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Sylar (notazombie) wrote in utr_logs, @ 2008-04-06 14:33:00

Who: Sylar and Claire
What: A game?
When: Saturday Night
Where: Harbor, maybe other places
Warnings: Definitely be some. Keep you updated.



It had been growing over the last few weeks, starting out as something small, barely noticeable, but it had started to expand. It was a feeling that lacked a name, both primal and demanding, but even that didn't cover it's true depth. The best description that could be given was what he experienced right before taking someone's abilities, the feeling that washed over him before the light began to fade from their eyes. The acts that he had committed had never been fueled by passion or an irrational desire. They had been methodical, planned, carried oueyes t only to serve a much larger purpose. He had considered himself above the other petty reasons, to think that he would ever lower himself to such motives. All of the killing, the stealing of powers, that had come to an end months ago. It should have been easy to give up, but in truth, he had only pretended that he had. There had been certain deterrents, things that had temporarily displaced the desire to continue, but even those were destined to fade.

Now there was a void inside, something that needed to be filled, but had up until this point been left wanting. There was one person, just the single girl in the entire world, that he knew was capable of helping. The same girl that had impacted his life in ways that could have never been imagined before. She was the one that he requested, and she had been willing to answer his call. Why her? Was it the fact that she could heal? That anything he did, at least on a physical level, would disappear within seconds? Or was it because he knew she could stop him? Force him to think about things, to gain control, or end it if the situation called for such a thing. There was a third option, one he hadn't made vocal. It could be the simple fact that he loved her, and thought that the simple notion, that one feeling, would be more than enough to fix everything.

At the moment, he was standing near one of New York City's harbors, eyes watching the people as they came to pass him. Like a predator? It was possible. Stalking them. Watching their movements ever so carefully. Was that what he wanted? Yes. To stalk, chase down, feel the rush of excitement that came from such a thing. Hands clinched into fists momentarily before he let a breath out. He had felt caged, and he didn't want that, he needed something. He needed her.