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 Posted: Tue Dec 13, 2016 9:18 pm
As with most areas of the Negaverse, the stretch of cages in the Cathedral bowels seldom changed from one day to the next. Even with tumultuous tidings, much of Negaspace remained the same in its laconic destruction. It remained untouched by the goings-on between agents, even when they quarreled about one of the rooms. And here, so many months after Ochre's imprisonment, the place showed no signs of change. The chair he used many a time to meet with his brother still sat adjacent to the cell wall. The crystals under which he and Chrysocolla passed only yesterday looked no duller or brighter for it.
Even if they lost their very stronghold, he mused, this place would be indifferent to the new overlords. In this, he found some faith.
Summoning proved easier this time, and sending the call to Chrysocolla warranted a little less concentration than before. He wondered if she would be in class again this late afternoon, or if she mayhaps abandoned summons altogether, unless called for (demanded) by one of the Sovereigns. Such actions would not prove smart with a report so fresh in the system.
So again he waited, this time with one boot pressed against the seat of his old chair. She would come, or she would not. He was not the lowest common denominator for the patience he could spare, however; the insectoid creature in his coat pocket writhed incessantly, and tried to escape twice. It knew what it wanted, and in due time it would wind up in someone's skull. Hopefully that outcome lay in his favor.daekie sorry it's short and shitty but life is balls
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Posted: Wed Dec 14, 2016 8:16 am
This time, when Chrysocolla flickered into existence, she looked put-together -- it was a weekend, she had no worries for class, she could just rest and read all day - but her calm expression flickered into something similar to dismay when she realized she was alone with Umber. "...oh. It's you." She backed away, brows furrowed, as if she suspected some sort of foul play. "...what do you want? To yell at me about how bad of a Negaverse member I am again? If that's all it is, I have work to do." She did, actually -- she was carrying a bookbag with her, papers peeking out from the undone top, a pencil tucked behind one ear. "I figured I could multitask, it's easier to stay here and work than to stay there and work, anyways...can we get the conversation over with?"
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Posted: Mon Dec 19, 2016 9:55 pm
"I'll be quick." Umber pushed off from the chair and approached her at a brisk clip. Feathered tassels played behind him with each step, moved solely by his inertia. one of his coat pockets wriggled desperately. "You will have time to study."
Before he quite reached her, a hand slid into the wriggling pocket. When he reached her, his free hand darted out to catch her arm. The youmaglia was removed, its insectoid body thrashing and writhing to find purchase on his fingers, to crawl toward its desination vehemently. When it drew closer to Chrysocolla, the creature whipped its attention toward her and reached desperately to crawl inside of her. It acted with the same insidious hatred as it did toward all senshi. If it saw anything different between the two, its behavior indicated nothing of that; either urgency or vitriol forced it toward any living target.
"You will be part of an experiment," he finished, as he dropped the creature from his grasp. It struck the floor undamaged, and coiled itself about to reorient immediately. It charged them then, not caring who it reached. Umber figured he needed only subdue her long enough that it would enter her body.
And if he could not manage that, then perhaps the youmaglia could evict from him his disappointment in their corrupted senshi counterparts. Nature would make its choice, and he could live with either.
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Posted: Tue Dec 20, 2016 5:09 am
Something obviously clicked, in her mind, when Umber finished speaking - "Is this what you did to Ochre," she breathed, attempting to back up, to wrench his hand away from her arm with limited success. "Is this why he's so tired? What did you do to him!?" Chrysocolla didn't know how to fight anything that small. She didn't know what to do or how to do it. And with Umber's hand on her arm, holding her there, she couldn't help but feel that this might be the end of the line.
It wasn't that she was scared of dying, necessarily. She just had goodbyes she would have wanted to say first, if this worked the way she thought it would.
Her hands shook too hard to find any particular purchase, and her heart was beating too loudly in her ears to teleport, and she couldn't go anywhere - so, in panic, because she was a good size for it, she swept her leg out - aiming for the back of his knees, which were an easy target at this angle. If -- if she knocked him down, maybe it'd go for him.
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Posted: Wed Dec 21, 2016 9:54 am
Umber offered no answer. He knew not whether she saw Ochre enough to make any kind of a determination about his demeanor, and he did not care. Her investigation or discovery of youmaglia meant little as soon as the creature crawled into her head - she would forget this moment, and she would serve proper. Any attempts at bringing up his brother or making connections were simple distractions, wastes of breath.
And Umber found only opportunity in Chrysocolla wasting her breath.
She may have tripped him, but he wrenched an arm about her neck to bring her down with him. The creature loosed from his grasp in flatting his hand for landing. While he jarred his wrist, he thought little of it - his mission meant more to him than simple injury. And, as corrupts had so much hair for grasp, he spent little time in trying to wind some of that too-long hair around his wrist as a leash. He would wrench her to the ground if she tried to rise.
The youmaglia charged them both, its splinter legs tapping against rock and concrete with furious abandon. The creature cared little for who was available - each offered a home that it needed for its survival. Whether the general or the senshi, it would have a host.
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Posted: Wed Dec 21, 2016 9:03 pm
Chrysocolla's head hit the cold floor hard enough to jar her vision for a second -- she couldn't pull away with Umber's hand in her hair, she couldn't, and her books scattered across the floor as her bag flew open on the downswing. (She was crying. Why was she always crying, she was so sick of crying --)
She felt sharp, small, pointed legs tickle her ear as the youmaglia skittered over her hair to the newest available opening, and there was no time to react before it hurt it hurt so bad, it hurt worse than anything, it was in her head it was in her head it was in her head --
She thrashed under Umber wildly for a few seconds and then stilled, hot tears running down her face, her eyes half-lidded and staring at nothing at all. Nothing at all. Her gaze was blank.
(She was still crying.)
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2016 11:39 am
Her squirming hindered him, but the strength disparity between them granted enough room for correction. By maneuvering her by her ponytail and arm, Umber managed the upper hand. He wrenched himself from the floor and barred his weight against her chest. Soon, the creature found its target.
Down her face, down her ear, down the deep, deep, deep canal straight into her mind. Chrysocolla fought her damndest, and Umber struggled to retain his position. He waited, muscles tensed to the limit with restraint and resignation, and only when the creature left her inert did he loose his breath. Slowly he sat up, watching her blank eyes stare at the city thousands of miles above their heads. He did not track her gaze.
Instead, Umber dismounted from her, and gathered up the prone senshi with a modicum more care and diligence than he would have managed had she retained consciousness. The cathedral's narrow halls forbade a bridal-style carry unless he wanted to scalp her on the sharp, jutting rocks, so Umber settled for a fireman's carry. The way was not far, regardless; in a hundred or so meters they would reach the infirmary. In a hundred or so meters Chrysocolla would become soemone else's charge, someone else's responsibility.
He passed down the vivid purple halls, through the jagged tunnels, and into the heart of the Cathedral once more. In a handful of turns, he navigated his way through old footsteps. He wound through the hallways where he once carried Haüyne. And, in a revisit that he never wanted, he laid his charge down upon the same bed he selected many months ago. And he wasn't alone.
One of their infirmary interns bustled over, inquiring after the eternal's condition. "What happened to her?"
"Head trauma," Umber answered decisively, and teleported out before he answered much else.
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