vanessa ives (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
transgressings) wrote2019-01-19 07:40 am
transgressings) wrote2019-01-19 07:40 am
inbox for duplicity;
INBOX
text / audio / video / action
INBOX
text / audio / video / action
You're welcome to meet at Haven if you number no more than thirty. My colleague has agreed. I have another location in mind if we're to have a larger meeting than that. There are some underground springs east of the hospital. I would caution to avoid touching or drinking the water, though. It has rather unsavory properties.
Doctor Reid, is it?
My apologies, but I don't believe this message was intended for me. Though I confess to a certain amount of curiosity about those springs you mentioned.
My apologies, but I don't believe this message was intended for me. Though I confess to a certain amount of curiosity about those springs you mentioned.
[This... is not Jughead Jones. Thank goodness he'd been non-specific.]
Dr. Jonathan Reid, yes. My sincerest apologies. I seem to be having some difficulties with my network device of late.
Curiosity is ever a noble quality, but as above, please proceed with caution. I have yet to return to the springs for a sample to analyze, but they have a means of inducing certain vigorous behaviors.
[They don't, actually, at least not when Dorian Gray hasn't dumped aphrodisiacs in them, but Jonathan has yet to discover he's been duped on that score.]
Dr. Jonathan Reid, yes. My sincerest apologies. I seem to be having some difficulties with my network device of late.
Curiosity is ever a noble quality, but as above, please proceed with caution. I have yet to return to the springs for a sample to analyze, but they have a means of inducing certain vigorous behaviors.
[They don't, actually, at least not when Dorian Gray hasn't dumped aphrodisiacs in them, but Jonathan has yet to discover he's been duped on that score.]
No apology required, I assure you. I'm still trying to navigate the workings of my own as well.
[ in fact, it had taken her some time to figure out that a message had even been left for her personally; she's still cautious when it comes to selecting something for fear one wrong tap of a finger will inadvertently erase what she wants to preserve. ]
That is the sort of behavior one tries to avoid falling prey to unexpectedly, I would imagine.
[ in fact, it had taken her some time to figure out that a message had even been left for her personally; she's still cautious when it comes to selecting something for fear one wrong tap of a finger will inadvertently erase what she wants to preserve. ]
That is the sort of behavior one tries to avoid falling prey to unexpectedly, I would imagine.
[continued from here]
[Dorian does not text her back after getting the confirmation of her floor number and room. It takes him almost an hour to make his way there, having to avoid most of the public transportation so as not to risk the chance that he might be stopped or pulled out of the crowd and detained. Instead, he uses the side streets and less trodden paths to get into the Down, only making his way onto the elevator once he's sure it's safe.
The housing for the submissives is just as dreary as it was the first time he'd seen it. That's only a small reflection at the back of his mind, though, as he takes the stairs up practically two at a time. He doesn't need to--Vanessa is probably not going anywhere--but there's an urgency inside of him that spurs him on that he can't quite contain.
Finally, he makes it to the ninth floor and finds her room, taking a moment to compose himself before he knocks. His heart is beating fast from both his journey and because he doesn't know exactly what he'll find on the other side of the door, whether she'll be the Vanessa he remembers or someone else. He hadn't thought to ask her what she remembered before he'd taken off to find her; will she be like Mr. Chandler, taken from a point of his past? Or will she be from some year in the future?
He can't say. But he raps his knuckles against the scarred door and calls out to let her know it's him.]
Vanessa, are you still in?
[Dorian does not text her back after getting the confirmation of her floor number and room. It takes him almost an hour to make his way there, having to avoid most of the public transportation so as not to risk the chance that he might be stopped or pulled out of the crowd and detained. Instead, he uses the side streets and less trodden paths to get into the Down, only making his way onto the elevator once he's sure it's safe.
The housing for the submissives is just as dreary as it was the first time he'd seen it. That's only a small reflection at the back of his mind, though, as he takes the stairs up practically two at a time. He doesn't need to--Vanessa is probably not going anywhere--but there's an urgency inside of him that spurs him on that he can't quite contain.
Finally, he makes it to the ninth floor and finds her room, taking a moment to compose himself before he knocks. His heart is beating fast from both his journey and because he doesn't know exactly what he'll find on the other side of the door, whether she'll be the Vanessa he remembers or someone else. He hadn't thought to ask her what she remembered before he'd taken off to find her; will she be like Mr. Chandler, taken from a point of his past? Or will she be from some year in the future?
He can't say. But he raps his knuckles against the scarred door and calls out to let her know it's him.]
Vanessa, are you still in?
Edited 2019-01-21 15:00 (UTC)
[ In truth, Vanessa has not left her room since she first made her way to it — on whose power, she cannot say, save for what residual strength she'd carried from somewhere deep within, all of it leaving her practically at once the moment she'd crossed the threshold of her intended living quarters and glimpsed a bed, small and meager but more than welcome considering her exhaustion. She doesn't know how long she'd slept, drifting through dreamlessness and eventually jerking awake to the sound of a bullet firing. Only then had she emerged from the bedcovers to look in the adjoining wardrobe, though she'd known beyond any doubt what she would find even before laying eyes on the gown, its ivory drape stained with red on the bodice — and she'd slammed the door shut with a small, shuddering breath. She hasn't opened it again since.
Rather than attempt to dress herself in the flimsy paper they'd sent her out in, she settles for using her bedsheets as a makeshift covering, wrapping one of the clean sets around her body and tying it securely at her chest before draping another across her shoulders and pulling it tightly closed. There's no hope of obscuring the mark bisecting the column of her throat, a gray line that doesn't appear to have changed in any manner since she first glimpsed it in her dirty mirror, but in her various attempts to use her device she's seen mention from others facing difficulties as a result of the line shifting to a different shade.
The knock at the door pulls her from where she's studying the mark again, as well as the whole of her reflection. Without pins to secure her hair it's a long, tumbling mass spilling down her shoulders, but there are no dark circles beneath her eyes, nothing to signal any weariness or distress otherwise. She composes her expression as carefully as she's able and crosses the room to open the door for him, inclining her head slightly. ]
Mr. Gray. I apologize for greeting you like this; I'm sure you can understand I'm not feeling entirely myself.
Rather than attempt to dress herself in the flimsy paper they'd sent her out in, she settles for using her bedsheets as a makeshift covering, wrapping one of the clean sets around her body and tying it securely at her chest before draping another across her shoulders and pulling it tightly closed. There's no hope of obscuring the mark bisecting the column of her throat, a gray line that doesn't appear to have changed in any manner since she first glimpsed it in her dirty mirror, but in her various attempts to use her device she's seen mention from others facing difficulties as a result of the line shifting to a different shade.
The knock at the door pulls her from where she's studying the mark again, as well as the whole of her reflection. Without pins to secure her hair it's a long, tumbling mass spilling down her shoulders, but there are no dark circles beneath her eyes, nothing to signal any weariness or distress otherwise. She composes her expression as carefully as she's able and crosses the room to open the door for him, inclining her head slightly. ]
Mr. Gray. I apologize for greeting you like this; I'm sure you can understand I'm not feeling entirely myself.
[ if only the sender knew exactly how this particular verse would resonate with her once received, so much so that she questions if it has been sent in error at all, or if this is a sign she is meant to acknowledge for the truth it presents. ]
Are you a man of God, Mr. Custer? [ after checking to learn the identity of the man behind the message. ]
Are you a man of God, Mr. Custer? [ after checking to learn the identity of the man behind the message. ]
[Dorian doesn't even notice her clothes or lack of a proper dress thereof. Not at first. His gaze rests entirely on her face as the door opens, a small, indrawn breath the only indication of his nervousness as she greets him.
But oh, it truly is her. She looks just as he remembered, her hair down and untamed and left to flow softly around her face and shoulders. He had once called her the most mysterious thing in London, but he should have amended it to the most beautiful, as well.]
It's alright. [Despite the line between his brows, he can't help but smile some at her attempt at an apology. As though it even matters.] I won't tell anyone.
[He pauses, suddenly aware that this really is reality and not some dream, and the realization hits him with staggering force. His mind momentarily goes blank, lips parted to say something that evaporates before he can even grasp it and hold it in his head.
But he recovers quickly, or tries to as he stands before her.]
It's... good to see you again. I admit I'd given up hope of ever reconnecting with you, especially after arriving here. It's been a trying few months for me.
May I come in?
But oh, it truly is her. She looks just as he remembered, her hair down and untamed and left to flow softly around her face and shoulders. He had once called her the most mysterious thing in London, but he should have amended it to the most beautiful, as well.]
It's alright. [Despite the line between his brows, he can't help but smile some at her attempt at an apology. As though it even matters.] I won't tell anyone.
[He pauses, suddenly aware that this really is reality and not some dream, and the realization hits him with staggering force. His mind momentarily goes blank, lips parted to say something that evaporates before he can even grasp it and hold it in his head.
But he recovers quickly, or tries to as he stands before her.]
It's... good to see you again. I admit I'd given up hope of ever reconnecting with you, especially after arriving here. It's been a trying few months for me.
May I come in?
[ He looks, frankly, astonished to see her; for a brief, fleeting instant she wonders if he knows of her fate, if they are somehow beyond the end she'd asked Ethan to give her and this strange place is the eternal existence to which they have all been consigned. Time could have no meaning at all; if either of them met their demise after her own, she would not be aware of it here.
Apart from the obvious element, she does feel rather naked as he looks on her, stripped of the usual trappings that would lend her more dignity in this situation, her face unpowdered and her hair loose. But within the myriad expressions that seem to traverse his features is relief that she's here rather than anywhere else, and she inwardly admits to deriving a personal sense of ease at the sight of a friendly face. Her attention is briefly drawn to the bare expanse of his neck; he does not possess the same mark she does, and her brow furrows in silent curiosity. ]
Yes, of course. [ She steps to the side to afford him space to enter, reflexively drawing the blanket a bit more firmly around her frame. It's cold in the room itself, her feet bare against the floor, but the unconscious shiver that ripples down the length of her spine is a reminder that she is in possession of all her senses, the ability to feel. ]
You said... months? How is that possible? [ In all her surprise she's forgotten to extend the invitation for him to sit down, though the room itself is sparse and lacking in many available options, but she also hasn't seated herself either, taking care to close the door behind them so their conversation won't be overheard. ]
Apart from the obvious element, she does feel rather naked as he looks on her, stripped of the usual trappings that would lend her more dignity in this situation, her face unpowdered and her hair loose. But within the myriad expressions that seem to traverse his features is relief that she's here rather than anywhere else, and she inwardly admits to deriving a personal sense of ease at the sight of a friendly face. Her attention is briefly drawn to the bare expanse of his neck; he does not possess the same mark she does, and her brow furrows in silent curiosity. ]
Yes, of course. [ She steps to the side to afford him space to enter, reflexively drawing the blanket a bit more firmly around her frame. It's cold in the room itself, her feet bare against the floor, but the unconscious shiver that ripples down the length of her spine is a reminder that she is in possession of all her senses, the ability to feel. ]
You said... months? How is that possible? [ In all her surprise she's forgotten to extend the invitation for him to sit down, though the room itself is sparse and lacking in many available options, but she also hasn't seated herself either, taking care to close the door behind them so their conversation won't be overheard. ]
Very much so. Particularly in this place. I'm afraid you have me at rather a disadvantage at the moment, though. I hope you will not think it rude if I ask who it is I'm speaking to? Not the Mr. Jones this missive was intended for.
Not at all. My name is Vanessa Ives.
And I suppose I should thank you for your message, however misdirected. You've provided me with some valuable information.
And I suppose I should thank you for your message, however misdirected. You've provided me with some valuable information.
[He's seen the inside of a room or two in the Down, but never actually stepped into one until now. It's depressing how small and barren they are, compared to the lavish apartment he'd been provided with in the Up, for as long as he's able to keep it. The thought of being forced into one of these is one he hates but will have to tolerate if it does come to that.
That's a subject he shifts to the side, though, and focuses on more important things. As Vanessa closes the door behind them, he only gives the place a cursory glance before his focus is on her again. Her question something he'd also like an answer to, head shaking softly to the sides.]
To that, I have no explanation. There are people here from all sorts of dates, from as long ago as four to five centuries in our past, to one or two ahead of ours. Time flows consistently here from what I've experienced but before that...
[He gives a faint shrug of his shoulders and a spread of his hands.] I arrived here in October, and it's now January. But none of us know what year it is, exactly.
That's a subject he shifts to the side, though, and focuses on more important things. As Vanessa closes the door behind them, he only gives the place a cursory glance before his focus is on her again. Her question something he'd also like an answer to, head shaking softly to the sides.]
To that, I have no explanation. There are people here from all sorts of dates, from as long ago as four to five centuries in our past, to one or two ahead of ours. Time flows consistently here from what I've experienced but before that...
[He gives a faint shrug of his shoulders and a spread of his hands.] I arrived here in October, and it's now January. But none of us know what year it is, exactly.
I might have guessed.
Do you often find yourself using these devices to proselytize to those here, or only us newcomers?
Do you often find yourself using these devices to proselytize to those here, or only us newcomers?
[ It lends credence to the possibility that they are somewhere beyond, but she'd walked here largely in a daze before, taking note of few details along her route. Wherever they are, whoever is responsible for their being here, has drawn in people from different times, places if what Dorian's telling her is to be believed — and what reason does she have for not believing him? For all his unique mysteries, those secrets she has not ventured towards unlocking for herself, he has withheld few answers to questions she has posed.
She's lost, momentarily, in a reverie of her own making, expression distant for a few measures before she lifts her eyes to his face. For all her earlier attempts at composure, it's likely that he can see the distress playing itself out in her gaze, feelings she struggles to mask. ]
January. [ A month that would signal new beginnings, new possibilities, were there the chance of any to be found; she feels adrift, uneasy even as much as her present company offers a comfort all its own. ] Tell me, what is the last thing you remember before finding yourself here?
She's lost, momentarily, in a reverie of her own making, expression distant for a few measures before she lifts her eyes to his face. For all her earlier attempts at composure, it's likely that he can see the distress playing itself out in her gaze, feelings she struggles to mask. ]
January. [ A month that would signal new beginnings, new possibilities, were there the chance of any to be found; she feels adrift, uneasy even as much as her present company offers a comfort all its own. ] Tell me, what is the last thing you remember before finding yourself here?
You mistake my words as a complaint, sir. The psalm itself is alarmingly relevant to events I have... recently experienced.
In other words, you may have provided righteous counsel whether you intended to or not.
In other words, you may have provided righteous counsel whether you intended to or not.
[He notes the change in her expression and the distress beginning to show behind her features. It's understandable, regardless of what situation she was in before coming here. Which, he is still oblivious to.
There is no easy answer he can give to her next question, though, even if it's far less ambiguous. Dorian would rather not have to confess to what he's been doing since their paths diverged, especially considering the presence of Mr. Chandler being here, as well. If he could go back and do it all over again, he would have made some decisions very differently.
But hindsight was always 20/20. He keeps his own gaze neutral and carefully concealed, briefly licking his lower lip before he responds.]
I remember that the last time we met was at the ball. [That ill-fated event that he himself had put on.] You fainted and were carried out. I'm sorry that I never followed up on you, after that.
[There had been other distractions that had clouded his judgment, instead.]
There is no easy answer he can give to her next question, though, even if it's far less ambiguous. Dorian would rather not have to confess to what he's been doing since their paths diverged, especially considering the presence of Mr. Chandler being here, as well. If he could go back and do it all over again, he would have made some decisions very differently.
But hindsight was always 20/20. He keeps his own gaze neutral and carefully concealed, briefly licking his lower lip before he responds.]
I remember that the last time we met was at the ball. [That ill-fated event that he himself had put on.] You fainted and were carried out. I'm sorry that I never followed up on you, after that.
[There had been other distractions that had clouded his judgment, instead.]
Yes. I remember.
[ She is not so overwhelmed that the details of that night fail to come back to her, the vision she had glimpsed of bodies bathed in blood and so many dead, forgotten things, laughter and music distorting to something twisted that had ultimately drowned out her own screams. So much has happened since, she thinks, unable to hide a wry smile. ] I cannot fault you for the preoccupations of your life, as I have had my own.
[ An understatement if ever there was one, but she does not wish to venture towards a longer explanation of her whereabouts; that is a conversation meant for a future point, if ever she decides to broach it between them. Instead, she folds her arms across her front, a reflexive gesture more than anything. He seems.. adjusted. Certainly more knowledgeable, taking into account the length of time already spent here. ] You have been faring well, I trust? Where is your residence here?
[ She is not so overwhelmed that the details of that night fail to come back to her, the vision she had glimpsed of bodies bathed in blood and so many dead, forgotten things, laughter and music distorting to something twisted that had ultimately drowned out her own screams. So much has happened since, she thinks, unable to hide a wry smile. ] I cannot fault you for the preoccupations of your life, as I have had my own.
[ An understatement if ever there was one, but she does not wish to venture towards a longer explanation of her whereabouts; that is a conversation meant for a future point, if ever she decides to broach it between them. Instead, she folds her arms across her front, a reflexive gesture more than anything. He seems.. adjusted. Certainly more knowledgeable, taking into account the length of time already spent here. ] You have been faring well, I trust? Where is your residence here?
More like a recent reconciliation with God. Or so I believed, at the time. Since I've arrived here, I'm less certain of that belief.
As well as can be expected, yes. [Which was a severe understatement. Unsurprisingly, he'd taken to the city and its unique situation like a duck to water.]
I live in the Up, in a building they've provided for all of the... Dominants.
[He knows that this is a tricky and very touchy subject to navigate, but obviously she would have noticed his lack of a mark by now. Dorian's own eyes briefly flash to the one streaked down her throat, noting its color.]
They have explained things to you, have they not? The... rules of the city.
[As he poses that, Dorian shrugs off his long overcoat and steps forward to sling it around her, settling it over her shoulders and the bedsheets wrapped around them. It's far too large but it's warm, the room too cold for her to be wearing so little.]
I live in the Up, in a building they've provided for all of the... Dominants.
[He knows that this is a tricky and very touchy subject to navigate, but obviously she would have noticed his lack of a mark by now. Dorian's own eyes briefly flash to the one streaked down her throat, noting its color.]
They have explained things to you, have they not? The... rules of the city.
[As he poses that, Dorian shrugs off his long overcoat and steps forward to sling it around her, settling it over her shoulders and the bedsheets wrapped around them. It's far too large but it's warm, the room too cold for her to be wearing so little.]
[ He is warm, warmer than her somehow; she had not realized exactly how much until he'd settled his coat around her and the shivers she's fighting to repress suddenly cease, and she closes her eyes until her breathing evens, until the chill that feels as if it has settled into her very bones begins to thaw. ]
Yes, I noticed you do not bear the mark, though I do not know what it means that mine remains this color without any sign of change. [ Gray, firmly, neither dark nor light; she cannot feel it when she brings her hand to her skin but she can somehow sense it there, so indelible it's as if it had always been a part of her body — and she suddenly despises it, hates that she will be made to kneel for it, to scrape and submit. ]
They have. What is required of us, what we are meant to succumb to for this... experiment. [ The realm of science is a mostly foreign one; she had relied on the knowledge of people like the good Doctor Frankenstein to educate her where her own was lacking. She opens her eyes to find his face before her, so collected in contrast to the turmoil of her own feelings. ] I never imagined intimacy being viewed in such a clinical manner.
Yes, I noticed you do not bear the mark, though I do not know what it means that mine remains this color without any sign of change. [ Gray, firmly, neither dark nor light; she cannot feel it when she brings her hand to her skin but she can somehow sense it there, so indelible it's as if it had always been a part of her body — and she suddenly despises it, hates that she will be made to kneel for it, to scrape and submit. ]
They have. What is required of us, what we are meant to succumb to for this... experiment. [ The realm of science is a mostly foreign one; she had relied on the knowledge of people like the good Doctor Frankenstein to educate her where her own was lacking. She opens her eyes to find his face before her, so collected in contrast to the turmoil of her own feelings. ] I never imagined intimacy being viewed in such a clinical manner.
Page 1 of 96