[the last voyages] ic inbox

[onlyhearmusic]

[a lyrical hum cuts in, almost as if someone didn't know what they were doing]

"Leave yer message."

[oh. no, he knew. he just didn't care. the beep comes after another brief humming stops.]

Comments

[makethestory]

[ And she raises an eyebrow, cool as a cucumber, smooth as silk. ]

Who's pretending?

Treating the human experience like a homogenized lump is the least natural thing there is.

Human experience, and the ways in which the human mind can function, can adapt, are incredibly variable.

[onlyhearmusic]

[He remained quiet. Perhaps thoughtful, perhaps just to stare ominously at her.]

[makethestory]

So is your music natural to you?

[ Gonna have to try harder to intimidate her, Collins. The stare isn't going to work. ]

You've said what other people have 'called' you. Not what you think.

[onlyhearmusic]

[His eyes flicked away and he did look thoughtful this time.]

It's my gift. Doesn't make it natural. Doesn't make it...acceptable ta anyone else.

[makethestory]

It doesn't make it not those things either.

[ Just... saying. ]

So... a gift. Something that was given to you, not something chosen. And so far, I haven't heard why it wouldn't be acceptable to someone.

[onlyhearmusic]

Ah, there's tha catch. You want ta know why? Because I love how it makes me feel when I do my job. You know what my job is, don't you?

As the Butcher.

And I don't butcher pigs and cows, lass. Let's just skip right over that.

[makethestory]

You're a serial killer. I knew that already.

[ People who work in food service don't call themselves 'the butcher'. It's also why she'd used the title when approaching him. She was trying to connect with him in the way that he chose to present himself. ]

Where did the gift come from?

[onlyhearmusic]

Aye.

[Then she understood why it wasn't acceptable to anyone else now. Why everyone told him it was wrong. A fluke. An accident. Something wrong with his head.

He scowled like she had tainted something he called a gift with her question.]

How tha fuck should I know? I was born with it.

[Except everyone made him question that. What did he know. He didn't remember. It just never mattered before. It was what it was, and it was beautiful.]

[makethestory]

[ That earns him an eyebrow raise that being a killer hadn't. ]

You call it a gift. Gifts, by their nature, are given and received.

I'm working with this on your terms. That's all.

[onlyhearmusic]

[He just leveled a flat look at her.]

Ya never heard of natural talent bein' called a gift before?

[makethestory]

I have.

[ And she could say what his anger says about the whole question, that it isn't that he used the word in a strange way so much as his reaction was telling. But that's inflammatory, and she's not here for that. ]

And how does it work, exactly? Is it the same song all the time?

[onlyhearmusic]

No. It changes.

[He finished his circle around her.]

You owe me questions fer tha ones you kept askin'.

[makethestory]

[ She's just going to spread her hand towards him. Well? Go ahead. She's not stopping him. ]

[onlyhearmusic]

Yer a type of copper, aren't you Ms. Anderson? Yer profession before ya came here ta be a warden fer tha bastard. An agent from tha...what was it...all those silly little letters strung together... [He waved a hand dismissively in the air.] Why come here ta play with all tha inmates, lass? Seems a bit of a downgrade. You get tired? Bored? Need ta fix a mistake?

[makethestory]

FBI: the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

[ She has no problem sharing that. She wears the jacket often enough. The second part is harder. But she's keeping her word. ]

I'm here to fix a mistake, save someone who-

Let's just say that if it weren't for me, they wouldn't have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

[onlyhearmusic]

So they decided ta go back to tha original name and felt tha need ta add a letter in front while they were at it?

[He made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. Government officials, Jesus.]

What's tha matter, lass. You leave someone behind ta die? People die every day; it's natural. Everyone here needs ta learn that if ya ask me.

[makethestory]

He isn't dead [ she says carefully ] he was Taken. Warped and used by something referred we call the Dark Presence.

Nor is he 'someone'. His name is Jaakko Koskela. He and his brother were the organizers of- [ she pauses ] think of it like a neighborhood watch for the boogeyman. Except, believe it or not, they were effective. They kept the town safe.

Problem being that they did it by calling their little club 'the cult of the tree'. Add cult plus ritualized murders...

[ She trusts he can do the math. ]

[onlyhearmusic]

[Collins stared at her flatly and blinked once or twice in silence. He looked very unimpressed with her story.]

Cultists are always dumb. [He shook his head without sympathy.] Real ones, fake ones, they always do dumb shite with real consequences. People never learn.

[He cocked his head to one side.] So you caused tha man to end up in tha clutches of some horrible monster and yer cryin' about it, tryin' ta solve it by trustin' another bullshite monster ta fix yer mistake.

Funny.

[makethestory]

[ My favorite part of serial killers: the ego mania. Everyone is stupid but them. Glad to see some things remain true around here.]

Sure.

[ She doesn't look bothered by the judgment. Mostly because the staggering amount of ignorance behind it renders it pointless. He wants to dismiss her, he's not listening already. She gave him a piece of herself and he spat on it.

But she decides to test something, turns the internal radio inside of her up, lets the war drums thrum as a warning. ]

[onlyhearmusic]

[From the way his head tilted to the opposite side and the shift in his expression, it was obvious the change in the music got his attention. However, it didn't seem to do much as a cautionary notice. He drew closer out of curiosity as if the music were a lure rather than a warning.

He was smiling as he leaned over the table, hands on it to keep him balanced.]

Do you enjoy tha hunt, Agent Anderson?

[makethestory]

[ There's a reason her daemon will present as a deer. Go on, Butcher. Scent the prey. Take the bait. ]

I wouldn't do what I do otherwise.

[onlyhearmusic]

What kind of prey do you like ta hunt most of all?

[makethestory]

[ She'll take a long moment to look back at him, to meet his eyes. ]

You can't guess?

[onlyhearmusic]

[His smile only deepened.]

Dangerous prey. Does that make you dangerous, or simply good at trackin'? Do ya like ta go out yerself? Or point and watch tha hounds chase fer ya?

[1930s mindset. Not bothered by either option, doesn't seem to care about that sort of social expectations, but used to women giving directions not being in the field. Aware from time here that later society seemed to get rid of that expectation.]

[makethestory]

[ There's a face journey, where at first she's a little insulted, and then she considers the fact that he's clearly from an earlier time. All the same? ]

My partner is usually the one trailing after me.