|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 10:53 am
Change was in the air this evening, and if that wasn't a grotesque understatement, then Captain Mica wasn't sure what else was. Though her mind could come up with a few examples, but tonight was not the night for such folly. Something was changing and she was willing to step forward onto the precipice and leap into it.
But first she had a few minor details to straighten up, and what was Mica if not thorough. She had to set things right, and the first of those would start here, at a familiar construction site. The last time she was here, she witnessed a rather disturbing sight, one that she had a hand in, and she felt the need to set things straight here. Not for the construction workers that were disgruntled to see that someone had messed up their hard work, but to a certain someone.
A certain someone that was getting rather close to the man he once threatened. She looked to where they once stood, and she suppressed a chill, as she waited for his arrival. Her note was clear, and she was certain that he would read it. He would come, and she was ready for him. At least so she thought. Things had changed, and so had she, but would it have been a change for the better?
There was one way to find out.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 11:05 am
Oh how the world had changed.
Since his promotion, buildings cracked into wry smiles and the streets rolled through the city like tongues in a brothel. Within a simple pothole he found revelations, self-actualizations, and catastrophes all laced within the seemingly random arrangement of rubble strewn about its bottom. Every skyscraper was a tower of Babel, every subway a pit of Acheron. Everything spoke of realms long past, stretching far into the future, mirroring times fated to repeat in turn.
Always in turn, the spokes of a wheel churning into the guts of men.
But he could not allow his mind to wander into eternity in his wholly vivid understanding of the world in his immediate vicinity. No - he was sent for, much like a maiden whose hand beckoned a thousand suitors. Maybe not even that; for Mica behaved akin to a white lady rather than a white maiden.
Bischofite remembered the site well - the towering cranes skewering the sky, jutting piles of metal clamoring for air amongst each other. A Legion in their own right. Most of all, he recalled the gaping hole from which he sprang, and Buddy soon followed.
With a rush of limitless stimuli, an explosive sensation of breathlessness, he found himself at the site in question. Soon afterward, the general approached the one who summoned him to such an old location, from the beginnings of his captaincy. Strange how such an affair came full circle now, and he met one of the catalysts on its barren soil. "Mica," he acknowledged, golden eyes examining her with a distanced type of analysis. Soon his countenance warmed up in realizations far displaced from their reality. "Did you call me here to play a game?" He smiled.
Oh, how the world had changed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 11:14 am
She was a bit surprised that the Chaos signature she felt was much stronger than her own, and at first she thought that Ilmenite or Benitoite had intercepted her request. After all, they were the only generals that she knew or suspected that she wasn't playing fair, and they wouldn't have been too wrong before.
But when her eyes set on Bischofite, it was so hard not to let a frown take over her dark features. Bischofite... a general? This wasn't the type of change that she was quite expecting, and it wasn't a change for the better. While she was happy for anyone to find some measure of success in the Negaverse, this complicated matters.
But didn't completely prevent them, and that was enough for her to try to overcome this jealous rage seething within her. She hoped that none of these escaped into her voice, as she pitched it low and smooth, perhaps to match it own. "Bischofite. I was unaware of your promotion. A congratulations is in order, I believe, though this will make my request a little awkward."
Yes, request. No longer an order. She had missed that chance, but she could adapt. She could change too...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 11:30 am
Bischofite only laughed in response, like the cracks and sputters of shadows at nightfall. "Can ze semantics, Mica. You wouldn't send a request like zis if you expected official Negaverse matters. So speak like you're my peer." He emphasized his final word with a mischievous smile. Since she had the audacity to call him out to a part of his past, she would suffer in turn.
To call on him for a favor met with the need for a measure of blood.
Finally he approached the captain, though he hadn't yet adjusted to the new weight on his shoulders - the cape that furled softly in the night breeze. A swath of feathers, nearly wings. Almost freedom.
And if he were to be a youma... Would that cape mark his true form? Might he finally claim his own wings, rather than a poor facsimile? As all humans existed as a wretched form of youma, a catalyst, a chrysalis, then should he find freedom in that final evolution? Maybe - if he ever reached that point.
But he had little reason to think about it now. The realization that he passed that opportunity twisted his grin into a grimace. He now stood as a general, not a youma.
"Tell me what you want, Mica." Finally he drew to a stop near her, standing atop a shattered slab of concrete. Its slant proved just uneven enough to justify leaning to one leg. He stood silent and watchful, constantly searching her countenance for some betrayal of her true intents. Surely she didn't call him out for sport, or even to acknowledge his achievements. She likely doubted he had any, or earned his current title. Though... Maybe that wasn't terribly far from the truth either. Or maybe he earned that promotion more than the rest.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 11:44 am
His request was simple enough, and she had learned from her mistake with Ilmenite. She was too stiff, too frigid, and only now did she consider how insulting that would have been to the general, even when she herself only thought herself to being respectful of her senior officers. No, she learned from her mistake, and her shoulder visibly slacked when he told her to address him as a peer. "Very well."
She wanted to get straight to the point, refusing to waste her time or his, and she crossed her arms over her chest, her stance that of a roommate bringing up a dirty subject with another instead of a junior officer addressing her senior. "I'm worried about this little thing going on between you and Buddingtonite. Would you care to explain exactly what it is that you two have going on, or am I correct to assume it's not just platonic anymore?"
It was her way of asking 'are you dating', and she was certain that he was intelligent enough to decipher it for himself.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 11:55 am
"Iz zat what zis is about?" Bischofite wore surprise well - an eyebrow cocked at her sudden inquiry and his lips curled into a curious smile. "Mica, if you haf' to ask zen you already know ze answer." If this was why she summoned him, then he would manipulate her into a contortionist's dance if only to seek the definitive answer he held. Idly he considered why she'd ask him here for such a strange question, one he considered none of her business regardless. She wasn't the type to gossip and fraternize like this - that he gathered from their initial meeting, long ago.
After lacing his fingers together, he pressed further for answers in kind. "Why are you asking about such strange sings? Or do you always like to pry into ozzer officers' personal lives?" He paused with a slight gasp. Soon after he leaned over to look her in the eye - to see her thoughts at her level. "Do you like him, zen? Are you looking to claim him for yourself?
I can see it now - you two curled into one anozzer, like ze dying petals of flowers. Every meaningless word uttered from your lips is coated in sugary bile. Every mask blinding him from vitriol. Do you fancy yourself zere, Mica? Do you want to claim zat place?" Finally he straightened up and wholly dismissed the idea with a snort.
However, he never refrained from seeking her legitimate reasoning.
"And why worry? You make it sound as if I intend to skin him and srow his bloodied body over a bridge or somesing. Or is zat what you're hoping for?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 12:11 pm
"Now, now, there's no need to get all defensive about it," Mica said, not particularly caring for his tone or where it might lead. After all, even though he wished to be addressed as a peer, he was her senior officer, and she had a taste of just how unhinged he could be. And unlike Buddingtonite, there was no one to save her should he simply decide to try for her starseed.
However, it was her tone to grow defensive, and the disgust in her eyes was clear to see, as well as the curling of her lip. In response to his accusation, whether he was serious or in jest, she retaliated immediately. "I don't care for him. Not like that. Besides, he's likely ridden with so many diseases tha it's amazing it hasn't fallen off by now. Or, maybe it has and he's really good at faking it."
She wasn't here to talk about her roommate, soon to be former roommate's sex life. Yet, she was. She gave a sigh, trying to use that anger to regain her focus as she pushed her point forward. "Once upon a time, I would have relished the thought, but... perhaps its weakness on my part, or Ilmenite's words, or I've even grown to find the little swine endearing. Whatever the reason... yes, I am worried for him. Both as his fellow officer and as..."
She had to force herself to say the word, and when she did, there was shame in it. Shame in herself, for ever accepting the words into her dictionary. "Friend."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 12:30 pm
Bischofite refrained from speech. He watched her silently, surveyed her, delineated her movements and thoughts and minute gesticulations until he was satisfied with the foundational pieces that lay before him. What he discerned wasn't terribly far from his own grapplings with humanity - and it rather surprised him that they held that much in common.
For one, Bischofite detested the military postulation rife in the Negaverse. With all the Sirs and Ma'ams and stiff salutes, it coaxed a sort of derision from him. Why adopt such pointless gestures and traditions? Was it a method of bonding people, in that they couldn't maintain their individuality within the Negaverse ranks, and as a result, were bereft of the consequences? He didn't know, though he suspected there were more farces and false truths to the Negaverse than he was aware of.
The military style derived from brainwashing. It was the same in all martial nations.
And Mica took to it willingly, exhibited its mandated ceremonies with pride and joy, as if she defined her successes in life through her disposition around superior (and inferior) officers. She became a personification of the perfect officer, did she not? She became the ideal agent, the one to which all others would aspire. And now... She finally understood that she was human before she was an agent.
That she suffered the same feelings and needs as any human did, from food to friendship to ********. And it made her uncomfortable. And she was relaying this information, in a thin vein of trust, to Bischofite. He, in all his writhing and wailing and disgust for the travesty and humanity.
How adorable.
Bischofite knelt down, with one knee flat against the concrete surface. He laced his fingers together, threading them over the opposite knee, and rested his chin atop the convoluted mess. In that posture, he watched Mica's boots intently - even her body language told a similar story, he realized, while watching her adopted stance. "You sink I don't haf' any restraint, do you? And maybe you're right. Maybe I don't. Maybe I sink restraint is a pointless endeavor. But it doesn't matter - my faults aren't why you called me here.
"Buddingtonite..." He muttered the mouthful with ease, though he paused as he collected a better method of conveying his thoughts. "What I see in him is different zough I suspect zat doesn't matter eizer. You didn't call me here to solicit my opinion on ze man." His gaze softened. "I don't intend to hurt him, zough I won't promise you anysing."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 12:47 pm
She wasn't sure what to think when Bischofite took a kneel before her, and she was certain that she was suppose to feel less intimidated by him, but that simply wasn't the case. She had seen his unpredictability up close, but she managed to hold in that fear in tight, refusing to let him or anyone see that such an emotion could exist within her body. Let them see everything else, except for fear.
His confession, or mockery, didn't settle too well with her, and she allowed for some of that to be heard in her voice, as she approached the kneeling man. "Forgive me for thinking you incapable of restraint, but I did see you threaten not only his life but his soul once before. That tends to make me a little skeptical that you're capable of restraining yourself, if you do it so willingly on an ally."
She was within arm's reach, a dangerous position for both of them, but she kept her hands to himself. All she wanted was his attention, and she could almost feel the ice gathering at her feet from his words, and again she forced down a chill. "That's not good enough. Hurt him, cut him, even break a few bones, if that's what you're into. I can mend those. Just... leave his starseed alone. That's something I can't fix, even if I go back to my training."
It wasn't too much to ask, was it? She felt so, but would Bischofite? Could he refrain, if she gave him access to anything else?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 1:07 pm
Slightly heeled, charcoal black with an inky undertone for the sole. Grey laces slipped up the front, alternating between each other in a seamless dance. And she stood with her feet apart, a proper disposition for someone wielding a long-handled weapon such as hers. Her boots framed her legs tightly enough that he saw the vaguest definition of her muscles - smooth, sinewy calves tucking just behind her kneecaps.
Idly he considered shattering those bones.
A fall from too high,
an impact fracture.
It's easy enough to justify.
"You're right, I sreatened his soul. I wanted to see what you'd do, you see, and you didn't disappoint." He rocked back on his heel and sat fully, with his fingers still clasped about one knee. "Sometimes ze only way to get to know someone is to force zem into desperate action. Some plead for zeir lives, some plead for ze lives of ozzers. But... You still saved his life, in a way. If you had acted dismissif' of my actions, I probably would'f tried to kill him." Not that it would pan out that way - Buddingtonite survived, and thus he was meant to survive. Any attempt on his life would've ended in failure, no matter how obvious his victory appeared.
The tibia cracks before it breaks. A hairline fracture across the bone. With every step, that fracture widens. In walking, one destroys oneself.
Slowly he grinned, and that whistling, choking laugh took life once more. "You're giving orders to a superior again. Sometimes I sink you're too comfortable in zat role." Finally he rose to his full height. That golden gaze rose from her shins to her eyes, and the fire therein. So she truly sought his salvation out of all of this... Curious.
"If he dies, he dies. Nossing you or I do will change zat. If I am ze reason his life draws to a close, zen I gif' you permission to hunt me down in your quest for retribution. Let me make zis kristallklar to you - I cannot promise you zat." His tone belied his determination to halt her repeated solicitations for a definitive answer.
She would receive none, not on something so paramount. If he was meant to kill Buddy, then Buddy would die beautifully. She should take solace in a promise of that kind, rather than one of abstaining from murder.
A promise from Bischofite was of no more worth than a fractured fibula.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 1:27 pm
"Not orders, but... a very passionate request," Mica reminded him, her tone very serious and refusing to allow herself to fall into that mirth she heard. As a trained EMT, she had bore witness to horrible injuries, even death, but there was animosity there for the most part. If she were to treat someone she knew, knowing full well that their injury wasn't from the enemy but from one of their own... she wasn't sure how she would handle that. Or even if she could. But she wasn't too willing to find out. "I can't order you to do anything, but requests, and threats... that I can do."
She kept her gaze on him when he rose to his full height, refusing to let him see just how intimidated she felt, even if that was the only secret she could hide from him. She took little comfort in his refusal to make a promise, but what could she do? What could she possibly do? His offer for allowing revenge? That was certainly something she could do, and she allowed her lips to twist into a cold smile of her own, as she accepted his terms. "Very well. Should he die and I discover you had a hand in it, then I will do whatever is within my power to make sure that you suffer. That's... acceptable to me."
Mica hoped that it wouldn't have come to that, because then it meant that she had failed. Not only Ilmenite and Buddingtonite, but herself, and that kind of failure was something that Mica did not wish to feel. Ever. Her point was made, as was his, and with that in mind, she gave him curt bow of the head, before turning away and teleporting to a safe distance. Any other officer and she would have casually walked away, but not with Bischofite.
How things have changed...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 31, 2013 1:55 pm
"Oh, how I'd love to hear your sreats. Make me feel fear, Mica." He regarded her as if they played a game, and he was winning. "Sreaten my family, my life, all ze sings I might be attached to. Sreaten zem all, and find more to shatter wis' your aim for a promise zat I won't even keep." He spread his arms wide as he invited her to continue. "You're a fool to solicit such sings, but I still hold you in good merit. Take solace in zat, Mica.
"And if I am to kill him, zen he will die in a way zat reflects my feelings at a time. Anysing else would not do him zat justice, zat homage. Perhaps your relentless chase for me is no different zan a funeral, at zat point. Where most bury ze body, we celebrate our appreciation for him by trying to kill each ozzer in his name." How exciting - he'd never even considered such a peculiar game of cat and mouse before.
The thought of it tempted him toward an attempt on his companion's life, but...
There were still so many discoveries to be made in every pore of his skin, every strand of hair, every breathless word. Thus, it became a wager - which garnered more wonder and intrigue: his death, or his life?
"Mica!" He shouted after her, though she manifested a great distance away. "If you salute me again outside of ze Negaverse, I'll break your hands! We are beyond such trite formalities now! Behaf'e yourself, and show me you're wors' still respecting!" She had such potential - would she truly lose it to becoming human? He wanted to find out, and that entailed goading her toward her roots. Perhaps by denying her that easy means of circumventing her humanity, she would have to come to terms with her feelings in his presence.
To play with the ichor of the dead - should it come to life under the full moon? In these times, it seemed a greater possibility.
Maybe it was time to enlighten Richard to this clandestine meeting. And surely enough, not a soul remained in the abandoned construction yard.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
