Of magic and mosquito child, his house was lacking an orphan, it would seem. On butterfly wings, he had surveyed his growing house, even as he danced a corporeal waltz amongst his children. One had been sacrificed for the foundations, and he couldn’t say he felt anything at all at her passing. Imp child was commanded, imp child went; it was the reaction that was golden.
Still, that left his compliment lacking, and he had already had to remove one unsavoury from his class; he need another to fill the gap; roommates for the hurricane mosquito. That child was far too interesting to be left alone; the first one so honest in his fear.
And it was that fear that the searcher in the Red Hat locked onto. A child that had felt fear, and made choices based on embarrassment alone. A child that had felt control over the uncontrollable. A child that had the potential to understand the mystery in the Red Hat; she was a loaded gun, a bullet to his immoral (only one letter short, add a T; the end of Red Hat and see what you find, grow a house and a world with sadist’s bricks and an illusionary mortar) brain, and he revelled in it. The others were the detectives, she the expert witness; would they find him? Would they know? Bullets in his brain, a blood Red Hat falling; he could see it, but never did he feel afraid.
She had seen the mosquito kind in her own reality, and he was curious as to how she would react to the hurricane flashing between the trees; acceptance or fear; either would result in a response. A mosquito keeping a firefly in a cage, mistrust and manipulation; to be faced with another in an unfamiliar place, when the aforementioned other was hanging on a hair trigger? The performer in the Red Hat set the stage.
He left the mosquito where he was; running fearful laps in an orchard of poison apples, as he painted the firefly into place. Vlgar control was for Red Hat alone, but he left her with what remained, and the promise of the return of her skill at a later date; to control what he was already controlling, shaping the orphanage, it was a dangerous game indeed. For just as reality liked to slap the hands of naughty children, as did the schoolmaster in the Red Hat.
With little more than a twitch of a smile in his corporeal form, he snatched his latest orphan and planted her on the ground of the clearing in the hazel wood; directly in the path of the distressed vampire.
Sam blinked in surprise, a little worried that his new companion didn’t even seem to remember his own name, for as much as his recent recollections were causing him pain, Sam was terrified of the idea of losing them.
Swallowing thickly, he took his first good look around; a forest, for all intents and purposes. He certainly wasn’t at SpaceDock now.
“I’m Sam; Lieutenant Samuel James Barkley. Security. God… I’ve probably already told you that. I’m so sorry…”
He was rambling again, but at least he was more in control now. He got to his feet (reluctantly, Vas was in no condition for simple comfort, and he was a father/carer/soul-provider now, there wasn’t time to fall apart) and took a long look around.
“We need to find out where we are and how we get back; if we’ve been beamed somewhere from our homes, then chances are there are people out to do us harm, so we need to keep moving.”
He extracted his phaser, thankfully still where it should be on his belt (though his communicator was lost) and tried not to think of the last times he’d used it… or not, as the case may be. …a boring meeting, he was so bored, thinking of his bed and Vas back home. The Ambassadors were talking about very little, and had been for hours when they broke up for a recess. Dygon and Betel were talking, as always, only drawing the eye due to the fierce contrast of stark white and vibrant red amongst the sea of important people Sam didn’t understand…
…and then there was chaos, a ring forming around an Ambassador bleeding to death, his lover (and it scared Sam to his core, because nobody had ever known) holding him, tearless but heartbroken for all to see. Assassins gone, officers running fruitlessly in all directions; it had been a farce, and Sam had never drawn his weapon once…
…standing on a frozen planet; Siberia in world form, they had searched vainly for survivors. The assassins had escaped, taking the ship (an entire ship! Hundreds dead in a second!) in pursuit down in the process. He was on the planet, because Vas had been on that ship, and they had never gotten around to getting married, even though he had very little hope when so many had died. Sam had never been a lucky man…
…he was partnered with a medic, and he couldn’t remember her name. It was stupid, stupid Stupid Sam, because he should have known her name, and he should have been able to protect her from the -thing- that leaped out of the blizzard…
…a broken girl (and she was a girl, so, so young) in his arms, a creature dead, phaser burns sizzling a furred skull but not before it had crushed her probably beyond repair, he had walked. He’d lied to her, told her that they would be fine, that they’d find someone. There were other medics and security officers out there, they’d find them…
…he never bargained on finding Vas, laying for dead in the snow instead…
…never imagined he’d be wild eyed and pointing that phaser, set to kill, at his superior officer as the man tried to help them…
…or at his own head… but that was selfish…
Shaking his head (to remove the feeling of that phaser pressed against this temple) he smiled tightly at the fox-being beside him.
“You probably have better hearing that me; keep your ears open.”
Symbioses and a soldier; both steeped in foolish disrespect. The sergeant major in the Red Hat was displeased with the lack of discipline. Respect for you fellow officers but not for your commanding officer; unacceptable. A so called mindless soldier, apparently good for killing and nothing else; there would be no elaborate punishment for this one; just blinding, all consuming pain.
He smiled, portly and for all to see, gracious in the face of the soldier’s sneering and turned back. ‘Rude children find themselves with soap between their teeth, but no more words will be for you, if you so desire it.’
The clay child was quick to think dangerous thoughts, but also quick to regret them, and there were ideas there; clever ideas with great potential. The professor in the Red Hat decided to let that one be, offering the child a bland smile and planting the knowledge required to understand the speech of the girl into place; communication was the key, and it would be interesting to watch.
…and on the topic of the girl… she was speaking to him… demanding, as a matter of fact.
Turning to face his butterfly child; fragile painted wings, immortality in fairy tales, he viewed her with unfeeling eyes. ‘I am what I am, no more, no less. I look as I look and I have an appearance that is perhaps deceptive, but in the same time totally apt. What do I want? What does any creature want, truly? What do you want?’
Unblinking, he viewed her, examining her with cool intent; punishment or reward, that truly was the question.
((there we go, guys, sorry it took so long, and we have a new player, so check out her profile on the OOC when you have time. There may be mistakes, because I've not slept in far too long, but I'll sort those out later))