changehistory: ([Peter] Love the way I lie)
Peter, the world at his feet ready to be reshaped in his image, his son beside him, Angela behind the throne, Sylar at his right hand, the child Elle carried, and no consequences: gods deserved it all, and Adam intended to have it.
changehistory: (You have GOT to be kidding me)
His own empathy really was enough.



[ooc: ...applies for any 'verse where Peter's picked up Lydia's ability. Or Melissa's, actually, for that matter. LOL]
changehistory: (OOC - Mr. Monroe is busy)
OOC Post relating to game is here.

I need everyone still interested in the game to read and respond by the end of the week, please.
changehistory: (OOC - Mr. Monroe is busy)
[livejournal.com profile] dontrightly_die folks: We have an OOC comm now, [livejournal.com profile] drd_ooc. Don't ask me why we neglected to create one in the first place. It was Session. I was distracted. :-P

Post going up there sometime in the next hour or so.

[livejournal.com profile] recreating_eden folks: look for a post in [livejournal.com profile] eden_ooc today or tomorrow. The game has been quiet, and I'd like to get it moving again, but I need to know who is still interested and who is willing to play, and if people have lost interest that's cool, but let me know, because there are folks who have expressed interest in several taken characters, so if you're not going to play them/no longer wish to play them, it'd be nice to let someone else have a chance. :-)

/mod hat
changehistory: ([Peter] -- Here we go again)
It might be the Christmas season, but this is one day Adam takes out of his holiday festivities to celebrate the birth of someone he finds far more special than Christ--however sacrilegious that might sound.
changehistory: (Fallen hero)
He'd come through betrayal, imprisonment, torture, defeat, even the grave, and was still here, watching in grim satisfaction as one by one the rest of them fell.
changehistory: ([Angelica] Past love)
It doesn't seem fair, when the centuries stretch out before him, when he hovers on the brink, feeling like he could be so close to it again, but maybe even immortals only get one shot at a once in a lifetime love.
changehistory: ([Angela] [Peter] Hallelujah)
It's not something he can ever say aloud for fear of offending them both, and the complexity of the emotion is impossible to capture in words anyway, but part of the draw will forever be the ghost of her he sees reflecting back at him from Peter's eyes.
changehistory: ([Angela] Look how far we've come)
Adam cares nothing about the piece of compressed carbon set in metal wrapped around her finger and placed there by another man, because when he slides it off and places it on the burnished wood of the table before leading her to his bed, she just smiles that secret smile of hers, and he knows where her heart truly remains, now and always.
changehistory: (Storytime)
1. "My Way" - Frank Sinatra
2. "Hello Again" - Neil Diamond
3. "September Morn" - Neil Diamond
4. "Love on the Rocks" - Neil Diamond
5. "Even Now" - Barry Manilow
6. "She's Always a Woman to Me" - Billy Joel
7. "Hallelujah" - Jeff Buckley
8. "Blind" - Lifehouse
9. "(You Want To) Make a Memory" - Bon Jovi
10. "Unchained Melody" - Righteous Brothers
changehistory: (Fingers to lips)
1. She married someone else.
2. She let him raise my son as his own.
3. She let them lock me away for 30 years. Not that there was much she could have done to stop it, but still. And apparently she did try to get me out. But...this sort of has festered for a while. It's hard to let go.
4. My love life is already complicated enough.
5. Elle is jealous just having her in the house. God help us all if it was more than that.
6. She lost faith in me.
7. I had Maury attack her. That sets bad precedent all around.
8. She told our son to kill me.
9. Sometimes it's just too late to go back.
10. I'm sleeping with her son.

Meta

Feb. 10th, 2009 12:53 pm
changehistory: (Are you kidding me?)
Peter?

Why, exactly, is Television Without Pity listing you as one of TV's Most Eligible Bachelors?

Clearly I need to have a talk with them about the definition of "bachelor."

I don't expect that conversation to go...pleasantly for them.
changehistory: (Peter -- Healing)
[ooc: For [livejournal.com profile] yearsguilt, [livejournal.com profile] thatsortofpower, [livejournal.com profile] its_myturn and [livejournal.com profile] youngerpetrelli]

I love you. I don't know if I say it enough.

I love you, and I appreciate you.

Thank you for being in my life. Thank you for giving me the chances you've given me, thank you for your trust, thank you for your love, thank you for being mine, and letting me be yours.

I just wanted to say that.

Adam
changehistory: (Uncertainty)
[AN: Not exactly how this scene went in RP, but mostly an artistic interpretation of a moment of how it was going in Adam's head. Nathan is [livejournal.com profile] notacargojet and Angela is [livejournal.com profile] mapetrelli.]

They sit there untouched, two waffles among four. There should be five, but Nathan refused. The boys devoured theirs before running out to play in the snow, and though she asked for one, Angela hasn't touched hers. Nor has he. Now there they are on china someone cherished, possibly handed down from generation to generation. It looks old enough to span at least the three that were gathered at the table just moments before, before they excused the youngest, before the secrets spilled out in confessions that couldn't be denied, before the anger erupted, before silence descended and the three of them were reduced to staring at separate points on the kitchen walls and floor and table, but never meeting each others' eyes to see what other secrets they might reveal.

He has no idea where they go from here.

It's a strangely disconcerting realization and one he's been forced to far too often lately. Things were going so smoothly up until...up until he decided to bring Suresh to Eden. That was the turning point, wasn't it? Elle's pregnancy was a dream come to fruition. Eden was flourishing and coming along well. Bennet had come to town, and semi-promised to keep him informed should he find his errant grandchild. Hiro running back and forth to Japan was a nuisance, yes, but he was loyal, at least, for once. And he had Peter by his side.

Now Peter is gone, and Hiro is acting oddly, and Angela is here in his life and home after apparently telling his son to kill him, and Elle is terrified by the apparent threat of her presence, and he had a few brief moments with his grandsons, but Nathan is here to take them away, and Nathan knows the truth, but doesn't really believe it, and nothing is being said because they are all staring at the walls, and the waffles just sit on some other family's china who thought to pass it on to grandchildren who will never run and play in the snow the way he can hear his doing through the glass of the windowpanes.

His gaze drops back to his waffle. Breakfast had seemed like a good idea, but like so many others it falters in cold retrospect. No infusion of normalcy can make this situation approach anything resembling familial. The man across the table may be his blood, but the likelihood of him ever calling him father is so remote as to be ludicrous, and the chance of this ever being his family, of ever finding place among them...he can't even decide which place he wants, can he, as fucked up as that is. Father, brother, son, lover. It's twisted up in his head too far, the bonds that run back and forth in blood and love and thirty years and a promise and a lie.

He takes a breath, tries to form words, tries to find a coherent thought.

Nothing comes.

The waffles grow cold.
changehistory: (Burning thoughts)
And still I have the pain I have to carry
A past so deep that even you could not bury if you tried...

I would fall asleep
Only in hopes of dreaming
That everything would be like it was before
But nights like this it seems are slowly fleeting
They disappear as reality is crashing to the floor

After all this time
I never thought we'd be here
Never thought we'd be here
When my love for you was blind
But I couldn't make you see it
Couldn't make you see it
That I loved you more than you'll ever know
A part of me died when I let you go*


The fingers sliding lazily through his hair are familiar, even after all this time. Part of him knows that even this casual intimacy could become problematic, but in a world rapidly shifting around him--even if he caused the most drastic--some semblance of sameness seems necessary. He sleeps better when she forces him to it, and curled up here tonight, the fire the only light in the room, and the taste of whiskey on his tongue mingling with the well-remembered scent of her, he feels content. He is known, no mask necessary, no show of strength, no spinning of tales, no need to play their personal Jesus. He is safe, and safety is a thing he had forgotten. So he allows her touch, and the conversation carries between them in soft, intimate murmurs of the day and the problems to solve. Her insight is sharp and biting sometimes, cutting through the shadowed webs he dances around, but she, too, seems softer by the fire's glow, tempered by life and loss as much as he.

But there are gaps, gouges, craters and canyons that they balance on the precipice of. Thirty years is a long time to be each locked in a private hell the other can never fully understand. She is no longer the girl she was, thinking him nearly a god, and he has a new layer of bitterness pressed to his skin, a new coldness settled around him like a mantle, pulling him even further away from simple humanity than he had been just decades before. Standing apart was always his curse, but this distance is sharper, more engulfing, and he feels it with each breath, even as her fingers soothe him into a pretense of connection.

His need for the boy, her boy, separates them as well. They do not speak of it openly, but she finds him brooding in his office, sees the flash of loss, of pain in his eyes, and she knows him well enough to know. The tone that dances in his voice when he says his name is one she recognizes, and the sadness that slides through her gaze does not go unnoticed, but he does not know what to say to ease it. They are a culmination of decades of betrayal, pulled apart by their own choices, their own paths, and coming together now, pretending little has changed, when, really, the world they both knew is gone, and the people they were died long ago in cold, sterile hallways with the last gasp of a frantic dream.

These moments, then, are those out of time. They played in the snow with the boys, laughing, and there was hot chocolate for the children, and hot toddies for them when they came in. But his new consort's eyes burned, resentful and frightened of a closeness she neither understands nor shares, and the shadow of the children's father hangs over them, waiting to swoop in and break up the idyllic semblance of what could have been. Too many forces tug, pulling them back from the past to the present and an unknown future with each breath they take. He knows this. He knows she knows, too.

But, tonight, they do not speak of that. Instead they laugh softly, push the world outside the study door away, and pretend.

[ooc: Angela is [livejournal.com profile] mapetrelli and used with permission. Lyrics are from "Blind" by Lifehouse]
changehistory: (I will now rise from the ashes)
One by one they fell. Worried about Peter, he still managed to push forward with cleaning up what he'd wrought. He'd brought them together, he'd set them in motion, given them a task and a focus and a dream. It had all fallen apart. He'd relied on the wrong people. They'd turned on him, and then they had turned the dream--his dream--into a nightmare. People caged, stripped of their abilities. Used as guinea pigs for "research" -- he knew that one too well. Children twisted up and lost and tossed aside. Stupid plans to bring the existing governments back down on them, ensuring terror of what people like them could do. It had all gone wrong, and he was the only one who seemed to realize it. They had lost the vision, created a disaster of a sprawling Company that didn't even remember what it was supposed to be, and they had to go. One by one, like toy soldiers or dominoes, he picked them off until only three remained. One incapacitated, one out of reach, the other...

He could wait.


* * *

One by one they fell. Person after person infected, burning up from the inside, dying, tossed aside and burned up as fast as the incinerators could destroy them, because there simply was not space or manpower to bury six billion people. It had to be done, though he knew no one else realized that. How could they not see it? How could they not be sickened by the corruption that the human pestilence had brought to the Earth? The world had been headed toward an apocalypse, out of control, nothing but chaos. He had done nothing more than ensure it happened on his schedule, bringing it back into control. There would be something better, after. From suffering would come joy. From death would come life. From chaos would come order. One day they would all understand.

He could wait


* * *

Someone had to do it, you realize. I know that there are those that believe it was a grab for power, to rule the world, or what was left of it, but...someone had to step forward. It was anarchy, chaos, people living in fear, people dying in pain. I did my best to alleviate it, to help where I could, but there were so very many of them. Even with my ability, I could only save a fraction. And now...someone has to step forward, impose a structure again. Without order, we cannot rebuild. We will lose all that there was of our culture, our civilization, and fall into savagery and darkness.

It isn't about power. There is no glory in this, no showmanship in the hours I work, the sacrifices I make, but someone has to do it. I am here. I am eternal. I will continue to be here, to work to rebuild the world, to save as many as can be saved. I have the ability to see it through, as long as it takes. I have the life experience to oversee the rebuilding. No one else can offer that.

So I do it, because someone else must. Take your power. Take your glory. I do not want them. Just this, to help, to know I am making a difference. If you cannot see that now, it's all right. You're all frightened, I know. I don't blame you. I am as well. But I'll still be here, and one day, you will see I am just doing the best I can, like everyone else.

I can wait.
changehistory: (Kensei - Waiting with sword)
It's time we see your muse's softer side. Share an intimate moment with us of your muse and one of their children.

Angela was sleeping, and Adam couldn't say that he blamed her. For all that he'd refrained from mentioning it, she had looked tired. Dealing with two boys all the way across the country...but said boys, it seemed had managed to get quite enough sleep. He'd attempted to put them down for a nap, at her suggestion, so they would be rested enough to meet everyone at dinner. Everyone, of course, now consisted of Elle and Micah only, and the ache of that was too fresh to consider.

So, instead, he focused on the two new additions to his life, who were looking up at him with bright, expectant eyes. Their questions, so far, had mostly been intelligent ones for such young children, and he was ridiculously proud, as if he'd had anything to do with it at all. If they were not going to sleep, he could, at least, answer those questions with a story.

Monty clung to him the whole way back down to the kitchen, though Simon seemed a bit more reserved, possibly trying to maintain some dignity of an older boy, refusing to be so very excited to be in a new place, with a mysterious new family member. Adam noted, however, that he did stay fairly close. Culinary masterpieces were not something Adam could manage on the best of days, but hot cocoa with steamed milk and marshmallows? That he could do, and that he did. Three mugs settled on a tray with cookies someone had thought to bake, and he herded the boys into the living room. The fire was going merrily, as usual, and the three of them settled on the rug in front of it.

'How come you're not old?' )
changehistory: (Challenging)
[ooc: Cross-verse, as it applies]

Please. I can justify anything I choose to. Call this what I will bother with justifying:

1. Killing Kaito Nakamura
2. Killing Harry Fletcher
3. Killing Paula Gramble
4. Killing Carlos Mendez
5. Killing Victoria Pratt
6. Killing whatshername.
7. My plans to kill Bob Bishop.
8. My attack on Angela Petrelli.
9. Forming the Company.
10. My using Maury Parkman.
11. Using Peter to escape.
12. My plans for the virus.
13. Seducing Elle.
14. Joining with White Beard. (I'm feeling nostalgic. Might as well toss it in.)
15. Drugging Hiro.
16. Marrying Yaeko's great-grand daughter.
17. Asking Claire to move in. (Not that needs justification, but I can and will should I be called upon to do so).
18. My arrangement and friendship with Sylar.
19. My school plans.
20. Anything else you feel the need to fucking question me on.

Profile

changehistory: (Default)
Adam Monroe

February 2014

S M T W T F S
      1
234 5678
9101112131415
16171819202122
232425262728 

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 25th, 2017 02:36 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios