InsaneJournal

Who: Brielle & Alex, then Ivy & Crane.
What: What ever happened to Brielle?
Where: Vegas streets, Passages, Arkham Asylum.
When: Not long after the fear gas stuff at Caesar's.
Warnings: I don't even know, Alex is all creeptacular, and Ivy is all sex & wine.



In the throes of fear, there was only room for an animal's brand of survival instinct. Although she was barefoot, Brielle failed to notice the bite of asphalt bits beneath her heels as she ran down the strip. Her dress was a blur of phantom white, which might have been the only thing to save her as she darted into traffic. Two cars veered wildly, all horns and squealing brakes. One collided with a light post while the other clipped oncoming traffic. Brielle threw her hands over a face gone pale, and she screamed as more cars swerved around her, but there was no time to stop. Not with fire and claws nipping at her heels. She tripped onto the curb, a clumsy web of dancer's limbs getting scuffed raw on molten pavement. Somebody reached down and tried to help her, all concern, all Are you alrights, and she scrambled loose from the stranger with bloody palms and knees. She needed to find Passages.

There was a certain sense of accomplishment gripping Alexander that night, something perfect about the way everything had gone at the hotel with the girls. Perhaps the concentration had been a bit too strong, but that was something to learn from in the future. For the next time, because no matter what anyone thought, there would be a next time. But for now, there was time to relax, to gather his thoughts, and Jonathan Crane was chewing on the back of his mind with an insistence that he cross through the door now. Pleased as he was, Alex didn’t have the mind to argue, so the cab was taken to the hotel.

They weren’t far from the building when he saw the flash of white dart across the road, and slowly, his head tilted to the side, curiosity tugging at him and having him lean forward, hand on the cab driver’s shoulder with a murmured, “Wait here,” and even before the cab had come to a complete halt, Alexander was opening the door. He stepped out, nearly losing his footing, stepping swiftly towards the curb where the white-clothed figure scrambled up and away from helping hands. There was something delightfully vulnerable in her, something he wanted to taste and drink up, and that’s what had him winding an arm around her arm, pulling her in towards him. “Going somewhere, beautiful?” Alex murmured, all the while attempting to lead her back towards where the cab idled patiently for his return.

Her palms were scraped raw and they left teardrop trails of red across the starched gossamer of her dress. The sash that cinched black patterns at her waist had come loose in her fall, and it dangled like an unraveling noose from greedy, white belt loops. Somebody was talking to her -- no wait, somebody was grabbing her... but the panic from the hotel suite was just beginning to subside. Not completely, nowhere near, but it was just enough to keep her from biting a complete stranger, as she'd done to the man in the suite. "I--" Digging her bare heels into the asphalt, she glanced around wildly. The faces of so many onlookers was a wild carnival ride, and her pupils were dilated, making her eyes large and black with fear. Brielle didn't have another scream in her though, her voice was already going hoarse. Even when the pedestrian faces mutated into gnarly demon likenesses, all she had left was a broken doll's whimper that crested on a fresh, hiccuping sob.

Her lack of answer was enough for him, and when she dug her heels into the hard city ground beneath them, Alex responded by simply lifting the girl in his arms. “I’m a doctor,” he said in the most reassuring tones he could muster. “And I just want to make sure you’re safe.” The lies dripped from him like honey as he swept back towards the cab and slid in, his grip on her assuring that she went no further than the warmth of his lap once the door was closed behind them. He could feel the fear and the panic that gripped her, something that provoked a dark smile from deep within. With the way she behaved, there was some amount of certainty that she had been one of Wren’s many female guests, and to see the effects of Scarecrow’s fear toxin first hand... well, it was almost too much for him to hold to. Simply, beautiful.

“Passages Hotel, please,” Alex said to the driver as they started down the street again.

The explanation of his being a doctor seemed to calm the majority of the small crowd that had gathered around Brielle. Oh good, a doctor. She surely seemed like an escaped patient of some kind, save for the sweet elegance of her day dress.. which was now stained with blood, so maybe not so much. Even if she didn't scream, there was still the panicked clawing to get away. Particularly when he lifted her, because his face seemed to grow as gaunt and pale as Death's own. "Please.." The statement lapsed into horrified silence when he pulled her into the cab, which didn't seem like a cab at all but more of a cell. Brielle shifted, trying to scramble out of his arms, fingernails clawing at the thick glass of the cab's window, leaving bloody comet tails from every print. She crawled over him, all knees and elbows, trying to open the door. "Let me out! Where's Wren?" And then.. the order for a drive to Passages Hotel, and suddenly she stilled. Something in her snapped past the fear, remembering that that was where she wanted to go.

Her question about the whereabouts of Wren confirmed his suspicions. Fingers caught her wrists, pulling them down into her lap with a look that left little room for argument. “I’ve no idea where this ‘Wren’ is, but I’m sure she’s fine, wherever she is.” He paused, considering. “You could come with me, at the Hotel, if you would like.” Because doubtless, the effects of the toxin would traverse the boundary between here and there, and Crane would love to see the effects first hand.

The tug to her wrists left Brielle sniffling about somebody named David, punctuated with so many sorrys. The fear wasn't as pronounced as it had been during the fullblown terror episode with the suite, but it was still there. Things lurked in every shadow, and Brielle was evidently having quite an issue with catching her breath. "I-I-I have to go through," was all she said. It made sense to her, and she didn't much care if he understood, so long as she got there.

A hand smoothed down her back, designed to ease the panicked breath, the anxiety that still wound around her so tightly. “Even breaths, dear. In through your nose, out through your mouth. You’ll feel better, I guarantee it.” For all of Alex’s darkness, he was trained in the ways of healing, even if he rarely employed those talents for good. “And I’ll be sure that you find your way through your door. A personal escort, if you will.” His lips curled in a smile, hand coming up to rub the back of her neck, his touch firm and sure.

Somehow, it helped. The static start-and-stop of her sobbing eventually calmed into something a little less frenzied. She still had trouble sitting still, and even bump of the cab gave way to child-like whimpering and frantic grabbing at his sleeve. The anxiety could not be eased, it was a beast clawing away inside of her, reducing her to something that bordered on madness. Her whispering was chronic and unintelligible, eyes wide and darting with the movement of every passing thing out the window. It was dark out, it didn't help the imagination. Quite suddenly, she looked at him. Eyebrows drawn into sleek, expectant arches, mouth trembling. She was so pale. "You won't let anything happen to me, will you?"

He liked the way she grabbed at his sleeve, the soft whimpers that were jarred from her with every bump. That vulnerability was something that could not be feigned, and the depth that she had gone to with it was enough for him to get drunk on. His hand continued to soothe, down her back, her arm, and when she turned to him with those wide eyes set against pale skin, Alex found himself quiet for some time. But then his answer came, murmured softly and with such sincerity that it was nearly impossible to tell that he lied through his teeth. “I promise to keep you safe,” he murmured, his expression controlled and even. “You have my word on that.”

Brielle believed him because she wanted to, despite the quiet murmurs from Ivy in the background. Ivy could not tell that he was lying, but she determined that the glow in his eyes was almost hungry, and she didn't care for that at all. Unfortunately, the fear had a louder voice than any vine, and Brielle nodded erratically when he promised to look after her. Without preamble or request, she buried her face against his arm, closing her eyes against the horrors that danced just outside the window. It didn't help, she could still feel them breathing down her neck.

That acceptance was enough for him, and as Brielle buried her face against him, Alex was quick to wind his arm around her shoulders gently, drawing her in close for the remainder of the ride to the hotel. It didn’t take long to get there, the cab drawing to a smooth halt just outside the old building, and with a touch to her arm, Alex leaned down to whisper to her. “We’re here. Just as I promised.” He didn’t make move to leave the cab, yet, waiting for her to shift, to come back to the moment.

She glanced up hesitantly, almost afraid of what might lie out the window now. Sniffing, she peered at the hotel with red-rimmed eyes, and it's decrepit architecture did nothing to sedate her fears. "In there?" The question rode a shiver.

“Passages Hotel. The one and only,” Alex reassured her, reaching up to draw some of the hair back from her face, fingers ghosting along the side of her neck, soothing and tender. “Nothing in there tht will bite, or at least nothing that I know of.” He cracked a smile at that, knowing quite well that he would be one of those things that bit.

She stared at the hotel that loomed before them, saying nothing as her eyes roamed all the way to the top. It seemed to go on forever in the dark, and she swore that she could see figures passing like phantoms in front of certain windows. She found very little comfort in the way his hand brushed her neck, it brought about an involuntary shudder that ricocheted up the links of her spine like a runaway train. Still, it was difficult to say if the outside was preferable to the inside of the cab right now. She couldn't decide, but the decision had already been made and remaining so immobile in this backseat was not to be endured for a moment longer. She drew on her door handle quickly, and spilled out of the cab and into the night. "I've got to get inside!" She raced for the hotel's door in a rekindling of all that prior frantic scrambling.

He felt the tremor that worked through her, that burst of energy even before she scrambled out of the cab. Alexander was quick behind her, at least after paying for their fare, his steps swift as he followed her into the darkness of the hotel. He wondered what door she would go to, and that was what had him following on her heels. “Miss,” Alex called out in her wake, the thrill of the chase, of the hunt, spurring him on. “If you want me to make sure that nothing happens to you, you need to let me catch up. Otherwise, who knows what monsters will leap from the shadows to devour you whole.”

She didn't stop at the sound of his voice, but rather spilled through the foyer of the hotel on a hyperventilating breath. Ivy was doing little to calm her, just seething curses about getting through the damn door, now. The idea should have been comforting, but even the feel of Ivy was something strong and alien inside of her. She could feel the woman's excitement, something starved that wanted to break free from the bondage of so much meat. Alex's mention of monsters is what made her pause further, choking out a weak sound as she analyzed the quiet dark. "Monsters?" No, no, not possible. Get through the door! "Monsters aren't real.." But her voice dropped into a whisper that said she wasn't entirely sure anymore.

When Brielle halted, it gave Alex time to catch up, approaching her from the side with slow, even steps, the pace belonging to a predator closing in on the rabbit he intended for dinner. “Oh, there are monsters out there, miss. Hiding in every corner, just waiting for a sweet young morsel to gobble up.” His voice was cool and even as he held a hand out towards her, head tilted to the side. “But I said I would keep you safe, didn’t I? I intend to, but you can’t go running off to where the things that go bump in the night can grab you for their own.”

What choice did she have but to believe him? He sounded so sure of himself, after all. Not to mention the constant reminder that skirted the dark tangle of her own thoughts, one that said that she wasn't very sure of anything. Brielle took his savior's hand after great pause. Her fingers curled into fists of hesitation and she froze mid-way in reaching for him, as if not entirely convinced that this was what she needed to be doing. She found it difficult to listen to Ivy's hisses of frustration when he was so close, murmuring about keeping her safe. "Take me through a door?" Brielle didn't care if it was his or her's. Ivy didn't care, she just wanted out. "Please?" It was close to begging, the way she watched him with so much poorly tethered hope and lost little girl fear.

The hard part, Alex had learned a long time ago, was getting the hook into someone, in under the skin, around bone, where it couldn’t be budged. Once hooked, it was painfully easy to reel someone in, inch by inch, until escape was a distant dream that one could not attain. That was how he felt then as their hands met, curled together, and he wasted no time in pulling her towards him. His smile was sugar sweet and lacking any threatening overtones, an act he had all-but perfected over the years. “How can I say no when you ask so nicely?” Alex murmured, tilting his head towards the stairs. “I go up there. Can you manage the stairs or would you rather be carried?”

Resistance was not an option. When he drew her against him, there was no effort to pull away. The hotel was ominous, even on a good day, and right now being alone wasn't an option. Brielle wanted to run, she wanted to claw everything and just bury herself under the ground where nothing could find her. But then that set loose imagery of locked coffins and suffocating. Her chest rose and fell, erratic breathing on the rise again, such a simple spark to set loose the blaze of anxiety. Oh god, she was going to pass out. She was going to faint. She was going to die here. The fear was very real, although Ivy assured her that death was nothing to be afraid of, and Brielle's breath came in a staggering hiccup. She was scared, why weren't they moving? Why was he asking all these questions, just take her there! "Please!" She looked up the stairs, and they stretched on forever right before her eyes. There was no end, and they were narrow without banisters, crumbling with no sign of safety net.

That gauzy veil of fear, of panic and desperation settled back over her, and Alex approved of the way it changed her. He didn’t ask anymore questions, instead shifting, stooping, gathering her in his arms and ignoring the twinge in a still-healing shoulder as he took the stairs two at a time, each step bringing them closer to some sort of goal, a conclusion. His grip on her was sure and secure, there was no chance of him dropping her as he rounded the corner, up another set of stairs, until finally they reached the fourth floor, home to Scarecrow’s door. He didn’t put her down as he maneuvered his key from his pocket, and as the key slid home in the lock, he looked towards her, his eyes dark and intense. “Say please again,” he whispered, a soft demand.

All the way up the stairs, she buried her face against his chest and clung to him. Her fingers wormholed his shirt, nails snagging on fabric and threatening to rip loose threads. There was a soft keening sound, and only when he stopped moving did the worrying give way to a shuffling gasp. She glanced up and met his gaze. Her eyes were just as dark, just as intense.. but a different breed entirely. Her pupils were bloated by delusion, half mad was her barely seeing stare. "Please," she whispered. The word was gentle, hardly there at all.

Despite the near non-existence of that whisper, it was enough to shoot a shiver straight down Alex’s spine, holding her gaze for a long moment, just steps from drowning in it. He could see the madness in those dark eyes, could nearly see the pieces that were crumbling, promising a spectacular show once they shattered, and he could only hope he would be there to watch. But that was not for here, not for now, and after he leaned forward, pressing his lips against her forehead, Alex turned the doorknob and pushed the door open into the universe that they both unknowingly belonged to.

The door opened into Arkham asylum, to the office he had taken over in the wake of the riots, after he had been one to help contain the prisoners and bring peace back to the facility. The office was clinical, lacking any personal touches, taken up mostly by the large wooden desk and the shelves packed with books. Jonathan Crane sat her down on the leather chair across from his desk, not yet paying attention to whom she was.

Which was a shame, because she was everything the decorating scheme of this room needed. She remained the pale little huddled figure in his arms until he set her down and turned his back on her. She recognized the Asylum for what it was, having spent enough time here throughout the years. So although she would have preferred the great outdoors, goodness it was good to be back. She stretched with a murmur that was too sexual to even be classified as a purr. It was endorphins and pheromones, the kind of soft little sound that belonged in the backseat of a car, or the back pew of church if one was particularly careful. Her eyes found his back immediately, eyes gone gas chamber green with no sign of Brielle's muddy brown. Her pupils were pinpricks of black because for Ivy, who was really just a walking chemical burn, there was no fear. She was immune to nearly every toxin known to man, and even some of those that had yet to be discovered yet. Her skin was pale, but there was a shimmer of something green just beneath the surface, dancing like pleased serpents in her veins. Her hair was rose petals and blood, which matched the motif in her mind as she watched the doctor's back from beneath the dark fronds of her lashes.

Settling at his desk, Crane looked over towards the girl and what had become of her, somehow unsurprised at the change that had taken place. Fingers laced together as he let his elbows rest against the top of the desk, chin raised in that smug, self-assured manner of his. “Why am I not surprised at who you’ve turned out to be?” he asked, brows lifting with his words.

"Oh, doctor," there was a breathy sigh with the tilt of her head. There was a bit of irony here, as she'd been a doctor once as well, although he seemed to still hold his position. No matter, even the tallest walls crumbled in the face of Mother Nature. Watching him with unmoving eyes in a way that managed to be entirely predatory without having any hint of animalism, she did not smile. "Crane.." The name fell from between clenched teeth, he was something that could not even justify the migrations of speech. She rose slowly from the chair, finding the leather exceedingly comfortable but the wooden legs barbaric. Her dress was emerald tatters, poorly hemmed silk unraveling way too high. "You've been bad, making that little boy just like you.." Normally, she didn't mind Crane's escapades, they did nothing to bother her. This time, however, was proving to be different. Pale, lime lit fingers pushed a book from his desk as she crawled atop it. There was too much wood and too much paper in this room, just another thing to punish him for.

“I didn’t make him anything,” Crane answered without missing a beat, eyes narrowing slightly as he watched her rise, a tilt of his head as he followed each step as she moved towards his desk to crawl atop it. “He was like that even before he met me. I just... enhanced what he already was. Made him better than he already was.” Thin lips curled into a smile as he leaned back, away from her, as her knees pressed into the paper that littered the top of his desk. “The chairs are for sitting, Ivy. The desk is not for crawling. Please remove yourself before we find ourselves with a ‘situation’.” The expression he gave her was measured, even, and completely unimpressed with the slink and slide of her movements.

"Crane," she gave him an amused, knowing tilt of her head. Renegade copper and cherry pit red against one ice-pale shoulder as she nudged some of the papers out of her way. He wouldn't be needing them, after all. "When are you going to learn?" And this you was all-encompassing, it did not just apply to the simple doctor before her. It applied to all criminals, all men, all humans. "You really shouldn't play with things you don't fully understand." Her smile bloomed, fucking edible. "It's dangerous." Had he noticed it yet? The pop and crack of tile from just outside his office door? Maybe not, it was soft and gentle, because she could be like that sometimes. She could only control plant life that was already there, but she could feel deep into the earth beneath their feet, where the roots were hungry. And those roots were rising, starved things that begged for their mother.

Jonathan’s eyes flicked towards the door, narrowing for just a moment before his attention was drawn once more to the poison wrapped in pale and blood. He didn’t say anything for a long while, considering and weighing his options. And then, something clicked in his thoughts, snapping into place with a suddenness that was almost audible. His posture changed, his back losing the curve from where he had sat back, shoulders squaring, back straightening, hands on the arms of the leather chair he sat in. “This is the thanks I get for plucking you off the streets before the authorities could come and lock the crazy girl away someplace where no one could get to her?” Crane asked, his voice dark and pointed, just like his person. He rose to his feet, hands resting on the top of his desk as he leaned towards her. “You don’t want to hurt me, Ivy. We both know that would be a dreadful mistake, yes?”

"She wouldn't have been a raving lunatic if it was not for your influence, doctor." She had a way of saying that word, like it was a joke just between the two of them. She pursed her lips when he rose, beestung and wet from some prior lick of her tongue, as if he'd just done something adorable. "But that's where you're wrong, I do want to hurt you." Plant-based or not, she still had wants and needs, and this one was a priority. The glass of his office door's window shattered inward, and thick, mud encrusted roots rolled in. They moved for Crane faster than should have ever been possible, catching up with him before any escape. Winding tightly up an ankle, then calf, then thigh, cutting off circulation as she sat on his desk, watching. "I want him to stay away from her, agreed?"

“Collateral damage, the girl. She wasn’t who we were going for. Sad that she got wrapped up in it, but some things can’t be help.” His gaze narrowed once more, and there was that split second between silence and action before the the window of his door shattered, shards of glass covering the ground, a glittering carpet for the roots that swept in. There was hardly time to react, just a shift towards the edge of his desk before the root caught one leg, holding him where he stood less he wish to lose the leg to get away. He had forgotten this one, how deadly she could be, and Crane knew that was his fault for underestimating her. But the request that came, that had him smirking as he pushed up his glasses higher on his face. “That’s all that you want? For him to keep his distance from her?” It was a simple request, a bit annoying, but doable.

"No," she laughed. How ridiculous. "I'll want many things in the future, this is just the beginning." But he had little choice but to concede, didn't he? The roots tightened, and Ivy dropped curvy legs off the edge of his desk to watch. She idly wondered what it would be like to have such a villain under her control. She could surely do it, but the effort seemed rather worthless. A doctor like him probably already had an antidote on hand for any occasion. She closed her eyes thoughtfully and scooted forward, her hem bunched, and those legs were more spread than crossed. He was close enough to touch, and touch she did, curious fingers walking a line up his chest. "I could kill you, I want you to know that." There was a nonchalance in her green eyes, it wouldn't be very much trouble at all, really. "But I've only got so much time.. bigger fish to fry, as they say.." A purse of her lips blew him an invisible kiss just as another root shot up from the floor and laid a swift crack against his temple. Goodnight, doctor dear.