for mad_muses: you're in over your head

[heroslayer]

The sword while real, cold steel heavy in his hand, is anything but sharp. He knows that's part of the trick, keeping it dull enough that the danger of cutting oneself is minimal so that all the performer has to worry about is his gag reflex and the position of his head, but it's still sort of disappointing. So much so that he can't help but trace his fingers along the edge of the weapon, ignoring Samuel as he tries to explain the finer points of sword swallowing and hoping that there's some ability he doesn't know about laying dormant within him that will allow him to put an edge to the blade. He doubts it, but it doesn't stop him from trying.

Samuel, on the other hand, does, clearing his throat loudly to get his attention. Like a small child caught with his fingers in the cookie jar, he snaps his fingers away from the sword, and looks up sharply. Samuel frowns at him. "Somehow, I get the feeling that you didn't hear a word I just said."

"I was listening," he protests, fingers tightening at the hilt of the sword.

Samuel doesn't look convinced, his frown deepening for an instant before it disappears, sinking into something far more knowing. He makes a sweeping gesture then takes a step back, arms coming to rest over his chest, smugly. "Well, in that case, let's see what you've got."

Looking down at the sword, he tries to avoid looking too doubtful -- this isn't going to end well and they both know it. Still, however, he does as he's told, tilting his head back to stare up at the sky, that much of other man's lecture having sunk in. He raises the sword over his head awkwardly, tip down, trying to hold it steady in spite of sudden nerves, and wets his lips. He takes a deep breath to steady himself.

And suddenly something twists at the back of his mind, lighting up the dark places in his memory. It all comes back in a flood, the past snapping at him with vicious teeth, not letting go this time, and he nearly drops the sword. Nearly, and then his grip tightens. And just as lightning fast as his memory's return, the prop is sprouting from Samuel's chest like some kind of demented flower.

Choking, he stumbles back a few feet, arms pinwheeling at his sides as he tries to keep his balance. He manages to get a hand on Sylar, fingers clinging desperately, and the killer looks away from the sky slowly, a feral grin turning the corners of his lips. He reaches out, hand hooking around his arm and pulls him close, one shoulder pressed to Samuel's so that he can put his mouth near his ear.

"You really didn't see that coming, did you? Poor Samuel. You were in over your head and you didn't even know it. What did you think would happen when I remembered?" He raises his eyebrows thoughtfully, lips pressed into something near a pout for an instant, and then he pops one shoulder in a shrug. "Guess you don't have to worry about it now."

Hand curling around around the hilt of the sword, he puts his hand to the Samuel's back, forcing it deeper, viciously. Then he's rocking back, pulling the sword out with a grunt; Samuel crumples a moment later, but he ignores him, turning the blade in his hand, back to examining the edges of it. Or the lack thereof. "I thought you said these things weren't dangerous. You should really talk to your people -- someone might get hurt."

He drops the sword on top of him. "Actually, on second thought? I'll do it for you. You look sort of -- torn up about it."

That said, he turns, stuffing his hands in his pocket merrily. And when he wakes up in his trailer at the Sullivan Brothers Carnival just minutes later, memory still AWOL, the whole thing a product of his addled mind, he can't summon the nerve to lie to himself and say it was just a nightmare. Even if it's left him cold in the sheets, it felt too damn good.


Muse: Gabriel Gray (Sylar)
Fandom: Heroes
Word Count: 704
Note: Samuel is offering_hope and is all mine to use and abuse.