(no subject)
Mantis is floating down a hallway on the fifteenth floor when he hears someone say, "Ilya." It's not Spooky's voice (but without even realizing, he's following it anyway), but who the fuck else would call him that?
Ilya, he hears again (as he comes upon a set of doors marked reLIEve). Not a voice at all, then (and he doesn't even think of being suspicious).
It triggers a strong sense of--nostalgia, it must be, although he hardly has fond memories of his past--and suddenly all Mantis can think of (as he floats through the doorway) is the way he used telepathy when he was young, when he didn't know how to do anything but dive completely into someone else's mind--
--Ilya is sitting at the cluttered kitchen table, hunched over a book. It's a big chapter book, meant for children older than him. He's very smart for his age, his teachers say, or else they say he should stop showing off and go play with his classmates.
He knows the children don't like him much. They don't bully him, not since he figured out that they get nervous if he doesn't react at all. It made him so mad he wanted to scream, to punch and kick and hurt them--but Ilya knows he's small and weak, so he did nothing until they got bored with him. He knows they still don't like him, though. Lately, when he passes them by, he can almost hear them think it.
And somewhere, deep inside his mind, Psycho Mantis thinks, Oh shit.
When Father comes home, Ilya is engrossed in his reading. But he looks up as soon as he hears the door open, breaks into a smile as soon as he sees him.
Father does not, but he never does.
And as Ilya opens his mouth to greet him, he hears Father speak without speaking--Stop smiling at me--and he does, in confusion. How...?
Father looks at him, and he hears eight years.
I'm hearing what Father's thinking, Ilya realizes, and it makes perfect sense that he can. So the obvious next step is to concentrate on Father, see if he can hear more--
--Grigori is looking at the boy, scrutinizing him--
Somewhere, deep inside his mind, Ilya thinks, awed, I'm in Father's mind--
And somewhere even deeper, Mantis thinks, helplessly, He shouldn't be in this far--
--and Grigori swallows down his expression of disgust as he thinks, It's been eight years.
Eight years have passed since she died, screaming in pain, as they ripped that little parasite from her, and he still aches every single time he thinks of her. Every time he looks at him.
The fucking demon that killed her.
He promised her he wouldn't lay a finger on the boy, and so he hasn't. But he can't bear to think of that murderer as his son, can't look at him with anything but hatred--
Ilya can't think, can't even breathe, and Grigori, Ilya, Mantis feels hatred welling up inside him, overwhelming him--
And something in his mind shifts, and he knows exactly how to lash out, make him hurt, and he does it--
He feels himself burning.
He feels himself screaming.
And he wrenches himself from Father's mind, and he still feels himself burning, screaming, crying--
And he feels himself watching, all of it, and he doesn't have regrets, he got over it ages ago, he hasn't thought about this day for thirty years--
As he burns, as his father, the room, the house, the fucking town burns, Mantis finally, finally, pushes his way out the door and lands on his hands and knees, gasping for breath.
He hasn't cried in thirty fucking years.
Ilya, he hears again (as he comes upon a set of doors marked reLIEve). Not a voice at all, then (and he doesn't even think of being suspicious).
It triggers a strong sense of--nostalgia, it must be, although he hardly has fond memories of his past--and suddenly all Mantis can think of (as he floats through the doorway) is the way he used telepathy when he was young, when he didn't know how to do anything but dive completely into someone else's mind--
--Ilya is sitting at the cluttered kitchen table, hunched over a book. It's a big chapter book, meant for children older than him. He's very smart for his age, his teachers say, or else they say he should stop showing off and go play with his classmates.
He knows the children don't like him much. They don't bully him, not since he figured out that they get nervous if he doesn't react at all. It made him so mad he wanted to scream, to punch and kick and hurt them--but Ilya knows he's small and weak, so he did nothing until they got bored with him. He knows they still don't like him, though. Lately, when he passes them by, he can almost hear them think it.
And somewhere, deep inside his mind, Psycho Mantis thinks, Oh shit.
When Father comes home, Ilya is engrossed in his reading. But he looks up as soon as he hears the door open, breaks into a smile as soon as he sees him.
Father does not, but he never does.
And as Ilya opens his mouth to greet him, he hears Father speak without speaking--Stop smiling at me--and he does, in confusion. How...?
Father looks at him, and he hears eight years.
I'm hearing what Father's thinking, Ilya realizes, and it makes perfect sense that he can. So the obvious next step is to concentrate on Father, see if he can hear more--
--Grigori is looking at the boy, scrutinizing him--
Somewhere, deep inside his mind, Ilya thinks, awed, I'm in Father's mind--
And somewhere even deeper, Mantis thinks, helplessly, He shouldn't be in this far--
--and Grigori swallows down his expression of disgust as he thinks, It's been eight years.
Eight years have passed since she died, screaming in pain, as they ripped that little parasite from her, and he still aches every single time he thinks of her. Every time he looks at him.
The fucking demon that killed her.
He promised her he wouldn't lay a finger on the boy, and so he hasn't. But he can't bear to think of that murderer as his son, can't look at him with anything but hatred--
Ilya can't think, can't even breathe, and Grigori, Ilya, Mantis feels hatred welling up inside him, overwhelming him--
And something in his mind shifts, and he knows exactly how to lash out, make him hurt, and he does it--
He feels himself burning.
He feels himself screaming.
And he wrenches himself from Father's mind, and he still feels himself burning, screaming, crying--
And he feels himself watching, all of it, and he doesn't have regrets, he got over it ages ago, he hasn't thought about this day for thirty years--
As he burns, as his father, the room, the house, the fucking town burns, Mantis finally, finally, pushes his way out the door and lands on his hands and knees, gasping for breath.
He hasn't cried in thirty fucking years.