heroslayer | rp for girl_ofsecrets: can you teach me how to fight?

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rp for girl_ofsecrets: can you teach me how to fight?

Twenty years ago, the Chelsea Piers had been a disaster area of collapsing sea walls, half-destroyed warehouses, and rickety boardwalks. Ten years ago, the city of New York had restored the place to its former glory, in the wake of its failed demolition. And now? Well, it's not the best neighborhood in the world, bordered by the Meat Packing District, but for the purposes of this exercise, Sylar figures it suits. It gives him free reign to kill anyone who bothers them, without fear of guilt, after all, and well. There probably won't be anyone around in the first place; most people still avoid this section of town.

The corners of his mouth tugging upwards into a pleased, wicked smile, he meanders down the boardwalk, heading for a warehouse he knows to be abandoned. It looks relatively rickety, like it's going to fall into the bay at any given moment, but he knows better--it's held up to super powered spars before. Still, that doesn't stop him from pausing outside of it, once he reaches it, to give it a once over. Nor does it stop him from taking a look inside, just to make sure there aren't squatters hanging around.

Then, once he's satisfied, he moves to the center of the room, leaning against a crate, listening for his niece. And to his credit, he manages to stand still for all of a minute and a half before he gets restless enough to start considering very literally climbing the walls. Hopefully, Claire will show up soon.

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For a long time she looks at him as she isn't really sure how to answer or what her answer is. She draws in a slow breath and then lets it slip out, nibbling on the inside of her lip as she tries to think of whether she could love someone else.

"I don't know." She admits after awhile, "Maybe? If I did, it would be a very long time after and well, not the same way as I love him."

"He means that much to you," he manages, half-question and half-statement, finally raising his eyes to look at her.

"Yes, he does." She nods her head slowly, "I don't know how to explain it besides that he saves me every day. I think if I didn't have him in my life, I'd be a little bit darker. He makes me happy and I haven't had a lot of that in the last couple years."

"Neither've I." Possibly an odd admission, since he's been the bad guy for the last two years, but it's the truth, nevertheless. "Without Mohinder ... well. A lot more people would probably be dead, because of me."

She nods her head, "I think I would have pushed to go after Primatech a lot sooner. Probably would have...just not done a lot of the things I've done. Like go for my test or...just be happy." A soft little sigh, "It's not going to be easy when it comes time...." She falls silent, lowering her eyes.

"But well, at least I know I'm not going to be the only immortal. Not that it makes it all better, I hate that Peter and you will have to deal with this too but a selfish part of me is glad I won't be alone. We have Adam too, he's done this all."

"Is it wrong that I'm jealous of him?" Sylar asks, before clarifying, "Adam, I mean." He pauses, making a small, sour face, realizing how ridiculous that sounds, but he can't help but try and justify himself with, "He'll have Peter forever."

"No, I think it's natural." She admits with a little chuckle, shaking her head as she pushes her fingers through her hair to bring it back away from her features. "I have my moments where I'm jealous too. All the immortals I know? I'm related to."

"Lucky you." He offers her a small, bittersweet smile, before, "I might as well be. Adam's ... " His best friend, but he's not sure he's ready to admit that one out loud, just yet.

"Hey, you're related to two out of three." And she knows that he's close to Adam, that they're very good friends. Stretching out her legs a little, she crosses them at the ankles as gives a chuckle. "So you're just as...lucky?"

"Guess so." He shrugs, sitting up straighter for a moment, stretching, and then settles back down. "So. What now?"

"Well..." She sits there for a moment, "What about ice cream?" She offers with a smile, "I could use something good at having splinters all over." Then she rubs a hand over her side, "I think there is some still left in."

Sylar cocks his head to one side, something in his expression hardening as if he's suddenly considering a piece of complex machinery rather than his niece. He stares at her for a moment, from under his eyebrows, and then, without raising his head, he looks up at her. "I can get them out. The splinters."

It's not going to feel all that great, but he can tell where they are.

Claire looked at him for a moment as his features harden and then she nods her head as he tells her that he can get them out. She knows that it's not exactly going to feel good but it would be better than leaving them in. Curling her hands around her knees, she braces herself a little bit as she tries to draw in a slight breath to get ready.

"Okay, go." She watches him.

He doesn't hesitate, raising a hand, fingers drawing together as if curling around an invisible thread--or, in this case, an invisible splinter. Then, he snaps his hand back, pulling on the little pieces of wood still in her, drawing them out, telekinetically. They hesitate in the air for a moment, no more than a handful of needle-thin slivers, and then he drops his hand back to his lap, shards falling to the ground between them.

And all that said and done, he resumes watching her, eyes still hard. "That's all of them." It's more a question than it should be, but he's fairly certain.

If they hurt going in, they sure as hell hurt when they were being pulled back out, ripping through the skin that had been trying to heal all around them. Her breath hitches as she bends forward a bit, the flash of breathless pain catching her before it faded away and she found the numbness was back. Wetting her lips, she peeked at him through her long lashes and a couple strands of hair as she could see the slivers hesitating before they fell to the ground.

Then she nods her head slowly, "Yes, thank you." She straightens, looking at the bloody little pieces before she pushes to her feet. "Good thing I brought a jacket." Considering her side and back was bloody, or well the shirt was stained.

"Should've warned you to bring a change of clothes," he murmurs, catching a taste of that pain. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She gives a little half smile, "I'll remember from now on, okay?" She moves to get her jacket, tugging it on and then pulling her hair out from under her collar.

He makes a little accepting noise, pushing up off the ground and into a stand in a single, near fluid motion. Again, like before, he straightens his back, stretching, and then he brushes off his pants, dirt having sunk into them when he'd sat down.

"You could have used the gun, you know," he tells her when he finishes, raising his eyes to her.

Claire tilts her head to the side, "I thought about it but I didn't think that shooting you was going to improve your mood. Plus I figure you should warn Mohinder before you show up with bullet holes in your shirt." She chuckles, buttoning her jacket closed.

Then she grabs her purse, "Maybe next time?" She questions, arching a brow at him.

"Probably not." But he'd have survived being shot, if he let them hit home in the first place, and it had been a point of discussion as to whether or not he and Mohinder could dodge bullets, what with their reflexes. Either way, however, he shrugs, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans, before, "Next time."

He shoots a glance at the door of the warehouse. "So. Ice cream?" He's lost most of his anger--his hunger--but what remains, he's sure the ice cream will finish. It's one of his comfort foods, after all.

She just nods, smiling because she had figured that shooting him wouldn't help his anger, it probably would have made things worse. She would have made sure that she shot him in the chest or well anywhere but the head. At least not the spot that she knew would kill him or herself, anyone with the ability that she had.

"Yes, ice cream." She nods, moving towards the door of the warehouse, "Know any good places nearby where we can get some?"

He thinks for a moment, silent as he follows her towards the door, and then, "There's a place in the Village that's not far from here." And in a better part of town than the Piers' other district neighbor.

"Let's head there then." She smiles at him, tucking some hair behind her ears before tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "Feeling better for sure? We could have gone another round or two."

"Mostly," he answers, shrugging. He's still a little on edge, but he no longer feels like an addict in need of a hit, and since he lives most of his life balanced on that knife's edge, he feels he can cope. As long as no one tries getting under his skin over the course of the next few hours, anyway.

"The ice cream will help."

"That's because ice cream helps mostly everything." She chuckles softly as they walk along. She knows the days where she feels like her skin is crawling and moments where she is just so filled with emotion that she can't breath. She just needs to do something to make it all go away but she never talked about those moments. She wasn't sure if anyone would ever understand.

rp for girl_ofsecrets: can you teach me how to fight?

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