Post by ParamountKeymaster on Sept 25, 2015 12:41:30 GMT -5
The uncomfortable silence that had permeated the apartment complex all night was broken by the gentle clicks and creaks of one particular door being opened. Patrick trudged inside his and his friends' shared apartment, grunting and straining as he dragged Evan's sleeping form inside and struggled to keep the hedron tucked under his arm all the while. Carrying his buddy was no easy task; Patrick had very little strength to begin with, but the battles he had just endured and the subsequent drain of energy from his healing process left him utterly exhausted. Finally, though, he managed to haul Evan through the building, upstairs, into their apartment and onto the couch, kicking the door closed behind him.
With the weight finally lifted from his sore arms, Patrick plopped into a chair and let out a great sigh of relief. Said exhale was probably louder than it needed to be, but for the time being, he was undaunted. If the trek to their home didn't disturb Evan's slumber, a little noise surely wouldn't either at this point.
One thing was for sure: After a long night of facing monsters, demons, grueling combat and musical numbers, Patrick was grateful for some time to relax. He was tired, achy and emotionally drained, and the stifling atmosphere of the dim, empty, dead-silent apartment engulfed him. He felt like he could easily slip into hibernation, and as he vegetated in his loveseat, he found himself coming dangerously close to nodding off then and there.
Patrick, we need to stay vigilant, Van warned him. We can't lower our guard around Evan.
"Ngh... Right..." Patrick lazily grunted, forcing himself to sit up slightly.
As if to give himself something to keep his mind active, Patrick looked down at the blood hedron he had brought home with him. Inside that hedron was a binding sphere. Inside that sphere was the miniscule, parasitic demon known as Jack, whose possession of Evan and Todd had caused Patrick and his new friends a night's worth of trouble... not to mention physical and emotional pain. Patrick's weary state was evidence enough of that, but something else continued to haunt him. The memories were still fresh in his mind, the images of his best friend, clad in that black suit, eyes blazing a cold, intense silver, speaking those taunting rhymes and behaving in the most callous, apathetic, downright villainous manner. It might have been Jack's doing, but the fact that it was Evan's face, Evan's voice, Evan's body... to be attacked and insulted by the likeness of one so close was one of the worst tortures imaginable.
Patrick scowled at the hedron. He wasn't the vengeful type –that was more Ray's shtick– but words could not begin to describe all the things he wanted to do to Jack.
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, depending on your viewpoint), none of these things would come to pass. In his most basic form, Jack could not be killed. Light seemed to hurt him, but chances were he would not sustain any damage for long. All Patrick could do was leave him to rot inside this makeshift prison, with no host, no escape, and nothing to do.
He was tired of thinking about it. He was tired of looking at the object that held his enemy. Defiantly, Patrick mustered up enough energy to open a portal to his own pocket dimension and tossed the hedron inside. Good riddance.
Before closing the portal to his personal storage space, Patrick reached in and pulled out something he had been hanging onto for much of the night. The Paramount Key... Evan's ultimate tool of trade. Patrick had acquired it after Jack had left Evan's body for Todd's, opting to keep it safe since it was now evident that, like Evan, Jack had acquired the inherit knowledge of its uses. Now that Jack posed little to no threat, the question arose of what Patrick should do with the key. Evan couldn't use it in his current state, and Patrick had no idea how to use it himself.
His gaze turned to the window. If he remembered correctly, Carter could sense the key's presence. Was he out there somewhere, looking for Evan? What about Jen? Darien? Swift? Ace? Where was everyone in this hellhole of an island? He knew what had happened to Toby, but he felt completely unable to help him. Was there anything he could do for his friends?
Patrick sighed. All he knew for certain was that the Paramount Key needed protected. Thus, he draped its string around his neck and tucked it into his shirt, feeling completely out of place and inadequate to carry such a burden.
As he stared out the window, Patrick asked one of his inner voices, "You feel up to studying Evan again, Van?"
I can try, though I'm not sure how well I'll be able to perform spells without further recuperation, Van offered.
Patrick nodded and looked down at Evan. The young man was still fast asleep, curled up on the couch like a dog. Aside from his briefs, he was still completely naked. His face, arms and chest were caked with blood and the cool air of the apartment's AC sent shivers down his exposed back. As a result of some haywire magic, his fingernails and teeth had been sharpened into lethal claws and fangs. As he slumbered, he growled and snarled softly, as if threatening some unseen foe in his dreams.
Ever since his liberation from Jack's control, Evan had acted like even less of himself than before. The calm, friendly, good-natured guy that Patrick knew was instead replaced with a beast. He thought like an animal. He acted like an animal. Whenever he was awake, Evan displayed nothing but an insatiable desire to kill. He would roar and scream and attack anything that moved. And all that Van –and by extension, Patrick– had gathered was that some kind of hive or pack mentality had taken over Evan's mind, driving him to act upon his most primal urges.
Perhaps "primal urges" weren't the right words. This wasn't a mere human survival instinct. For all intents and purposes, it seemed as if Evan was fully convinced that he was not human.
Patrick frowned awkwardly at the sleeping shell of his best friend. Just what was going on in Evan's head?
With the weight finally lifted from his sore arms, Patrick plopped into a chair and let out a great sigh of relief. Said exhale was probably louder than it needed to be, but for the time being, he was undaunted. If the trek to their home didn't disturb Evan's slumber, a little noise surely wouldn't either at this point.
One thing was for sure: After a long night of facing monsters, demons, grueling combat and musical numbers, Patrick was grateful for some time to relax. He was tired, achy and emotionally drained, and the stifling atmosphere of the dim, empty, dead-silent apartment engulfed him. He felt like he could easily slip into hibernation, and as he vegetated in his loveseat, he found himself coming dangerously close to nodding off then and there.
Patrick, we need to stay vigilant, Van warned him. We can't lower our guard around Evan.
"Ngh... Right..." Patrick lazily grunted, forcing himself to sit up slightly.
As if to give himself something to keep his mind active, Patrick looked down at the blood hedron he had brought home with him. Inside that hedron was a binding sphere. Inside that sphere was the miniscule, parasitic demon known as Jack, whose possession of Evan and Todd had caused Patrick and his new friends a night's worth of trouble... not to mention physical and emotional pain. Patrick's weary state was evidence enough of that, but something else continued to haunt him. The memories were still fresh in his mind, the images of his best friend, clad in that black suit, eyes blazing a cold, intense silver, speaking those taunting rhymes and behaving in the most callous, apathetic, downright villainous manner. It might have been Jack's doing, but the fact that it was Evan's face, Evan's voice, Evan's body... to be attacked and insulted by the likeness of one so close was one of the worst tortures imaginable.
Patrick scowled at the hedron. He wasn't the vengeful type –that was more Ray's shtick– but words could not begin to describe all the things he wanted to do to Jack.
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately, depending on your viewpoint), none of these things would come to pass. In his most basic form, Jack could not be killed. Light seemed to hurt him, but chances were he would not sustain any damage for long. All Patrick could do was leave him to rot inside this makeshift prison, with no host, no escape, and nothing to do.
He was tired of thinking about it. He was tired of looking at the object that held his enemy. Defiantly, Patrick mustered up enough energy to open a portal to his own pocket dimension and tossed the hedron inside. Good riddance.
Before closing the portal to his personal storage space, Patrick reached in and pulled out something he had been hanging onto for much of the night. The Paramount Key... Evan's ultimate tool of trade. Patrick had acquired it after Jack had left Evan's body for Todd's, opting to keep it safe since it was now evident that, like Evan, Jack had acquired the inherit knowledge of its uses. Now that Jack posed little to no threat, the question arose of what Patrick should do with the key. Evan couldn't use it in his current state, and Patrick had no idea how to use it himself.
His gaze turned to the window. If he remembered correctly, Carter could sense the key's presence. Was he out there somewhere, looking for Evan? What about Jen? Darien? Swift? Ace? Where was everyone in this hellhole of an island? He knew what had happened to Toby, but he felt completely unable to help him. Was there anything he could do for his friends?
Patrick sighed. All he knew for certain was that the Paramount Key needed protected. Thus, he draped its string around his neck and tucked it into his shirt, feeling completely out of place and inadequate to carry such a burden.
As he stared out the window, Patrick asked one of his inner voices, "You feel up to studying Evan again, Van?"
I can try, though I'm not sure how well I'll be able to perform spells without further recuperation, Van offered.
Patrick nodded and looked down at Evan. The young man was still fast asleep, curled up on the couch like a dog. Aside from his briefs, he was still completely naked. His face, arms and chest were caked with blood and the cool air of the apartment's AC sent shivers down his exposed back. As a result of some haywire magic, his fingernails and teeth had been sharpened into lethal claws and fangs. As he slumbered, he growled and snarled softly, as if threatening some unseen foe in his dreams.
Ever since his liberation from Jack's control, Evan had acted like even less of himself than before. The calm, friendly, good-natured guy that Patrick knew was instead replaced with a beast. He thought like an animal. He acted like an animal. Whenever he was awake, Evan displayed nothing but an insatiable desire to kill. He would roar and scream and attack anything that moved. And all that Van –and by extension, Patrick– had gathered was that some kind of hive or pack mentality had taken over Evan's mind, driving him to act upon his most primal urges.
Perhaps "primal urges" weren't the right words. This wasn't a mere human survival instinct. For all intents and purposes, it seemed as if Evan was fully convinced that he was not human.
Patrick frowned awkwardly at the sleeping shell of his best friend. Just what was going on in Evan's head?
