auryn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
do_what_thou_wilt) wrote2015-06-16 10:05 pm
do_what_thou_wilt) wrote2015-06-16 10:05 pm
Entry tags:
vengeance, a badge and a gun
It's been a long day and it sits, restless, in Auryn's blood, waiting for a spark to set it off. It's raining, again; barely scraping 60 for however many days in a row. The asphalt's complaining about the late thaw and so are Auryn's neck and shoulders, reminding him that he was once a southern boy and he's at weird angles all day working on cars.
(Lately, it seems, Auryn can't even just shut up and get his work done. He's glad enough he hasn't been fired, after his and Davin's confrontation in Quill. He's happy not to make small talk -- he's usually taciturn and focused and he prefers it that way. But today he found himself explaining that yes, he does, actually, understand what "the only one who touches my car" means, and no, he doesn't know who the man with the sports car is, but Davin isn't available and he can schedule an appointment or Auryn can do the work himself right now. He'd gotten the keys, eventually, along with a death threat if there's so much as a rearview adjustment out of place.)
It's a good couple miles back to his little house in the woods, and he's tired and grumpy when he gets back there. It only darkens when he sees, just shy of his usual turn into the road, a tree splintered at the base and fallen across his path, accompanied by thick gouges in the mud, now filled with water, where a Jeep or maybe an ATV made a poor decision about where to infiltrate.
He takes a step into the flooded path to reach the tree, still hanging on on one side, and just crouches with his hand on it for a moment. There's nothing he can do, though: the damage has been done. All of a sudden he's just angry, angry at his own ineffectiveness and passivity, angry at other people and their arrogance, angry at how alone he feels in a place that was supposed to be some Holy Grail of witch communities. He balls up the fury painfully and pushes it out, lifting the tree and the water up out of the tracks to hover and throwing it all with force with a frustrated shout, coming down with a hard thud and bouncing a few feet away down the empty road.
The sudden whine of a siren, makes him freeze. He half turns to see a patrol car slow to a stop across the road. "Siren Cove Police. Stop right where you are,” the officer says as he gets out of the car, hand already on his gun. His partner’s a step behind.
"Hey, let's not do anything stupid --" Auryn says, taking a step and starting to spread his hands out concilatorily, and the officers both pull their weapons immediately. The one in front barks, eyes fixed,
"Hands on your head. Don't move."
Auryn can feel his heart hammering as he stares at two drawn handguns, but all he can manage in response is a cold glare, locking his fingers over his skull and resting them there; it occurs to him late that his hands are probably being considered weapons by the trigger-happy duo. It also occurs to him that in any other circumstance if he were to strike someone who pulled a gun on him it might be considered self defense.
The first of the two grabs him and twists his wrists back behind his back, pushing Auryn against the car. “I know my rights,” he spits at him as the officer cuffs him. “You can't do this."
"You might want to reread your legal codes," the other cop says. "You're in direct violation of Siren Cove law. Open and public display of magic."
"You can't arrest me for that."
"You're not being arrested," the other cop says, patting him down ungently. "You're being detained. But keep up the smart talk and I'm sure we can work something out." He makes a triumphant noise at the long multi-tool knife Auryn has on him, digging it out of his pocket. Auryn tries to twist back toward him, and is rewarded with a hand to the back of his neck, pressing his face against the car. "Keep your eyes and your hands to yourself, boy."
"The problem with this place," the other one says idly, holstering his weapon and digging out his notebook, "is that you witch types think it's some sort of Disneyland. A guy just wants to get some coffee, go to work, feed your family, and instead I spend all day running into freakshows from away who want to re-enact the damn Coombs curse. Come Midsummer it'll be a whole sideshow. Name and address."
"I'm not answering your questions."
"I know who you are, anyway," the other one says. "This is that O'Connor kid," he informs his partner from where he's got his hand against Auryn's back. "Works at the auto shop. Mike was in Quill the other day and heard him as much as admit to brainwashing everyone. I heard he's got some creepy-ass shack up here. Sounds like building without a permit to me, Mr. O'Connor."
"It's Auryn Connor," he growls. "I don't think you'll find much, if you want to go tramping through the woods looking for trumped up charges, be my guest."
"You staying at the motel, then?" The quieter of the two has already run him through the system.
"Yep," he says, tiredly.
"You have two prior unpaid citations for public magic use in Siren Cove and another for trespassing. Ring a bell?"
"If a law is unjust, a man is not only right to disobey it, he is obligated to do so."
"Not in this town." He gestures at the back of the car. "Auryn Connor, you're being arrested for open and public display of magic and destruction of public property, with failure to pay previous civil fines. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say -- and have said -- can and will be used against you. You have the right to appropriate representation..."
His voice fades dully as Auryn lets his head sink against the cruiser. This is not how he had planned his evening.
[OOC: Dated to this evening! Spot Auryn being brought in, be the employee who processes him or talk to him at the police station, run into him after he's released...]
(Lately, it seems, Auryn can't even just shut up and get his work done. He's glad enough he hasn't been fired, after his and Davin's confrontation in Quill. He's happy not to make small talk -- he's usually taciturn and focused and he prefers it that way. But today he found himself explaining that yes, he does, actually, understand what "the only one who touches my car" means, and no, he doesn't know who the man with the sports car is, but Davin isn't available and he can schedule an appointment or Auryn can do the work himself right now. He'd gotten the keys, eventually, along with a death threat if there's so much as a rearview adjustment out of place.)
It's a good couple miles back to his little house in the woods, and he's tired and grumpy when he gets back there. It only darkens when he sees, just shy of his usual turn into the road, a tree splintered at the base and fallen across his path, accompanied by thick gouges in the mud, now filled with water, where a Jeep or maybe an ATV made a poor decision about where to infiltrate.
He takes a step into the flooded path to reach the tree, still hanging on on one side, and just crouches with his hand on it for a moment. There's nothing he can do, though: the damage has been done. All of a sudden he's just angry, angry at his own ineffectiveness and passivity, angry at other people and their arrogance, angry at how alone he feels in a place that was supposed to be some Holy Grail of witch communities. He balls up the fury painfully and pushes it out, lifting the tree and the water up out of the tracks to hover and throwing it all with force with a frustrated shout, coming down with a hard thud and bouncing a few feet away down the empty road.
The sudden whine of a siren, makes him freeze. He half turns to see a patrol car slow to a stop across the road. "Siren Cove Police. Stop right where you are,” the officer says as he gets out of the car, hand already on his gun. His partner’s a step behind.
"Hey, let's not do anything stupid --" Auryn says, taking a step and starting to spread his hands out concilatorily, and the officers both pull their weapons immediately. The one in front barks, eyes fixed,
"Hands on your head. Don't move."
Auryn can feel his heart hammering as he stares at two drawn handguns, but all he can manage in response is a cold glare, locking his fingers over his skull and resting them there; it occurs to him late that his hands are probably being considered weapons by the trigger-happy duo. It also occurs to him that in any other circumstance if he were to strike someone who pulled a gun on him it might be considered self defense.
The first of the two grabs him and twists his wrists back behind his back, pushing Auryn against the car. “I know my rights,” he spits at him as the officer cuffs him. “You can't do this."
"You might want to reread your legal codes," the other cop says. "You're in direct violation of Siren Cove law. Open and public display of magic."
"You can't arrest me for that."
"You're not being arrested," the other cop says, patting him down ungently. "You're being detained. But keep up the smart talk and I'm sure we can work something out." He makes a triumphant noise at the long multi-tool knife Auryn has on him, digging it out of his pocket. Auryn tries to twist back toward him, and is rewarded with a hand to the back of his neck, pressing his face against the car. "Keep your eyes and your hands to yourself, boy."
"The problem with this place," the other one says idly, holstering his weapon and digging out his notebook, "is that you witch types think it's some sort of Disneyland. A guy just wants to get some coffee, go to work, feed your family, and instead I spend all day running into freakshows from away who want to re-enact the damn Coombs curse. Come Midsummer it'll be a whole sideshow. Name and address."
"I'm not answering your questions."
"I know who you are, anyway," the other one says. "This is that O'Connor kid," he informs his partner from where he's got his hand against Auryn's back. "Works at the auto shop. Mike was in Quill the other day and heard him as much as admit to brainwashing everyone. I heard he's got some creepy-ass shack up here. Sounds like building without a permit to me, Mr. O'Connor."
"It's Auryn Connor," he growls. "I don't think you'll find much, if you want to go tramping through the woods looking for trumped up charges, be my guest."
"You staying at the motel, then?" The quieter of the two has already run him through the system.
"Yep," he says, tiredly.
"You have two prior unpaid citations for public magic use in Siren Cove and another for trespassing. Ring a bell?"
"If a law is unjust, a man is not only right to disobey it, he is obligated to do so."
"Not in this town." He gestures at the back of the car. "Auryn Connor, you're being arrested for open and public display of magic and destruction of public property, with failure to pay previous civil fines. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say -- and have said -- can and will be used against you. You have the right to appropriate representation..."
His voice fades dully as Auryn lets his head sink against the cruiser. This is not how he had planned his evening.
[OOC: Dated to this evening! Spot Auryn being brought in, be the employee who processes him or talk to him at the police station, run into him after he's released...]
no subject
He'll get coffee, he decides, and then come back. If he's right, a man like that won't be held for long, and he can catch him as he's leaving.
Milo gives it an hour, grabs two coffees and sits on a bench outside the station, waiting. It's not the weirdest whim he's ever had, but it's close.
no subject
He hates police departments. The whole, poisoned system of privilege they maintain in every shuffle of paperwork, but also the fluorescent lights and the pretentious wall hangings.
He gets his belongings back -- except a poison ring he was wearing, and his knife, both of which they hold for some kind of evidence in the hearing, and both of which are entirely mundane; it pisses him off -- and heads out the door. He could kill someone for a cigarette, and he's grateful to see those, at least, weren't taken off him.
He's lighting one when he sees the young man from earlier sitting on the bench out front, watching. With coffee, and Auryn lets that all percolate, regarding him and the way his energy bends the air. Lets himself be drawn off course.
"That's a lot of coffee you've got there."
no subject
"Thought you might need it," he says with a shrug. "Rough day?"
no subject
Auryn glances at the coffee, bemused, and accepts it after a second. It's a risky way of making friends, if that's his goal at all. But he likes that boldness, and the young man's seething power intrigues him. "You're not wrong," he answers. He feels tired down to his bones right now.
"Most days that end in handcuffs are," Auryn smirks. "Didn't start out too fantastic, to be honest." He takes a slow sip of the warm drink. "Sure you want to be seen having coffee with an alleged criminal?" A wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
no subject
"It's practically what they expect of me, at this point." Milo's basically an alleged criminal himself, or a criminal in waiting, or something else ridiculous. He hasn't done anything, but he knows that now that he's home, they're all just waiting for him to slip up. "What'd they arrest you for?"
no subject
Auryn tilts his head a little, curious. Granted, by the time he was a teenager he's pretty sure half the county police had been waiting for an excuse to arrest him. "I believe the official title is Public Display of Magic," he says with scorn. He doesn't think that's too risky a suggestion, what with the guy basically admitting he's an outlaw, or something, and with the energy around him. Auryn's not about to trust him with any secrets, but he's not too afraid the man's going to freak out over him being a witch. "Sounds like a fireworks show to me, but I didn't make the law."
He shrugs one shoulder. "Got frustrated and threw a tree in front of the wrong people on the wrong day. Unfortunately nothing to go down in legend. Add some unpaid citations for more of the same and there it is, the perfect storm." He quirks an eyebrow. "They can fine me, put me in jail. Even if I had the money, I'm not going to pay a tax on what comes naturally." He might as well start with the controversial viewpoint and work backwards.
"So what's your story?" he asks. "Sounds as though the police aren't your biggest fans."
no subject
He glances towards the station briefly, the plan to see his parents all but erased. Now that he's thinking a little more clearly and the magic has stopped trying to climb out of his skin, he doesn't know what he was thinking throwing himself back in there. If he's got any chance of making it now that he's back, he's got to distance himself from them completely.
"They're all hopped up waiting to arrest me for something I haven't done yet." The first visit had been his first day back in town, the cop who'd arrested his parents come knocking to give him a warning. Like he was back to pick up where they left off and needed to be stopped before he could start.