the name's greed (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nestingdevil) wrote2014-11-10 09:21 pm
nestingdevil) wrote2014-11-10 09:21 pm
(no subject)
WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, avaricious. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 012.07.333.07 *** avaricious has joined 018.07.154.55 <avaricious> ithsihoitiwrks ? <BANNED USER> SCREENED MESSAGE. UNSCREEN? Y/N -- <avaricious>thdvllsnst <avaricious> vdndrere | ||||
CONTACTS
0.0.0.0 ♦ "MASON" | Heather
TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.
0.0.0.0 ♦ STOCKE
TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.
0.0.0.0 ♦ AOBA
TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.
0.0.0.0 ♦ "JUSTINE"
TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.
0.0.0.0 ♦ KILLUA
TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.
0.0.0.0 ♦ ZOLF J. KIMBLEY
TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.
0.0.0.0 ♦ EDWARD ELRIC
TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.
0.0.0.0 ♦ "XANDER" | SANDRATH
TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.
<Mello> | PRIVATE
[The exhale is forced, exasperated. Being imprisoned this way has essentially removed Mello's ability to manage his tone — an animal in a fucking cage: when he speaks his voice is raw, lacking the cool demeanor he tries so hard to maintain when conversing with Greed. If the grit of his teeth is audible, it's not something of which he's consciously aware.]
I don't want to stay here. About to tear these fucking walls apart if time doesn't pick up.
[Which it won't. The scrape of claws against cement is loud enough to cause a stir a few cells over, a rustle of fabric that even with his dulled abilities, Mello can pick up on with acute sharpness.]
Linden's got this system in place, yeah, and it's not going over well with anyone. If I call people in and get myself out — [A long, long pause. So tempting.] — it'll break this thing before it begins.
[And because he doesn't exactly possess a wide array of conversational partners right now — ]
No one wants this prison here; these laws are inane. If I don't do my time, it gives everyone the green to raid this place every time one of their own ends up in here.
[Breathe. Breathe.]
But they won't stop at that, yeah, they'll go after him. Then we'll have a bigger problem than someone playing cops and robbers where there's no place for it.
[Oh, but he'll gladly accompany Greed back to Djävulenstad when all is said and done. Rustling, and there's a click of bootheels on the floor when Mello begins to pace.]
He won't listen to me. [But.]
But you —
[He'll let that hang for a moment; whether or not Greed wants to become involved is unpredictable. If the prison affects him in no way, there's no reason to intervene, is there?]
<avaricious> | PRIVATE
[Linden. The former homunculus puckers his mouth on the other side of the line. For Mello, it all comes back to him, doesn’t it? Their connection is a web of sorts. Like a pair of birds tied by a string, where one goes, the other follows. And as time goes on, the knots only begin to tighten. The inevitable choke leaving both him and his tangled in a situation, both sticky and personal.]
[And here, oh here comes to the spider.]
[Greed sheepishly lifts his shoulders. While it’s impossible to see, the show of his grin is priceless. The wet smack of his lips practically peels into the recording. Like that of a pried band-aid gone sour.] Me, huh. [The Sin tastes his words. They trill down his throat in a sweet vibration; the sound of sweet-booze liquor, tumbling to its final destination. One of his nails grazes his thigh and as it traces the side of his leg, the leathery seam skips underneath. Once, twice, three times, then a fourth. As if the idea itself is somehow, somehow - ]
You really think he'll listen to that? You said it yourself - a prison isn't exactly very popular. [But. A hint of hesitation plays on the sharps of his teeth. L's got a debt to pay, doesn't he? His ledger is hefty, the interest even more so. The former homunculus sways the flat of his boot across the floor; its pass, only a whisper in the receiver.]
I'll see what I can do to. [While he talks, Greed leverages the door again. The smoke at his ankles, the suffocation around him; they trail about the recording. A haunting's presence slipping in, second by second, inch for inch, until it's far, far, too late.]
[For the Lord may forgive and the warden may release. But the devil - ]
[He'll always come back.]
[Greed hooks his keys into the lip of his back pocket, forcing the chrome plates to tnk-tnk-tnk out of focus.] Ah. I'm sure this goes without saying, but whatever you did, I want to know. [There it is. That little warning, that low-brow simmer. After all, this isn't the first time Mello's been on thin ice. He did it before. Back in town, without a single worry or care as to the consequences. However, actions? They have a way of catching up.]
[Hopefully, Mello doesn't need a repeat.]
[The former homunculus extends his tail and as that flat of his spade pats the top of the device, an airy crack interrupts the feed.] Two days. In the meantime, make sure you're ready. [He repeats. The lid of the laptop crch and cricks. Finally though, the wheezy hinges snap closed. Forcing the feed to abruptly cut as sure as a knife, tossed from its case.]
[Two days isn't long, but it's enough. And if Mello's true to his word, well.]
[There's no better friend than sin, sin, sin, sin at the back.]