heading straight for the castle

[Jin Baek] : If you're trying to ask for information about a patient, quit while you're ahead. I can't give it to you. It's a HIPPA violation.

For two months they had kept him, locked away in a cell of his own making, left alone with the thoughts that they had managed to put into his head along with what mutilations they could force onto his body without ending him. Paranoia ran rampant in his mind, even as he clutched the slender frame of a woman he once trusted with his life. Victoria was warmth, he wanted to take what he could from her strength, allow it to seep into his pores as into his soul to become who he once had been… But he was no longer sure, even as he trembled in her embrace. He was no longer sure of anything in this life, not after Orpheus. Friends could become enemies in an instant, Dante needed to get through the day, however, he would worry about the rest and cling onto his desperation for the time being. He had to take one moment at a time, make sure he could get through each second of the day without the fear of death looming over him as it had for months.

“I – I don’t know.” He answered, unsure of what to say in the face of the brutality he had faced in the hands of people he did not know and one that he had once known. Where he had once been strong, laid a weakness so great that he was now unsure of how to recover from it. They had ruined him, wreaked havoc in the home he once possessed, one built of walls made of anger and courage. Now, there was nothing but wreckage, his insides twisting at the mere thought of falling back into their hands. There was only so much a man could take before he broke and they had pushed him past the point of no return, peeling away at the layers of a strong man to reveal nothing but a scared and broken boy. Never in his life had he ever been so weak, but he could not find a way to recover from it.

“Home?” He echoed, a note of sadness coloring his tone as he struggled to rise, even with their combined weights. Home was Neverland, home was the little building where all his children had once played and trained. Home was gone, destroyed and left in ruins just as his heart was. Home hardly existed in his head these days, knowing full well that it was his own fault that the brick building he had once loved so much was gone because of his own carelessness. “I don’t know where home is anymore.” He let out, shakily, his voice breaking in defeat.

She had never seen him like this. He was a wreckage, a shell - a shadow of his former self, paling when the pair was compared. She knew, even now, even with nearly nothing to go on that he had been shattered, that someone had torn him apart - and not bothered to stitch him back up. And Victoria, as much as she might have cared, was never a woman who had ever known how to heal people. For him, she might have tried. But this was not the time. This was not the place. Eyes darting around from side to side, she became acutely aware of their place in public - and that the eyes and ears of the world could be set upon them, watching what happened next.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Victoria was not someone who babied them - no matter how childlike they had become. She could tell, in the way he clung to her, that he needed her - but he could not will her to become someone she wasn’t. No. Tough love. It was the only sort of love she knew, boundless, chaotic, fiery. Platonic - but that didn’t mean it couldn’t shine nearly as bright. “We haven’t sold your apartment yet. We should have - real estate is booming at the moment. Would have got a lot for it.” Maybe there was a logic to her actions, trying to place him back in normalcy - to create an aura he could relate to, understand. He had once. She could only hope, that soon, he would return back to it. They needed him.

“You can come back to mine. I would suggest the hotel - but it doesn’t exactly exist anymore. A lot changed. I’ll explain later.” She couldn’t be sure, however, if this broken wreck of a man would even care - then again, she could hardly blame him. “I know where to find the others. We’ll call them - spread the message. There are going to be a lot of people happy about this.” Grunting as she took the burden of both their weights, she took a slow and tentative step forward, determined to make it all the way. “And I promise - whoever did this to you will burn.”

We’re

“Good, you should be ready to.”

When she turned to look at Victoria then, it was clear that was something she meant. As much of a falling out as Hera and Medusa had had, Octavia wanted to think things were getting better and even though it was early on, both in the recovery of their relationship and in the turning tides, she worried for her old friend. Octavia wasn’t one to act like she knew Syrus’s business when she didn’t, but the two of them were close - close enough for her to know that something was going on with Victoria and him. That was reason enough for her to extend an olive branch; it was actually what she had gone down to the Warehouse to do when the fires started.

“I’ve got plenty of guns… if you ever need one.”

“I was born ready.” And in a sense, she had been. There had always been war in her bones, a child who had sought out battles, even when there had been no need for them. Always eager to prove herself, even more eager to win - there had not been a moment when she hadn’t thrown herself in, head first. It hadn’t made her many friends - but she had never been in the business of making friends. And yet, somehow, along the way, she had found herself beginning to care. And, even more remarkably, she found that the woman before her was one of them. “I might take you up on that.” Pressing her lips together, she curved them up into a smile. “Any idea what the game plan is now? Regroup, count our losses, wage war?”

Matted black hair and sunken cheeks framed his normally pristine features, all of which were caked by blood in a manner that was unlike him. For it was not another’s blood, but his own, accompanied by a desperate look in his eyes of which he had never used before. He was quick to stumble out of the darkness, trembling as he hoped and prayed that she would recognize him and that she cared for him in the way that he had thought she did. These days, he could never be too sure who was with him and who wasn’t. He had made certain enemies from all the things he had done, all the blood that he had shed for the sake of another, he could no longer tell who was truly his friend and who wasn’t. His mind had been toyed with, where he had once been sure of his purpose and his life, he was no longer confident with anything other than stumbling his way back home. 

Dante had no explanation, no clue as to why they had let him run free after months of being held in confinement. It easy to see that they had beat him, played with him, left a permanent mark on both his body and his soul all in an effort to gain more information on everyone that he had once knew. They had laughed at him, spat vicious words of how no one was coming for him and he had only been a figurehead in their game. Orpheus watched him with a smile on their face, as if to emphasis just how little he meant in the grand scheme of things. While the god of war had never once broken, he could slowly feel the fire inside extinguishing, leaving nothing but a hollow shell of a man on the cold, dark floor of the prison cell they had kept him in. Just as sudden as his disappearance, however, they had dumped him back out into New York City and he had not looked a gift horse in the mouth and immediately ran towards somewhere recognizable to hide.

In the dark alleyway near Club Nyra, he limped towards the first familiar face he had seen in months. Victoria had always been a friend, not for reasons like Caiden who he had begun to realize had only used him for his occupation rather than his companionship. It only took a moment for him to crumble as she spoke, his will softening as he fell onto his knees before her, finally allowing himself to be weak when all he had done was fight for so long.

“Please, help me.”

She was staring into the eyes of a broken man. Alive, but broken. And right now, she would take the alive. His face plastered with blood, he fell at her knees, his eyes searching for help. Having always known him as a man of strength and pride, the bedrock she rested upon was shook - Victoria immediately sinking to her knees, allowing herself to catch him before he crashed to the floor. Two tight hands grasped him close, fingers sinking into the stability of his shoulders. He was alive. He was not a mere figment of her imagination, or even a hopeless wish manifesting. He was real. And he was here. Broken, screwed up, but alive. And for the moment, she could forget about the first two.

“It’s okay. You’re okay - I’m here.” It took a rare soul to elicit such words from her mouth, Victoria prone towards neutrality - or even indifference - in the face of suffering. But not when it came from someone she missed. Not when it came from someone she had mourned - even cried over. Not when it came from him. For him, she would shed the barriers. For him, she would let him in. “What happened to you?” It was the question she was unable to resist asking - but one she couldn’t be sure whether she wanted the answer to. And perhaps, deep down, she could already guess. It seemed too much of a coincidence that the strangers who had just waltzed into town were completely unconnected to this sequence of events. In their world, there was no such thing as coincidences.

“Come on - let’s get you home." She wanted to tell him that no one would ever hurt him again, but she didn’t know whether that was true or not - and she couldn’t bring herself to lie. Somehow, she felt you didn’t lie to a man who had risen from the dead. Shifting one arm around his shoulders, the other reaching out for him to take, they slowly rose to their feet - Victoria shocked by his condition. Fuck them - fuck what they did to him. They had taken a man who had been whole and shattered him to nearly beyond recognition.

It was two days since the attack, the watershed moment that changed everything. Battle lines had been drawn in new places - and begun to cease in old, longtime grudges beginning to smudge - their barriers less clear. If she had been a betting woman, she would have hedged hers on an old proverb coming true. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Alone, they appeared powerless against this faceless enemy. But together? Well - they were the best and brightest of their kind, possessed by a lethal kind of beauty. It was the sort of beautiful that only shone in the dark. Which, she supposed, seemed fitting, given the climate. With each day that progressed, winter drew closer - its chill a choke hold around their neck.

In the dim light, it would have been easy to miss him. Had it not been for his familiar shape, for the face she had memorized each and every day as he sauntered into his office, she would have pushed him away - inclined to recoil away from strangers. But he was no stranger. Breathing in sharply, Victoria clasped one hand to her mouth, the other stretching out to reach him - half not believing the image her eyes showed. “Holy fuck.”

From that day on, Victoria began to believe in ghosts.

Maybe the worst part of all of this was that everything was utterly out of Felicia’s control. There was nothing about this war that she could grasp onto, whatever idea she had was futile. Too many people have died and for what? A vendetta? Was this person so power hungry that they’d destroy and kill for it? In a way, she couldn’t get mad. Wasn’t she the same way, but less violent about it? If the morals scale existed, she knew she’d be edging on the blacker side but even she knew what her limits were. But her dearest friend died, and all she could do was be furious with whoever did this. She wanted revenge, she wanted to paint the city red with what she lost. The paramedics forced Felicia off, and she was left on the street in front of a burning building. Inhaling sharply, she stood up, dusted herself off, and wiped her tears; like hell was she going to let anyone see her so weak. Felicia recognized Victoria standing amidst the ruins, and she heard her quip as she stepped closer to where she stood. “I’ve always thought it’d be funny if it burnt down.” But the infliction in her voice showed that it wasn’t funny anymore.

“Clearly, someone shares your taste in humour.” Wiping her face blank, she turned to look at the girl next to her, trying to read. Studying her closely, she painted her face the best someone in her situation could. Just a hint of grief, a speck impossible to remove from behind her eyes. There was something else too, something cool and terrifying. Ice. And everyone knew that a chilled rage was the one to fear. That was the one that burnt slowly, the one that could keep you going. It would both feed and ravish her. Victoria had shared in that sentiment before and it possessed its own beautiful brutality. “So...you’re not dead.” From Victoria, that was about as close as she would ever get to a I’m glad you’re still here. “Who else made it out?”

Release from the hospital happened quick enough. The rooms were filling up and anyone not critical was basically kicked out for someone who was actually in trouble. Once they’d slathered her in some kind of ointment, wrapped the shit out of her upper body, and gave her some painkillers, they sent her on her way and told her to come back the next day. Where Medusa usually would waste little time throwing back twice the recommended dose, for this she wanted to be sober. When she came up behind Victoria to stand beside her and stare at the remains, it was a soft sigh that she let out before speaking.

“Honestly, I’m disappointed they beat me to it.”

The voice behind her sent shivers up her spine - Victoria spinning on her (snapped) heels, knowing their identity on voice alone. “You really shouldn’t creep up on people. I’m half ready to stab the next person who tries that.” It had become acutely clear that they were people at war - but the question had become who? There was nothing worse than a faceless enemy. It left you vulnerable, flapping, with no chance to strike back. “Save the matches for later. I have a feeling we’re going to need them.” Cynical, but realistic. "Probably should invest in a nifty gun too.”

Yasmin: I'm won't even ask.

Yasmin: Okay, I'll be right there. Thank you.

Yasmin: Can I ask what changed your mind? Because I haven't changed mine. I'm not going to join.

Victoria: You really don't make it easy on yourself.

Caiden: "Vicky, this is no time to joke around. [Pause] Did you go to the hospital? Have you had someone check you yet?"

Caiden: "I don't know what's going on. I just - "

Caiden: "I want to see you."

Victoria: "If I'd known you would be this worried, I would have gotten in a fire a long time back. [Pause] Sorry - poor joke. I know...we lost a lot of our own tonight."

Caiden: "...Yeah, me too. I'll be fine. Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you?"

Victoria: "Little bit of smoke inhalation, but hey, I hear hoarse voices are sexy."

Caiden: Calling - Victoria Cartwright . . .

Caiden: "Vic? Vic, can you hear me?"

Victoria: "...yeah. I can hear you."

“And you’ve mistaken me for the type of person who’d tolerate your nomad attitude.” They were eerily alike, yet completely different at the same time. Victoria, beautifully ignorant to what Felicia could truly do. Her eyes watched the older woman up and down, listening to her as she spoke. What came out of her words next surprised even her, someone who expected everything. “Excuse me if I’m wrong but are you here because of my…” She frowned, nose scrunched as she shook her head and let out a laugh of disbelief. “Reputation with whom I choose to spend the night? Surely you’ve had your fair share of fun before Caiden that you wouldn’t need my help.” She almost chuckled, shaking her head as she ran her fingers through her hair. Victoria may have been New Olympus now, but that didn’t mean Felicia wasn’t wary of her. Her asking for sex advice was the icing on the damn cake, she realized that being so devoted to one person may have hindered her ability to put herself out there and to be honest? Victoria deserved to throw her single status in Caiden’s face.

Felicia knew she wasn’t the type to really take on the “girl power” attitude, but this felt different. The other woman wasn’t going to admit that she needed to use Felicia because she didn’t know how. “I’m flattered, honestly.” She scoffed slightly, her lips half curving into a smirk before glancing back at her as she sat down in her swivel chair. “You’re going to be more direct here, I can give you a little black book but I doubt you’d know exactly how to use it. Not a crime, but tools are useless if you don’t know how to use them.” She paused for a beat before looking at her straight on. “Before you try and ask, any talk about Syrus is off limits. I’m not sure what you know about us but.” She cleared her throat, a blush rising to her cheeks as she shrugged. “What exactly do you need help with anyways?” 

“Syrus?” Scoffing, Victoria struggled to swallow her laughter - cautioning herself with the mere motion of respect. “Oh believe me, you’re more than welcome to...” Stone cold figure hardly seemed the most appropriate wording here. “Him. I would warn you though - he seems to have quite the affection for an employee of mine. I guess doe eyed damsels in distress are his sort of thing. Something tells me you are far flung from that.” A pretty face could hide many things, Victoria knew will. Beauty could conceal darkness, a viper, something poisonous, warped and ready to kill. It could be transparent too. Somehow, Victoria doubted the woman before her was a window. No, she was something else entirely. It surprised her to find that she was actually interested in untangling that. 

“I don’t need help.” Her voice bordered on a snap, a steel gaze narrowing at her insinuation. “I simply want a list. I’m not here to waste my time with the bottom half of the pile - if you understand my insinuation.” To put it blankly: she wouldn’t fuck anyone who couldn’t make her come. “And, as you can imagine, after landing the biggest fish of all - I need to narrow my interests. Find someone who can piss Caiden off.” He might claim otherwise, but Victoria knew - that at his core - he was hurt. He was a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve, anger and resentment bubbling close to the surface. This time, she wanted to turn him green. “But let’s spare each other the embarrassment of advice giving. We’re not teenage girls, braiding each other’s hair and gushing over our first kisses.” Then again, Victoria had never been one of those girls.

[ a.h. ]: a ray of sunshine as always, vic.

[ a.h. ]: thanks for giving me a rainy day idea, though. arson sounds like a fun new hobby.

Victoria: don't call me vic.

[ a.h. ]: don't know what the fuck to do with myself without neverland.

[ a.h. ]: meet me for a drink?

Victoria: pass.

Yasmin: I think you accidentally texted the wrong person.

Victoria: trust me, there's only one person saved the way /you/ are.

Victoria: hurry up and get in