versusnurture | eighth ♢ private + spam

private/video, backdated to shortly after white flag } megamind

[She takes care in her appearance, in a convoluted way, making sure she's dissheveled and exhausted-looking, hands wrapped tight around her upper arms like she's cold. In truth, and unfortunately, she doesn't have to do much work at all, just wrap her scarf securely around her neck and check herself in the mirror before cutting on the feed.]

[She's just naturally exhausted-looking, these days. The tentativeness is all fake, though.]

Hi. Um. I know we don't really know each other. But I was wondering if I could ask for a favor.

spam, tuesday night } elena

[Hannibal's hunt week frayed her nerves. The other Barge pulls a few stray ends out. But Abigail will realize later that the last straw was when she had to be sweet to him. Not that there wouldn't have been some other last straw - this just happened to be it. This is how it played out.]

[She knocks on Elena's door while shoving her scarf into her pants pocket. There's no way the other girl can't hear her heart hammering, she thinks, and tries to calm herself down for about five seconds before giving it up.]

spam, wednesday morning } ryan

[It's important, when hunting, to step quiet, to breathe calm. She was afraid before but she isn't afraid now. She's done this before. Kind of.]

[Besides, she isn't even sure he'll be here. The CES is a good bet, yes, but there are plenty of days when you go out looking and get nothing at all for your trouble.]

[If Ryan is here, or anyone else on the vague, short list she's got tucked away in the angriest, most vicious part of her hindbrain, nothing about her will change once she sees him. Not right away, anyway.]

[There's a dagger tucked into the back of her belt, under the bulky knit of her long sweater, a taser tucked up her sleeve ready to drop into her hand. She will wait until he reaches the edge of the woods, because that's where he is going to have to die. Between the open and the enclosed. Where he could run, if he was really looking at her face.]

spam, thursday morning } nathan

[And now she's nervous.]

[Which is not surprising. What is surprising is that she's not sorry. Not yet. She knows she'll be caught, she knew that from the beginning, but regret hasn't surfaced yet. This worries her. If she isn't sorry, how will she know she's separate from what she was trained to be? How will she know she's her own precise kind of monster?]

[She thought she might throw up after Ryan. She didn't. She just washed her hands and the blade and hid the dagger under the mattress. Business as usual, despite the fact that she knows Ben will find it as soon as he steps in there, despite the fact that she can't reuse that weapon. But he made her another one.]

[She hasn't inserted herself into the investigation, such as there's been so far. She is returning to the scene of the crime. This is, however, mostly because she wants a walk.]

[That said: as she walks, she's armed. Her hands are steady. She's nervous, but not sorry. Definitely not afraid.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Elena doesn't reach out to touch Abigail, folding her arms instead to resist that impulsive urge to grab her by the shoulders and possibly shake her. Abigail is bordering on... Well, not hysteria per se, but something close to it. Like a manic stroke of genius that's started to go horrible wrong.]

You think.

[She frowns. Just slightly. Not happy with being doubted, especially since there's a small part of her that's still uncertain.]

Yes. I think. I can't know what he's going to do. He's unpredictable.

Since when does he have any effect on you, anyway?

He doesn't, [she says tersely, just barely not snapping.]

But since when have you talked about any of this in maybes?

[Maybe Abigail was trying to hide it, but there's not much that can be hidden from a vampire. Especially one you've been confiding in and relying upon.]

[Elena's learned to read Abigail like a book.]

I told you to take the opportunity if you got the chance, Abigail, but that doesn't mean take it if you've got a maybe or possibly.

There's no possibly. I want to do it. I want to do it now.

[She doesn't. She does. She doesn't. It's a lie and it's true and she doesn't want to see him die but she wants to rip him apart and feed his heart to the sharks. She wants to see him lose control and become the ugliest, basest scavenger he could ever conceive of.]

[There's no possibly. Possibly implies at least partial resolve.]

Okay then, walk me through your plan. What have you got?

[Elena folds her arms. She's pretty sure Abigail hasn't worked out many, if any specifics. She might want that revenge. She might want to tear Hannibal apart. Nothing will probably rid her of that feeling, not even the revenge itself. But wanting revenge is a different thing from wanting to carry it out.]

[Abigail folds her arms in response, a perfect mimic. Her fingers are trembling; she clenches them tight on her arms to make them stop. She's angry, but she's also terrified. And how dare Elena know her well enough to see that?]

Just like we talked about. Put the blood in a strongly-flavored drink - I have several ideas - have him drink it. Then you break his neck.

Nothing to it.

And have you thought about where you're going to give him this drink? Or how you're even going to get him to drink it without suspecting anything?

[Elena steps forward and holds Abigail's face in her hands.]

Abigail, it's okay if you aren't ready for this. You don't have to. It's still a choice. It's still your choice.

[She tears herself away, hands balling into fists at her sides. No, she doesn't have a choice, not really - or she doesn't think she does. She has to do it now. Now.]

I'm ready! Why won't you believe me when I say I'm not ready? I'm telling you the truth! I always tell you the truth!

[She's lying.]

[Elena lets her go.]

I don't believe you because you're freaking out. I told you that when you had the opportunity to strike to take it and not hesitate. But that doesn't mean start being impulsive. That's just going to get you killed or worse.

Come on, Abigail. You're smarter and better than this.

I'm not -

[But she is, isn't she. She's freaking out, she's having a tantrum. Like a child.]

[Maybe she means she's not smarter or better.]

[She turns away and grits her teeth, says nothing more.]

Yes, you are.

[Regardless of whichever Abigail meant.]

[Elena grabs her arm and turns her back around roughly.]

You want to be mad at me? Fine. Be mad. Hate me even. I don't care. I'm doing what I have to to keep you safe.

[Her eyes narrow at being manhandled. Her lips thin in a frown.]

Fine. Then the deal's off. Compel me if you want my blood, but the deal is off.

[Elena's temper that had not been there before, not until Arkin pushed, finally snaps.]

[She grabs Abigail by her throat and slams her against the wall, pushing her up high enough that her feet no longer reach the ground.]

How dare you say something like that to me after everything. If you want to die so badly, I'll happily do it for you, Abigail. Just say the word and I'll end it for you. Over and over if you want.

[She can barely breathe - Elena's grip is too tight. And she hates this, hates being in someone else's power so effortlessly. Tears form in the corners of her eyes, but they're bitter and sharp and angry.]

Let. Me. Go.

[Elena holds her there for a few seconds longer before dropping her. She folds her arms and looks away from Abigail, refusing to look at her even out of the corner of her eye.]

Get out.