singillatim | open/closed : hello, i'm here, i'm living in the wall

Entry tags:

open/closed : hello, i'm here, i'm living in the wall

Who: Dorian Gray & others
What: Dorian is manic, murdery, and hungy. Thanks, Darkwalker!
When: February and onwards
Where: Milton

Content Warnings: NPC death, violence, body horror, general Wormy warnings

( open and closed starters in comments! )

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There's an attempt at a smile, but it's thin, faint, doesn't reach his eyes. He knows — but he can't say it aloud. Like so many other things, it's easier to pretend, to not let certain truths see the light of day. If he can pretend that he's not a monster, then he can pretend those he cares about aren't, either.

(He still doesn't think Dorian would enjoy killing, at least. He thinks that this might be a casualty of that ability he has, the same one Chloe had, the one that the town wanted to punish him for. And if that's the case, if he's accidentally killed someone... Konstantin just can't fault him for it.

But the truth up underneath is that even if Dorian did kill someone on purpose, Konstantin still wouldn't. Because he's unfairly biased and he knows he is. Because the people he cares about are more important than anyone else.)

He just keeps staring for a long moment, watching the other man, taking in the strangeness of him with a knit brow of concern. Then— he pushes himself off of the door and manages to open it wider: an invitation. Of course he'll invite Dorian in; of course he'll accept this horrible, wonderful gift of his. "You don't seem too well yourself, you know. Are you all right?"

Dorian is absolutely not alright. But not in the way that Kostya is probably expecting.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure of what to say, unsure of how truthful to be. His default instinct is to keep everything to himself, not to say a damn thing. But this is Konstantin. This is the only person here who knows him, who knows what he truly is. If he can’t talk about this to Konstantin, then who?

Dorian enters the house, giving Konstantin a little nod. He doesn’t say anything until the door is closed, as if that will somehow provide the barrier he needs to get this out. And once they’re both inside the house, Dorian lets out a nervous, manic little giggle.

“I feel fantastic. It’s that same sort of fantastic that happens whenever I do cocaine, just better. I don’t have to worry about maintaining the buzz, I don’t have to keep it going, it’s an eternal high that I can just ride for as long as I can. And I know it’s from the Darkwalker and I know it’s because of my gift, but I just can’t bring myself to care. Not when I feel the best that I’ve felt in ages.”

He shouldn’t be enjoying this. He shouldn’t be so happy. But he is and this is happening and there’s no use denying it.

“I’d be on top of the world if I wasn’t so fucking hungry.”

Konstantin gently closes the door — in most part because he's only capable of doing things gently right now, as though every gesture takes up all of his energy reserves. He's mildly breathless just from standing and crossing over to the door, but once Dorian gives that strange little laugh, all of the cosmonaut's focus pivots back to his guest and he's turning to face him fully, watching him. Listening.

Because of the Darkwalker.... because of what "gift" it's given him. Well that can't be fucking good, especially considering the green fog looming in these days, and the fact that the monster swooped in so recently, claiming Chloe and Randvi so mercilessly. Konstantin's expression darkens further, his worry coiling in so tightly that he actually has to give a soft exhale of breath, as though someone's hit him in the gut.

"Hungry. For— people, right? To feed on people?" He doesn't sound afraid of the idea, even though Dorian could very well attack him right now, if he's all hyped up on Darkwalker juice and raring to go. No, Konstantin's not afraid of him, but for him.

And then his eyes sweep back down to the cooler, and though he doesn't voice it aloud, the implication is clear: Dorian fed on whomever this poor soul is? That's what happened?

"Did anyone see you?"

Dorian doesn’t have to say ‘I fed on this person.’ He sees Konstantin’s expression as he asks the question then looks at the cooler. Kostya knows. Kostya knows exactly where Dorian got that brain from.

At the question, Dorian shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve stashed the body in the church’s crypt at the moment. There’s…fuck, this is going to sound horrible, but there are a lot of bodies out there. In between those Forest Talker kids killing themselves and that fog that occasionally shows up, we’re going to have a lot of people in cold storage until the ground thaws.”

If it even thaws to begin with. Dorian has no idea what the hell will happen later. Perhaps everything will freeze and stay frozen until the Darkwalker kills them all. He honestly has no idea…which terrifies him and he hates in equal measure.

“Trust me, I don’t want anyone to find out. They’ll call up the fucking lynch mob the moment they discover I killed that person. But what do you expect me to do? I’m so fucking hungry. And I know myself. If I try to stave it off, if I try to push it away, I’ll lose control again.”

A lot of bodies, huh. Konstantin might spare a moment to wonder what it says about him that his first thought is... some kind of relief. He doesn't voice that aloud, but the fact that he doesn't look upset or even disturbed by this news might say a thing or two.

(He's so hungry, and so weak, and maybe if he feeds on enough human leftovers, he'll get his strength back. Is that how it's going to work? How it's going to end up for him? It wouldn't be a surprise, of course; he was heading this way back in his homeworld. He chose to end it all rather than become a monster, but now.... now he has things he wants to keep living for.)

What does disturb him is what Dorian says next — the part about the lynch mob, because that's his first worry, too — and the cosmonaut is staring at the other man, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip for a moment. "No, it's... you have to eat," he nods, quickly. (Just like I have to eat.) "Something's... wrong with me, too." Not like Dorian — who's all... jittery, excitable, almost feverish with it. Something else.

"I can barely stand anymore. Every breath is exhausting. I feel as though I'm dying." Konstantin tries to laugh, to keep some part of this shit light-hearted, but it ends in a dry cough, and he places a hand against his side.

"Maybe we can help each other. Maybe if I eat this..." ...he looks down to the cooler, "it will give me strength again. And then I can help you."

The moment Dorian hears that dry cough, he moves to try and grab Kostya, to try and support the man…but he hesitates. Dorian leans forward then stops. He shouldn’t touch him. He shouldn’t touch anyone now. He doesn’t trust himself, doesn’t trust his hunger to stay at bay, and he is not going to hurt Konstantin, one of the bright spots in this fucking nightmare of a world. He should keep to himself.

But there’s a moment, as Dorian realizes that he shouldn’t touch this man, that he might not be able to touch him until all of this wears off, that the hurt and shame is writ large across Dorian’s face. He doesn’t trust himself now. And that fucking sucks.

“I think it’ll be easier for me to help you than you to help me,” Dorian points out, desperately trying to regain some of his regular cool, calm, collected demeanor. He doesn’t want to show that he’s scared, he doesn’t want to show that he doesn’t know what will happen. He’s Dorian Gray! He’s got this under control!

“I’m certain it’ll make you feel worse if you vomit up that eel of yours. Let’s get it fed and then we’ll worry about the rest. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

He sees that look on the other man's face as he comes close, then abruptly stops, and it alarms Konstantin. It even scares him a little, an unexpected thing to feel. But he doesn't know what the hell is going on with Dorian, why he's being affected the way he is, what it means for him. The fear, once more, isn't of his friend, but for him. For that hurt look in his features.

He stares at Dorian, carefully, watching him as he speaks. There's a nod at the words to show he'll go along with them, but his eyes don't move from Dorian's face; Konstantin's worried. He's so worried he feels sick from it. He lost Chloe, and Randvi. He can't lose any more of his friends.

"One step at a time. It's a good plan." He smiles a little, and gives a breathless sigh as he wills his body to move over towards the sofa in the modest living room; no need to make it all the way to the kitchen, he can do this here. His body's too grateful to sit back down, and Konstantin closes his eyes for a moment as his head falls back against the cushions behind him, taking a steadying breath. When he opens them again, he slowly makes himself sit up straighter, preparing himself mentally for what he's about to eat. And he reaches to pat the seat beside him, inviting Dorian close. He's not afraid of him; he refuses to be.

"Don't worry about us making a mess with this. I don't care anymore, I can't be bothered to clean the way I used to now that I have the stamina of a grandfather." It's halfway a joke, an attempt (as always) to be light-hearted.

Dorian sits down on the sofa near Konstantin. He's still not touching the man, keeping distance between the two of them, as he watches Konstantin close his eyes for a moment. Even if he'll get in trouble for killing someone, he's glad he did so. Kostya looks so weak, so fragile. Whatever he can do in order to help this man survive, help him get back on his feet, that's what he'll do.

"My stamina's perfectly fine," Dorian points out. There's a wry little grin on his face as he muses, "I can play happy housemaid for you—just ignore the fact that I'm not really the best at actually cleaning."

It's light teasing as he attempts to make Konstantin feel better. After all, for someone who takes as much pride in himself as Kostya does (Dorian's seen you look at your body, my man), to be weak like this is probably a horror.

"It's all right, I'm sure you're a fine housemaid," Konstantin laughs, enjoying the little bit of teasing, something familiar between them. But the moment fades, bringing back the clarity of what's real right now, which is— something's wrong with Dorian, and something's wrong with Konstantin, too. He takes a moment, reluctant, before sighing and drawing the cooler closer to rest at his feet.

Then he opens it, spreads a few old magazine out on the coffee table in front of him, and carefully pulls the brain out to rest on them. How pleasant.... He looks over at Dorian, grimaces a little, but there's something desperate to the way his eyes return to the organ in front of him. Yearning. It'll make him feel better, he knows it will, it has to — it'll stabilise the creature's condition and his in turn, and then he'll be strong again...

The alien hasn't even fully reacted to the smell of the meal before Konstantin lifts it to his mouth in both hands, leaning over the coffee table so the juices will drip onto the magazines, and takes a bite. He barely chews it, swallows it mostly whole, and gives a soft sound after, eyes closing. Now the thing's awake, rolling around excitedly as it realises it's getting fed its favourite dish, and Konstantin frowns in discomfort before he takes another bite, even bigger, even faster, letting blood slip down his throat along with it.

There's a gasp as the thing jumps around inside of him, eating with vigour, and he lowers his head for a moment, steadying his breathing. "It's all worked up now, like a little shark coming for blood. This is good, though. If it perks up again, I'll... get better too."

Everything about Dorian's mania radiates that it is very hard for him to sit still. He wants to get up, he wants to pace, he wants to do something to burn off this frenetic energy radiating through him. But Konstantin is eating. And Dorian doesn't want to stress the man out more than he already is. So he stays on the couch, sitting still, trying to be calm.

He's not doing a great job at it—someone's a bit fidgety. But he tried and that's what matters!

"At least one of us is doing well," he lightly teases, giving a nod towards Konstantin's chest. There's a pause before Dorian muses, "I wonder...you'd think that your little passenger would have grown a bit by now. We've all changed, we've all aged. Why hasn't it?"

Is it just because the thing hasn't had much to eat? Is it a malnourished little worm? But as he watches Konstantin eat, Dorian realizes that he's known the man for months and yet his little eel has remained constant. Static. Unchanging, not growing larger or smaller or more inconvenient, just the same small little thing it probably was when it first arrived.

He's jealous as hell.

Konstantin can practically feel those little movements that Dorian's giving, that energy of his so revved up. His next bite is taken a bit faster — speeding this up a bit, but also because he's desperate for more. Desperate to get this grotesque meal inside of him, desperate for the thing to get better so he can get better too. Desperate to be strong and powerful again.

The big chunks he's swallowing down mean that he's halfway through the thing in no time, and he takes a brief moment to pause and let the alien finish what he's already swallowed. It's not used to such a feast and it's very excited, but he can tell that its movements are strange, that it seems to need to take a break of its own here and there.

(Lately, he wonders if the inevitable is finally happening. The thing may be dying, and he'll die, too. Because no one knows what its life span really is, and in this place, where it's been so weakened...)

He looks up at the question, blood staining his mouth.

"I'm not sure. Back in my world, it was changing. It could... evolve, grow. But here... it's like this place keeps it stagnant. Truthfully, I don't know whether that's better or worse." He winces, settling back against the sofa cushion for a moment to take a breather. After a moment, he looks up at Dorian, reflecting on what he'd just said.

"Lieutenant Tayrey went back home, for awhile. And then she came back here. But she told me that while she was there... it was like no time had passed at all. She was unchanged. So when you go back home... you'll be the same as you were then, too.

...Will you miss this? Being able to... age, like you have here?"

...Assuming they do all end up going back home, of course. And don't end up dying in this place, which seems more and more likely as of late.

“No.”

It’s a quick, easy, unhesitating answer to Konstantin’s question. No, Dorian won’t miss aging. No, Dorian won’t miss growing old. He fucking hates this, he loathes the fact that he ages, he scars, he’s riddled with the traces of a life lived. This isn’t supposed to happen to him. He doesn’t want it to happen to him. And he’d give anything or do anything to get himself back to where he’s supposed to be.

“Kostya, I hate aging. I hate growing old. I made a deal that I’d stay the same perfect, flawless artwork of a man that I was when I was in my twenties. This place has robbed me of so many things and fucked me over in so many ways, but it’s that, the fact that it ripped the thing away from me that I gave up my soul for…I can’t ever forgive that.”

Konstantin gives a faint smile, aware of the glisten of blood at the corner of his mouth as he does so. The thing is, he gets it. If he could stay the same forever, he would too. Not aging, not growing weaker.... This place stripping him so quickly of his vitality has been such a horrific reminder of those fears come true. Which is why his desperation to return to a healthier, stronger version of himself is so high, why he'll eat into this human's brain and ignore every whisper that it's wrong. Why he doesn't actually care, deep down, if Dorian were to kill again and again and bring him fresh organs any day of any week. Why he'll do whatever it takes.

"This place is our own personal Hell," he agrees with a careful sigh, trying not to move his body too much while he lets the thing within it feed for a bit. "But.... there isn't any part of you that's afraid never to grow older? To be left behind by everything around you?"

He can't help thinking of Vasiliy, who came back from the dead, if that's what you could call it, who seems... frozen in time somehow.

Dorian gives Konstantin a faint smile of his own. There's something older, something sad behind it that belies Dorian's youthful appearance. It's sweet of Kostya to worry about that. But it's far too late.

"Konstantin. I've already been left behind. My loved ones are dead. Places I loved are now rubble and artwork I love has been forgotten. I adapt and I change because I have no alternative—because I'm too cowardly to kill myself and end it all."

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open/closed : hello, i'm here, i'm living in the wall

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