Sylar | Gabriel Gray (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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sirenspull_logs2012-10-14 09:01 pm
gabriel_gray) wrote in sirenspull_logs2012-10-14 09:01 pm
Entry tags:
You're going to catch a cold
Who: Sylar [gabriel_gray ] and Peter [askedtobe ]
When: A little after this
Where: Their apartment
Summary: Sowing the seeds of discord
Warnings: Angry words, possible violence and mentions of violence. Absolutely no making up.
[ So far nothing had exploded. Or perhaps to be more precise no one had exploded. Anyone looking in from the outside might have had difficulty working out that there was in fact anything wrong, but there were fundamental changes that had grown in deep when Sylar's amnesia had broken.
His relationship with Peter was on the rocks.
It had been a difficult change for them both to cope with. Sylar finally understood where his confused and misappropriated memories had come from, but how did he go about telling Peter that he had murdered his brother? How did he set what he satisfy his modus operandi - working alone, killing - alongside Peter's empathy, Peter's own hunger that had once been nursed to life by Sylar himself.
He remembered his life here at the Port alongside his life at home, and so many of the pieces didn't fit together that it was difficult to decide on a way to be both, or if he could choose to be one or the other. Brushing away Peter wouldn't work. He remembered almost a year with him, starting with casual baiting, turning into a prolonged, structured indoctrination. He remembered when it had slipped from being part of the plan to the moment when he'd actually fallen in love, holding Peter in his arms as the poison ate him to pieces, killing him over and over again.
There was no escaping that part of him now. A great hollow emptiness had filled him at all the time in between that hadn't been filled with Peter, as though they'd been separated for far too long, and he had fallen back into his arms gratefully, despite the other part of him.
The other part of him that was a ruthless killer, that wanted to be loved, yes, but never wanted to make a home for himself. That had killed Elle rather than let her tie him down, disgusted at her dreams of coupled bliss. This wasn't the same - Peter was like him - but it clashed with Sylar's independent spirit, his enjoyment of the chase, and the kill.
That was why, feeling pent up and agitated, surrounded by powered people as though he'd stumbled into an all you can eat of superpowers, Gabriel had slipped out and went to find himself something tasty, not telling Peter where he was going, and being very careful not to come back covered in blood.
He couldn't say the same for the cheerleader.
Her death had been more than a week ago, now. He'd go after another, but this time...this time he'd choose someone special. And he couldn't let Peter know. Peter was too... Well, Peter wasn't him. He was overwhelmed with the hunger, darkened with the monster that lingered inside him that had attacked Nathan months ago - the monster Sylar wasn't supposed to know about - and having him with him when he killed an innocent was just too much of an uncertainty. Danger lay that way. Peter wouldn't approve.
So this lunchtime, emulating the good boyfriend that Peter had once had, Sylar was cooking, preparing something for them both so that he could share a few moments with Peter before he went out chasing ambulances again--his version of stress relief, distraction from the hunger. Sliding the bacon joint out of the oven, bare handed, he settled in to serve them both plates of food at their small dining table, knowing Peter would be back soon, and without warning. ]
gabriel_gray ] and Peter [askedtobe ]When: A little after this
Where: Their apartment
Summary: Sowing the seeds of discord
Warnings: Angry words, possible violence and mentions of violence. Absolutely no making up.
[ So far nothing had exploded. Or perhaps to be more precise no one had exploded. Anyone looking in from the outside might have had difficulty working out that there was in fact anything wrong, but there were fundamental changes that had grown in deep when Sylar's amnesia had broken.
His relationship with Peter was on the rocks.
It had been a difficult change for them both to cope with. Sylar finally understood where his confused and misappropriated memories had come from, but how did he go about telling Peter that he had murdered his brother? How did he set what he satisfy his modus operandi - working alone, killing - alongside Peter's empathy, Peter's own hunger that had once been nursed to life by Sylar himself.
He remembered his life here at the Port alongside his life at home, and so many of the pieces didn't fit together that it was difficult to decide on a way to be both, or if he could choose to be one or the other. Brushing away Peter wouldn't work. He remembered almost a year with him, starting with casual baiting, turning into a prolonged, structured indoctrination. He remembered when it had slipped from being part of the plan to the moment when he'd actually fallen in love, holding Peter in his arms as the poison ate him to pieces, killing him over and over again.
There was no escaping that part of him now. A great hollow emptiness had filled him at all the time in between that hadn't been filled with Peter, as though they'd been separated for far too long, and he had fallen back into his arms gratefully, despite the other part of him.
The other part of him that was a ruthless killer, that wanted to be loved, yes, but never wanted to make a home for himself. That had killed Elle rather than let her tie him down, disgusted at her dreams of coupled bliss. This wasn't the same - Peter was like him - but it clashed with Sylar's independent spirit, his enjoyment of the chase, and the kill.
That was why, feeling pent up and agitated, surrounded by powered people as though he'd stumbled into an all you can eat of superpowers, Gabriel had slipped out and went to find himself something tasty, not telling Peter where he was going, and being very careful not to come back covered in blood.
He couldn't say the same for the cheerleader.
Her death had been more than a week ago, now. He'd go after another, but this time...this time he'd choose someone special. And he couldn't let Peter know. Peter was too... Well, Peter wasn't him. He was overwhelmed with the hunger, darkened with the monster that lingered inside him that had attacked Nathan months ago - the monster Sylar wasn't supposed to know about - and having him with him when he killed an innocent was just too much of an uncertainty. Danger lay that way. Peter wouldn't approve.
So this lunchtime, emulating the good boyfriend that Peter had once had, Sylar was cooking, preparing something for them both so that he could share a few moments with Peter before he went out chasing ambulances again--his version of stress relief, distraction from the hunger. Sliding the bacon joint out of the oven, bare handed, he settled in to serve them both plates of food at their small dining table, knowing Peter would be back soon, and without warning. ]