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Dr. Hunter Aloysius "Hap" Percy ([personal profile] angelhunter) wrote2023-11-18 06:52 pm

open post, inbox.



OPEN POST
TEXT —
ACTION, PROSE —
CONTINUATIONS —
ETC —
poleaxed: angry ; hand. (where the red tails dive.)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-21 06:12 am (UTC)(link)
Joan rolls her eyes, pretending she's not deeply mollified by him calling his own methods stupid. "Joan Agnes Dority, red, summer. August twenty-fifth in eighty-seven."
poleaxed: static. (and bets it on the opening race)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-21 08:36 pm (UTC)(link)
Joan closes her eyes again, but it doesn't help this time. There's no after-image, no hint of light. She keeps her eyes closed anyway; she doesn't want to look at Hap. "Everything was rainbows. Like he was a prism and the light was shining through him-- but it was flames. He was holding a book, obviously. We were in this room, but we were floating, and everything was so bright. It was beautiful."
poleaxed: static. (there's such tender wolves)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-21 09:47 pm (UTC)(link)
"This isn't part of that," she says, her eyes opening slowly. Hap looks beautiful, resting in the echo of her memory. His hard edges are softened, and he seems like someone she could touch.

She does not touch him.

"He showed it to me. We danced on the roof. I don't- I don't know what it's for."
poleaxed: static ; hand. (the trick is just not being caught)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-22 02:07 am (UTC)(link)
A pause, which she spends staring at Hap's brow, avoiding his eyes. "Important," she finally says. "Worthwhile... Equal to him."

She'd forgotten what that felt like, to have an opposite, an other half.
poleaxed: static (i think you might be crying)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-22 04:49 am (UTC)(link)
She catches his eye, or tries to. Free of his puerile judgement, she feels oddly light. "He knows everything," she says. "He was mad I was trying to get you to trust me. He-" she hesitates, squirms- "That's why I kept dreaming I was dead."
Edited (thought of a better one.) 2024-12-22 06:33 (UTC)
poleaxed: angry ; static (to talk about us)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-23 06:15 am (UTC)(link)
"He wants me free," she says. Joan collapses forward, head in her hands. "He's gonna be pissed I'm playing nice with you again. He always hated me making friends."
poleaxed: angry ; joke. (get high with me.)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-23 06:36 am (UTC)(link)
It takes effort to pull herself back from the sharp edge of antipathy; hate is a different thing from loathing. She bites the inside of her cheek. "Yeah, sure."

She wipes a dirty hank of hair from her greasy face. "You're recording this, right? In my dream, the dance went like-" She taps a tempo onto the bed, quick-quick-slow quick-quick-slow: a waltz.
poleaxed: joke ; smile ; scx (i'm not looking for an open door)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-24 03:50 am (UTC)(link)
She nods. "I danced it with Luke, and then I woke up. I dunno what it does when you're already awake. Open your third eye, maybe." She doesn't sound like she believes that.
poleaxed: static ; smile. (that did run from the block)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-24 04:27 am (UTC)(link)
Joan has a bright flash of inspiration: she could punch him in the gut with no effort at all. It makes her heart start thudding again. The application of violence is a vital skill because it gives her vitality.

"Okay." She sits up a little straighter. "What now, you tie me up again?"

She hasn't decided if she's going to fight him or not.
poleaxed: sad ; static. (of those who try to pry & preach)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-24 04:58 am (UTC)(link)
Joan rubs at her face, nodding absently. No longer does she think that eye contact will win her sympathy, or prompt respect will endear her to him. "Juvie rules. Cool."

She's never been to juvenile detention, but let Hap assume. He clearly thinks she's lower than pond scum anyway.

"Does your little machine think I'm lying?" She leans forward a little.
poleaxed: hands ; emb (human hearts and pain)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-24 05:30 am (UTC)(link)
And yet, something about this rankles. She goes a little bit stiff, as though tensing for a fight, a blow, something dramatic that will render the world with meaning. Gentleness and subtlety are limp and meaningless things, when set against the potency of fear and pain.

"Why?" She sniffs, rubbing her nose on her sleeve. "You don't believe me about anything else."
poleaxed: joke ; angry ; hand. ('round your nose.)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-24 06:34 am (UTC)(link)
In her self-focused nervousness, she fails to see him brace, unable to think of him as anything but a perpetrator.

"You didn't believe me when I said I wouldn't run. When I said I wanted to help. You always think I'm lying, or- or delusional." She grinds out that last word with palpable bitterness; this is somehow more egregious than her imprisonment. "If you'd believed me, I never would've gave up on you."
poleaxed: eyeroll; joke; eyer (as it should)

[personal profile] poleaxed 2024-12-24 07:10 am (UTC)(link)
In the mood to be insulted, Joan grinds her teeth. Always, he acts like them fucking was the worst thing that ever happened, when it's one of the few things since her kidnapping that's kept her sane. She hates being misunderstood. It's excruciating, it makes her want to howl at the moon.

Instead, she presses her bare heel into the carpet until her leg hurts. Finally, some control.

"You wanna do a lot of things and you do 'em. But believing me?" She sits up straight, holds out her hands and shaking them-- "Too far, too far! You can believe in other dimensions and life under death, but believe in some white trash?" --and pressing them to her mouth, a pantomime of a shocked gasp.