mother wielding a knife, blaming Sylar for his father leaving her, and he only acted in self-defense. Rather than him laying in a puddle of blood, it was her. Shaking his head, he finally rose his gaze to meet her eyes, ending his spiel, he concluded, "He was safe there. It was inconvenient, and he grew up in the worst of ways, but he couldn't get hurt. But now?" He gestured to the note he'd been holding earlier, "He's out, escaped and I just- I don't know what to do, Zoe. I only didn't tell you because he wasn't around, he was supposed to stay there, but he's- he's free." His voice caught in his throat, sorrow squandering his rage with ease. He did that to his brother and was simply too ashamed to ever bring him up. It was his fault Xeon grew up in a cage, and god, did he regret that. "I'm sorry, Zoe. I should have, I should..." His words faded, unable to continue as he fell back into the pit of his mind. Oh god, what has he done? | Words: 557 |
[/quote]
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Post by Sylar Grey on Jun 18, 2015 20:06:41 GMT
Shhh, pretend I'm Jasmin.
Airron, Airron. It just had to be the little mongrel she'd loathed once upon a time. Although the Commander wasn't pleased to see him, his presence never sent an ache dripping from her barely-beating heart. She felt little to no nostalgia, and even less of a need for retribution.
He was one of hers now. She'd treat him with dignity and respect as she did the others.
At least, that was the plan until he decided to show his bad side; behind his gleaming hazel doe eyes and wicked smile. Airron Tide was a walking, talking contradiction.
She merely blinked and jerked her chin slightly toward him, her greeting polite. "Commander is fine. Nice to see you too, maggot," She called to him as he settled down in a tidy little corner of the main room, voice as low and as hard as ever, but it carried - oh, it carried with enough poise and confidence; it was the same sort of tone she'd used to be filed into this position in the first place.
Jasmin Forte: Commander, babysitter, caretaker, doorman, and lastly, almost-widow. She had a drab title for such a dandy, colorful list of day-to-day things she faced.
And now, she could rightly tack on 'forgiver' onto that ever-growing list (although she had her doubts that 'forgiver' was even a real word).
But he was a familiar face. Granted, they had an itchy past, but she'd take what was given to her. She had no room to question the way the stars were aligned. She had no real way to change fate. It lurked so close that she felt it breathing down her neck.
She moved on from them. The bumpy hovercraft rides always left her a bundle of fatigue in her weary, old bones. She'd go over a few guidelines she'd thought of later, including, but not limited to: conserve toilet paper, hide any valuables (cigarettes and any, erm.. hard-to-come-by herbs included), do not skirt off the designated trails if you value your pretty faces, and do not make a fool of yourself here. Things will not unfold in your favor, yadayada...
She'd compiled a brief list in her brain to go over with the new bunch. The old bunch were reeling, in a stupor from this shock.
They all lingered in a group, like cattle on a rainy District Seven day, their asses sat on various parts of the mostly unused kitchen table.
"Commander-" One murmured with a quirked brow, and stood immediately, chins tucked, hands at her sides, back straight.
"At ease, Bennet," Jasmin replied, folding her arms over her chest.
"What's this mean for meals? We don't got shit for food now, and I was worried-"
"I put in an order. That's not for you to worry about - any of y'all, for that matter. We'll get by," She cut in gently, dropping her voice nearing the end of her soliloquey sincerely.
While she had no real say in how rations were handed out, she would kick and scratch and hiss until there was a change. And - of course - with Jay's diminished numbers, he'd eagerly offered part of their unused rations as consolation for the government's latest scheme.
Forte wasn't meant to act as more than an authoritative figure to this bunch, but like any Commander with a shred of sanity left, she'd ended up more than that. While she was not a friend, she was always open to coach someone through a breakdown, always open to stroke the younger soldier's hair to calm them down, always open to talk someone through a nightmare..
While some leaders fell short, she thrived under stress.
Helping was her strong suit. Surviving was her strong suit.
Commander Forte assessed the cleanliness of their little war-torn shack. It was sprayed down, mopped, polished, and vacuumed daily, but it never really looked any friendlier. There were too many dark tales that'd happened in the rooms of the creaky little shell of a house.
The sofa had been patched up, and then re-patched, and re-repatched, but it was mostly comfy and completely taken over by two lovey little doves that'd been with her from the start, their lean forms meshed together in a swirl of blanket and lanky limbs.
An arm chair sat in the corner, mostly unused when it came to sleep because it had a habit of squawking and bucking people off in the middle of the night. Maybe it'd been a fine rocking chair back in the day, but now, more than anything, it was a headache.
"Aye, newb, avoid the fuckin' arm chair. It's empty for a reason-" A shrill, familiar voice clouded her ears, muffling all background noise.
Delainey.
She'd been sent off to wreak havoc elsewhere; to keep tabs on yet another person close to Mr. Rider, whom she saw very little of these days. She hadn't been told who that someone is, but that made her all the more suspicious.
Jasmin snapped her fingers in Delainey's direction, and a dozen heads swiveled in response. She never snapped without good reason; without some sort of set-off. "Del, you're not to speak to the new recruits. I suggest you hightail it out of here before I call you in as an arrest." Forte responded, deeply humbled by the fact that Del had stopped by to greet her, and deeply miffed that she'd already taken to verbally assaulting the sad-eyed newbies. She spoke quietly, but some ears were keener than her own, so she knew a few had picked up on the dialogue.
Delainey lifted her hands in an 'I surrender' gesture, saluted her with no mocking, murmured an apology, and headed out, not wanting to give the troops a bad impression on what was the safest place for miles.
Jasmin made her rounds, peering into bedroom after bedroom, but halting abruptly at the threshold of the room Pike and his significant other had slept in.
"Settlin' in well, eh, newbies?" She asked, though her throat felt raw. Her voice was steady and cool as ever, and her posture eerily perfect, but her eyes were squinty, like the sight of the room troubled her.
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Post by Sylar Grey on Jun 18, 2015 4:54:33 GMT
It's not sane. | Mimicking her action, Sylar's palm skimmed down the length of Zoe's other arm, his attention pinned fully on the movement. Her skin was so smooth- no bruised marred the tanned flesh, no abrasions from cuffs blemished her delicate wrists. No, that time was over. This girl was no longer his prisoner, but his lover. And it was true, he did indeed love her. For all that she was, and he was convinced she returned the adornment- despite his minor setbacks consisting of, oh you know: murder, kidnapping, torture- just to list a few. So with that thought in mind, he trusted her devotion to him that she wouldn't be as upset as he imagined she would be. For this was all his fault. No better time to come clean. Where he did go rigid with the blunt tone of her voice, Sylar fought down his nature to retaliate back with harsh words or even an act of violence, and blatantly avoid looking her in the eye as his fingers traced patterns on her forearms. "Well, my dear," his voice was nothing more than a mere whisper, drifting with the current of the fan oscillating in the far corner, "The 'it' you are curious about would be my brother." All in all, he really didn't know how she would take it. Not the full story anyways, not when she learned about how he destroyed his little brother's life without a second thought. Seemed to be a habit of his. | Words: 249 |
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Post by Sylar Grey on Nov 3, 2014 7:18:32 GMT
That did it, broke him for a moment- sanity seeping back in as instinct to comfort the girl he'd come to love took over. Though thick and thin, she'd been by his side. Put up with his past, stuck around after his kidnapping shenanigans, and even now could tell his mood swings like the back of her hand. Zoe was simply amazing, so when she second guessed herself and assumed it was her that put him in this funk, he was quick to drop his troubles and smother out any doubts she had. Taking a swift moment to compose himself and drop all thoughts of Xeon, he ran a large hand through his dark locks to quickly fix them. A calming act. Now, now he was ready to go. Closing the distance between the two, a puppy dog look took over his priorly distorted features. Heavy arms dragged her into a tight hug, placing one hand on the small of her back to tuck her close while the other held her head against his brute chest. Inhaling sharply, he prepared his words of reassurance- doing his best to remain calm to not upset her further. "Of course not, Zoe. You are far to precious to cause anything so unnerving. I just- we have to talk. I've been keeping something from you for some time, and it's finally come back to bite me is all. You've done nothing wrong, don't fret." Looks like he'd be explaining himself a lot sooner than later.
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Post by Sylar Grey on Oct 9, 2014 18:33:28 GMT
Ah, there it was. The itching at the back if his brain, the throbbing in his heart. The girl who ruined him only to build him back up.
The reason for his current mania.
Sweet little Zoe.
If she only knew what was troubling, if he could only tell her. It'd been bottled up for a year. Nothing jurastically important, but it was indeed something that'd make her stomach turn.
Xeon.
Was he really worth all this fuss? Worth Sylar losing his marbles and pacing about in his basement?
This had all started with a letter in the mail, hand written by his brother and delivered escapee, detailing everything and Sylar was guilt ridden.
He needed to tell someone, but it couldn't be Zoe.
So he lied, calming his mentality and quiting his pacing, a soft smile on his lips as he glances at her. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking, love."
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Post by Sylar Grey on Oct 6, 2014 1:55:13 GMT
How long had it been since the clocks-man had knocked the teenager down with an umbrella and kidnapped her, locking her away in his basement until they admitted their true feelings? A year, at least. Maybe more. Things had changed so much since then. Zoe had been filled with spite, and Sylar was water-logged with greed- the need to attack and claim. Time was something he was a master of, but he still hadn't found the moment to bring up bits of his past that was essential knowledge, neither had she. There were some secrets worth keeping.
Like Xeon, his brother who was trapped in a mental asylum due to his doings- when all reality it really should be Sylar in the padded cell and the teen roaming free, but it didn't work that way. The eldest escaped the hands of the law due to faulty evidence and the younger was stuck with mental episodes and anger fits because he was utterly alone in a hospital of cold.
At least he had told her that he had killed his mother because she came at him- it was self defense- and that the reasoning behind him kidnapping was to fill the void of that woman figure he'd been lacking for some odd years. Normally the girls would end up in a grave, bones and flesh coated with dirt, but Zoe cut him out of that ball of crazy. She set him on the right track and left him eerily normal.
A man, with abnormally large eyebrows and a nose that consumed most of his face, who fixed clocks. That's it.
The dungeon was now a den, an alternate living room fully shaded for one of those nights, and all of the shackles and weapons were thrown out. Leaving everything simple.
Life was easy, love came clean, and the laughs were plentiful.
Though today it was silent, something was off- Sylar wasn't cuddled up beside her when she woke. He was nowhere to be found upstairs, but in the depths of the home in the basement, he was pacing. Hands knotted in his hair, something was troubling him.
It'd been so long, he'd forgotten if he was dangerous or not- maybe Zoe did too.
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Post by Sylar Grey on Jun 27, 2014 22:58:36 GMT
Name: Sylar Grey Age: 22 Face Claim: Zachary Quinto Original District: Three Occupation (over 18s only): Watch maker. Capitol/District 13: Capitol Have you read and understood the rules of this board?: Yes.
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