Who: Sylvanas and Regina What: Murder and Mayhem When: Recently Where: Some place Status: Sorta complete :( Rating: R for murder, triggers for abuse
The night was blustery, but Regina was wrapped up in her long black trench coat - made of cotton and it fell to her knees, adorned with its shiny gold buckle and matching gold buttons. Her tall boots were black suede and maybe not the best for taking a stroll along the beach but this was the dock where she had met Sylvanas before (there’s power in you), and it was almost a comfortable spot, despite the eerie vibe. There was still something beautiful about the ocean at night, about the scent of salt in the air and the breeze cooling her cheeks - she felt far too angry these days, far too much like lava bubbled in her blood. And she didn’t know what would happen, but maybe she just wanted to spend time with someone who wouldn’t judge her for feeling like the only way to quell the storm raging in her head and in her dark heart was to choke the life out of an actual person who deserved everything they got.
Just because she wasn’t falling all over herself to sob about Daniel or designing elaborate plans to kill Snow White didn’t mean that the dreams didn’t affect her. Oh, they did - it was mostly what felt like a stomach-churning plague, making her sick, making everything that was bad feel amplified times a thousand and everything that was good feel so fleeting. All of that carried over into the waking world, and how she lived like that in those other planes of existence, she’d never know. Regina didn’t exactly care for it either way. She could play the part of polite, professional career woman all day, until she was blue in the face, but she knew what she was becoming. Impervious as stone, barely weathered. Her cruelty wouldn’t age her, her anger wouldn’t cause lines to form around her eyes, she would never cry herself to sleep. Grey hair? Hardly.
Slender gloved hands slipped into her coat pockets, and she lifted the icy carve of her chin to give the landscape a sweep with dark amber eyes, looking for a flash of white-blonde to greet her.
The wind suited Sylvanas fine. What she had planned for tonight was dark, and the worse the weather was the better it would be. She wore a black coat and black leather pants, but the coat was open and she was nearly falling out of her top.
The sky seemed darker as Sylvanas approached the dock, and it was as though a dozen pairs of eyes watched. She could feel the anger oozing off of Regina. It flowed into her own rage and she drank of it gladly.
She turned to face her friend, the compliment causing lips to peel back back from the pearly gates with a smile that some might have mistaken as patronizingly rabid, but it was actually a certain shade of amusement. It meant Regina was pleased. After all, it wasn’t very often that she was called beautiful even if she knew she was - the endless mirrors in her Dark Palace were testament to that. Still, one had to soak in a compliment when they could.
“Things have been...strange. The more I dream, the worse it gets. I feel like I have all this anger bleeding over and I should burn it off.” Maybe it was the stress that came along with Killian losing his hand, but Regina was a simmering black tar pit lately, temperatures in the extremes. And yet it was merely her seeing herself for who she was, her past and present crashing together and all that wrath trickling over until it exploded in a supernova. She could still have a sense of direction, couldn’t she? She would choke the life out of the bad people because they were her enemies, but wouldn’t dare abuse her power. The queen had lessons to teach in this life, punishments to hand out, bones to grind into dust. It was all so clear now. The thoughts flowed freely, much like...well, much like Sylvanas spilling out of her top. That was certainly a lovely sight!
“Shall we walk?” she asked, anxious to let the night swallow her whole.
Sylvanas knew beauty when she saw it, and could appreciate something she no longer had. Her beauty was dark and forbidden. Regina could still pass, still pretend to walk in the light. It made her blood boil, it made her want to tear her nailes down Regina's pretty face.
It was an urge that Sylvanas surpressed. She actually liked Regina. The parts of her that were still human (and elvish) tended to win over when it came to Regina and Setsuna. (But Setsuna hurt so much, in ways Sylvanas despited).
"I understand, probably better than most. It's like a fire burning cold." She balled her hand into a fist. "I wish I'd had this power when that bastard put me and my sisters in the hospital. It would have made killing him easier."
She nodded her head, white bangs waving in the wind.
Regina sauntered along, tucking back bits of her own hair that blew in the breeze, but her focus didn’t waiver from what Sylvanas was saying. “Yes, exactly that,” she nodded. “I knew you would understand. It’s difficult to. Not everyone does.” They were all so...good. So sweet and kind; no one understood what it was like to feel the residuals of dream brutality and cruelty seeping over, wanting to make people in this life pay for their crimes.
“I wish you’d had your powers then too. I wish I had mine, also, when I took care of my husband.” She’d had to resort to old-fashioned methods. Cutting the brakes in his car was hardly fun for her (since she hadn’t gotten to watch him suffer) but it did the job, and it was clean. “But...we can make up for it, I suppose.”
"People do not understand that there can be no light without darkness. We are that darkness that they can shine the light on and pretend they're better. They're no different." Sylvanas sneered. "We can. My sisters are safe elsewhere, and no longer have to fear. We can help another no longer know fear. Torment the tormentors."
She'd been doing her research. Sex offender lists existed online, and it was far too easy to find the information she'd need. An address, a list of crimes, a man who should be put down in the most brutal manner possible. And then she'd have another body for her purposes. The worst suffering of course.
Torment the tormentors. Ah, it was like sweet music to Regina’s ears. And wouldn’t it be doing some good in this life? Cleaning up where there was scum? In her dreams, she was less about justice overall and more about being happy on her own - doing whatever it took to achieve that, even if it meant cursing a whole realm so they forgot who they were. But really, she was doing them a favor. A chance to start over like she did, to wipe the slate clean, to wash away the bad things and replace them with good if that’s what they desired - how was that horrible? How was that evil? They were safe and not in any danger in Storybrooke.
“Is that why you wanted to come here tonight?” she asked Sylvanas, glancing over at her as they walked, eyes shining amber like a cat’s. “Did you have something particular in mind?” Or someone.
Sylvanas didn't want to make things quick, either. Her smile was positively wicked and the red in her eyes grew bloodier. "Oh yes, I have just the man in mind." She held out a print out. They'll probably want to burn it. "This man deserves the worse we could possibly do to him. Don't you think?"
Regina took the offered print out, amber-gold eyes squinting in the moonlight to read the words, giving them a scythe’s sweep - because yes, she was Death come to collect and the mentioned sex offender was not going to live for much longer. “I certainly think so. How revolting,” she shuddered, folding up the paper and tucking it away. Burning it wouldn’t be a problem; they’d scatter the ashes to the winds just like they’d do with the dead body. She had a few tricks up her elegant sleeves, after all.
“Where can we find him?” She could feel her blood boiling - the rush of what it meant to kill, to deliver justice, to make something go right. How much better she would feel when it was all said and done.
"Conveniently nearby," Sylvanas replied. "But let us walk in the shadows, it will be harder for others to see." She held out her hand. While she couldn't stealth as effectively as some of her dream minions, she could still conceal herself fairly effectively. And with the wind and clouds above, that was made even easier.
Wonderful. And concealment, even better. Regina reached out, gloved hand finding Sylvana’s with no hesitation at all. She was a bit shorter than the stately banshee queen, but her boots gave her a substantial boost, and she was eager to see what else her fellow royal could do. Magic. “Yes, we’ll avoid being seen. I’d really rather not make it a public show,” she chuckled softly in the darkness.
"There's a time and place for that. That is neither here, nor now." True to her word, it wasn't as far a walk as it could have been to reach the target's house. It was a small house, run down with shutters hanging off of the window. The lawn was unkempt. Someone had egged the door.
Sylvanas could feel the heartbeat inside. "He's home."
The smell of rotten eggs, the door painted with the dried up remnants of that act of delinquency, made Regina’s nose crinkle with disdain, the way a socialite would at a terrible first course. No more disdain than the general grossness of the place, that is, but why should she be surprised? The man who owned it was from the bottom of the barrel, the dregs of society.
“Good,” she murmured smoothly, and went around to the back door. No need for a lock picking device, not when with a flex of telekinetic muscle the lock went click for the both of them, and she opened the door a crack. It was dark inside this ugly, dilapidated house and she slipped through the threshold to listen. No sound, except for something dimly playing on the television, somewhere further in. She looked toward Sylvanas, a smirk tilting her mouth upward.
This was too easy. Sylvanas hoped the pervert himself would be a little more of a challenge. Her eyes adjusted to the dark easily enough. She gestured with her hand and the air grew choked and misty. She could play at flirting, unlace her top, make the man think he was very lucky before he wasn't so lucky.
She wanted to go slow, but when she saw him, and remembered what happened to her and her sisters, her bow was in her hand and an arrow embedded between his eyes faster than a blink. “Oops. My hand slipped.”
Turning to her companion, she smirked. “I’ve made a list. Lets see who’s next.”