12201/15 Fears: It All Falls Down

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15 Fears: It All Falls Down
Date of Scene: 28 July 2022
Location: Hamptons Safehouse
Synopsis: A sinister plan continues... but to what effect?
Cast of Characters: Robbie Reyes, Rien D'Arqueness




Robbie Reyes has posed:
The last few days have been hot, and Robbie has been bothered. Well, extra bothered on top of his usual level of bothered..ness. After a somewhat tense standoff two nights ago over -- of all things -- what to have for dinner, he went for a drive in his car.. and hasn't come back.

Well, until now, a full 42 hours later. The rumble of the Charger's eight cylinders is impossible to miss as he pulls into the driveway and cuts the ignition. Then the telltale jangle of keys, and a pause as he spots something tarnishing his paint job, and scratches it off with his thumbnail. Which is pretty rich, considering his tee shirt and jeans are sporting a large quantity of dried blood, along with rips and gashes he sure as hell didn't leave the house with.

After a minute or two of contemplation, he heads for the front door.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
This is the perfect opportunity for Not-Rien to start working on destroying the life she's taken over. Breaking down the relationships Rien worked so hard to cultivate, to start burning bridges so that nobody will ever miss Rien again.

She hears the car, of course she hears the car. So Not-Rien is there to greet him at the door with arms folded and a heavy frown on her face. "Really? This is how you're going to come back home? After /two days/, you're just going to stroll back in reeking of blood and death?! You've got /some/ nerve, Robbie Reyes."

Uttering a disgusted sound, she whirls around and stomps back into the safehouse, moving towards the kitchen.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Well, it isn't the warm welcome he'd hoped for, but what does he expect? He could've called, at least, to tell her not to wait up for him last night. At the very least. "Missed you too, baby," he murmurs to her departing back. His low voice holds just a hint of bite.

After a glance over his shoulder, he ducks his head unnecessarily and heads inside. His boots are kicked off in the entryway, and the door tugged shut after him. "I'm sorry. It's been-- I needed to clear my head. Eli won't shut the fuck up, and you were pissed with me , and you got any idea what it's like sharing your mind with someone else?" He watches the back of her dark head, but doesn't follow her into the kitchen. Not yet.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"No, I don't. I barely know what it's like to share a HOUSE with someone else, since SOMEONE keeps disappearing for days at a time!" Her voice is loud, angry... grating. But there's something a little.. strange. Off. Sure, they've had some good fights, but there's a barely restrained violence that he can see in her frame, a level of anger that seems... hotter.. than it would normally be.

"I just don't understand you! You thought that staying away for two days without word was the way to make me /less/ pissed at you?? How does that even make /sense/?" He can hear the cupboard open, then slam shut, a glass thunking onto the counter. "I swear, its like you /want/ to push me to the point of leaving just so you have something more to complain about!"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
The fighting's nothing too bothersome in itself. A good fight is sometimes just what they need to take the pressure off. An aperatif, as it were, before a hard round or two of sex. But this *is* different. Rien's not merely frustrated with him; and by the time she starts accusing him of wanting excuses to complain.. well, Robbie's starting to get angry, too.

His upper lip twitches slightly, like it does when his control over the Rider's starting to waver. He pushes out of the entryway and stalks into the kitchen with slow, purposeful steps. Eyes on the back of his girlfriend's head as she slams glasses and bangs around in the cupboards. "Somethin' came up, and I-- I wanted to tell you about it, but." His shoulders tense slightly as another cupboard door's slammed shut. "I wasn't sure you'd understand."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Rien is pouring herself a double shot of tequila, slamming it back straight even as she turns a glare towards him. This, too, seems a little off. Something isn't quite right. But this is what she's always had a fondness for... tequila, no lime, no salt. Surely the shared drink is oe of the things that brought them together, right?

"Worse than /murder/, Robbie? Because I've looked the other way with you on that. So I don't know what it is you think is so bad that I wouldn't understand." Not-Rien pours herself another shot and slams it back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and frowning at him. "I can smell her on you, you know. Of all the people to try and hide things from, I'm probably not the best choice."

Robbie Reyes has posed:
Tequila, straight. No lime, no salt. They often share a bottle out on the lanai, bare feet on cool flagstones, watching the sun wane in the sky.

The flash of revolt is brief but vivid: *you fucking hate tequila, what the fuck is wrong with you*?

He paces closer, fingertips brushing the kitchen island, mismatched eyes never leaving her face, once she graces him with it. "I don't know what you're talkin' about. It ain't like that." Ten feet separate them; then no more than four. And after a pause, he slides past Rien, and goes to grab himself a glass.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
"Uh huh." Her voice is flat, disbelieving.

"You barely acknowledge anyone but you'll spend /days/ doing /her/ bidding, Robbie. You don't do /anyone's/ bidding. I can barely get you to put your socks in the hamper!" Rien glares at him, her features twisted with anger, suspicion. She grabs up the bottle just before he passes by, pouring herself another shot then cattily setting the bottle just out of his reach on another counter. Stalking off, she paces towards the breakfast nook to stare out the windows at the back yard.

"You know, if you'd wanted to sleep around, you could have just /asked/. I would have thought you'd have better taste than /her/, but whatever." Her voice drips with venom, with anger over his perceived infidelity. But oddly, no hurt. He can't detect any hurt or upset, just anger and violence. And that seems odd, too.

Tossing back the shot, she turns and HURLS the glass at him, or at least, just to the side of him, letting it shatter against the cupboard, "Two days!! Two days of worrying and fretting and the whole time you're just off with that woman!" While the rage and nager are very real, something about all this feels... hollow. Surreal.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
The cheap shot about the socks and the hamper is patently ignored. Glass in hand, he's actually reaching for *Rien* when she stalks away to the breakfast nook to brood with her drink. The bottle of tequila being relocated to the kitchen island is really just insult added to injury.

He collects the glass, pushes off the counter, and goes to pour himself that drink. The first sip hits his throat with a familiar (no) burn, and his adam's apple's more prominent for a moment when he swallows. Fuck, that's good (no, no, stop). "You're being fucking ridiculous. If you smelled her on me, then you also smelled all the men that I--" Then the glass goes rocketing past, misses his head by a matter of inches, and crashes into the cupboard. Broken glass and liquor shower the countertop, the floor, and he's frozen in place. Twisted to the side to keep from being hit, nostrils flared, furious. Hurt. But most of all, frightfully confused.

Because she's empty. Her words are empty. Anger with no substance; violence with no pain. Like the woman he loves has been carved out from the inside. Pulped like a jack-o-lantern, and all that's left is the shell. A simulacrum (no, you're wrong).

His own glass is set down hard enough to spill the drink inside, and he approaches her slowly. That familiar, predator's stalk. "The fuck is wrong with you, anyway? This ain't like you, baby."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Snorting, she rolls her eyes, "The only thing wrong with me is /you/. You've been sullen, angry, distant... it took me being threatened with being /unmade/ before you found the means to be solicitous and caring and protective." Rien tosses that thick curtain of straight black hair back over her shoulder and moves to brush past his approach, moving back into the wider room.

"This isn't the first time you've disappeared either, Robbie. Never without a word, at all." She lets out a 'tch' and stomps one bare foot against the floor, hard. "I've been thinking about this almost non-stop since you took off."

Turning, Rien faces Robbie, hands going to her hips, brows lowered over those cool mint eyes, "I want you to leave. You've been nothing but taciturn and sullen, angry, distant... you want me to be patient, understanding, forgiving... well I'm tired of it! You give no thought to anyone but yourself the moment things don't go your way!"

Robbie Reyes has posed:
"Bullshit." She tries to brush past, and he counters with an attempt to grab her arm, to stop her from leaving. His grip isn't particularly *hard*; she could break it if she were so inclined. But it serves to telegraph his irritation with her constant evasion. He tries to pull her closer, to catch her green eyes. "I don't believe you. You know how much I love you, you *know*. Rien, for *fuck's* sake--"

Then the words all grind to a halt in his throat when she tells him she wants him to leave. "Rien, baby." His grip on her arm falters, and a furrow appears between his brows. Were she to watch them closely, his eyes are bloodshot with more than just exhaustion.

There's another flicker of that eldritch power traced through his tall, lean frame, but it's tamped down once more. "Baby, please." He reaches for her again, both hands this time, falteringly. "Let me explain."

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
Turned back towards him, Rien stares at him as if he were a stranger, just some irritation that she can't wait to get rid of. "Explain, what, exactly? How deep your 'love' runs that you need me to be in mortal danger before you can show it? That you can just run off for days at a time without a word?"

She steps back and sneers, folding her arms over her chest, "You've been inadequate in every respect except one, and I'm sorry but bedsport just isn't enough to keep me happy these days." Turning, she starts through the kitchen again, "I want you out, Robbie! This is the /last straw/!"

This is wrong. Isn't it? Is it wrong? It's so hard to tell, how to distinguish the hurt from her words and the hurt from the possibility. But shouldn't she be more.. understanding? Has she always been so quick to anger? Quick to pass judgment?

Robbie Reyes has posed:
The Rider's voice in his head is becoming deafening. Making it hard to think, making it hard to focus. But Eli's never liked her, has he? He's wanted to tear a strip out of her since the day they met; all his talk about how she's empty, hollowed out, Nothing. How they need to destroy her, not sleep with her. Not build a fucking family with her.

Talk that Robbie's done his best to ignore, knowing her fears as he does. Knowing that.. that.. (it's wrong, all wrong). "No. I ain't leavin' you. I promised I wouldn't--" His voice shudders, warps, tears like metal; his eyes light up with a smell of burning flesh as the demonflame hollows them out and starts in on the rest of his face.

And Robbie's desperately trying to stop it, to retain control of his body, and losing. He turns his head away like he doesn't want her to see what's happening to him, gripping the countertop with fingers whose flesh is already cooked off and on fire.

Rien D'Arqueness has posed:
She pauses on her way to the bedroom, turning, "You're right. You're not leaving me, Robbie. I'm telling you to get out. I don't want you in my life anymore." Turning away from him again, she lets the smile grow on her lips as she strides towards the bedroom.

While Robbie struggles to maintain his form, a losing battle by the sound and smell of it, Not-Rien waves a hand almost negligently. That sickly green glow surrounds him in a brief flash. When it dissipates, Robbie will find himself in the Charger, boxes in the backseat that hold his stuff. Sitting in the driveway and staring towards the house she's just ejected him from.

Robbie Reyes has posed:
She doesn't, then, hear him roar once the transformation completes-- and he's left sitting in his car, alone. Bereft of her, his family torn to shreds. Rage and rage and rage, but at least it smothers the choking grief gnawing a hole in the middle of him.

What she *will* hear is the scream of the Hellcharger as it peels out of the driveway and tears off in a plume of flames. The neighbours are going to be talking about *that* for a while.