hadriel_logs | how can anything survive when these little minds tear you in two? [SEMI-OPEN]

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how can anything survive when these little minds tear you in two? [SEMI-OPEN]

Who: Rey, her Doppelgänger, and VARIOUS (includes both open and closed starters in the comments).
What: Following the train of separate open logs over the Dead Ringers event. The timeline in the link is relatively loose but it covers the gist of things.
Where: Several corners of Hadriel.
When: January 16th-25th.
Warnings: Violence. Possible death and implications of sexual assault/innuendo. Manipulation. Rey is not a happy person by any means and does not have a very happy background. Feel free to check out the permissions post if you have any concerns beforehand.
Notes: If you're tagging in an open prompt, please be sure to indicate which day of the week it is in the subject line! Also I'll try to match whichever format you fancy.

I. January 16th-20th

She was created out of air. Not a construct from a lab, melded together by flesh and cells donated by two exceptional genetic donors.

Oh, ho, ho, it's magic, you know,
Never believe, it's not so.

Magic. At one point her other half would have chided at the very suggestion of such a thing existing. But time breeds experience, and experience inspires intrigue. Intrigue which turns into a little bit of curiosity. After all, her time here is limited, before returning to the ether where all the constructs inevitably go. So what's the use in fretting over details and results?

No, this is fun. Too much so for it to be short-lived any more than it already is meant to be. Thus, she keeps her distance, following her other half for some time before deciding to deviate. Good thing Rey is not one to maintain a diverse wardrobe, as looking the part is simple enough. Walking the part, talking the part, being the part is simple enough. It isn't the first time she has had to.

The only difference is the usual weapons she bears are different. One would have to be observant enough to notice the long machete at her hip in place of the kukri, the blade dissimilar in shape and curve. She'll make use of it, sooner or later...

For now, she can be found in some parts of the city: By the river, in the groves, or in alleyways, hacking and slashing at the air from which she was formed. The swift motions cutting through with a whistle as the blade makes effortless strikes with trained precision.

Just be careful where you step. Wouldn't want to get cut, would we?

Would we?

II. Wildcard

[ooc: If you have any other ideas in mind, just tag in whatever or contact me ahead of time, via plot comment, PM, or hit me up on plurk (

citygrit) or discord (revalev#6927)!

Threaded | Flat

The fact that something seems to be amiss doesn't occur to Rey right away. The only thing that troubles her are the frequent feelings of being followed. Being stalked. She sleeps very little as it is, but even less so now with the lingering presence of something standing over her, or peering through the window. Watching her.

Maybe drowning her paranoia at the bar is the last thing she should be doing, but Rey is beyond caring at this point. She hasn't slept, and the weight of her insomnia is pulling her down as it is. With every bottle, she begins to care less and less.

Rey doesn't even bother fussing over that repeating sense of suspicion when the bar door opens. She is into far too many drinks for that now.

On a seemingly quiet day, she can be found at the doorstep of House 1301. The close neighbors to the home of Nick Valentine and Rey.

Just not this Rey.

She has been planning this. Studying routines and whereabouts. Knowing everything that her other half knows, she can carry herself the same way. Tucking her shoulders, hand propped under her chin with her elbows resting over her knees -- all the same way 'Rey' would. She sits at the stairway leading into the house, currently empty.

But she can wait. She is patient. And she still has plenty of time to do this. It's been in her head for a while now, and she can't think of a better chance.

No time like the present, as they say.

Time is strange here. The passing hours affects the artificial lighting, sure, not much unlike the underground city in which Rey had been created. Hours feel like days since she had discovered an empty room where her explosives should have been.

Did Sato find them? Had he been following her? Or was it someone just as, if not more so, worse?

Her own self, for instance?

For someone who had once decimated an entire city population, it seems ironic that she would need an explosives cache to wreck havoc. Maybe she was trying to impede Rey from using them against her -- or using them ever.

Either way, Rey's search comes to an end at the orchards, where she had received a rather vague tip about where her cache would be. It had no name, nor an explanation. The note had been left for her to find on the door to her house, with only one simple message:

Orchards. 23:30.

She knew the time and she knew the place. Half hour to midnight. The orchards are a pretty big place, though, and hardly somewhere you'd hide a supply of explosive material.

What her intuition tells her is right, in the end. Deep in the fruit orchards, following a dirt trail and some footprints, is neither a person nor what she's looking for.

It is a hole.

Face blanching, she approaches the perfectly dug hole in the ground. Three feet wide. Eight feet long. Six feet deep. The dimensions of a grave.

"I thought about cremation, but you and I both know that you wouldn't burn," comes an amused-sounding voice from behind.

Rey spins around, her eyes having adjusted to the light of the darkness in hopes that it would cloak her better here. She might as well be looking at a mirror instead, when she finds her exact replica standing between some fruit trees. A shovel stabbed into the dirt. Hand resting over the handle. A smile on her face that did not belong to Rey but of a ghost she had long since put behind her. Or tried to, when she wasn't trying to silence the beast rattling in its cage.

"Not sure whether to feel flattered or not that you would go through this amount of effort." Rey grits her teeth, eyes narrowing at her other self.

"Don't get me wrong," 'Rey' replies. "I'm very dedicated when I have my mind set to something. Shit, we both are. But I didn't do it alone."

Edited 2017-01-21 23:45 (UTC)

What's done is done. Whether her other half lives or dies six feet under, it makes no different to 'Rey'. This goes much further than just getting her comeuppance. Death is a mercy. Mercy that something such as them have no right to earn in kind.

No, she is not entirely without a heart. A synthetic's body was always meant to withstand many things that would kill a normal human. If she knows what's best for her, Rey will know how to make use of her time and make it last.

Or she could be down there digging a hole through her own throat. For all 'Rey' cares, that might as well be the case.

There is just one last stop she has to make. A cord that has to be cut.

It's late at night when the door to House 1401 opens. Dirt tracks across the floor as 'Rey' makes her way into the bathroom. Her clothes are filthy. The shovel drags behind her, then she rests it against the wall before she starts running the water in the sink.

That scarred up face staring back at her in the mirror is identical to her counterpart in every way. From the intricate, deliberate marks to the shade of her hair, though darker now in both the light and the filth. She brings her hands over her head, running water through it and down her face. Soil begins to fill up the basin, and does not stop.

Edited 2017-01-21 23:26 (UTC)

Solitude is like a worm. Digging deeper and deeper into the dirt tunnels, closed in tightly all around.

Alone. Always alone.

Panic was useless. Waste of precious air, waste of energy, waste of the mind. In a place where Rey, six feet under a patch of freshly dug up dirt in Sorrow's orchards, hours seem like years. When all that time is spent with nothing more than your own thoughts and memories, it's enough to grasp onto one shred of sanity.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Short gasps. Long moments of holding it in between. Why bother? There's no point. Might as well just die here. Alone. Like the worms.

Her chest tightens, but she fights the fear. The lump in her throat. The tightness in her chest. Time has passed. No one is coming. Maybe they're dead--

No, stop that. Don't think that.

Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out.

Memories of dry coffee grinding in her mouth keeps her conscious. Plays the ku-ji mantra in her head and occupies her hands with the mudra. She's learned this from a sniper somewhere before. Where? Who? What was their name? Shit, she can't remember. Can't risk diving into places in her mind that she can't crawl back from. Because that's what solitude does.

It leaves again. Air closing in. Pressure tightening. Take short gasps. Rin, pyo, tou... The numbers are all that's left.

Otherwise, she is alone. Six feet under.

With the worms.

Edited 2017-01-22 01:36 (UTC)

The double has found this place to be simply delightful. It's so easy to go into someone's head and stir things up. Such a fragile thing the mind is. All it takes is one firm tap and it can shatter like a pane of glass. He's making his way through the city, soaking in all the little feeble minds of the people. They're so small and insignificant. It's like being surrounded by ants, things that wouldn't even be worth his time were he not trying to ruin Ushahin's life.

When he sees Rey's double, he looks her up and down. There's a subtle difference in this particular broken face, a lack of humanity and warmth that the real Ushahin exudes. Then he smirks in a way that makes it clear who he is. "Having fun yet?"

Edited 2017-01-20 06:44 (UTC)

[ Curufin and Rey meet just after she discovers her explosives cache is missing. By this point in the week, they should both be pretty nervous! I'm assuming this is after Maketh and Henry have been murdered. I can edit if you want any changes. ]

Curufin is trying to keep track of too many things at once. The dopplegangers are turning up in unexpected ways and places, people are disappearing, and the rumors are flying thick and fast. Curufin is carrying an armload of newly-forged weapons.

He sees one of his coworkers approaching, just as he crosses a street. "Rey?"

Edited 2017-01-21 04:11 (UTC)

[tba]

Threaded | Flat

January 17th (Closed to Rey and Firo's Doppelgänger)

January 20th (Closed to Rey's Doppelgänger and Bianca)

January 21st (Closed to Rey, "Rey", and Satwo)

January 22nd (Closed to "Rey" and Nick Valentine)

January 24th (Closed to Rey, Nick Valentine, and Sharon da Silva)

January 17

Wildcard; January 21

January 25th: Curtain Call (CLOSED NARRATIVE | Rey/"Rey")