#fakedsciences: mack: 001.

[slashtress]

@fakedsciences​ asked: I guess maybe that’s why I’m lying to my therapist. 

( eics - not accepting )    

that makes two of them. kitsey sends mack an almost withering look, something of an ain’t that just the way. because it is, for girls like them. there’s no complete honesty with a therapist. not with anyone. not with who they are and what they’ve had to do to survive. 

“i always get scared some hellbent detective or conspiracy theorist will just, like, interrupt the session. something to expose me or whatever. i mean, i already admitted that i killed someone. what more do they want?” there’s more. of course there is. “there’s no such thing as privacy.”

[alulars]

@natophonetic for elgar.

Johnson sits in the back of the courtroom. Imperceivable, as all angels can choose to be. When possessing a human vessel, it's harder. Marginally so. To keep his body in this hidden state requires constant concentration. A certain environmental attunement. He must feel the temperature of the air on his skin and refuse for the feeling to acclimate, let each sensory receptor carrying the same tiny sparks of electrical information register as new; understand the minute discrepancy in space his body inhabits with each quiet expansion of his lungs when he breathes and do not habituate to the repetitive answer. Johnson is uniquely skilled at retaining imperceptibility like this: he is always aware of this incessant existence. Equally bored and arrogant, he projects his attention elsewhere. Little herds of humans come and go after every hearing. Their bodies, their souls indistinguishable from each other, polluting the room like white light in overexposed film. Except one. Finally here. Johnson lets his presence ease back in as the man passes.

"Oddly reminiscent of a church, these benches." The corners of his mouth pull into a considerate and considerable frown which he casts towards Elfgar with a turn of his head and a raise of his eyebrows. To the point, no casual tone to dress this as smalltalk: "Are you religious, Elfgar?"

[alulars]

@fakedsciences for mack.

Johnson intercepts Mackenzie at her front door and quickly lays two fingers over the doorknob's locked keyhole to prevent her from entering. "Be not afraid." He says it, rushed and unconvincing because there is no real care to neutralize any theoretical fear he may cause; indeed, his sharp gaze briefly stirs in hers, agitating, less a spoon in coffee and more a fin in the sea. "If I told you—and I will—I knew something you would like to know, what would you say?" His head cants, smooth, reptile-like. "What would you do?"