ArchivedLogs:Vignette - Malthus
| Vignette - Malthus | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | 2013-10-31 ' |
| Location | |
"I know you're going to kill me." Malthus paused, regarding the boy behind the glass wall with tranquil blue eyes. He cocked his head at the words. "Do you?" "I've seen it," the boy told him. "You're going to shoot me. You're going to claim I tried to take control of your mind. You're going to cut your face so everyone believes you." "I find that unlikely." "You're going to kill me," the boy insisted, "because you don't understand me." Malthus' eyes narrowed. His hand reached to touch the glass, his palm flattening to it. "What do I not understand?" "That I'm not afraid of you. That I don't hate you. That I can see into your head -- see what you've done -- see all that you /will/ do -- and still forgive you. Even love you." For a moment, Malthus' tranquility began to crack; his expression darkened, his mouth unraveling into a scowl. And then the world around him began to shake -- as the walls themselves started to crack and rumble. The boy's face was now Jax's, with a hole in his jaw -- smiling through the blood. Malthus' face twisted -- a jagged scar descending across his eye, cloaking it down to his lip, hardening his expression into an eternal snarl. And then-- "--no." Malthus' eyes open. He is in the hospital, surrounded by machines monitoring his current state. In the corner, a man in a sharp black suit sits, reading a newspaper. When Malthus speaks, he looks up. "--you alright?" the man asks. "...yes. Sorry," Malthus replies, closing his eyes to sink back into the bed. "Bad dream. Could I have water?" "Water. Right," the man says, folding the newspaper closed as he moves to stand. "I'll get you some." | |
