Doors Masquerade (doorsmasquerade) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-03-28 08:33:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | plot: masquerade |
Who: From Hell.
What: Reveal.
Where: Passages.
When: Just after sunup.
Warnings/Rating: None.
The thin little thing with her bare shoulders and her almost palpable fear had managed to slip away - though if he'd really wanted something from her, whether her life or maybe just more of her fear and loathing, she wouldn't have been able to leave - and left him alone in the dim darkness of the alcove. He stayed there for a little while longer, musing on what to do. He was still infuriated by the woman's dismissal from earlier, up on the roof, but there would be time to track her down later. Just as there would be time to find the quiet girl who had been surprisingly calm despite her terror and see just who she was and what she might be capable of, if he drove her to it.
So ... what to do next --
Unfortunately, and irritatingly, the decision was made for him. In a snap of light he was no longer sitting in the glorious hotel's dark alcove, but rather in the half-lit hallway that ended in a familiar door. He blinked, cursed, straightened his clothes, and heaved a sigh. Well, that had certainly been a quick night. And while he was no longer dressed in the stark black suits and demonically-inclined aura of before, he was still himself, at least. He still had all the powers given to him by his monstrous heritage. Though he had been rather fond of that suit.
The icy silence in his head reminded him that he wasn't alone, and that his other half was not pleased with the choices he'd made.
"Don't be a spoilsport," he murmured. "It's not as if anyone knows I'm part of you, hm?"
The silence continued, leaving razor-sharp edges of hoarfrost on his mind.
Acheron sighed dramatically and fished the key out of his pocket. Time to let Gideon go back to his uninteresting world of paperwork and mildly debauched living and let him struggle to figure out if there was any damage control to do. How disappointing that there wasn't. Next time, he thought, there would be more than the other man could handle.