[Root's appearance doesn't mesh with the rest of this bizarre dinner party, sure, but Octavian remains unflappable as always; he's since woken himself up and come back here by choice, after all. This is intentional, much as he lacks control over the minor details. When she grabs his arm he doesn't react beyond a blink, and a brief wave to the two who've paused their conversation to look over in concern.
Problematically, she wants him to leave, and he would prefer not to. The blood in his hair drips onto his nice sweater.]
Yes. Mostly. Not... oh. He has gone. [The man who'd stood in the corner, although not for very long, as he appears quite suddenly on Octavian's other side to take hold of his free arm in turn. Octavian makes a face.] Not him.
[ Root is very far from realizing she's in a dream; everything feels sharp, acute, like it's digging at her and burrowing under her skin and she needs to do something.
Her gaze sweeps to the man holding onto Octavian's other arm and turns flinty. She lets go of him in order to put both hands back on the shotgun, grip going smooth and loose in readiness. ]
Wait. Is this who hurt you?
[ She's getting distracted, because someone she likes is injured in front of her and she doesn't know who this is manhandling him. Root has a massive streak of protectiveness and it's a violent one, unhesitating and unflinching to take action. She will absolutely blast this man's face off with a shotgun if Octavian needs her to. ]
[Oh, she's going for the gun, alright. This deters the taller man not at all; he doesn't even flinch. Octavian doesn't look at him again but plucks at the man's fingers on his arm, peevishly, while he looks at Root instead.]
Hiram. And just the once. [And that isn't an excuse he's making, or anything like that. It was just the one time, and then he was dead, so it wasn't going to happen any further. He isn't sure Root is aware of reality enough right now to pick up on the nuance, but that's fine - she has a shotgun, and he has a not insignificant desire to see her use it.
Just for fun. But, with a glance at the other two,] Not in front of my family. Let me show you the kitchen.
[Hiram is far less opposed to Octavian walking further into the house, after all. The kitchen.]
[ Just the once is enough. She knows Octavian is dead and she knows he'd never felt he'd gotten justice for how it happened. Root doesn't know the details, but her innate sense of loyalty means she doesn't feel she needs to know; if Octavian tells her to shoot someone, she'll shoot, no questions asked. That being said, not in front of my family is a very reasonable request, and hey, she's not an animal. Root knows how normal society works even if she elects to not participate it.
She follows Octavian to the kitchen and checks the safety on the shotgun, slipping it over her shoulder on the carrying strap. No accidental discharges here. ]
That wasn't a no, [ she points out, alert and on edge, scanning the windows and doors to build a mental model of the room in case a Samaritan agent tracks her here. ] You need me to shoot anyone for you, Tavvie? I can make a little pit stop while I'm on the run.
[ It's a completely genuine offer. Root is in fight or flight mode and she's happy to flip the switch at any point. ]
[They head into the kitchen and Hiram follows, to stand in the doorway with his arms crossed and frown, vaguely, at nothing. Octavian ignores him and slides onto a stool at the island counter, swiveling to lean his elbow on the countertop.]
Maybe soon. I think it will be easy to figure out.
[She can make her best judgment call if he doesn't say anything directly, that is. Now they are deeper into the house, and Root is supposedly on the run, but it's fine—there's a back patio door somewhere around here, if she really needs it. The kitchen has a rustic opulence to it, lots of polished woods and finely crafted features, fancy silverware, the works. In another room off the dining area there's the sound of something being carved, a small chisel on stone, while someone works.
It's a very cozy kitchen, but right, right, Root is having some kind of issue of her own. He's focused.] What are you running from?
[ Root keeps Hiram in the corner of her eye with the casual precision of someone tracking a threat, and starts poking around the elaborate kitchen as she goes to answer, ostensibly looking for something to eat or drink. She's not; she's looking for a suitably intimidating implement that she could use to torture Hiram if necessary.
She has more services on offer than just shooting. ]
That's so trusting of you, [ she asks with a slight pout, charmed by him giving her license to figure it out on her own. ] I'm running from Samaritan. It's always Samaritan.
The Machine can't speak to me right now so I'm on my own.
[Octavian looks at Hiram, who stares back at him in silence. Then as Octavian turns again to Root,] I do trust your judgment. Still it will be overt.
[Some men in this room are not very subtle! But for now, if all he wants to do is stare, Octavian will mostly-ignore him. He gestures for Root to check a drawer by the sink, where the fanciest knives are. Some of them are even engraved, Sterling & Maria, for what better tool for pain than wedding gifts to his dear brother.
But he also keeps a careful watch on Root herself, as she mustn't stay in this unreality for too long. He'll have to make a judgment call of his own, maybe, if needs must.]
They followed you all the way to Mars? Very persistent. If I can assist you somehow...
Me being alive constitutes a threat to its existence; they would follow me to Saturn if people could live on a gaseous hellscape.
[ It's completely feasible that if Mars were a settled human-inhabited colony and Root was for some reason there, Samaritan would follow her. Root is uniquely dangerous to it as the Machine's analog interface, even if she isn't in direct communication right now.
Oh, look at these lovely knives. Gleaming and sharp, so well taken care of. She takes them out one by one and lines them up neatly on the kitchen counter in an obvious threat. She doesn't glance at Hiram once. Overt, huh? He'd offered to help, but there's not an obvious way to help her-- not like there is in terms of helping him... ]
Waiting for someone else to act first isn't really my style.
They sent a ship out there. Colony ship. Trying to find a viable moon.
[So look forward to the jaunt to Saturn's moons? Octavian still isn't sure what Samaritan is besides bad news for Root, but if it can get on a ship... Well, allegedly it's already here. Maybe. Root thinks so.
Dream logic has turned this whole scenario on its head. No matter. He raises an eyebrow.]
Old age has made me patient. Still. My family is here. [He considers the patio door, the yard beyond; that will have to do.] Hiram.
[Hiram's attention snaps to him, and when Octavian gestures for the backyard, he's quick to move outside. It's difficult to tell what exactly this dynamic was before one of them killed the other, as Hiram is apparently eager to be directed but still grabs Octavian's arm as he passes to pull him along. Octavian looks back at Root, smiling despite himself.]
[ Root grabs the best-looking knife before following them out, flipping it in the air once just to be a show-off. An eager cast overtakes her. ]
You're so considerate, Octavian, [ she gushes. Root waits until they're fully outside before she steps up quickly to hover behind them, crowding, raising the hand with the knife to press the gleaming edge against Hiram's neck in threat. She has a lot of bulk on her with the shotgun hanging from the strap, but she's smooth nonetheless, not a moment of awkwardness. ]
I know you said it would be obvious, but I just don't have a lot of time. What do you need out of this guy?
[ She pushes firmly with the sharp point until blood starts to well. Does this make sense? Is this supposed to happen? In Root's dreams, she's constantly threatening people, so it makes perfect sense to her. And if her friend Octavian needed her to do anything like this--
[Octavian watches Root and Hiram stares at Octavian, getting angrier and angrier but still mercifully not speaking. For a moment Octavian merely appreciates the sight and Root's willingness to do this thing for him, very touching. He lifts a hand to his chin, faux-thoughtful.]
Need? From Hiram? Nothing in particular.
[That's for Hiram to fume over, which he does, but even as a dream figure he has the sense to hold still. Octavian holds up a finger, like, aha.]
I do always need blood. As you know. Here.
[He turns and there is conveniently an oversized beaker in his hands, which he holds up with a faint smile.]
I'm not actually a serial killer. I just kill people and leave.
[ Honestly, Octavian. She's morbid and without sensible limits, but Root is ultimately very mercenary. She does whatever is needed to accomplish her task and she saves her enjoyable sadism for consenting partners. She doesn't really mix the two. That being said, if this is the task he wants her to accomplish, fine. Root maintains the knife at Hiram's neck with one hand while pulling out a Taser with the other and immediately swapping it out for the knife in one smooth motion, then firing it directly into his throat. It snaps and crackles with an electrical twang.
Probably, he goes down with a dull thump, and she looks down on him dispassionately. ]
You'll want him alive if you want all the blood.
Are you a serial killer? Don't tell me you've been holding out on me. I thought we were friends.
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expiationlogs2025-01-13 12:39 pm
oh boy
Problematically, she wants him to leave, and he would prefer not to. The blood in his hair drips onto his nice sweater.]
Yes. Mostly. Not... oh. He has gone. [The man who'd stood in the corner, although not for very long, as he appears quite suddenly on Octavian's other side to take hold of his free arm in turn. Octavian makes a face.] Not him.
[But hold on, hold on,] What is the danger?
no subject
Her gaze sweeps to the man holding onto Octavian's other arm and turns flinty. She lets go of him in order to put both hands back on the shotgun, grip going smooth and loose in readiness. ]
Wait. Is this who hurt you?
[ She's getting distracted, because someone she likes is injured in front of her and she doesn't know who this is manhandling him. Root has a massive streak of protectiveness and it's a violent one, unhesitating and unflinching to take action. She will absolutely blast this man's face off with a shotgun if Octavian needs her to. ]
no subject
Hiram. And just the once. [And that isn't an excuse he's making, or anything like that. It was just the one time, and then he was dead, so it wasn't going to happen any further. He isn't sure Root is aware of reality enough right now to pick up on the nuance, but that's fine - she has a shotgun, and he has a not insignificant desire to see her use it.
Just for fun. But, with a glance at the other two,] Not in front of my family. Let me show you the kitchen.
[Hiram is far less opposed to Octavian walking further into the house, after all. The kitchen.]
no subject
She follows Octavian to the kitchen and checks the safety on the shotgun, slipping it over her shoulder on the carrying strap. No accidental discharges here. ]
That wasn't a no, [ she points out, alert and on edge, scanning the windows and doors to build a mental model of the room in case a Samaritan agent tracks her here. ] You need me to shoot anyone for you, Tavvie? I can make a little pit stop while I'm on the run.
[ It's a completely genuine offer. Root is in fight or flight mode and she's happy to flip the switch at any point. ]
no subject
Maybe soon. I think it will be easy to figure out.
[She can make her best judgment call if he doesn't say anything directly, that is. Now they are deeper into the house, and Root is supposedly on the run, but it's fine—there's a back patio door somewhere around here, if she really needs it. The kitchen has a rustic opulence to it, lots of polished woods and finely crafted features, fancy silverware, the works. In another room off the dining area there's the sound of something being carved, a small chisel on stone, while someone works.
It's a very cozy kitchen, but right, right, Root is having some kind of issue of her own. He's focused.] What are you running from?
no subject
She has more services on offer than just shooting. ]
That's so trusting of you, [ she asks with a slight pout, charmed by him giving her license to figure it out on her own. ] I'm running from Samaritan. It's always Samaritan.
The Machine can't speak to me right now so I'm on my own.
no subject
[Some men in this room are not very subtle! But for now, if all he wants to do is stare, Octavian will mostly-ignore him. He gestures for Root to check a drawer by the sink, where the fanciest knives are. Some of them are even engraved, Sterling & Maria, for what better tool for pain than wedding gifts to his dear brother.
But he also keeps a careful watch on Root herself, as she mustn't stay in this unreality for too long. He'll have to make a judgment call of his own, maybe, if needs must.]
They followed you all the way to Mars? Very persistent. If I can assist you somehow...
no subject
[ It's completely feasible that if Mars were a settled human-inhabited colony and Root was for some reason there, Samaritan would follow her. Root is uniquely dangerous to it as the Machine's analog interface, even if she isn't in direct communication right now.
Oh, look at these lovely knives. Gleaming and sharp, so well taken care of. She takes them out one by one and lines them up neatly on the kitchen counter in an obvious threat. She doesn't glance at Hiram once. Overt, huh? He'd offered to help, but there's not an obvious way to help her-- not like there is in terms of helping him... ]
Waiting for someone else to act first isn't really my style.
no subject
[So look forward to the jaunt to Saturn's moons? Octavian still isn't sure what Samaritan is besides bad news for Root, but if it can get on a ship... Well, allegedly it's already here. Maybe. Root thinks so.
Dream logic has turned this whole scenario on its head. No matter. He raises an eyebrow.]
Old age has made me patient. Still. My family is here. [He considers the patio door, the yard beyond; that will have to do.] Hiram.
[Hiram's attention snaps to him, and when Octavian gestures for the backyard, he's quick to move outside. It's difficult to tell what exactly this dynamic was before one of them killed the other, as Hiram is apparently eager to be directed but still grabs Octavian's arm as he passes to pull him along. Octavian looks back at Root, smiling despite himself.]
Come. Sound will not carry from out here.
no subject
You're so considerate, Octavian, [ she gushes. Root waits until they're fully outside before she steps up quickly to hover behind them, crowding, raising the hand with the knife to press the gleaming edge against Hiram's neck in threat. She has a lot of bulk on her with the shotgun hanging from the strap, but she's smooth nonetheless, not a moment of awkwardness. ]
I know you said it would be obvious, but I just don't have a lot of time. What do you need out of this guy?
[ She pushes firmly with the sharp point until blood starts to well. Does this make sense? Is this supposed to happen? In Root's dreams, she's constantly threatening people, so it makes perfect sense to her. And if her friend Octavian needed her to do anything like this--
Well. She would, of course. ]
no subject
Need? From Hiram? Nothing in particular.
[That's for Hiram to fume over, which he does, but even as a dream figure he has the sense to hold still. Octavian holds up a finger, like, aha.]
I do always need blood. As you know. Here.
[He turns and there is conveniently an oversized beaker in his hands, which he holds up with a faint smile.]
You are the professional. As you like.
no subject
[ Honestly, Octavian. She's morbid and without sensible limits, but Root is ultimately very mercenary. She does whatever is needed to accomplish her task and she saves her enjoyable sadism for consenting partners. She doesn't really mix the two. That being said, if this is the task he wants her to accomplish, fine. Root maintains the knife at Hiram's neck with one hand while pulling out a Taser with the other and immediately swapping it out for the knife in one smooth motion, then firing it directly into his throat. It snaps and crackles with an electrical twang.
Probably, he goes down with a dull thump, and she looks down on him dispassionately. ]
You'll want him alive if you want all the blood.
Are you a serial killer? Don't tell me you've been holding out on me. I thought we were friends.