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?
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[All technically true. Helena told him not to tell, and he promised.]
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[And he doesn't really believe her.]
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But I didn't see it. And when he attacked me, he wasn't - he was too far gone to read.
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I tried to fight him off first. I wouldn't have done it otherwise, but it was definitely my choice.
[And he'll answer for that. To Mal and God, if no one else.]
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[Don't let the bastards grind you down, Dillon.]
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