send me 'well hello' and my muse
will climb into your muse's lapHad he known of her presence beforehand, The Rabbit would have decorated Arcadia beyond it’s little vibrant swell of overacting plant life and corpses fertilizing the soil. But at least he’s prepared in other ways — so very, very, very prepared! So much excitement, the lad could hardly contain himself when the sight of the woman formulates through that veil of existence. Straight out of the tear and into the blight of Rapture.
“Heeey, Rosey! Sit - sit!”
His hands clasps her own, casually leading the woman over to a bench still in tact. “Let me show you something!” Peter beams while he dusts off pants, digging through his personage. Fingers through some holes in his vest, showing nothing, and then something - sleight of the hand and trick of the eye. Without a word he scoots himself across her lap, “Here.”
A silver glimpse, gingerly pressed to a fold of her collar
and secured neatly — a gift.“Now you can take me wherever I can’t go.”
[ hxcuspocus ]
He was, at most times, relevantly a splicer that could be regarded as simply a pest rather than a threat. But this would be a foolish ideology to keep as the front of one’s perception of the boy. No doubt, The Rabbit has had his fair share of death and chaos. It was prominent in the caked on blood crusting the cuffs of his dress shirt, between the creases of skin, and underneath his oddly kept fingernails. Nothing short of a murderer, and yet, the innocence somehow could be delicately framed in his demeanor.
Neither a farce or a trick, but an unstable vex
of ADAM infused conundrums.And as the Lutece’s sheer compliment dawns upon Peter, he can’t help but grin. “Oooh! Flattery! Facts, fiction! One of the three, right?” A chuckle before hands clap together in a single pact, and the houdini - true to his ability - forms by the woman as he swoops in to take her hand, lift it, and plant a chaste kiss on her bare knuckles. What a gentleman.
“But the pleasure’s all mine, Rosey!”
Albeit a pest, the Lutece woman would never go out of her way to rightly signify this (that would plainly be rude and unnecessary). What was to gain from this had been infinite, for Peter took the role of a variable and the reactions that would arise from him on account of their unlikely acquaintanceship would be observed. No, he had not been a lab rat. Instead, an experiment. Briefing these notions could be recognized as nothing short of callous, but neither did it harm her nor the fellow himself– so what had there been to fret over? Nothing.
What begun to continuously bewilder her, among all things, had been his amiable disposition. As though he’d rather just been sporting a Hallow’s Eve ensemble and that average character of his remained uneffected.
Pity that hadn’t been the case any longer.
A slight smile begins to grace her features upon his gesture, one of which she hadn’t anticipated but computed it natural for such a gentleman. Not often would it be that the pair would come into contact, but at least there would be an effort somewhat made on the redhead’s position. “I bid thee farewell, Peter. I cannot promise I will be present often, but I I’m sure we will cross paths more than once.”
Like that, she demonstrated her own Houdini-esque abilities, practically vanishing as though a tuft of smoke only, there would be no traces left behind.
END.
[ hxcuspocus ]
It had been a delightful experience so far. None had bothered to actually humor him in such a way where he’d actually want them around for the sake of company. Even if what Rosalind was saying about leaving were to be true. The splicers gloated their own prospects of escape, many believing the bathyspheres would someday begin working again — but even Peter knew better than that. They were locked out of the public, and only people that were lucky enough - chosen - could actually pilot them into power again.
Shifting his weight on the box, The Rabbit stares at the Lutece with obvious intrigue as she speaks. Not many could hold his attention for so long without his cracking mind weighing down conversation into a more startling effect of violence. But no — Peter would not dare to think that about Rosalind. She had been kind to him, far kinder than most strangers that walked amongst the ghosts and cannibals in the undersea graveyard. “Peter Rabbit, Peter, though..” He wiggles his fingers, dusting a bit of icy plasmid energy off the tips of them.
“— You can give me a nickname too, Rosey!”
It seemed, regardless of her preference, Peter would be using such terms of endearment for the woman. Insisted upon it, even. He knocks the back of his loafers against the crate, smile widening with a stitched tug. Dark eyes searched her expression, attempting to find the smallest crack in her response.
Not a liar yet, but could be.
“You’ll come back to visit, right?”
Lutece genuinely found herself astonished with his lack of destructive behavior. In fact, she’d practically counted on the circumstance, though the results would only derive discouragement in the young man. Intending to harm an omnipresent being never went as planned for the culprit. Many have attempted before, only to fail and leave the redhead questioning why she hadn’t met her demise in such an instance.
“I think Peter will suffice.” Had she been someone other than Rosalind, perhaps the suggestion would be acted upon. “Nothing else particularly comes to mind.” There had been many: Pete, Petey, Rabbit, more charming terms had been in different languages. French; lapin, Latin; lepus, the like, but those hardly seemed to fit the individual– he hadn’t been a test subject.
It would appear her title as of this moment had been decided, rather set in stone when regarding the enthused, spliced hare. Friends, let alone acquaintances, hadn’t been a frequent in the trials and tribulations of Rapture folk. What she concluded was that it hadn’t so much been that Peter sought an actual confident but instead an occasional brush with a character unlike the rest. Though most believed her to be nothing but cold, sporting an intimidating disposition always, Peter had approached with quite the opposite belief. To deny a fellow simple interaction would induce slight guilt.
"More than likely…
Your company is seldom what I’ve come to anticipate, quite honestly:
pleasant.“
Any talk of possibilities, talk of options, something more than the undersea grave he was now threatened with as the days went on seemed to be just enough to keep Peter’s mind going. He figured himself not too far gone, he could switch between the acts as needed — but what he really wanted, more than anything, was to simply escape Rapture.
Distant memories occasionally crept through the tattered and worn
mind of the splicer when he was a child. The smell of fresh air, the
warmth of the sun, the moon, he remembered them almost vividly
during some of the more.. unpleasant tides of focus.If this woman indeed, could get him even scraping
near the surface — Upside, her worth to him was far
more than for simple entertainment.“The pleasure’s all mine.” For a split second, the Houdini might have even been mistaken for normal with how proper he accented each word and motion. An act, purely for what little sanity remained. If Peter dared to assume his nature, the paranoia and scant drives of violence would be the end of all.
His slim fingers danced across her knuckles, affectionate. So smooth and dainty, but strangely cold for one dressed so fine. Peter Rabbit licks his lips and regards the Lutece twin with a nod, “Rosalind. Rosa, Rosey? No nicknames?” The little urchin’s grip disappears, along with the rest of him in a flurry of red smoke, only to phase back into the naked eye just a few feet away - perched on a crate with a big smile.
Logical for the Houdini to desperately cling to any even that meant possible departure. Practically any found in similar circumstances would be keen toward accompanying a dame whom hailed elsewhere and had presented herself in a way which proved many things: not only was it legitimate, but also civilized. Although they themselves hadn’t been all too fair-minded, the ADAM was disregarded and splicers continued to assure themselves it hadn’t been all too far down the river (the ocean was a great deal of length further, they would reflect).
It was a shame. Entertainment, by definition, had been her primary rationale for remaining present. Of course, it had been marked by pity to some degree.
All that she’d been able to offer him was mere company.
Although dear Peter had been a great deal damaged, mannerisms proved liable, there having been no fracture of lunacy within their encounter. This, had appeased his company considerably, even if she’d been quite composed to begin with. Associating with an individual hell bent would be much more of a difficult task and by no means would amount to anything… Few had been capable of intriguing the omnipresent being, Peter being one of them. With a glance downward upon his light observation concerning appendages, a brow quirks to look him over once more.
"I prefer Rosalind–“
Living up to his label quite theatrically... The Lutece continues with parted lips and a patient breath as her direction shifts toward the other, his figure shrouded in the remainder of crimson powder.
”Though, I’m sure you have your own inclinations…
And what of you? Simply Peter?“
Had she met him a few years back, she might have been stunningly impressed with his eye and hand for art. Though now, such fancies and follies had been stunted to near decapitation by the introduction of ADAM. It bathed his senses with deprivation of consequences, of a sound state of mind — a mental and physical high that put every other possible drug on the mark to shame. It shattered every canvas of opportunity though, people just weren’t the same after they abused so much of the stuff; thus the name splicer.
But just like his consciousness of the past, so did he believe that magic might be the culprit of the sustainable prowess the Lutece twins controlled. Childlike wonder and thought processes that only a vexed mind could come up with and follow through. It seemed like a promising and reasonable explanation, after all, there were far worse things that Peter Rabbit could piece together as the truth.
“A curse?” His expression dwindled between bewilderment and uncertainty. Peter was already living his life in a hell, based off what the great Andrew Ryan had perceived as law - and the aftermath that ensued. Shifting a little bit, he relieves the Lutece’s shoulder of weight and frowns with a brief —tap tap tap— across his mask. Interesting and yet, he can’t be a little turned off about the ideals of something being worse than this.
But it couldn’t be worse than this..!
It just couldn’t.Peter was stewing in his own sins, he could take a little more punishment if meant getting out of Rapture. “What can be worse than this, huh?” A brief moment of clarity takes the reigns, “You can’t be blind, lady. This is as bad as it can get.” Fingerless gloved digits trace the stitches sunk between his cheek as he contemplates and exhales a slow careful breath.
“You gotta teach me! You gotta, okay? I don’t care ‘bout the
consequences, I don’t have.. there’s nothing here. Nothing at all.”
Doubtlessly this would have been the case though since from Rosalind’s previous mentions, she’d found that of amusement by watching vigilance by those most passionate. Any one who had took to crafting their artistry in aspirations for it to one day constitute as masterpiece held honorable thought in mind… At least, those whom understood the dealings that drew a border between fixations and rationale. Comstock had been guilty of this drawback, just as the majority had been in Rapture these days. ADAM blurred that barrier (for some though, it appeared they needn’t possess unstable stem cells in order to do such a thing).
Rosalind might have wholeheartedly agreed, had she not been lifeless. Since that Hallow’s Eve in the year of 1909, there had been deductions of worse torments than that of life within the Mid-Atlantic. Though, the splicer, stubborn as he’d appeared at times, would more than likely clash with opposing thoughts. "A curse.“ Repeating, marking the significance of this far fetched possibility he’d so easily disregarded.
Although there was a faint trace of pity that marked the omnipresent ginger’s disposition, she would not. To thrust such responsibility upon a March Hare would only stem obstacles within timelines that hadn’t concerned him. To pass within Columbia by means of of the machine would only cause havoc to reap and inexplicable turmoil to slope upward. Peter, a Houdini, sought abilities for no other reason (aside from leaving the city).
”And if I were, what will you do? Where will you go?
To entrust capabilities to a fellow I have yet to become acquainted with would not bode well with the universe.“ Mannerisms in speech were prim but firm; motherly in a sense that she’d been attempting to dissuade the splicer and his hopeful endeavors. What he’d requested hadn’t accounted for duties, in context, only potential authorization to part with Rapture.
”No matter your direction, it leads to certain death.“
Sometimes, it was a mixture of vices and virtues when it came to splicers. There was no true guarantee that one wouldn’t just stab you in the back at the wrong trigger, some didn’t even need a reason. Some of them would enjoy sinking their blades, hooks, and lead into the freshest flesh just to see the blood run. Peter frankly, would rather observe and take advantage when it was to his liking. Play it smart, get ahead — don’t be an idiot.
The question hails an acknowledging hum of vocals, dark eyes flicking between the Lutece and the headless mannequin he’d been judgmental over. It was missing a skull of course, and that gorgeous mass of hair that the woman seemed to keep so neatly propped in a bun. Strategic perhaps, appealing to the green tie that contrasts against white. Or Peter could just be looking too far into things again.
“I haven’t, no.. I see him though. Everywhere and then nowhere.“ The Rabbit clicks his tongue, circling Rosalind before perching at her side - right arm draping on over the woman’s shoulder. "It’s very interesting!”
Smiling there is a hint of mischief
that dabbles out.
“He’s here — not here, goes there and far.
Can you do the same? Can you teach me?”
What the Lutece woman had since gathered from previous encounters with the sort, some more specifically than others (the navigator, for instance), was that splicers had been… Just as construed. Perchance there had been those which hadn’t completely lacked logic to some degree, those whom were adept to decency and compassion– they just hadn’t been frequent. Whether or not though that particulars had been efficient in driving away maniacal urges, ADAM had deteriorated an aspect to them that wasn’t only found upon their hide.
Omnipresent, they’d been; everywhere and then nowhere.
A contraption had been the cause!
One which had been strung by their own hands, no less.
Rosalind remained stiff. ”Hmm.“ Apathetic, the redhead had given that impression, but within the inner workings of her own mind she’d been just as engrossed as say, a reader. Characters much like Peter had been stories in themselves, each gesture and spoken word making up the very pages that portrayed the story’s pro/antagonists.
”There would be no perception in lieu of your very future, if I were to do such a thing.
It would not be a lesson, but instead that of a curse.“
At least by his standards.
Her face. The face
— more than one,
he’d seen it before.It disappeared and reappeared but on another, a man. He was about the same height, inevitably the same kind of clothing right down to the bare texture of fabric from what Peter could tell. Being this closed allocated such a way of understanding, even the unimpressed tone couldn’t be any closer to the truth that the woman spared him.
“Charmed as the charming can be.
You’re lovely, darling.”But a gift of was a gift, she had been at least polite enough to accept the offering. One too many rejections really never rubbed Peter the right way, so it was quite the victory when such a beautiful creature took his gesture. Even if it had been fake from the start.
“Youuuu… wouldn’t happen to have a brother, would you? I’ve seen you around before, but not you - you see, the face.” He reaches up, tracing a tap along the side of the unmasked portion of his face. Untouched by the condemning ADAM that vexed the rest of his kind almost completely. But no doubt, some kind of hazard crept beneath the rabbit mask that was blatantly stitched into his cheek.
Compliments concerning appearance hadn’t been all that mundane in the life of Rosalind Lutece. Aside from praise upon her work performance and the uncommon courtesy on account of observation. Therefore, she’d been only a pinch taken aback by the refined poise this splicer held… It was a wonder; the various effects ADAM in terms of enhancement or reconstruction. For some, consequences had been physically atrocious– others suffered from cognitive eradication.
"Much obliged.“ There is a brief nod returned to profess appreciation.
Upon the next question, a tilt of the head follows as though bewildered at his speculation (though the expressiveness of her face hardly gets that characteristic across). Robert had more than likely crossed paths with the stranger, though unaware.
”I do, actually. You had more than likely caught sight of him.“ There had been an itching presumption which convinces her that the guised one hadn’t been as sociable as he’d been as of this moment.
”Pray tell, did you acquaint yourself with him as well?“
Attention span was something most splicers didn’t have, unless of course, that included the subject of ADAM. So Peter’s fingers simply drifted away from the ‘cheap’ material of the dress that still clung so loyally to the headless manniquin of the window. Peter allows his gaze to wander, a most aimless pursuit of nothing until he spies something most interesting.
A person,
a woman
— another pretty dress.Typically he wasn’t a very violent individual, even now his methods of communication were solely transpired between casual affairs of words and empty promises. The others which were too far gone didn’t notice the difference when Peter Rabbit snatched their weapons, their outdated money, or any other belongings.
“Oh oh!” Hailing true to the plasmids he invokes, the Houdini quickly disperses out of view in a swirl of rusty red. The Lutece would no doubt find him predictably at her side. Strangely enough, a bouquet of flowers - fake, mind you - but they were offered nonetheless to the woman. The mystery was where he’d even managed to grab the items.
“Mademoiselle.”
It seemed inevitably the stranger was bound to become aware of the redhead’s presence in one way or another and so, when this turn had arose, heels remained planted. Never would the dismissive lady stir in the presence of what one might recognized as potential hostility. Thankfully, in concerns to her well being, Rosalind hadn’t rightly been adequate as it was. No harm would stem at the hands of some natural splicer.
The stranger had been Houdini, as they’d referred them. Those which had been identified lurking all about the submerged skyscrapers, yet held abilities diverse to their ’kin’. Proficient in parlor tricks, on account of one’s exposure to plasmids, they’d been capable of of various tasks… That had been including the very method of conveyance used to approach (though, a bouquet had hardly been necessary).
Blinking, somewhat dumbfounded, hands moderately rose to claim what was extended in her direction. “Charmed.” Far from it, but having been met with nothing short of positive recognition, the woman would keep sour words to herself.
