Gwen Dailey; Oracle (digitaldelphi) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-03-17 16:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | npc, oracle |
WHO: Gwen and Seymour
WHAT: Oracle has left the building.
WHERE: Bathos, Apartment 101
WHEN: Sunset, Ides of March, right before this
WARNINGS: Kidnapping! Mind Control! And getting a little too physically close for comfort. Tread carefully.
The city was eerily quiet, moreso for Gwen than most others. Though she hadn’t shut down everything, some things beyond her reach, she still powered down most of the city, and so many of the electronics and the pulses that only she could hear as well. Like the last time she did it, though, she wasn’t in any mind to enjoy the peace that it afforded. Last time she caused an outage, it had been unintentional, just a response to her fury at the moment. Her rage had only extended a few blocks.
This time her handiwork was significantly less fantastical. It didn’t take long to hack into the appropriate systems, just longer to make sure her tracks were well covered. But right on schedule, right at sunset, she shut down the city. As if she had any choice in the matter.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there in the dark of her apartment, muscles tense, breathing in angry, shaky exhales. There wasn’t a computer or cell on to pick up her command but that didn’t matter. No matter how hard she tried to put words down onto paper, she couldn’t force her hand to write anything she wanted. Now matter how often she opened her mouth to speak on the comms, to tell someone, anyone what she had done or what she had been doing, no sounds came out. She was half glad that no one else was in the apartment, so they couldn’t see her on the verge of screaming.
And now he was coming for her. She didn’t know when, and she wasn’t sure what to expect. But he was going to keep his word. There wasn’t anything she could or say about it. All she could do was wait.
He didn’t bother knocking. He didn’t need to. He’d been controlling her for weeks, leaving her enough of herself to function without being noticed by others, but that wasn’t necessary anymore. He relished that, the fact that he could stop with pretense. He’d begun this to serve a higher purpose, to silence the masks that threatened to out them to humanity, but it had gone much further than that. And now, now the pretense would end.
“Open the door, Mockingbird,” he said, his voice pleased in her mind, something that could not be resisted, even if she wished to do so.
Gwen tensed as she felt and heard his voice all at once. She did want to resist, oh how she wanted to, but she found herself obeying almost immediately. She was pushing her wheels despite all her efforts to retreat back into her room and shaking hands opened her front door. She wasn’t sure what to expect when she saw him, this man who had been bothering and controlling her for weeks now, the sole source of all her weariness and anger as of late. As for her, she gave him the deepest scowl she had. That was all she was willing to give him.
He smiled at the token scowl. “So very brave is my fiery Mockingbird,” he said, pushing her chair forward and crouching in front of it, so very close to her face that she could feel his breath on her skin. He reached into his pocket, and he pulled out a collar, black and sleek and specifically made to administer the drug he needed to keep in her system through the skin. The collar would make her entirely his, and his eyes darkened with anticipation. “Put this on,” he told her, closing the door and giving the order verbally. “Do not fight me, and then we shall go.”
Despite her wariness kicking up several notches, she gave no outward sign of discomfort when he came closer, not even a flinch at his breath on her cheek. It was only at the collar that her eyes narrowed and she actively tried to keep her hands in her lap. She had no idea what that collar was or its purpose, but she knew this was it and she fought hard despite his command not to. “Don't do this to me” she said, each word forcibly seethed through clenched teeth, refusing to beg and plead but fighting so desperately against the order.
He brushed his lips against her cheek, and he pulled back after, just enough to give her a look that was calculation and fondness combined. “You’ll feel better once you have it on. No more conflict, no more doubts, no more masks who don’t value you and leave you alone. I’ll protect you, Mockingbird, and you’ll serve me and sleep at the foot of my bed.” A smile. “Put. It. On.”
She couldn’t stop the angry look she sent his way. She was valued. She wasn’t alone, not really anyway. Her train of thought was immediately derailed as he continued. Her breath hitched in her throat as he painted the image of what he wanted from her, and his kiss and smile made her stomach turn. But that didn’t stop her from obliging him like he commanded and she took the collar from his hand and wore it around her neck.
It was a surge of triumph the moment the collar closed around her slim throat, and he moved back and watched her, waiting for the inside of the collar to touch her skin. It was a prototype, yes, but he’d tested it on enough things that didn’t matter to know it would not harm her, to know that it would work. She would want what he wanted, need what he needed, and he would train her. They would, he was certain, be the perfect pair. “Look at me, Mockingbird,” he finally said, looking for that something in her eyes that would match his own desires.
Her fingers pressed along the collar, wondering at the sensation of it on, if the trapped feeling was purely because of feeling it on or knowing there was something on it or in it that would control her. Both, she decided, and that thought was cut short at his command. It was unlike before, where the words demanded action, no matter how she felt about the matter. Now she could feel his presence bearing down on her, urging her to mimic him and follow suit. Defiance flared immediately but it was soon pushed down by his presence and his command once more. She tried to shrug it off and she felt it once more, bearing down on her and slipping under her skin. She could keep fighting keep pushing and being pushed back but it wouldn’t help her, not now.
So instead she let it wash over her, kept back a part of her that wasn’t swept away by his presence, and looked up at him. She wasn’t stupid enough to think she had fooled him. He would know she was still resisting, but he'd see she conceded, just a little. When she met his eyes, his answer was there, it was a small flicker, and nothing close to as strong as he would’ve liked but there nonetheless.
He laughed. “That is why I like you so,” he told her. “Because you have fight in you.” He motioned to the door, very much wanting her to join him of her own volition. “Come, Mockingbird,” he said, the command undeniable as he pulled open the door. “The next time you walk these halls it will be on your own two feet. A gift from your protector, a gift for my Mockingbird.”
The scowl deepened at his laugh and she followed his instructions, the wheels of her chair turning as she moved from her apartment. She cast it one final, regretful look before moving into the dark hallway. “I don’t want anything from you. Not even--especially that.”
He led, fully expecting her to follow, and at the door to the darkened building there was a man waiting, someone with needle marks in his skin who leaned down to scoop Gwen up. “Shall we leave your chair for them? Perhaps with a note?” Seymour asked, touching her red hair possessively.
Gwen hissed defensively as she was picked up, hating the feeling of helplessness she associated with the act, hating it even more when it was with strangers. She struggled immediately out of instinct and felt he man grip her even tighter. When Seymour touched her hair she recoiled. “No note,” she shook her head. He would never let her say what she wanted, wouldn’t let her warn anyone like she should. As for the wheelchair, she gave it a look and then shrugged. He wanted her out of it, and she wanted nothing to do with him. “You’re taking everything from me anyway.” Why not leave the chair that had been such an integral part of her, for better and worse.
He leaned close to her face, even as the man held her tight. “I’m not taking anything from you, my Mockingbird. I am giving you everything.” His fingers slipped through her hair, once and twice. “You’ll understand in time.” Then, he nodded to the man. “Put her in the car,” he said, and he glanced at the chair. “Destroy it,” he added, a moment later, starting toward the waiting car and waiting for the man to follow. The driver opened the door, and the man put Gwen in the backseat and then turned to retrieve the chair. Seymour slipped in beside her, and the doors locked, and he nodded toward the laptop on the seat. “You’re going to call your healer friend. Tell her we’ll be sending someone up for her.”
The face she made showed exactly what she thought of him giving her anything, let alone everything. He sat down beside her and she leaned away, though cool anger showed a heated moment when he told her to call. “No!” She had fought and failed when he made her test her powers. She fought and failed when he made her threaten her friends and family and acquaintances. And she knew she would fail now that he was telling her to call Isobel. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to fight not to bring someone right into Seymour’s waiting hand. She immediately went for the car door.
Seymour did enjoy her so very much. A nod to the driver, who had placed the chair in the trunk and returned, and the doors locked, trapping her in. “The laptop works via satellite, and you may call from it. Finding her home number should be simple for someone with your talents,” he said, brushing his fingers over her cheek and placing the laptop on her lap. “No trying anything, Mockingbird.” Behind their car, Eric was waiting in a car of his own to collect the healer. She would not be returning home after this particular job.
It had been a long shot and she knew it, but that still didn’t stop Gwen from pulling on the handle of the door and letting her fist pound against it once in frustration. The feel of his fingers on her cheek made her shiver, as did the force of his command and her hands obediently turned to the laptop and began to type. It wouldn’t be long before she had Isobel’s number and she’d come calling.