hasibe ozcelik | norea (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
norea) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
multiversallogs2012-01-13 12:35 pm
norea) wrote in multiversallogs2012-01-13 12:35 pm
Entry tags:
006; CLOSED. i'm not losing this time.
Who: Hasibe Ozcelik and John Mitchell.
What: Hasi's undercover work comes to a near-fatal end.
Where: Mafaton.
When: Veerdi.
Notes:
Warnings: References to sexual activity, uh, drowning, some violence.
Every day is a balancing act, but she's accustomed to as much. She thinks about if she's let herself get complacent, and then recognizes that fretting about it probably means she hasn't. She sees Ilde at the river, worries about her, checks the Network, considers the implications of what she's learned about the Militia, and she thinks to herself that the longer you look at anything, a city included, the more complex it's going to appear. When she goes to see Sandor down in the docklands, dressed the way he likes (in white, today), she's more confident than she was at first, even if she was always good at faking it. By now she knows that he trusts her, maybe even loves her in that shallow, territorial way men usually love her, but that doesn't mean that for some men loving a woman isn't always a test of their fidelity, their honesty. Hyde taught her that.
She kisses him like she means it, sits on his knee, plays what increasingly feels like the trophy girlfriend. It's all pretty seamless, until she feels the prickle of something harsh and energy-sucking at the back of her mind. When she turns her head, someone's lit three huge votives of witchbane, toxic smoke pouring off them faster than should be possible.
It probably wasn't meant to be a test. The betrayal in Zendak's eyes suggests he wasn't expecting her to freeze up, but someone tipped him off to the existence of the effect that rowan can have on certain kinds of witches (but who, that's what she wants to know, no one should know about that--) and it just happened to be lit around the knockout actress he'd been fucking for the past few months. And now he knows. The effects are instantaneous. Unlike virtually every other witch cognizant of the effect witchbane can have on their abilities, she's used it deliberately before in small doses to temper the crushing weight of her power, and has built up a slight resistance, but it's not enough to save her now.
Things go kind of hazy after that.
She remembers lots and lots questions, and being cut, and then slapped in the face, and even through she was half-sick, her very soul being sunk down under the weight of poison, she looked at him with the flattest expression imaginable. ("You can't torture a masochist, stupid." The last word was implied, but audible.)
So they don't torture the masochist. They don't really know what to do with a faqra, and furthermore, Sandor hasn't called anyone, which would be the logical thing. He's not thinking about logic; he's thinking with his heart, and the fact that she betrayed him.
She remembers they tied her to a chair, dragged her out to the waterfront edge of the warehouse, and when they released her binds, Sandor looked her in the eyes before pushing her back into the ocean. She remembers being grateful that her CiD went tumbling in after her, and that meant they couldn't access it. She's always been a strong swimmer, but her body is weak and her powers, bar the ones that would have let her pull the soul out of the man she just betrayed, were even less potent.
Things go from hazy to dark.
She does not remember how she gets to Mafaton, in her white dress and no shoes.
She just turns up at Mitchell's door, knees trembling, the look on her face blankly inscrutable. Hasi has no idea what she'll do if he isn't home. Wait, she supposes, since trying to walk again threatens to leave her helpless and crumbling to the ground, and she'd rather die than let anyone see her unable to stand on her own two feet.
She kisses him like she means it, sits on his knee, plays what increasingly feels like the trophy girlfriend. It's all pretty seamless, until she feels the prickle of something harsh and energy-sucking at the back of her mind. When she turns her head, someone's lit three huge votives of witchbane, toxic smoke pouring off them faster than should be possible.
It probably wasn't meant to be a test. The betrayal in Zendak's eyes suggests he wasn't expecting her to freeze up, but someone tipped him off to the existence of the effect that rowan can have on certain kinds of witches (but who, that's what she wants to know, no one should know about that--) and it just happened to be lit around the knockout actress he'd been fucking for the past few months. And now he knows. The effects are instantaneous. Unlike virtually every other witch cognizant of the effect witchbane can have on their abilities, she's used it deliberately before in small doses to temper the crushing weight of her power, and has built up a slight resistance, but it's not enough to save her now.
Things go kind of hazy after that.
She remembers lots and lots questions, and being cut, and then slapped in the face, and even through she was half-sick, her very soul being sunk down under the weight of poison, she looked at him with the flattest expression imaginable. ("You can't torture a masochist, stupid." The last word was implied, but audible.)
So they don't torture the masochist. They don't really know what to do with a faqra, and furthermore, Sandor hasn't called anyone, which would be the logical thing. He's not thinking about logic; he's thinking with his heart, and the fact that she betrayed him.
She remembers they tied her to a chair, dragged her out to the waterfront edge of the warehouse, and when they released her binds, Sandor looked her in the eyes before pushing her back into the ocean. She remembers being grateful that her CiD went tumbling in after her, and that meant they couldn't access it. She's always been a strong swimmer, but her body is weak and her powers, bar the ones that would have let her pull the soul out of the man she just betrayed, were even less potent.
Things go from hazy to dark.
She does not remember how she gets to Mafaton, in her white dress and no shoes.
She just turns up at Mitchell's door, knees trembling, the look on her face blankly inscrutable. Hasi has no idea what she'll do if he isn't home. Wait, she supposes, since trying to walk again threatens to leave her helpless and crumbling to the ground, and she'd rather die than let anyone see her unable to stand on her own two feet.