Dr. Simon O'Neill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
protagonized) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2016-06-18 09:55 am
protagonized) wrote in undergrounds2016-06-18 09:55 am
Entry tags:
A Fallen Guardian - Part One (June)
With the perfect life
Westminster, 18 June (1:19 am) - Open to first responder only
Simon had been out with friends. For real, this time, celebrating the end of uni and the beginning of the rest of their lives. They'd gotten heartily drunk at a favorite pub, then gone to a club and done some more drinking. The only reason he hadn't stayed out all night was because he had to be at the Night Council early-ish the next morning, even though it was a Saturday. Unlike the rest of his friends, he already had a career--one that had very little to do with the degree he'd just spent the last three years of his life working towards.
And that was, ultimately, what killed him.
Later, he'll dissect every second of his death, or at least the ones he remembers, wondering what he could have done differently. Wondering how he could be so stupid as to be drunk and alone when he'd known for some time that the vampires were out hunting werewolves and shapeshifters to please their new leader, not to mention the fact that being a Guardian already put a target on his back in some parts of the supernatural community. At least it had been quick. Just a halfhearted fight (and he'd gotten some good hits in, he thought), a searing pain in his neck, and the warmth of his life blood seeping into the pavement.
And that's how he'll be found some moments later, when the vampire (newly turned and a bit of an idiot) hears footsteps coming towards them and spooks, leaving his dying victim crumpled against a wall.
Simon hasn't got long.
Where you never die
Westminster, 23 June - Open
There'd been a vigil two days after the murder, which was quite nice. Flowers and candles and people who'd never known him but thought he looked like a nice young man (plus his parents were quite famous, weren't they?) all standing next to the police tape that hadn't come down yet, crying about a boy with such a bright future ahead of him. Only the sensitive would have been able to tell that the boy hadn't quite left. A cold spot on the pavement, a certain prickling on the back of the neck, were certain indicators that a ghost lurked nearby.
Because that's what Simon figures he is now: a ghost. It's actually not as bad as he'd thought it would be. The first few hours after his death had been particularly traumatic, of course, watching his body be photographed by police and then carted away in an ambulance and wondering what would happen to his family and friends without him around anymore, but now he's gotten a little more focused. He's seen his Door. He knows that there's still something he needs to do to get to it and whatever lies beyond, and he's pretty sure that something is finding whoever it was that did this to him and making them pay.
Now if only he can figure out how to tell someone all this, he'll be well on his way to accomplishing his goal.
You just press rewind
Westminster, 30 June - Closed to Natasha
All right. He's made contact. Sort of. Now he just needs to make the right sort of contact. He has friends; they're going to have to help him sort this all out. When one of them approaches his little patch of pavement, he concentrates as hard as he can until--there.
A pale, shadowy figure materializes out of the air.
"Pleasant evening, huh?" Simon's ghost grins.
Westminster, 18 June (1:19 am) - Open to first responder only
Simon had been out with friends. For real, this time, celebrating the end of uni and the beginning of the rest of their lives. They'd gotten heartily drunk at a favorite pub, then gone to a club and done some more drinking. The only reason he hadn't stayed out all night was because he had to be at the Night Council early-ish the next morning, even though it was a Saturday. Unlike the rest of his friends, he already had a career--one that had very little to do with the degree he'd just spent the last three years of his life working towards.
And that was, ultimately, what killed him.
Later, he'll dissect every second of his death, or at least the ones he remembers, wondering what he could have done differently. Wondering how he could be so stupid as to be drunk and alone when he'd known for some time that the vampires were out hunting werewolves and shapeshifters to please their new leader, not to mention the fact that being a Guardian already put a target on his back in some parts of the supernatural community. At least it had been quick. Just a halfhearted fight (and he'd gotten some good hits in, he thought), a searing pain in his neck, and the warmth of his life blood seeping into the pavement.
And that's how he'll be found some moments later, when the vampire (newly turned and a bit of an idiot) hears footsteps coming towards them and spooks, leaving his dying victim crumpled against a wall.
Simon hasn't got long.
Where you never die
Westminster, 23 June - Open
There'd been a vigil two days after the murder, which was quite nice. Flowers and candles and people who'd never known him but thought he looked like a nice young man (plus his parents were quite famous, weren't they?) all standing next to the police tape that hadn't come down yet, crying about a boy with such a bright future ahead of him. Only the sensitive would have been able to tell that the boy hadn't quite left. A cold spot on the pavement, a certain prickling on the back of the neck, were certain indicators that a ghost lurked nearby.
Because that's what Simon figures he is now: a ghost. It's actually not as bad as he'd thought it would be. The first few hours after his death had been particularly traumatic, of course, watching his body be photographed by police and then carted away in an ambulance and wondering what would happen to his family and friends without him around anymore, but now he's gotten a little more focused. He's seen his Door. He knows that there's still something he needs to do to get to it and whatever lies beyond, and he's pretty sure that something is finding whoever it was that did this to him and making them pay.
Now if only he can figure out how to tell someone all this, he'll be well on his way to accomplishing his goal.
You just press rewind
Westminster, 30 June - Closed to Natasha
All right. He's made contact. Sort of. Now he just needs to make the right sort of contact. He has friends; they're going to have to help him sort this all out. When one of them approaches his little patch of pavement, he concentrates as hard as he can until--there.
A pale, shadowy figure materializes out of the air.
"Pleasant evening, huh?" Simon's ghost grins.
no subject
The first thing Simon wants is his mother. He wants her to cradle him like an infant and tell him everything is going to be okay, because it's increasingly dawning on him that it isn't going to be okay. Every time he tries to take a breath more blood seems to bubble out of the hole in his neck and the sense a creeping coldness gets even stronger.
When he sees a pair of feet, he tries to call out, tries to get someone to call an ambulence, but the only sound that escapes is a weak "pl-please" and a low gurgle.
no subject
Cooper kneels by Simon, reaching out and gently stroking the boy's hair. It was a long time ago, but he can still remember how terrifying facing his death had been. Simon is young, too young to be facing such a gruesome ending all on his own. There's nothing the vampire can do but provide comfort the only way he knows how. He leans over the boy's torn-up neck and laps up a bit of blood, just enough so that his mind manipulation will work. When he speaks, his words calming and soothing, there's a push of something a little bit more behind his words, something that Simon's mind will respond to. "Shhh, Calm down. It's okay. Help is on the way. You're going to be just fine."
The words themselves feel meaningless as the blood continues to pump away, oozing down Simon's neck and onto the sidewalk.
no subject
"...cold..."
no subject
"It's alright. Soon, you won't be cold anymore." Or ever again, he thinks to himself. There's nothing he can do but watch as the life ebbs away from the boy's body one heartbeat at a time. That heart is starting to falter and he can hear the beats beginning to slow down, each one more sluggish than the last. He's tempted to order the boy to close his eyes and go to sleep. He'd obey, but that would deny Simon his last few minutes of life.
"You don't have pain any longer. Just relax. It'll all be over soon," he says in that same calm, convincing tone.
no subject
He's just so tired.
Simon O'Neill makes a harsh rattling noise in his throat and then goes still. He was twenty-two years old.