Pete Wisdom is saving the world...from itself. (mister_wisdom) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-07-02 20:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, pete wisdom, romany wisdom |
"Maybe it is aliens."
Who: Romany & Pete Wisdom
What: Sibling eyepoking attempts, then talking about disturbing dreams. Oh, there's a daily dose of alien super computers, Atlaneans, and mention of Romany's new boss. Ker~yeah. <3
When: Today
Where: Wisdom/Thurman abode, Irvine
Rating: PG13, language
Status: Complete!
Pete walked out of his bedroom, lit cigarette in his mouth, index finger extended. He was hunting for evil. Once he spied evil, he very slowly, very deliberately looked as though he was pointing at something on evil's face, with the intention of jabbing evil in the eye. If evil had glasses on that day, he was going to make sure to try to stick his finger behind the lens. Either way? Evil was going to get a poke in the eye. Take that, evil.
Pete already looked satisfied. It was the expression of someone who was patting himself on the back, without actually doing that. All the back-patting, was in his brain. Where the awesome happens.
Romany raised her eyebrow, then took her glasses off to clean the smudge, "Good mornin' Petey. Enjoy yeh trip yesterday?"
Well maybe he smudged the lens. Whatever. That was satisfying too. He reached out to poke her in the eye while she was cleaning her glasses. It was attempt number two.
"I did. It was a very nice jaunt," he murmured around his cigarette. He forgot how fun it was sometimes to try to get on his big sister's nerves. "For fun and profit. Someone else's profit but...eh...can't be choosey there, right sis?"
Romany batted at his hand, to defend her eye. She needed that. To see. Otherwise she wasn't all that perturbed by him. Her mind seemed to be turned to...other things. And what they could mean, "Yes. You didn't need t'worry Petey, she wasn't knocked up."
He batted right back at her hand. How dare she try to foil a perfectly good eye poking. It had been at least five years since the last one he'd given her and she'd just about punched his lights out in response. Which was bloody well worth it to see her hobbling around like a pirate who'd lost their eyepatch.
Of course, he also just about spit out his cigarette at that statement, and forgot all about the eye poking. Instead, she was getting a very suspicious staring at, and maybe she'd overheard the conversation between himself and Dom, prior to their abrupt departure.
He didn't respond, because sometimes it was better to not give any information away. And because it wasn't his information only, as the other fifty percent belonged to his current partner in non-crime.
Of course, he didn't deny it, either.
"That list? I forgot t'add summat to it," he was saying, in an obvious attempt to steer the conversation somewhere that would be semi-productive and not involve slap fights or eye poking. "We're law enforcement, of sorts...so...if you've got any illegal substances, sis...don't prance about with them under our noses. I mean, your room's fine and that's your space...or outdoors, in the back, where no one can see o'er the fence...that's well enough. I'll look the other way. I don't know how you e'en pass a blood test, for god's sake."
Well, Romany would have known if Domino had conceived, of course. Or at least that's what she'd say. She put her glasses back on, "That's why I don't apply to a place that requires one, duck."
She got to her feet, picking up a bottle of water and chugging it. She seemed agitated.
There was a long moment of silence and watching her with squinted eyes, while idly puffing on his cigarette. While the need for things like spiked coffee and leftover Sunday roast were beginning to take higher and higher priority on his basic needs list, he still had his brotherly obligation to make sure his sister was all right. Even if she did annoy the crap out of him, sometimes. Something was wrong or bothering her, and it might require a certain amount of sullen peskiness - the likes of which he possessed in abundance since age 2 - to get her to divulge what it was.
As long as he'd known her, Romany was still a mystery to him, a lot of the time. And a lot of that time, he simply accepted it as her being her, and didn't try to delve too much into the scary. He only did that when she started to act like she had ants under her skin and was irritated about it, or when she actually snapped at him to shut him up, so on and so forth....
This qualified as ants under skin, so he reached out with his thumb and index finger, and did something he used to do when Romany was much older and taller than him, because he was but a little squirt. He reached out for her sleeve or her skirt or whatever hippy wiccan tie-died celtic atrocity she was wearing that day, pinched it between those fingers, and gave it a little tug tug to get her attention. It was what he used to do when he had to get someone's attention, before their father set the house on fire because he had passed out with a lit cigarette on top of his case files.
Once that was done, he pursed his lips around his cigarette, puffed once, and quirked his eyebrows in a 'Wot's wrong with you?' sort of way. So it was like he was asking, without bothering to say anything.
He was a master at that. It was an annoyance. Always had been, even when she was twelve and two year old Petey had looked up at her with those big eyes and that adorable little scowl.
When he tugged on her sleeve, she turned at looked at him, raising her eyebrows as if to ask 'how dare you?' but no words came out about that. Instead, she said, "Vampires. Blood suckers. I dreamed about vampires. Not just reading about them. Meeting some. Killin' one. All wrong." She folded her arms over herself, "The texts were all wrong. The vampires were wrong. Stronger. Better."
Then she blurted out what had been really bothering her, "Dinner table was wrong too. Close. But wrong."
She looked at Pete, "An' some bloke was cuttin' up people and branding runes into their bodies. Like a message."
He didn't let go immediately. Pete gave whatever he'd pinched hold of, one last tug. Just like when he was two and she was twelve, just to be an asshat. Because, no matter how old he was, that was how he rolled.
His eyes were big and round again, though, and he suddenly looked like that two year old stuck in a thirty-two year old's body. If two year old's took up smoking, that is. One last puff and he put it out, using an actual ashtray, instead of dropping it underfoot or using the wall.
"So you were like that Van Helsing bastard?" was what he asked in a low mumble, that was hard to hear. This dream stuff was apparently spreading and if it had bothered Romany, then it was serious business. And vampires? Great. That's all they needed right now. Fucking vampires. "I've had the same rubbish since o'er at Thurman's, when we were there. I mean, I've told you about mum's murder...and how things didn't match up with how they'd split up...but there's been other things."
There was a long pause and he took a pack of cigarettes out of his trouser pocket. After taking one and out lighting it, Pete held the pack out to Romany, in a silent offer to smoke if you got 'em. And he had them.
"You don't think it's b'cos of you watchin' too much Supernatural, I'd imagine." He was trying to reason it out, but one thing bothered him beyond possible serial killers and vampires. "Wot do you mean about the table, Romany?"
"Oh, no. I was doing like I did for Scotland Yard that time. Only the criminals were vampires." She rubbed the back of her neck as she paced back and forth. She took the cigarette and lit it up, smoking heavily for a full minute, "The arguments. Between the family. They were the same but different."
"Oh, so...you meant you had the same thing as I did, where shite wasn't matching up the right ways," Pete was saying, while watching her. Usually the tables were turned and he was the one pacing around, restlessly. "You don't know why this' happening at all, do you? B'cos Kitty had asked me...I'd forgotten until now, don't kill me...if you'd know anything about objects showing up. Apparently she's now got a super computer. An alien super computer."
Because Kitty was a chronic over-achiever, even when stuff suspiciously showed up. He tried to push all thoughts of her aside though, because it still stung, somewhere deep inside of him. That was even if he knew it shouldn't make him feel that way, anymore.
Romany nodded her head, "Yes. That's it. I asked, when I woke up, an' I've found nothin'. Spirits not talkin' to me about it. Or they jus' don't know. I think they just don't know."
Her voice grew softer, "Nothin' about objects. Maybe it is aliens. The Atlanteans were aliens." This theory seemed to please her.
Pete was somewhere between rolling his eyes and closing them, simultaneously. He expected to open them again and find the Ancient Aliens guy with the funny hair waving his hands around a little bit, leaning forward, and saying, '...that's because it was aliens and not Columbus who discovered the new world.'
He peeked one eye open, blinked a lot, saw Romany still standing there while looking troubled. It seemed safe enough to open his other eye.
"Well," he started to say, "I suppose could start looking into if it's confined t'simply this area or the likes. Maybe it's not aliens. Maybe it's some sort of...time sink or summat. I don't know. I'm not a bloody scientist. All I know is it's fucked up and I'd like it to stop."
Because he didn't enjoy being a wetworks agent and he really didn't enjoy killing people or rotting corpses or perpetually beating hearts independent of bodies. Or cats, for that matter. He didn't like cats. Or anything cat related. Simple as that.
"I'll get right on making it all stop, git." Romany slapped his arm, "This is beyond me. Beyond us. 'ell Petey, if this keeps up I may be able t'visit the astral plane!" She sounded more or less excited at the prospect. Not so much that she'd accepted these dreams - because she hadn't, in the slightest. But the thought of new knowledge? Was appealing.
He had tried to lean away when he saw her hand coming at him, and he even shrugged up a shoulder while giving her a glaring at. It was all to no avail. She smacked his arm anyway. He didn't stop giving her a glaring at.
"Why would you want t'go there? You'll be eaten by an astral monster and...oh, right, let me pack your astral luggage and see you off." He took a good, deep drag on his cigarette, and slapped her on the shoulder with his hand. "Make it stop faster. Or there's going t'be a body count. I'm not bloody joking about that. I keep dreaming that I've killed people."
He wasn't about to get into how or why. In fact, talking about it at all, wasn't easy for him. It was likely because he was too guilt-ridden while it was happening, to process the details clearly enough. But he knew there was heat from his fingertips, and...when he didn't resort to trying to appear normal by using a gun to dispatch a target...he knew the smell of burning flesh, and screaming. There had been a whole lot of screaming, along with all the burning.
Mentally, Pete shoved those things aside, even though he seemed to be looking at some spot that was right through her.
"Did you do your voodoo wiccan esoteric barrier rubbish around the property?" he asked, suddenly, and already knew the answer would be yes. But it was more or less wishful thinking on his part, that maybe they would start to kick in and offer a buffer of some sort.
"The astral plane is a wonderful place! I've always wanted t'visit. I mean really visit, not just half-visit. " She waved a hand, "You're a cop, of course you kill people. An' yes. Should protect us from any incursions."
Once he focused on her again, the look he gave her was like he'd been kicked in the gut a few times. It was also like he was trying to mentally relay a pretty significant body count. Significant, meaning a hell of a lot. Of the sort that, at some point, he'd stopped counting so he didn't drive himself insane knowing how many.
"Right. O'course it is," he absently murmured, to humor her. His sister would know more about astral planes as it was, and he didn't really believe in that stuff. But more power to her, because she did, and that was her thing. Romany could get down with her bad ass metaphysical self, as far as he was concerned. "Is there anything you can do to stop the dreams, though?"
"Dreamcatchers." She added, "I'll pick some up. Real ones. Not that fake tourist bullshite."
"Sounds good. Cheers, sis." After a long pause, he took the cigarette out of his mouth and gave her a one armed hug. There was an even longer moment of silence while he did that, before he said, "I think I heard Thurman pop in, so I'm going t'pester her for a while. Bellow for me if summat comes up, or you can phone me up if things go wrong and I'm out and about. Ok?"
"Deal. An' Petey?" She looked at him seriously, "If bodies start turnin' up with Runes all over them, tell me."
"I will," he promised, finally letting her go. "First person I'll let know, is you. By the by? Your boss, if he's the one with the bunker talk an' tampon barter system? Might be brilliant. Just don't bring him about, too often, in case I get angry and try t'kill him as well."
That was the closest to a blessing as anyone will ever get out of him.
"That's Dean all right." Romany grinned. "'e's a damn good shag."
"Let's start with not telling me about that and go from there," a very unenthused Pete told his sister, with a look of warning. "I'm walking away now, b'fore you give more details that I do not want to hear."
He started walking away, with a look of UGH on his face and a shudder of revulsion.
To which Romany replied with Dean's length and girth.
And her brother puked a little in his mouth. Eww.