Rᴏʙᴇʀᴛ Mᴏɴᴛᴀɢᴜᴇ Rᴇɴғɪᴇʟᴅ (insects) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-03-22 15:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, hank mccoy (beast), katherine pierce |
Who: Beauty & the Beast Katherine & Hank
What: Tale as old as time Drinking cherry liquor gets a Reaper interruption, and Hank becomes...himself
When: Today
Where: Katherine's condo
Rating/Warnings: Growling, snarling, alien killing
Status: Complete
Katherine lived right on the beach, such a different ambiance than Hank’s charming and quaint home. Oh, this was charming, don’t get him wrong - but in its own modern way. He wasn’t sure if Katherine would agree, but he personally maintained his childlike awe of the features of this terrain (perhaps because he had grown up surrounded by corn and soybean fields and a whole lot of nothing). The delight in finding and collecting shells, coming across small sea creatures in little pools of water; no sound was better than waves lapping upon the shore, no scent better than the salty sea air. “Did you know that living on the beach is actually healthy for you?” he was saying as he watched the majesty of the ocean through the patio doors. “The air does wonders for the respiratory system. It also contains negatively charged hydrogen ions that help absorb oxygen and balance out serotonin levels, which results in more energy and less depression.” Just him babbling a little, going off on an academic tangent as usual! But he was simply chock-full of important facts. “Oh, this is for you - there is a company in Napa Valley that specializes in tracking down rare spirits,” he said as he handed over the bottle to his hostess. It was a very fruity liqueur with a distinct taste and aroma, from Italy, matured in Finnish ash wood and maintaining a clear color with the perfumed scent of cherry juice, almonds, and honey. On the palate it was supposed to taste like liquid cherry pie, but he supposed they’d see. Its location was to die for. Overall, it wasn’t particularly spacious, her condo - one bedroom all for herself (why would she need anything bigger, when she wasn’t supposed to be permanently living here), with stainless steel appliances, a patio with a small dinner table beside a compact hot tub (meant for two, nothing all that ostentatious), and oceanfront glass walls. Natural light illuminated everything when the sun was out; it warmed the living room, and potentially would also incinerate something like a vampire. Katherine made a note to figure out what to do with that structural flaw. Later. Much, much later. It was done on purpose to avoid most problems in the presence of smarty pants here - because Hank was taste of something else, something different, something outside the bubble of bloodlust and slaughter. He was an innocent distraction that begged for corruption, and she vowed to leave no permanent marks once her claws had him hooked. Turns out there was a genuine fondness towards the scientist. Quirks included. “Blagodarya,” she half-smiled, half-smirked, Bulgarian rolling off her tongue like she’d been raised on the language (in some other life, technically), and she figured she might put her newfound bilinguality to use. Whatever was in the bottle sounded divine and she scooted to the kitchen with it, searching her cabinets for glasses. “You can drop by anytime for that healthy gulp of salty air, blue eyes, but the view’s best at sunset. Especially in that hot tub.” “Is that an invitation for the hot tub too?” Hank chuckled, tearing himself away from the view and following Katherine to the kitchen. “The sunset must be glorious though! So many colors, such a mix of them. No doubt it would inspire more compositions.” Actually, he also was attempting to avoid the ramifications of the most recent bout of dreams, only a few of them had pervaded his unconsciousness just last night - and yet he’d prefer to avoid, avoid, avoid. Seeing himself inject the serum (the same serum he’d received here, in the morning and refused to touch - it was locked away in his laboratory, sealed in a box) and seeing it fail, enhancing his mutation rather than suppressing the physicality of it, was no picnic. Nor was seeing himself as a beast. Same intellect, same heart, soul, mind - but more in touch with instincts that felt natural, and called to him. The instincts of an animal. He knew that others with more normal mutations would say, oh, don’t worry, it was just him - what he was meant to become, who he was meant to be, but it terrified him in ways that he couldn’t even put words to. It was easy to say ‘this is who you are, don’t be afraid of it’ when your power was making rainbows, rather than something that basically forbade you from walking around in public. He pushed up his glasses, that shy smile directed at Katherine. Hank had - well, shall we say, a fondness for her as well. He wasn’t about to be a notch on her figurative bed post only, but he did like her. Most would probably just take what they could get, what she was willing to offer, but he wanted more for her. And himself too. That was the rational part of his mind. The other was like any other man’s would be, filled with dirty images. “Oh, and if you’re still willing to teach the language, I’ve stocked up on Bulgarian literature - there is so much of it, dating back to the 9th century, some of the earliest works of the Slavic people.” Fascinating stuff! Right on the nose, Hank. “Hot tub privileges come with the package,” came her sultry retort, a wink with it, and she readied a pair of rocks glasses for the pour of sweet, sweet liqueur. “But I can teach. Or try, anyway, since I’ve never taught anyone a language learned from my sleep. I’m on my way to learning more, I think - last I saw I was hopping around Europe, adapting everywhere I went.” It wasn’t a romantic, adventurous stroll through the Renaissance period in the slightest. It was survival, fleeing from Niklaus, always looking over her shoulder - wondering if he was close by, if Elijah ever cared, knowing that the brothers had eyes and ears everywhere. Katerina went from the doe-eyed village girl with the hopes of love to a ruthless minx with every man wrapped around her pretty little finger. She’d charmed them, seduced them, contorted their thoughts so much that they’d do anything for her, even die, and she didn’t care as long as it got her five steps ahead of her pursuers. “And who knows,” Katherine began, grinning cheekily, glass to her mouth, all thoughts of the demonic huntress she’d become pushed from her thoughts the moment she met his sapphire eyes. “You might get hot for teacher.” The liqueur was good, good in cocktails and good on its own - likely it’d be a delicious compliment to certain cakes and pastries, but Hank was more than fine enjoying it by itself. Liquid cherry pie indeed, with the slightest tinge of a bitter aftertaste - sweet and sour, a perfect combo. He let out another soft chuckle, sipping from the glass, the alcohol having a relaxing, sloshy effect. It wasn’t bad in the slightest. “How do you know I’m not already hot for teacher?” he asked - and was he teasing? Maybe, maybe not. It would remain a mystery for now. Coming around to sit closer to where Katherine was, at a stool at the island, he thought about what she’d said. Hopping around Europe didn’t seem very restful. Certainly not peaceful. “Adapting is admirable,” he said. “But it seems sad to have to only do that.” There was a difference between surviving and truly living, he believed. Katherine thought it’d pair well with something chocolate - maybe not as a cocktail but a dessert to devour, either candy pieces or a bittersweet cake. So tasty, and she wondered if he caught on to her cherry preferences or got lucky during his selection. Fingers still wrapped around the glass she leaned forward, against the island, the draw of her elbows accentuating that bosom with the top she wore - a beige tank top, loose, with no shits given in regards to how visible the black bra beneath was. This was her casual ensemble. “Adapting is life, handsome,” she purred, silky curls falling from her shoulders. “But more on how you’re hot for -” There was a rumble, like the earth vibrated and growled all at once, quaking everything around them for a handful of seconds. In the far, far distance, something blared, like sirens tearing through the air. It had Katherine stand straight. Her eyes went Bambi round. “Did we just have an earthquake??” Rude, California. Typical, but rude. Out of all the things, a sudden earthquake was most unexpected. Then again, Orange County went into ‘earthquake alert’ fairly often. “It felt similar to one,” Hank said, also sitting up straight, sliding off the stool to move closer to the glass doors and have a look outside. The sun was setting and as Katherine said, it was beautiful - orange rays that would fade, the twilight beckoning the stars - but something just seemed off. “A sharp jolt - but it was only one,” his brow crinkled thoughtfully. “And those sirens?” His senses were piqued, sharp, enhanced. Don’t ask him how, but he just knew something was coming. “I don’t - this doesn’t bode well.” This doesn’t bode well. Katherine bit her bottom lip. “Don’t tell me that.” It was California - earthquakes were its token natural disasters as hurricanes were to the south, and while she’d like to believe that’s all it was there was a heavy knot at the pit of her stomach telling her otherwise. Drink aside she followed him, and her fingers gravitated to take a hold of his elbow. “Maybe it’s nature breaking us away from the rest of the country,” came her snark (it did little to veil her concern). “I wouldn’t shed a tear.” If only. But it wasn’t. Far from it. A few seconds later, their view was disrupted. It was hurled from the sky, this blur of darkness - and then it hit the shallow waters of the pacific before them, and that’s when the explosion happened. Smoldering heat, pressure exuding outward in an impressive force that outright shattered her doors, the glass walls with it, and the blast ripped her from his side and into the kitchen island and all she could hear was ringing in her ears, with the blaring sirens that sounded like deadly trumpets calling forth the horsemen of the apocalypse. Oh. “Katherine?? Are you - “ Hank stumbled back as well - the sheer force of that blast, whatever it was, giving him no choice and causing every bone comprising his skeleton to rattle. Even his teeth in his skull, they rattled too and his skin felt like it rippled, like there was something beneath there crawling around and trying to claw its way through. Probably because there was. Broken glass and debris, part of Katherine’s condo utterly wreck, but whatever had happened? It literally shook the beast free. Oh, it wasn’t a Hulk thing, where Hank ripped his clothes and all those rippling muscles took over as he grew a few feet and yet somehow maintained a pair of shredded purple pants, but there was definitely ripping and tearing as seams burst. His clothes, they were too small for the larger form - the muscle mass - and couldn’t contain the blue fur which sprouted everywhere, eyes flickering and now cat-like with their luminescent yellow shade. Claws, fangs (elongated canine teeth, really), and a growl that came from the very base of him - something that seemed to rattle the house once more on its own. It was an instinctual reaction, that growl. His pulse was racing, heart hammering, senses on overdrive - this was so not what he was expecting. It felt like gravity wanted her pinned, the air in her lungs robbed, and her vision blackened only for a second - she blinked them for clarity, darkness becoming colors, colors into recognizable things, except there was a mass of bright, bright blue with fur and claws, golden eyes that she’d never seen before and yet were everything familiar. “Hank -” Katherine winced, small shards embedded in her skin, but she was fine - even if there was a struggle pulling herself to her feet. “Hank, talk to me, what the hell happened?!” In the background (where the sun was still setting, beautifully, with its blood orange hues), where it looked like a damn meteor hit, was an eruption of noises that didn’t belong - hisses, groans, banshee shrieks, and that’s when they saw them. Like the living dead themselves rose from the sands in their shriveled grey hide, glowing nodes dotting their arms and legs, eerie eyes shining, and their moves frantic and fast, heading their way with only two goals in mind. Kill, being one. Harvest, being the second. “I - “ Hank’s voice was gravelly, he almost didn’t recognize it; the sound of it flowed to his own ears like a freezing cold tide. “Stay there, I don’t want you to get hurt.” More, he didn’t want Katherine to get hurt more - he’d take care of the glass, her cuts and scrapes, when her condo wasn’t being invaded by whatever these were. They were fast, but so was he. With a snarl, he leaped onto the first Night of the Living Dead creature that entered through the space having absolutely no wall there made - it was like some Matrix style collision, yet it didn’t last long. His claws dug in, and only exerting a bit of superhuman strength meant that he ripped the creature’s head off. Bounce, bounce, bounce, rolling onto the floor like a basketball. How many of them were there? He wasn’t sure, but he suddenly had in him to kill them all if possible. “Jesus,” she choked, as her mind was more pre-occupied that Hank turned into that and shredding wherever the fuck that other was - the condo’s state was the last thing she gave a damn about, and her hands felt around the counter for something to use to arm herself until they hit cold, sharp steel. The knife rack had toppled over, blades scattered, and she grabbed the hilt of one. A couple more were sprinting from where they’d landed, but there was something else, too. Something lanky, towering, with a screech that billowed from their mouth (a mouth full of teeth, rotted), tendrils of claws and cybernetic tubes running through its body. It was a feminine monstrosity - breasts, a rounded stomach like it was expecting - and the leader of this particular group of husks. Katherine’s instinct was to run. Run to live, run to survive, to preserve herself. But she couldn’t. Not without him. The banshee (really, it sounded like one anyway) could move in the way the others couldn’t; it was charged with dark matter manifested in what looked like warping, electrical charges, and she charged forward with a speed to close the distance of where it landed to the patio of the condo in less than two seconds. “I think I can take the smaller ones!” she called out, not wanting him to worry, not wanting her to be his distraction - she had that Petrova fire to fight, and there was no way in fuck she’d roll over and die. Of course they would get the pregnant half alive, half dead thing breaking in - Hank had never seen anything like that, and he struggled to comprehend what it was, to even identify it, but couldn’t. It was a giant error, does not compute sign flashing in his mind’s eye. “Well - yes??” he called back, completely not surprised that Katherine would jump into the fray with a knife. She wasn’t exactly a wilting flower. It was part of the reason he liked her in the first place - still, he’d keep an eye and ear on the situation, in case she needed help. But he had a feeling she would be alright - and would use anything she could get her hands on as a weapon. There were plenty to choose from here. To the loud banshee it was, then. The one about to burst and perhaps birth a whole new litter of...things. With the shrieking from her, and the animal sounds that came from Hank, it was some kind of amplified catfight, trading blows though it seemed to be able to teleport or warp short distances, and he moved quick enough to not let it get its knife-like hands on him - finally, he picked up a broken piece of the patio door and tossed it with all his might, a flying piece of debris that impaled her through the side of her neck. So he didn’t have to actually touch her, and potentially be electrified - especially when the banshee had been tossing what looked like balls of energy to and fro. She didn’t have a chance to teleport; he caught her while she was moving slowly, and then that was the end of it. Humans were fragile, breakable things. It was something more heavily realized when she became a different brand of beast, immortally trapped in the pretty, physical shell of what she’d once been - that enhanced strength, speed, and the reflexes were combat were sorely lacked in the waking world but as a human she had survived a small army of neck biting parasites. She could handle this. In theory. The only choice was to defend herself and win if she wanted to reminisce and mock this evening, and she wasn’t about to let Hank fight alone in this - even if something told her he could use his claws and teeth to rip this wave of whatever the fuck these were to thin shreds with the record he’d set. Katherine’s knuckles were white with how tight the knife had been clutched, and she’d attacked like a cat - in water. Frenzied, wild, slashes, stabs fists, and even a slam with her barstool into one that came at her. It wasn’t as if these things had much of a calculative brain; they were too feral for anything smart, but it didn’t mean they went down easily (at least for her, it’d be a great time for vamp mode to have been activated). The last one she’d straddled to the ground, with its sharp fingers curled around her throat but she had the blade to drive through the center of its face and - done, that was it. Lights out. It let her go. Sirens continued going off elsewhere but here, right now, for a second, it was quiet. Stars and holy garters, just look at this place. Hank took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, air chuffing through his nostrils - hard to believe that five minutes ago, it all been a whirlwind of chaos in here. Now it was still - maybe not peaceful, but still. “It sounds like - “ He listened some more, those sirens utterly befuddling him. What were those? “It sounds like we’ve been invaded. By something.” Something sci-fi, for all intents and purposes - aliens, if we were getting technical. These dead creatures looked that way. And what better way than sirens, to announce their arrival and intent to overtake the planet? He went to Katherine, extending a hand, palm up - same number of fingers, just with sharp claws extended on the ends which he then quickly retracted - in order to help her. “Let me take care of the glass,” he suggested, but then he realized maybe she wouldn’t want to touch him when he was like this. Unfortunately, there was no ‘changing back’ either. This was his mutation, not some other form - it was just him. “...If you want me to, that is.” Katherine was in the middle of catching her breath, sorry, she was a heaping unattractive mess with knotted curls and scrapes, likely bruising in some spots too but there was nothing broken, sprained or pulled. Just bumps that ached, and she hadn’t realized how hard she was clenching the knife until she dropped it. Her fingers felt sore from being curled so tight. Then (blue, really blue, somewhat furry) his hand came to view. It was a little sobering, all things considered. “This would be the perfect time to use the hot tub,” she sighed, adrenaline still crackling under her skin too stubborn to let that overwhelming exhaustion take over completely. But if he thought his current state of being was something that’d scare her, he was wrong, and his hand didn’t stay vacant for long. She took it and used him as an anchor, climbing to her feet with a bit of a sway before balance was restored. “Hank, you - you didn’t tell me about…” Her condo was fucked alright, but she had insurance and she wasn’t worried. Him, though? “You didn’t tell me about this.” No, she wasn’t mad. Mad would be hypocrisy. Hypocrisy because it wasn’t like she’d told him she could become something else, too. Katherine’s hand let go of his but her fingers tentatively rose to stroke the features of his face - she could still recognize him, underneath it all. “Fur isn’t great when it’s wet,” Hank quipped gruffly - he was almost panicking at this point though, it was just hysteria induced humor - but then froze when Katherine touched his face. He dropped his eyes, shy, and if he had a turtle shell here’s where he’d be retreating back into it. But there was no turtle shell. Just a hulking beast of a person, an animal, a freak, not really fit to be seen with anyone. He tried to find the words to explain, despite how they just got stuck in his throat. “I didn’t...really know,” he stammered, ducking his head. “I only just dreamed of it. The serum I was working on to suppress my physical mutation actually enhanced it. Something went wrong, and I ended up like this. I’m sorry, I know it’s - not - I’m sure you don’t want anything, uh. Anything like...I’m sure you don’t want me.” There, he said it. Of course she wouldn’t want him. Katherine was a model, and Hank was so far from that. Gathering tweezers, rubbing alcohol, and a towel at least gave him something else to focus on - and he was back to get at the glass that had embedded into her skin, and clean her wounds as well. It wasn’t often Katherine was rendered both silent and perplexed, so congratulations, Hank - what could she even say to him? Her arm dropped when he went to retrieve the items (her bedroom and bathroom were intact, but her patio and living space needed a touch of reconstruction), and her brows remained in their furrowed state even upon his return. A miracle left her leather sofa unscathed from the alien scuffle, and that’s where she sat while Hank plucked glass from her skin. “Look, Blue.” Couldn’t really call him ‘blue eyes’ at the moment, could she? They were very much golden in his full mutation, deadly and beautiful. Katherine expelled a sigh, nose wrinkled in the physical discomfort of being worked on by tweezers - any twinges of pain from it were negligible. “Wanting you isn’t the issue. I might be a priss, but I’ve got big balls for a priss, and this, you -” A finger went to tilt his chin. “It doesn’t change that. You’re the one that’s out of my league.” “I won’t argue that,” Hank chuckled, referring to Katherine’s self-proclaimed ‘big balls.’ She had proven that a few times - beautiful, smart, deadly. It was a combination that he’d be best to stay away from because it was about one-hundred times safer, but then again, that also didn’t sound like much fun. Maybe he was meant to walk on the wild side a little. “I just - “ He finished removing the glass, carefully bandaging Katherine’s arm after the wounds were clean and she didn’t have any foreign debris still in there. Blinking a few times, he attempted to process what she just said. “I don’t know what you mean. How am I, er...out of your league?” That had to be some kind of mistake. Here he thought it was him who was woefully out of her league. Must she elaborate? Katherine could list the reasons, on and on - she was selfish, spoiled, manipulative. There was always an angle with her, always something up her sleeve with the way she batted those volumized lashes, turning her eyes from Bambi to vixen. And becoming a monster like she did in the dreams would amplify every single one of those traits tenfold, taking over anything that could ever be potentially good. For a moment there the silence was intentionally calculative, her gaze tightening, contemplating, thumb pressed against that cobalt lower lip. “I’d ruin you,” came her honest to god and very bittersweet answer. There was a long, long line before him, mostly a trail of broken hearts from those she only wanted certain things from, and a few missed opportunities that she tried not to think about - because she ran, and those times she didn’t have the excuse of an hybrid boogeyman hunting her down. “You’re sweet, you even taste sweet, and I’d kill to pin you down and have you all to myself. There’s a part of you that wants me to, isn’t there?” “Yes,” Hank admitted, and he didn’t see any reason in trying to hide it. As long as they were being honest about what was going on in their heads - or hearts, or both, whichever. For once, Henry had a lot to think about besides biochemistry, genetics, the price of tea in China, and unsolvable equations. He also had never heard he tasted sweet, so he supposed he’d just have to take Katherine’s word for it. And not blush considerably - with the actual blue beard and face, it gave him a tinge of purple. The bandages were applied, but he still had her hand, covering it gently with his own. As for what he said next, well, Emma was right - people needed to hear that they weren’t dispensable. “And isn’t there a part of you that wants to mean something, to someone?” “It’s always easier to not overcomplicate things,” Katherine’s snort came with a sarcastic laugh, not in the least bit happy but it was cold. Hollow. It matched her smile. “Truth is, it might not even be me in the end - might be what this place will do to me instead, and the last thing I’d ever want to do is wake up next to someone I care about and rip their throat out with my teeth because I’ve gone vampire.” Why mess up something that could feel so good, carnal, euphoric, that toe-curling pleasure with anything else? All she wanted to do was play her song like some snake enchantress, charm the bedfellows, fuck them breathless and leave. And yet she knew if she’d try that with Hank it’d all be muddled anyway, because she did like him. A little too much. Maybe it was because of his song all along, composed with her in mind for whatever reason. Her hand slipped from his like water. “And I think we can both agree we’d prefer your neck in tact, Blue.” Vampire? Hank wasn’t expecting that. Katherine hadn’t mentioned such a thing before, had she? No. No, she hadn’t. He’d have remembered. But he couldn’t exactly picture it for her, not storybook vampire features - pale, bleach-white, overgrown canines, unable to find rest even in the grave. Regardless, though. “Do you expect me to just forget about everything? To leave you alone when this place changes you? Look at me, Katherine,” in the sense that he wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy himself - he was a monster. The star of many nightmares, no doubt - he was probably what children thought lurked beneath their beds at night. “I might be a nerdy scientist but I have big balls for a nerdy scientist.” In case she was wondering. Oh, she was goddamn awful, because like a magnet her stare was drawn downward at the mention of his balls - which were probably big, no doubt, and blue? Not that kind of blue, but they probably matched the rest of him. Anyway, not that it mattered right now. Focus. It’s not like his point wasn’t valid - there was something feral about him, wild and beastly, and they’d share those instincts sooner than later. Hers would be hidden by that pretty heart-shaped face, but his was kind of… Obvious. Dangerous wasn’t a bad look on him. “Not that I’m bothered but what are you going to do about - ?” There was a motion of her finger that went up, down, up again, down one last time, all in reference to his furry blue majesty. “It’ll make it a little hard to go out in public once whatever’s going on out there’s over.” Hank shifted on the sofa, finding it hard to get comfortable - especially since his clothes were stretched and a little torn. They weren’t exactly hanging off of him, but it just made the idea of getting to and fro even worse. As in, he needed a whole new wardrobe now. Bigger sizes, bigger shoes. “I am uncertain,” he said. “Perhaps there’s something that can disguise my appearance.” Something besides a mustache and glasses - obviously the simpler ones wouldn’t do him any good, and it wasn’t like he could slap on any makeup and cover his more animal-like features. “I’ll figure it out though. Maybe I can even redesign the serum. Get it right this time. I received a vial of it here but it’s clearly flawed.” Katherine, on the other hand, had no issue getting comfortable - she pressed her back against the couch and practically sunk, like she and the cushions were one entity. Exhaustion seeped into her bones (she was only human, after all, for now), and from here she had a pleasant view of the damage. Outside, the skies were painted with strokes of navy blue, with hints of purples and faint orange - it’d be pretty, really, if it weren’t for the corpses and the sounds of mayhem elsewhere, echoes of it carried into her home. “If there’s one person who could figure it out,” she began, and while she hadn’t outright reached for his hand, her pinky curled into his to create a link. One definitely existed between the two - like a strange, strange version of Beauty and the Beast - and there was that inner feud. A part of her that wanted to accept that there was something there, the other wanted to resist. At the moment she was caught in a stupid limbo. “It’s you. Until then we’ll have to find you clothes unless you plan on freeballing, Blue.” “We can worry about that later. Tomorrow, maybe,” Hank suggested, since all he planned on doing for now was putting up planks, some sort of coverage, so who knew what wouldn’t fly into Katherine’s condo. It would need a lot more repairs to fix the damage, but at the very least he could help patch and clean up the shattered glass. For all intents and purposes, his ‘pinky’ was ginormous but he still curled his around hers in turn, leaning back against the cushions, broad shoulder lightly touching her smaller one. Yes, a Beast and a near-vampiric Beauty, but things would be figured out as she said. He, at the very least, had some confidence in that. |