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Circles of Pain.

Not so internal dialogue.

Norman Osborn


Not so internal dialogue.

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"She's our responsibility, Norman."

"Yes, of course she is."

"Therefore, so is he."
  • Her lips pull back in a snarl, teeth bared at him for just a heartbeat -- and then gone, everything hidden under a calm veneer as she joins him. I don't know you well enough to have any kind of 'faith' in you, just yet. What are we doing here?
    • He welcomes her with a mile smile, offering memories through that wall. This vista, a landscape of burning tanks, corpses, and rain. Harry. And herself, quiet sly green in the dark bedroom and Ulti's teeth on her skin. But you've known me all along.
      • She closes her eyes, trying not to show how much she likes that, the dark-bloody taste of those memories. How much she likes it, and how much she knows he's right.

        Her eyes are still shut when she replies, a green tendril twisting around him. You didn't answer my question. There are no claws yet, no thorns. But there could be, very easily.
        • He offers more of those rich, dark memories, and darker speculation, even as his own green slides into her skin, close-fitting and warm. If she opens her eyes, his are watching her, amused and shot through with gold.

          I came for the memories.
          • Norman... Her power coils inside his mind, trying to find her fiancee, hold onto his voice. See if he'll hate her if she lets this one... And she doesn't move against those ethreal touches -- why would she, when it wouldn't do any good -- but she doesn't push them away, either. Wavering, and since when has an Osborn been able to resist their Goblin?
            • It's hard to find a boundary, isn't it? Norman, her Norman, is only half an observer to his other side's thoughts and opinions. Hate her? No. Be thrilled about it? No. You see, what applies to her, applies to him.
              • She winds her green around him, half to restrain and half to reassure. Oh, please give her an excuse... We should leave, before someone recognises you.
                • Perhaps you're right.

                  There are, after all, black suits dotted liberally through this tourist crowd, and more subtle survelliance is inevitable.
                  • Of course I am. She wraps her power around them, and they fade from the notice of everyone that might be watching. "Take us back."
                    • Mm. He tugs her close, for ease of transport (obviously), and then they fall through the threads, disappearing away home.
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