InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y! NIGHT!"

It's a Graves thing (soundofwings) wrote in doorslogs,
@ 2012-07-22 14:54:00

Entry tags:

alfred pennyworth, plot: memories, violet harmon

Who: Iris / Alfred Pennyworth
What: Memories Plot
Where: Passages
Things to avoid: Are you kidding, this is Iris. When have I avoided anything with her? (Translation: Nothing.)

Was she stable? By a medical definition, she doubted that she ever was. But her moods had calmed and everything had retreated once again into its cotton swaddling. It was enough that she could at least function, and function meant that she needed to let Alfred back through the door. No matter what Luke had said, she knew in her heart that Bruce needed Alfred, and it was what she could do to deliver.

The dizziness and slight roll of her stomach was ignored, blamed on the once-again rising levels of medication in her system. It would take a while for everything to settle again, and she sighed at a slight wave of nausea. The abrupt turning of the cab she'd called to take her to the hotel did nothing to help, but she ignored it as they pulled up to the front of Passages. Climbing out of the car, the ground seemed to shift again with her vertigo, and she clenched fingers tight around the car's door frame. A moment passed, the driver peering back and asking if she was alright, but she simply waved his questions away and headed for the front door of the building. Her steps wove and she finally began to worry, because that wasn't quite normal, not even as a pharmaceutical side-effect. She hurried, wanting to be inside, and made it as far as a dusty chair in the lobby before she needed to sit down, her legs giving out beneath her.

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soundofwings
2012-07-25 11:46 pm UTC (link)

Iris didn't notice anyone coming up to her until the boots stopped so close and the voice slid its way past her own sobbing. With a hiccup to try to stop the sounds being torn from her chest, she lifted wet, red eyes to the person crouched near her. The accent wasn't quite right, but it was so sweetly southern and pulled back her own memories of the people that had taken care of her for the past few years. It wasn't enough to completely banish the clinging tatters of the memory, but it did push back the lingering want to hurt someone. Instead, she shook at the amount of hate she still felt, her arms still wrapped around her stomach, nails starting to cut red curves above her elbows.

"No," she managed, barely a whisper and a shaky one at that.

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ex_haint987
2012-07-26 02:08 am UTC (link)

He noticed the nails cutting into skin, but he didn't go trying to yank on her arms. Instead, he folded his arms on his own knees as he crouched, and he gave her a smile that was all slow molasses and the sun coming out from behind the clouds on a lazy rainy day. This was easier than worrying about Loren, than worrying about his own morality gone fuzzy 'round the edges.

"Me neither," he said. "Why don't you come on with me? I can make us something warm to eat, and we can both calm on down 'bout these memories." Because it made sense to assume she'd been through the same thing, seeing as she was in the hotel.

"Then we can call your people." She was dressed good, nothing from a thrift or bargain store on her, and her hair was washed. Chances were good she had folks.

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soundofwings
2012-07-26 02:46 am UTC (link)

"I hate her," Iris whispered, voice just as soft and shaky as before. She didn't say anything else for a long, hanging moment, eyes attempting to focus more on the figure in front of her. She had a difficult time determining the figure's gender, but it didn't matter as much as it might have to someone else, or even to her at a different time. One of her hands reached out and touched the figure's hand, but she pulled back suddenly when she looked down and saw the smear of her own blood there, not realizing where it had come from. The foreign memory pushed forward again, the woman's blood on her hands and slicking through her fingers when she looked down. The whimper was pulled from her throat as she squeezed her eyes shut again so she wouldn't have to see it. "Hate her. ...her blood..."

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ex_haint987
2012-07-26 02:50 am UTC (link)

The whisper worried him some, because Jules was so far on the opposite side of brave that he barely knew what that shit meant. "Who do you-" But then she was touching on him, and he was staring at the blood for a long spell himself before realizing the woman in front of him had gone and whimpered. "Alright. Maybe staying here is better? You got a door close we can walk on through?"

His own door was, for obvious reasons, so not gonna be an option.

He realized she was saying the blood belonged to someone else a moment later, and he shook his head. "No, honey, you just went and stuck your fingernails in your own arm. Ain't nobody else's blood."

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soundofwings
2012-07-26 03:17 am UTC (link)

She kept her eyes shut, trying to listen to the smooth southern voice, trying to respond in a way that made sense. The next words were still so very quiet, but they no longer shook. "I killed her. Killed... stabbed her." She finally opened her eyes again, staring at him for a long time before slowly sliding of the chair to kneel in front of him, hand still on his. She took a shaky breath, light eyes wide, and forced out a clearer thought. "So many memories..."

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ex_haint987
2012-07-26 03:32 am UTC (link)

"Yeah, there was sure a hell of a lot of them, and none of 'em good, I'm thinking, based on how you're being," he said, no real idea that she had problems, assuming it was all the doing of the memories, and not real surprised. "I saw a killing one too," he admitted. "Now come on. We're gonna get onto our feet, and you're gonna tell me which door is yours. You got your key?"

He leaned forward, both hands on her upper arms, and he started standing real slow, hoping she'd move right along with him.

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soundofwings
2012-07-26 04:51 am UTC (link)

Her eyes stayed wide now as he spoke and started to move, and while she felt that there was no way her legs were going to hold her, she did attempt to move with him when he began to stand. It was slow going, and her balance faltered more than once, especially since she didn't want to touch him again with hands that she thought were still covered in blood. She didn't want to slide them into the pockets of her dress, where key, phone, and journal all hid. "Most," she said as she stood, "most were not... it was the last."

She paused, staring down at her hands and getting lost in the phantom sticky slick of red. "Up," she finally replied. "Up into the dark city."

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ex_haint987
2012-07-26 04:56 am UTC (link)

Jules didn't know nothing about dark cities, but he knew this woman wasn't right somehow, and he knew he wasn't any kind of man to help her, not in the state he'd been in since leaving that church of death behind.

"We on the right floor?" he asked, holding onto her so her legs didn't give, and doing his best to keep her steady. He was tall, but he was willow thin, and there wasn't a whole lot to him, and definitely wasn't none of it muscle.

He looked around, to see if any of the doors were changing with her being near, like his did when he came close.

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soundofwings
2012-07-26 05:32 am UTC (link)

She swayed slightly when she started to take a step, but righted herself with an annoyed little sound at herself. The memory was still clinging to her, but she was attempting to put it into a very small box at the very back of her mind.

"Up. Four." She turned her attention again to look at him, blinking slowly as her thoughts turned behind her eyes. "I can't get my key," she finally said, surprisingly clearly.

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ex_haint987
2012-07-26 05:41 am UTC (link)

Getting up to four wasn't real worrisome, but her not being able to get her key was. "What do you mean, honey?" he asked. "Where is it that you can't get to it?" Maybe they'd be able to knock, maybe someone inside her door would go and open it for them. He wasn't even sure that would work, but he turned her toward the stairs all the same, and he began the trek up the stairs.

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soundofwings
2012-07-26 01:27 pm UTC (link)

Iris followed again, steps small and overly careful. She could barely think past the thought of warm blood spilling over her hands, the way the woman had looked as the life faded from her eyes. She shook her head sharply, trying to banish the image, whispering hate her under her breath as they began to climb the stairs. One flight up, she returned her attention to her helper, pausing to stare with wide eyes again. "My hands... I'll get blood on my dress." She held one up, as proof of her words, but when she looked at it, she no longer saw the scarlet smeared up her arm, only the small traces under her nails. Frowning, she shook her head. "Where did it go?" The frown stayed on her face as she continued to study her hand, steps slowly starting up the next flight of stairs.

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ex_haint987
2012-07-26 03:38 pm UTC (link)

That mad whispering, it was starting to make Jules' skin itch, and he wanted to go running and never stop. He stepped a bit clear when she started going on about the blood on her hands, and he almost went running when she mentioned getting blood on her dress. It was all he could do to reach into her pocket and drag out a key, and then he stayed close enough to make sure she didn't go tumbling down the stairs, without actually touching on her any.

"Almost there," was all he said, because he didn't want to go contradicting the mad woman. Last thing he wanted was her turning all that hate around on him.

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soundofwings
2012-07-26 05:10 pm UTC (link)

She looked over at him as they reached the fourth floor and neared the DC door, pausing her steps. She took the key from his fingers carefully and shook her head at his expression. "Don't be afraid. It's all in my mind. It always is." A quick glance at the key showed her a single phantom droplet of blood dripping from it. She bit her lip and took a shaky breath, realizing in her strange half-way state between reality and the memory, that all the blood likely wasn't there. And that her strangeness (as always) was something awful for those people that didn't know her. With distant eyes fixed on his face again, she tried to give him a reassuring smile, the smallest tip of her lips. "Thank you. He'll help me inside."

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ex_haint987
2012-07-26 05:53 pm UTC (link)

He slowed when she did, and he didn't try real hard to make sense of her words. He just watched the door change, and he let go of the key as she took if from him. "You go on inside. I'll wait until you're through," he offered, nodding toward the door once more. "I ain't afraid of you, honey," he added apologetically. "I'm afraid of near everything. Ain't you." He paused. "Go on."

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soundofwings
2012-07-26 06:26 pm UTC (link)

"...There's always something to be afraid of," she replied, still looking directly at him. "But if you fear too much, it breaks you." It was said with certainty, as if she'd seen the proof of it for herself. "...you're not broken yet. I can tell."

That was it then, and she turned toward the door, slipping the key into the ornate lock set into heavy wood. It wasn't that old, but it was solid and was thick enough to have cost a pretty penny. Pushing it open revealed Wayne Manor's front foyer, floor polished to a shine and catching the sun that came in through the windows. Iris didn't look back again before stepping over the threshold.

Alfred turned to look back through the door before closing it and nodded at Jules. "Thank you... sir." There was a bit of a hesitation, but Alfred dealt with Bruce on a regular basis. He could stand just as unruffled in the face of a boy in a skirt. Thanks given, he carefully shut the door behind himself.

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