day 010, whiny baby screams

[inflori]

CHARACTERS: petre and whichever unfortunate soul happens to run into him.
WHERE: The Station.
WHEN: DAY :010.
SUMMARY: aoba is getting a beating, petre refused to go to Magical Sleep despite advice, and now it's hurting a lot. his reaction will develop while the thread unfolds, too, so he might or might not go into berserk mode. this means he tries to kill people and/or eat them.
WARNINGS: there will probably be nasty things here, but i'm not 100% sure. you can count on swearing, gore (i introspection or otherwise), anti-religious speech, etc.

[ It starts with a slap. He can feel that much, even if it's a bit faint. He's one of the hosts who's been around long enough to know how to block out links for the most part, at least when he's in control of himself. That's a rare happening, though. Petre doesn't care about self-control, he cares about overpowering everyone else. It's the exact same kind of arrogance that makes him believe Cathaway is exaggerating and trying to trick him when she tells him to go to sleep. Aoba can get all the help he needs; Petre doesn't give a shit. He's not going to do anything because of him. Or anyone.

He's not going to admit that he's regretting it, either.

It feels like a sharp pain in his skull. Then his stomach. Then his muscles ache all over, and he thinks that there's the taste of blood in his mouth. Someone else's blood, warm and fresh, would be savored, but when it feels like it's his own, it makes him grimace. ]

Fuck. Fuck!

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[inflori]

[ He thinks, over and over, I don't want to, like anger and pain will make her move any faster. When she does come to him, he'll be in the same position, voice sounding more like a snarl than a cry. ]

[erbier]

[ She is there quickly, but she approaches his bent form more slowly, one bare-footed step at a time. She makes no attempt to hide her presence, though she could. She has snuck upon him before, to lay down a curse on his name for burning her garden. But she does not know whether or not she needs to strike in silence or if he can be coaxed through his discomfort. ]

Petre.

[ His name, soft and airy. ]

Let us try to make this easier. Can you hear me?

[inflori]

[ He keeps making sounds, snarls dying out pathetically to something more human, aching. It's almost boyish now.

Until he unfurls, reaching out to grab her arms with clawing fingers and oil-black eyes, covered all over. His teeth remain the same, despite being bared. For a split second it's the preparation of an attack, and then it stops.

And he's just a boy again. His eyebrows are knitted, he's sweating and his skin is flushed, breathing hard. ]

[erbier]

[ She purses her lips. Her particular power over the symbiote is useless to her here. If she agitates him further, he will only attack her. But he is her thing to control, she has to do it. He has to know she can stop him. She lets him claw at her, does not go so far as to embrace him, but she lets him get close. She wishes that she could just reach in and steady his mind, but that is not a skill she knows. She is so much better at destruction. Perhaps Cathaway would know how to do it, but Ilde will not call her. This is her task to face. ]

( Slow breaths. Be calm. Control. Block him out. Not even worth your hate. Ssh. Ssh. )

[ The litany of it is gentle and rhythmic as she tries to coax him away from this. ]

It's alright, Petre, you are alright.

[inflori]

[ That's ridiculous, of course Aoba is worth Petre's hate. That's what fuels Petre - wrath, envy, pride, and so on and son on. All seven pieces replace the soul that's somewhere in the Devil's stomach now.

The Devil isn't here. Petre has Ilde in his grasp, instead, and her voice is soothing him. Almost as much as Diana's did when she picked him up from the flames, a new boy, a new creature. ]

I don't wanna go to sleep. Don't let them make me.

[erbier]

[ She all but shudders, shaken to the core with that fear. She doesn't sleep. She can't. She won't. She pulls Petre to her and squeezes him gently. ]

It's alright, Petre. You can stay awake with me.

[ She doesn't know what was said to him, but she understands his resistance. ]

[inflori]

[ The sound he makes in response, while low and pathetic, doesn't make him seem any less dangerous. He's still unstable enough to lash out the moment he's thrown off-balance. Ilde's hold and words are the only thing keeping him on firm ground while his symbiote writhes and screeches for relief.

His fingers grip with the distracted threat of claws, disappearing back into nails, on and off. When was the last time he was pulled close like this, like Angel did?

(They made her go to sleep. No no no no no -- ) ]

[erbier]

[ The claws put a pinprick of panic in to her, it is a struggle to stay calm. She can feel the heat beginning to prickle up her neck; the fever. She can't let her symbiote activate on him, not now. It feels there, precarious, that if she can keep her calm, she can bring him to it with her. She kisses his temple, a gesture of desperation to keep them both from spiraling out. ]

You can stay awake with me.

[ She repeats, focusing inward, lowering her heart rate, her temperature. Making her body give all appearance of the cool reassurance she does not feel in her mind. The disturbance of her thoughts she disguises in little silver bells and silks. ]

We'll talk about something you like.

[ Diana, maybe? She proffers the concept. ]

[inflori]

[ His face buried where her neck and her shoulder meet, Petre huffs out in pain again, until his throat growls and teeth grow into fangs. She mustn't look at him now, she will see the blackness of a monster's eyes, and he will see the smooth skin of a meal needed to take down this invisible enemy.

He can smell it, though. Fresh grass, an indistinct perfume, a carefully cooked supper, the blood running inside, and the fear pulsating deeper still. Petre takes a sharp inhale, shoulders arching backward, an impulse to shut his mind off and give in to what the ghost of the Devil makes every demon need -

( As you wish... )

- but what touches her shoulder isn't teeth, just his lips, then his cheek when he turns his head inward. Tired. The lights inside his symbiote fade from the flare of urgency and panic, with the smallest shudders here and there. Cathaway and Prince's experiment is over. ]

Like what?

[erbier]

[ Subtly, she coxes it, wants him to continue thinking about those things: grass, supper, Diana. He is not as sophisticated as Misato, and certainly isn't focusing on keeping her out now. So it is very soft, like nudging a ball back towards him. ]

Those games you play, maybe tell me more of Diana, whatever you'd want to talk about.

[ To keep your human tongue and human mind. ]

We won't sleep.

[inflori]

Diana... Diana wouldn't let this happen. She'd kill him. She'd kill everyone.

[ A quiet voice, like he's slowly falling asleep, somewhere in a half-delirious dream.

But it's a probable lie. Diana wouldn't go on a rampage, she was more sensible than that. Perhaps because she'd be nearly invincible in her rampage, should she ever came to lose control. ]

[erbier]

Of course.

[ She reassures him, watching, uncertain whether she should shake him awake or let him dip. Would he feel betrayed later, if she let him fall under? She continues to brush lightly against his thoughts, the surface level where she does not need to do anything invasive. Perhaps that will do, to convince him he is not falling into the coma. ]

Diana is the Messiah, the most powerful, she wouldn't let this happen. She even kills gods.

[inflori]

- Yes. That's right. She kills gods, she can... she can take everyone out...

[ He does fall under, in her arms, forehead on her shoulder. ]