Dillon Cole || Scorpion Shard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
orderfromchaos) wrote2014-08-02 11:06 pm
orderfromchaos) wrote2014-08-02 11:06 pm
Entry tags:
- a bit drastic,
- actually a little terrifying,
- dillon cole walking disaster,
- i can break your tiny mind,
- like you fix a (rabid) dog,
- morality is hard,
- not a doctor a miracle worker,
- oops,
- others called us gods,
- remember this,
- stars bend light around them,
- ttly a warden you guys,
- u didn't think at all,
- u didn't think u hoped
12. Mea...culpa?
[Public, video]
[They're the kitchen of Dillon's parents' house: relentlessly suburban, a few southwestern touches, from the touristy Navajo-ish vase on the table to the sepia color palette, well-coordinated. There are floral magnets on the fridge, and one Hannibal Lecter humming as he makes what appears to be gourmet tomato soup and fresh-baked bread. He's wearing an open lab coat over his suit that he grabbed while attempting to join an infirmary shift, right before Dillon hurriedly hustled him out.]
I kind of...fixed him.
[Not like you fix a car; Hannibal wasn't broken, he was himself. Like you fix a dog.]
I thought it would wear off but it hasn't, and his room is the same so it doesn't count for graduation but I don't. Actually know how to undo it.
He's not faking, either.
[Voice pitched more deliberately across the room, though he hasn't been been whispering or anything; Hannibal could have heard him before if he was listening.
Hey, Hannibal, say sorry to the nice people.
[Hannibal pauses, sets down the wooden spoon and turns to the comm, contrite, shifting, a little uncertain.]
I'm terribly sorry for what I've done. It seems almost unreal, but I do not mean to belittle anyone's suffering. I apologize.
[Dillon waves him back to the soup.]
[Private to Jean]
I'm pretty sure what you do is more. Versatile, than mine. I know it's a lot to ask, but could you check and see if you can reverse it?
[They're the kitchen of Dillon's parents' house: relentlessly suburban, a few southwestern touches, from the touristy Navajo-ish vase on the table to the sepia color palette, well-coordinated. There are floral magnets on the fridge, and one Hannibal Lecter humming as he makes what appears to be gourmet tomato soup and fresh-baked bread. He's wearing an open lab coat over his suit that he grabbed while attempting to join an infirmary shift, right before Dillon hurriedly hustled him out.]
I kind of...fixed him.
[Not like you fix a car; Hannibal wasn't broken, he was himself. Like you fix a dog.]
I thought it would wear off but it hasn't, and his room is the same so it doesn't count for graduation but I don't. Actually know how to undo it.
He's not faking, either.
[Voice pitched more deliberately across the room, though he hasn't been been whispering or anything; Hannibal could have heard him before if he was listening.
Hey, Hannibal, say sorry to the nice people.
[Hannibal pauses, sets down the wooden spoon and turns to the comm, contrite, shifting, a little uncertain.]
I'm terribly sorry for what I've done. It seems almost unreal, but I do not mean to belittle anyone's suffering. I apologize.
[Dillon waves him back to the soup.]
[Private to Jean]
I'm pretty sure what you do is more. Versatile, than mine. I know it's a lot to ask, but could you check and see if you can reverse it?
Private
[And that's a problem. It's been there all this time and it's only now that it's been shoved right under her face. She's never killed anyone here. Not even when her brain was scrambled by Alpha. Not even when Victor would have each time they faced off. But how many here could say the same? And how many just weren't paying attention to this mentality because it's so glossed over into normality? Even she is guilty on that count.]
Private
But I always hated it. The killing, not - anyway.