chlorophylliac: (sadness - tangled)
Pamela Isley | Poison Ivy ([personal profile] chlorophylliac) wrote2012-11-05 03:05 pm

015 || Text + Spam

[Private to Zev]

Are you alright?

[Private to Dick]

How long have you been here?

[Private to Bruce Banner, later]

I need to revisit something we discussed last week.

[Open Spam]

[Ivy's reduced her movements to a limited cycle. She doesn't bother going to the dining hall for food, and she's keeping her visits to the deck to twice a day or so. She visits the Inmate showers, and the library on occasion, and she makes damn sure nobody observes her visits to Erik's but otherwise she keeps herself to her cabin. She has Zev's seedbank to work on, and her own research, and otherwise her need for human company is being solidly ignored until hopefully it'll just starve to death.

She's not hiding from (either) Bruce; that's a ridiculous idea. She's just reached a point where her sadness and anger - her homesickness, God help her - are bleeding into each other, feeding each other. The result is a brooding, isolating not-quite-depression that won't have an outlet until she snaps and destroys something. But what would the point of that be? She'll lose her plants, her powers, what little privacy she's clawed back from a place that offers none. She assumes Banner wouldn't hesitate, anyway, why would he? His passive aggression is insincere and manipulative by its very nature. She doesn't know or care to know what it conceals.

There's a green woman walking the decks, barefoot and purposeful, but her face is flat and empty.]
yeahscience: ([1-3] locked in)

[Spam] Although he might have trouble lifting a motorcycle over the railing

[personal profile] yeahscience 2012-11-06 03:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[He wouldn't see it that way, of course, if she said so; to enjoy power one has to have it, and warden or not, he hasn't felt any power in a very long time. It's more directionless malaise under the veil of entirely directed malice, lashing out at the closest and most prominent target because few things earn his bitterness more these days than taking advantage.

She might take some small comfort in the way, for just that moment, his expression goes fuzzed and glassy, his shoulders slumping. Then he blinks furiously and presses a hand to his temple, trying to shake off what he assumes is some kind of withdrawal aftershock.]


Christ... So that's it, huh? Nothing to say.
yeahscience: ([1-3] wtf)

[Spam]

[personal profile] yeahscience 2012-11-07 02:53 pm (UTC)(link)
[He looks up sharply at that, as if stung, eyes narrowing.] Yeah. I got that when you didn't apologize.
yeahscience: ([1-3] yelling!)

[Spam]

[personal profile] yeahscience 2012-11-07 03:42 pm (UTC)(link)
I guess nothing. [It's still biting and bitter, and there's something unrepentantly childish about the way he slides back down in the deck chair.] Enjoy your walk.
yeahscience: ([1-3] um.)

[Spam]

[personal profile] yeahscience 2012-11-08 03:06 am (UTC)(link)
What? [He glances back at her, frowning, wracking his brain. He can't think of anything except...] I don't want any more. I'm done with that. [Again.]
yeahscience: ([1-3] doubt it)

[Spam]

[personal profile] yeahscience 2012-11-08 09:05 am (UTC)(link)
This ain't withdrawal. This is all the shit that comes after withdrawal. And you can do whatever the hell you want with that. Throw it over the fucking side if you don't want it anymore.