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Summary: Connor meets Troy in Halloweenland… and tells him some interesting things.
Date: November 3, 2010.
The Mad and the Angry
Rating: R
Tegu-Haaz - Salem Town Square
The very epicenter of Salem Town Square is wooden structure called, The Gallows. A noose swings in the breeze casting shadows along the wooded structure and town center. Gas lamps line the streets in between the buildings that serve as shops and homes. There is a well off to the side, which serves as the town's main source of water. Four streets meet in the center of Salem Town Square, one road leads to The Moors, another up a dark hill, the third to the lake and the last onto farms that have long been over grown. During the day the town seems fairly quiet, shop signs blowing in the breeze, the smell of the water sweeping across the moors and the deserted buildings dark and desolate. At night the lamps come to life and flicker giving shadows a sense of life. Occasionally voices and lights can be heard coming from one of the buildings but once inspected it's always vacant.
From out on the streets, a voice can be heard, a single voice calling out repeatedly in the wan morning air… 'We're not gonna protest! We're not gonna protest!' And marching back and forth in single file along that space is Connor… or rather the Renfield-thing that has replaced him. Using a small square basement door and a fancepost, he has erected a sign that he has written on with chalk, one that says 'The End is Nigh!' and under it in very small script 'Legalize Marijuana'. The young man seems angry, irritated, and generally discontent.
The being that can't decide who it is has made his way into the Square, looking for a few certain things. He's craving things he hasn't had in a bit. Tobacco of some kind, and a drink. Not that crap that the kids have and try to pass as alcohol. He sneers softly as he shakes his head, giving a bit more of an idea as to who is behind the face.
Connor freezes as the sneering, loathesome, hateful, generall distasteful man appears and goes storming by, but then the sign just clatters to the ground as he reappears close by, sitting on a barrel like bar, balanced on all fours in a crouch very reminiscent of another teleporter of X-men alumni, "Hello there…" Those intense and mad-streaked eyes gaze at Troy's, "Can I… Help… you?" Turning his head sideways like a Cheshire cat, but not enough to get to the insane angles that snapping his own neck would require.
Troy starts, jumping up and hovering in the air. "Dude. do NOT sneak up on people like that." He says, glaring at… Connor? "What the hell happened to you?" He asks, noting the way the young man is standing. It's… quite different from his old ways. "And do you know where to get something stronger than what they have back there? Or maybe a pipe and tobacco? Someone said Kenta has some, but I haven't found him." He grumbles, voice coming out deep and angry as he remains in the air sans suit.
Connor puts a finger to his lips, and looks around, before saying in a stage whisper, "It's a secret… to everybody!" And he pulls out from one of his snug and flat pockets a silver flask with the eponymous Zelda Shield symbol on it. Unscrewing the top, he passes it over, and you smell Maker's Mark whisky in there. Reaching in again, he whispers out, "It's Dangerous out there. Here. Take this…" And passes a cigar tube, a pair of matches rattling around inside with a real cigar!
Well, the stuff is there. Troy takes a whiff, and his eyes widen. "Where did you get this? This isn't the local brew…" He says, point of fact, before taking a firm swig of it. He's not extremely experienced with alcohol, having only had what Danny's shared with him at Barnes. But he knows this smells like the good, strong stuff. And then, a cigar. "YOU… sir… are a lifesaver.
Connor begins to cackle maniacally, like some kind of Igor-figure, a little bit of drool coming off his mouth as he bounces on the barrel, capering slightly, "Always happy to help! Help you see! Help!" Hopping off, he all but dances around Troy as he enjoys the drink on all-fours, before finally standing up, and his eyes become oddly clear and cognizant as he says in a crisp voice, "Connor Renfield at your service, Sir. And might I say it's a pleasure to see you so well." Reaching forwards to smooth down Troy's front with the sudden and fussy efficiency of a trained butler.
"Help me see what? And what can you help with?" Troy's seen zombies and other things, so he's not thrown TOO far off base by the weirdness, but it still IS unnerving. After all, he met Connor beforehand. "And what happened to you, anyway? You were different before? And so were we." He states. After all, he knows he's two people. Though, at the brushing of hands, he bats at them, trying to get them away before lowering fully to the ground.
Connor pulls back his hands and then rubs them on the front of his waistcoat before replying, "Oh… THAT?" Drawing the word out, "I was sent to the asylum because I was insane. I believed I was from a strange world with phantom friends and at a school teaching me how to control abilities that could never be real. No no no…" Tsking himself as he sits next to you, "But now I'm sane!" Thumping his chest, "Perfect hale! Round as a robin at a writing desk!" But then he takes a breath and says, "And I just want to help people. No one wishes my help, Sir. But you seem to like it. I can do many things. I know how to fetch things. I know -secrets-… things they don't want us to know. Things to protect you, Sir. But only you."
"But… that IS real. I'm from that world… Just like you are." Troy says, squinting his eyes as he looks the boy over. "Secrets? What secrets?" He tilts his head as he pulls the cigar out of the tube and just smells it for a second, keeping an eye on Connor. "Insanity? Maybe you're not as insane as they thought you were." He offers. He glances about, wonderin g if there's anyone else near.
The young man seems to almost shiver in his spot, and then with his eyes showing traces of fear, he leans in close, and whispers conspiritorially, though the wash of his breath is slightly rancid, covered by the scent of the booze, "They let the demon out… the demon will undo all of us. It will take away who we are… what we are. Everything that's important now will be gone if he's allowed to continue, Sir. They don't understand. It's not a cure… He's… not a cure. He was locked away for a reason, and now they've let him free. Only you can do something about it. Only you, the bearer of the Shield, has what it takes to save us all."
Troy's eyes open wide. "Wait. Let who out? Who's the demon?" He asks, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. Yes, the breath is bad, but he can handle it. He's dealt with some of the students who don't know what proper bathing is yet. "And what can I do to stop it from taking everything away?"
Scratching the side of his cheek a moment, some more fear passes over his eyes as he says, "You must guard yourself well, for the Winter Mistress will hear your mind if you let her… and she will stop you. Or the Man with One Red Eye." Scooting closer, he touches Troy on the leg, and shudders, licking his lips several times before saying, "The demon calls itself Alaric, but don't be fooled… it is not what it seems. It was locked away for a reason. A very good reason. It can destroy everything." Another huffing breath is taken, "You must kill it. You must kill the body and burn it away with fire, Sir."
There's a minor discussion between two voices. Two distinctly different speech styles, both coming from Troy's throat. "The Winter Mistress?" the deeper one asks. The higher, happy one offers, "Ms. Frost. and I think the other is Mr. Summers. No one else it could be." Another pause. "Great. Well, my mind is usually locked away anyway, beause of the work SHIELD did on my head." He explains. There's no hint of sparkle. Just the discussion. "How do you know this, Connor?" Troy asks, tilting his head as he looks the slightly younger guy over. "And how am -I- the one that can help?"
Connor pulls away, the moment the voice of Leo comes and he hisses like a cat, spittle flying as he growls out, "Not him! Not him! Shiny happy people holding hands…" Crowing out part of the REM song as the madness sinks back into his eyes, and in a perfect Gollum impression he ends up away from Troy, in a crouch, "Our precious you are… the first to liiiisten… the first to know! Not him… please not him… he'll ruin everything! He'll take our precious away!"
Now that… is a little weird. "Your precious?" Troy can't help but laugh. "and it's ok. He's in there, but he's backing away now. He's a little scared of you, I think." Which suits Troy. It gives him a dark chuckle. "Nobody else listens?" He asks, raising his eyebrow. "Don't they realize that sometimes insanity is the key to sanity." He offers before pondering and responding in kind. "Hey, listen to me. Stay sane inside insanity." He says with a bit of a grin. Lyrics anyone?
Connor vanishes and reappears in front of you, his eyes bright and lucid once more as the young Renfield plants himself before you and waits patiently. You've ordered him to listen, and he seems to be obedient to this.
Troy blinks. "I was making a reference." He sighs, rubbing his eyes. "You don't have to stand at attention, soldier." He shakes his head. Though, he is taking a lot of this into his mind. "How do you know these secrets?" He asks, before he finally reaches a hand up to bite the end off the cigar. "And who else can I get to help? I'm strong… damn strong… but I want backup if I'm going to kill and burn a demon. And admittely, he's better at demon fighting than I am."
Connor almost goes to attention at being called a soldier, but then relaxes as he's told to do so, moving to sit once more, and watch you move around, his eyes intense and flicking to your every gesture before saying, "I keep the house… it's my duty to help. And to help, you must know, so I know things. If Alaric is left to do as he would, we will all lose… lose so terribly much Sir. We were all sent to the Asylum for a reason, and the Asylum will save us, but only should we let it. If we fight, it hurts, and it probes, and it hurts more, because fighting it is pointless." Taking a deep breath, his eyes close, "Seek out the werecreature… he was here longest, has the most to lose. He hates them, you see… hates them all, even me… but he values his freedom, and his self."
"Which werecreature? There are two." Troy says. "The were hyena or the werewolf?" He asks, trying to make sure. "Sounds more like James." for some reason, he knows the name. Maybe Leo told him. After all, they share a head. "Thanks." He says, and honestly means it. But, he's aggravated now. He looks to the side, and smashes a fist into a crate, shattering it. "I knew there was some reason we were here."
Connor begins to applaud and then moves off to bring a rain barrel over for your fists, "Yes Sir! There is a logic and a reason behind everything. I should know! My parents work at the University in London… my mother is my father's assistant, and is very good with math."
"At least your mother isn't your father." Troy says, nonsensically. He shrugs before pounding the barrel, shattering as well. "There may be, but I can't see it. And I HATE not being able to see why things happen. It drives me crazy!"
Connor leans in close, hissing out, "Then KILL Alaric Blackmoore! Then you will understand why, and THEN you will know peace!" From nowhere comes a pushbroom and he starts to move off the wreckage you've created, and this time he puts out a glass bottle for you, sitting atop another crate, "The demon stays, the devil plays, a ripe red apple to pluck. The angel slays, the trumpet brays, another pour soul is struck!"
There's a nod from Troy. "alright. I'll do what I can." He states, simply. This, he can do. If it'll accept physical damage, he can deal it. If it's other things, maybe not so much. But it won't stop him from trying. And whether or not Leo will help, well, that'll be done with or without Connor's concent.
