Post by Helena Sawyer on Sept 25, 2017 4:57:49 GMT
The camera view clicks on, and we see Helena Sawyer sitting on a brick staircase outside what appears to be a fairly nice home in a good neighborhood. She grins into the camera, waving eagerly and sighing as she looks up to the ceiling, drumming her thumbs against the casing of the camera as she speaks, voice humming angrily in her throat as she speaks.
"So here we are. I knew...I knew something would happen. If I trusted her, I KNEW something would happen. And so she got involved, she couldn't get out of the way, and bouncing off her thick granite skull dazed me enough to cost us the match. Well done, you demonic dolt. Now we have to head into Extreme Endurance on a loss. But hey. I should have known what kind of a person you were when you tried to roast Pandora alive."
She growls, teeth appearing oddly pointed in the low light of the evening. Helena stands up, beginning to pace up and down the short stairs, keeping the camera fixed with a vicious, homicidal glare.
"Because I haven't forgotten, and I haven't forgiven. I don't care what god lays claim to her, she was my forget-me-not before she was even a glimmer in his eye. If I hadn't been there, you would have burnt the flesh from her bones with a smile on your face. There comes a point, Rowan, where the pain doesn't teach. There comes a point when all you're doing is getting your rocks off, and you don't give a damn what the difference is. That's the difference between us. I teach. You satisfy yourself. Well, consider class in session."
Helena stalks up the stairs, grinning to herself as she turns the camera to the side, catching the 108 number plate. She opens the door, casually walking inside and spinning around in the foyer, a grin on her face as she kicks the door shut.
"108 Ocean Avenue. Used to be 112, but they renumbered the streets. And where are we, Rowan? Oh...we're home. Not your home. My home. Amityville. And before you ask...no. No, this isn't a metaphor."
She chuckles, spinning on her heels as she thumps to a seated position on the staircase. Helena looks around, a smile on her face full of wistful memories. Helena lays back on the stairs, looking over at the camera with a sigh and a fluttering of her eyes.
"Five years old. That's how old I was when we moved in. Of course my parents had heard the stories. They'd seen the movies, they'd read the books. That's half the reason they wanted the place. They wanted to be able to say they lived in one of the most legendary houses in America. My grandmother insisted they were going to Hell for it all, that this would corrupt us all and condemn us to lives of blasphemy. Oh, Granny...if you only knew how right you were."
Helena laughs, spinning onto her stomach and smiling up into the camera again as she looks up the stairs. Her feet kick idly behind her as she smiles brightly, looking around the house. Her smile fades slightly as she takes in the inoffensive, mild decor, and she sighs.
"That's the problem with this neighborhood these days. It's boring. Not like you, Rowan. You're not boring. You're interesting. You're exciting, and different...and you've got this fun little cult of yours! Jolly psychopaths, with special little roles for everyone to play! War! Pestilence! Death! Famine! Ooh, I know! The next one can be Pollution! That'll keep with theme! I mean, you'll have to kick Maxine out first, but..."
Helena giggles to herself, slowly trailing off, and frowns into the camera, shaking her head in dismay.
"You don't get it, do you? Read a book. The point is, Rowan, you surround yourself with all this pomp and circumstance, you make yourself feel so much superior...you bathe in fear, like the Elizabeth Bathory of terror. It keeps you young. Keeps your skin supple. And I'm not going to lie...I've got fear for you, Rowan. I'd be stupid not to. I saw what you did to Pandora, one of the bravest women I have ever had the privilege of punching in the face. I saw what you did to Charity Crowne. But while I'm afraid...it doesn't own me."
She chuckles, standing up and beginning to walk lazily up the steps. The shadows and lights flicker in the background as she lopes up the steps. The lights flicker, and in one brief flash we can see Helena crawling up the stairs in a reverse crab walk before the lights flick again and Helena's walking once more.
"Why doesn't that fear own me? Well...it's simple, really. For an emotion to own you, it has to overpower everything else. Drown it out, like the worst elevator music of all time. And right now, no matter how scared I am, no matter how much the prospect of dealing with you might set my bones a-quiverin'...no no, the fear's not the strongest thing I'm feeling right now."
Helena practically pulls herself up the stairs via the camera, hissing into the lens with a vicious glint in her eyes.
"That's gotta be wrath."
Smash to black.
"I want to talk to her." Michelle's voice was more forceful than it's been in weeks. "I don't give a damn what you say, I want to talk to her."
Helena grumbled, pacing around the basement as her voice echoed around the concrete walls. "What's that going to do for either of us? She's going to show up, we're going to fight, and you're just going to be more useless than normal."
Michelle snapped back, glaring into a splintered mirror. The shards seemed to alternate between Helena's painted face and Michelle's regular, furious one. The splinters showing Michelle's face reflected her speech, Helena's shards remaining bemusedly immobile. "No. You have dragged us halfway around the world. You have kept me from seeing her unless it's while you taunt her with my voice, my face. Fuck you. I want to see my girlfriend."
Helena taps her chin, making a contemplative noise to herself as she paces in a slow circle. In the mirror, we can see Michelle growing increasingly frustrated at the stalling. Finally, Helena sighs, shrugging. "Oh, alright. Call her. See if you can set something up. I'm giving you two an hour. No me, just you. At the end of it, we go back to our usual timeshare. Understood?"
Exhaling through gritted teeth, Michelle nodded slowly. "Fine. If that's all the blood I can get out of your stone of a head..." She stalked over to a workbench, snapping up a cellphone in her hand, and dialed a number, tapping her foot. While the paint remained on her face, the look of concern on what appeared to be Helena's visage clearly belonged to Michelle, who whispered into the dial tone. "Please pick up, baby...please pick up..."
A click sounded over the speaker, and Grace's voice echoed into the basement as Michelle's face fell slack. "Hey, you've reached the voice mailbox of Grace Cohen. Please leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!"
Michelle collapsed to her knees, eyes closing tight as she shook her head slowly, voice hoarsely working words into being. "No, no, no, you always answer, you ALWAYS answer. Why now? Why now?!" She slammed her fists on the concrete floor, gritting her teeth as the tears welled in her eyes.
Helena shook her head, forcing them up off the floor. "Doesn't matter. She didn't answer. All you can do is wait for her to call back. Now—"
Michelle dropped the phone on the bench, whirling back to face the mirror. "Don't you tell me what I can and can't do, you fucking...what in the hell are you?"
Helena laughs, shaking her head. "You really expect that sort of straight answer out of me? Shelly, I thought you knew better than that."
Michelle threw her hands up in frustration, looking to the ceiling in disbelief. "Really?! You don't even fucking know?! Great. Just..." her voice dropped, subdued. "...just fuckin' great." Michelle sank to a seated position, drawing her knees in to her chest. Her voice, though whispered, carried with an echoing weight. "...where are the nightmares? Everyone else had nightmares..." her voice wavered. "...where are the nightmares, Hel?"
Helena's voice, for once, held no anger. No humor. It just...was. Resigned, tired, almost as close as she could get to comfort. "Shelly. You haven't been having nightmares because...well...we're living them." She managed a weak laugh, shaking her head. "We don't get to count on it just being when we sleep...we get to live 'em."
After another pause, Helena spoke up again. "Hopefully she'll call back...she hasn't given up yet, why would she now?" Michelle doesn't respond, and the quiet, uncomfortable silence was all that greeted them as we faded away.
The camera flicks back on, and it finds Helena sitting in a bed. The decor betrays the fact that this is the same house she left us in, and her cheery grin is just as obnoxiously irrepressible as ever.
"You've made me angry, Rowan. Angry in a way that nobody ever has. You decided to attack the one good thing in this world. The one person that hopes for everyone, no matter how vile they are. You've hurt me. You've hurt her. And as much as I can hurt you, I am going to pay you back for everything you've done...with a smile on my face."
As if to make a point, she flashes an extra-wide, extra-bright smile. Helena even throws a wink on the end for good measure, laying back on the bed.
"Now, I know what you're thinking. How did you get into this house? Well, that's simple. The owners are on vacation, and apparently nobody thought to replace the old lock on the back door. I remembered where the spare key was, and here we are."
She pauses, looking into the camera with a grin on her face.
"What, did you expect me to say I got in through 'mysterious ways'? Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and sometimes a simple case of breaking and entering is just a simple case of breaking and entering. Get over yourselves. Now, on to what you were probably ACTUALLY thinking: how do you break the Wolf of the Abyss? How do you break the alpha bitch of the Pack? It's simple, really...you're not the only one with a war going on inside your head."
Helena grins again, a toothy grin with all the warmth of a shark's smile. Her eyes twinkle in the light as she swings up to a standing position, rapping her head with her knuckles.
"No matter what's going on inside this skull of mine, the moment that bell sounds, a truce is called, and only one thing matters: beating you black, blue, senseless and stupid, and taking the Diamonds Championship from your twitching fingers. And...I want you to learn from what I'm going to do to you, Rowan. I want you to learn just what happens when you cross lines."
Helena paces out of the bedroom, stalking down the hallway with a glare on her face and that persistent murderous glint in her eyes as she paces towards the stairs.
"You don't own me. And at Extreme Endurance, you reap what you have sown. I'm not a good person, Rowan. I've NEVER pretended to be good, and I've never really pretended to be a person. But I do have a code. Girl's gotta have a code. And you...you have FUCKED with what I care about one time too many. You broke my code...so I break you. And Rowan? I say this from the bottom of my heart...I...can't...wait."
She winks at the camera, gently tossing the camera out into the air. We cut to black as the camera hangs in the air, framing Helena's leering gaze as she hangs from the railing.
"So here we are. I knew...I knew something would happen. If I trusted her, I KNEW something would happen. And so she got involved, she couldn't get out of the way, and bouncing off her thick granite skull dazed me enough to cost us the match. Well done, you demonic dolt. Now we have to head into Extreme Endurance on a loss. But hey. I should have known what kind of a person you were when you tried to roast Pandora alive."
She growls, teeth appearing oddly pointed in the low light of the evening. Helena stands up, beginning to pace up and down the short stairs, keeping the camera fixed with a vicious, homicidal glare.
"Because I haven't forgotten, and I haven't forgiven. I don't care what god lays claim to her, she was my forget-me-not before she was even a glimmer in his eye. If I hadn't been there, you would have burnt the flesh from her bones with a smile on your face. There comes a point, Rowan, where the pain doesn't teach. There comes a point when all you're doing is getting your rocks off, and you don't give a damn what the difference is. That's the difference between us. I teach. You satisfy yourself. Well, consider class in session."
Helena stalks up the stairs, grinning to herself as she turns the camera to the side, catching the 108 number plate. She opens the door, casually walking inside and spinning around in the foyer, a grin on her face as she kicks the door shut.
"108 Ocean Avenue. Used to be 112, but they renumbered the streets. And where are we, Rowan? Oh...we're home. Not your home. My home. Amityville. And before you ask...no. No, this isn't a metaphor."
She chuckles, spinning on her heels as she thumps to a seated position on the staircase. Helena looks around, a smile on her face full of wistful memories. Helena lays back on the stairs, looking over at the camera with a sigh and a fluttering of her eyes.
"Five years old. That's how old I was when we moved in. Of course my parents had heard the stories. They'd seen the movies, they'd read the books. That's half the reason they wanted the place. They wanted to be able to say they lived in one of the most legendary houses in America. My grandmother insisted they were going to Hell for it all, that this would corrupt us all and condemn us to lives of blasphemy. Oh, Granny...if you only knew how right you were."
Helena laughs, spinning onto her stomach and smiling up into the camera again as she looks up the stairs. Her feet kick idly behind her as she smiles brightly, looking around the house. Her smile fades slightly as she takes in the inoffensive, mild decor, and she sighs.
"That's the problem with this neighborhood these days. It's boring. Not like you, Rowan. You're not boring. You're interesting. You're exciting, and different...and you've got this fun little cult of yours! Jolly psychopaths, with special little roles for everyone to play! War! Pestilence! Death! Famine! Ooh, I know! The next one can be Pollution! That'll keep with theme! I mean, you'll have to kick Maxine out first, but..."
Helena giggles to herself, slowly trailing off, and frowns into the camera, shaking her head in dismay.
"You don't get it, do you? Read a book. The point is, Rowan, you surround yourself with all this pomp and circumstance, you make yourself feel so much superior...you bathe in fear, like the Elizabeth Bathory of terror. It keeps you young. Keeps your skin supple. And I'm not going to lie...I've got fear for you, Rowan. I'd be stupid not to. I saw what you did to Pandora, one of the bravest women I have ever had the privilege of punching in the face. I saw what you did to Charity Crowne. But while I'm afraid...it doesn't own me."
She chuckles, standing up and beginning to walk lazily up the steps. The shadows and lights flicker in the background as she lopes up the steps. The lights flicker, and in one brief flash we can see Helena crawling up the stairs in a reverse crab walk before the lights flick again and Helena's walking once more.
"Why doesn't that fear own me? Well...it's simple, really. For an emotion to own you, it has to overpower everything else. Drown it out, like the worst elevator music of all time. And right now, no matter how scared I am, no matter how much the prospect of dealing with you might set my bones a-quiverin'...no no, the fear's not the strongest thing I'm feeling right now."
Helena practically pulls herself up the stairs via the camera, hissing into the lens with a vicious glint in her eyes.
"That's gotta be wrath."
Smash to black.
"I want to talk to her." Michelle's voice was more forceful than it's been in weeks. "I don't give a damn what you say, I want to talk to her."
Helena grumbled, pacing around the basement as her voice echoed around the concrete walls. "What's that going to do for either of us? She's going to show up, we're going to fight, and you're just going to be more useless than normal."
Michelle snapped back, glaring into a splintered mirror. The shards seemed to alternate between Helena's painted face and Michelle's regular, furious one. The splinters showing Michelle's face reflected her speech, Helena's shards remaining bemusedly immobile. "No. You have dragged us halfway around the world. You have kept me from seeing her unless it's while you taunt her with my voice, my face. Fuck you. I want to see my girlfriend."
Helena taps her chin, making a contemplative noise to herself as she paces in a slow circle. In the mirror, we can see Michelle growing increasingly frustrated at the stalling. Finally, Helena sighs, shrugging. "Oh, alright. Call her. See if you can set something up. I'm giving you two an hour. No me, just you. At the end of it, we go back to our usual timeshare. Understood?"
Exhaling through gritted teeth, Michelle nodded slowly. "Fine. If that's all the blood I can get out of your stone of a head..." She stalked over to a workbench, snapping up a cellphone in her hand, and dialed a number, tapping her foot. While the paint remained on her face, the look of concern on what appeared to be Helena's visage clearly belonged to Michelle, who whispered into the dial tone. "Please pick up, baby...please pick up..."
A click sounded over the speaker, and Grace's voice echoed into the basement as Michelle's face fell slack. "Hey, you've reached the voice mailbox of Grace Cohen. Please leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!"
Michelle collapsed to her knees, eyes closing tight as she shook her head slowly, voice hoarsely working words into being. "No, no, no, you always answer, you ALWAYS answer. Why now? Why now?!" She slammed her fists on the concrete floor, gritting her teeth as the tears welled in her eyes.
Helena shook her head, forcing them up off the floor. "Doesn't matter. She didn't answer. All you can do is wait for her to call back. Now—"
Michelle dropped the phone on the bench, whirling back to face the mirror. "Don't you tell me what I can and can't do, you fucking...what in the hell are you?"
Helena laughs, shaking her head. "You really expect that sort of straight answer out of me? Shelly, I thought you knew better than that."
Michelle threw her hands up in frustration, looking to the ceiling in disbelief. "Really?! You don't even fucking know?! Great. Just..." her voice dropped, subdued. "...just fuckin' great." Michelle sank to a seated position, drawing her knees in to her chest. Her voice, though whispered, carried with an echoing weight. "...where are the nightmares? Everyone else had nightmares..." her voice wavered. "...where are the nightmares, Hel?"
Helena's voice, for once, held no anger. No humor. It just...was. Resigned, tired, almost as close as she could get to comfort. "Shelly. You haven't been having nightmares because...well...we're living them." She managed a weak laugh, shaking her head. "We don't get to count on it just being when we sleep...we get to live 'em."
After another pause, Helena spoke up again. "Hopefully she'll call back...she hasn't given up yet, why would she now?" Michelle doesn't respond, and the quiet, uncomfortable silence was all that greeted them as we faded away.
The camera flicks back on, and it finds Helena sitting in a bed. The decor betrays the fact that this is the same house she left us in, and her cheery grin is just as obnoxiously irrepressible as ever.
"You've made me angry, Rowan. Angry in a way that nobody ever has. You decided to attack the one good thing in this world. The one person that hopes for everyone, no matter how vile they are. You've hurt me. You've hurt her. And as much as I can hurt you, I am going to pay you back for everything you've done...with a smile on my face."
As if to make a point, she flashes an extra-wide, extra-bright smile. Helena even throws a wink on the end for good measure, laying back on the bed.
"Now, I know what you're thinking. How did you get into this house? Well, that's simple. The owners are on vacation, and apparently nobody thought to replace the old lock on the back door. I remembered where the spare key was, and here we are."
She pauses, looking into the camera with a grin on her face.
"What, did you expect me to say I got in through 'mysterious ways'? Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and sometimes a simple case of breaking and entering is just a simple case of breaking and entering. Get over yourselves. Now, on to what you were probably ACTUALLY thinking: how do you break the Wolf of the Abyss? How do you break the alpha bitch of the Pack? It's simple, really...you're not the only one with a war going on inside your head."
Helena grins again, a toothy grin with all the warmth of a shark's smile. Her eyes twinkle in the light as she swings up to a standing position, rapping her head with her knuckles.
"No matter what's going on inside this skull of mine, the moment that bell sounds, a truce is called, and only one thing matters: beating you black, blue, senseless and stupid, and taking the Diamonds Championship from your twitching fingers. And...I want you to learn from what I'm going to do to you, Rowan. I want you to learn just what happens when you cross lines."
Helena paces out of the bedroom, stalking down the hallway with a glare on her face and that persistent murderous glint in her eyes as she paces towards the stairs.
"You don't own me. And at Extreme Endurance, you reap what you have sown. I'm not a good person, Rowan. I've NEVER pretended to be good, and I've never really pretended to be a person. But I do have a code. Girl's gotta have a code. And you...you have FUCKED with what I care about one time too many. You broke my code...so I break you. And Rowan? I say this from the bottom of my heart...I...can't...wait."
She winks at the camera, gently tossing the camera out into the air. We cut to black as the camera hangs in the air, framing Helena's leering gaze as she hangs from the railing.
Well howdy there pardner.