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 Posted: Tue Jul 24, 2018 8:58 pm
His screams came as muffled burbling. Faustite knew not how long the man kept it up, but he clutched at every tentacle about his neck with an untempered fierceness and wasted all the rest of his breath on the youma squid's translucent interior. Strange it was to watch those bubbles rise into a thousand microscopic fires; he nearly found it romantic. The scene felt Lovecraftian for all its strangeness embedded in the rustic, Victorian historic district.
Go ahead. Ask it to stop. The youma captain looked on as he smirked wryly.
But the man persisted in stumbling toward the brightened street beyond the alley, tripping over discarded plywood and overstuffed and tied-off grocery bags. Faustite followed at his own steady gait as he monitored the man's progress. Ripped and sullied jeans now dragged their threadbare hems through amalgamated sludge. Even as he clambered for the street, for the safety of macadam under bright, sodium light, those struggles lessened. In Faustite's palm, the sum of the man's struggles grew fat and weighty. Soon it disappeared, only to be replaced by a new burgeoning pearl of violet.
That sphere grew fat until his victim's struggles tapered off. Arms unraveled from a scruffy neck, thick with a bodybuilder's sinew, and it undulated through air to rejoin its captain. But Faustite just as quickly shooed it back to its target. "Grab the front," he ordered. "Move with me."
Black hands grasped ankles and he began dragging the prostrate college-goer back the way he came. Tattered jeans soaked more detritus, his faded jersey hiked up, his baseball cap finally popped off during the commotion to reveal tousled, russet hair. Were he less panicked and dressed better, Faustite would've found him easy on the eyes.
Instead, he was draining fodder. And just as Faustite dropped his legs by a dumpster's rank seclusion, his youma bubbled relentlessly at him. It settled over the man's chest with every arm splayed out and both its tentacles coiling upward, as if asking for a gift. Faustite rolled his eyes, the gesture lost to all present. "Fine. Be quick.
"Company incoming." Stars touched down on the horizon while his youma extracted its dinner.orangeish sherbert lmk if this works! she can bust in at any time
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Posted: Wed Jul 25, 2018 8:11 pm
Lysithea had been enjoying what seemed to be a quiet night, a warm night, but a quiet one all the same. Of course, it wouldn’t be a patrol if there wasn’t some danger involved. Something to make her worth the wings she wore on her lower back. Toying with the slender rod in her hand, she allowed it to spin once more in her hand, searching for something to do. Someone to save. Someone to heal.
Normally it turned up with nothing, but tonight it surprised her, spinning quickly in her palm, and stopping firmly, pointing out into the city. Perhaps…it was lying. She tried it again, and then a third time, and finally the black haired senshi got up and began moving swiftly in the direction the small baton pointed.
The muffled screaming alerted her that she was indeed going the right way. That there was, in fact something wrong. And the dark, sickly aura of a captain…and a youma…were worrying her more than the screaming. Lysithea hurried closer, hoping to arrive in time to actually do something.
If not, well. She would have done her best and perhaps she could make sure that nothing was done in the future.
Quietly she stood on a nearby rooftop, glancing down at the sight of an unmistakable youma, sitting atop of something…or perhaps someone, while an officer stood by.
Drawing in a breath, Lysithea hopped down, her hand extended, taking in the captain and the youma, as well as the civilian from a closer distance. “You’ve taken what you need, have you not?”
Her voice was firm, though as she really looked at the officer, she swallowed, a pang of something going off in her chest. He was half youma too, but the looks of him.
Three lost souls to save, and here she was, alone. “Why not call off your youma? You and I could talk.” Though, she was no above attacking the creature which still sat on the male’s chest. The words to call her magic on the very tip of her tongue.
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Posted: Wed Jul 25, 2018 8:40 pm
One of his youma's drawbacks, he realized quickly, was its stubbornly slow starseed extraction. The youma simply sat on its victim, undulated and pulsed, then drew the seed out at the pace of an inch every ten seconds. He drew breath to speak, reaching out a hand —
when company broached them. Faustite's words fizzled and died like a cigarette in the rain. Slowly he rotated his hand, carving out air with so many daggered fingertips, until he grasped the essence of nothing in his palm. The starseed's tip quickly returned to its owner's body with its aggressor lying prone. What was it she wanted? Faustite had never seen her white ad lavender uniform before. He never once spotted the prominent horn on her head, the leagues of lace, the tacit purity inherent in her outfit. With what will you impel me.
Fingers splayed back open from his fist. Soon, absence seized the squid and it vanished from between the city's teeth. All that remained, then, were the supernatural and the supercilious.
'Need'. What a pretense.
"What do you need, Senshi?" Faustite straightened, his hands latticing together at the small of his back, cusped beneath curved metal. Smoke twisted in the air like so many lovers, fanning out until it, too, was nothing. His gaze made no intimation of tracking her movements. "What do you carry on those shoulders?"
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Posted: Wed Jul 25, 2018 9:05 pm
Letting out a small sigh of relief as she saw the bright tip of the starseed slip back into the space where it belonged, and watching as the youma was sent off…to wherever, Lysithea found herself more than able to relax. Her hand lowerered back to her side, and her dark blue eyes focused on the captain before her, taking in the smoke and the blackened fingertips. The dark, empty eyes.
The senshi sucked in a quiet breath, and shook her head in sympathy for a moment before forcing a smile onto her face. “What do I need? I need nothing more than what you’ve given me…Captain?” Her voice was light, much more friendly than before and she seemed to be settling in for a nice chat.
Her head tilted at his question and she seemed thoughtful, walking over to the still figure on the ground and kneeling beside him, first checking for a pulse, and then murmuring a quiet word, using her magic to heal a few of the worse scrapes he had.
Finally, she looked back at the half youma and smiled. “I carry quite a bit, actually. You don’t get to where I am without having a few stories to tell. But,” She stepped lightly over the male, moving back towards Faustite. “But, I could ask the same of you. You don’t get to the point that you’re at without your own stories, I’d warrant. Perhaps, if you’d be interested we could swap ours sometime?”
There was no malice in her voice. No hatred in her eyes. Until he proved otherwise, this boy was just someone else she could save. He wouldn’t be the first, and he wouldn’t be the last, but at the moment.
…At the moment he was the most important. He was the one who was here.
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Posted: Wed Jul 25, 2018 9:26 pm
While Faustite did not change the direction of his facing, his gaze followed her. She departed to the leftover figure of her man, the glow of her power scathing him all the while, and the man looked a margin less abused. Gone were the cuts written like words into a parchment. He still did not wake, and wouldn't for some time. Here he would lay as so much trash swept into the inner annals of the city. A forgotten story laid aside for another, better day. The normative world left them here, secluded in their own interstice, their own liminal space where no more existed than the eternal senshi and himself — the last unicorn and her dauntless foes.
Faustite drew a steady breath. More smoke plumed out, tortuous and fleeting, and he wondered, then, what angle she played. So few among her kind treated him with words different from monster or beast, and the ones who did plied their own trade. A customer received respect solely because the owner merchant wanted to sell their wares — a business transaction held all the empathy of his superior officer. So what was it Lysithea wanted? What did she need more than cooperation and conversation?
Another heroism story, doubtless. Another citizen saved to add to her tally, kept like so many bedpost notches. Anonymous rescues were the new one-night-stands. His expression soured.
His words were short, authoritative. "If stories burn your tongue, then tell them."
What do you think you're winning? He eyed her smile while a hand rose and splayed over his chest. Snowflake stories of a day never had lingered there, waiting, anxious with their midsummer chill. Strange how such a stubbornly convenient reminder greeted him just then. Or do you know Castor? I wonder.
"But if you want my stories, then I want information. Name and sphere, magic. Then you can ask what you want."
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Posted: Wed Jul 25, 2018 9:42 pm
He seemed so angry. But, then again didn’t they always seem angry?
Frightened, confused. Unhappy.
“Of course, I have no issues with that. I am Sailor Lysithea, Senshi of Unicorns. My magic is to heal those who are hurting, and it’s a job that I take quite seriously. Of course…” She shrugged. “I’m not without strength, my most powerful magic is an offensive attack which hurts quite a bit, or so I’m told. It’s never been used on me so I’m not quite sure how to describe it to you.”
Her voice was light, almost amused. She was clearly humoring the boy, showing an ease with him that was strange for senshi. But…youma were people, and she firmly believed that, and thus far this boy had done nothing to change her mind on that. He was polite. Guarded, but polite.
“And you? What is your name, Captain? Tell me your story, won’t you? Now that I’ve answered the questions that you’ve asked. I can answer more if you think of what you would like to ask. I always have time for people who are interested in talking.”
And she always had time for youma. They no longer frightened her the way that they should. She pitied them. All of them. Misbegotten creatures of darkness. Creatures who could be saved. Creatures who deserved to be loved.
She would do what she could for those that sought her out. Those that indicated at all that they were dissatisfied with their lot in life. While Lysithea couldn’t quite get a read on this one…the very fact that he still had made no move to attack spoke volumes enough to her.
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Posted: Thu Jul 26, 2018 8:47 pm
Lysithea answered his questions forthrightly. She gave information like she expelled air. He wondered, then — why wasn't she in the Database? Why wasn't her identity spread across the city until they could track her and compel her into the Negaverse or steal her starseed for combat purposes? What protected her so? Was she an informant? No — she never once cited the name of a general with which she was working. Questions compounded, breeding like roaches, and Faustite failed to crush them before another handful came to be.
Talk is cheap. He carried the words with him as he paced further from her in the alley. She was nearer the prone form, he was further, straying just a little more toward the heart of the dark, interlocking alleyways. But her answers also rested on his shoulders as their own automatic reminders.
"Faustite," he issued back. His rank felt apparent, his appearance unique against the muddy backdrop of their ranks. So few sported any metal in rather than on their person. So few claimed a wilder, posthuman partial. Thick was the air with its humidity, where so much of his smoke settled about them in a fine accord — faint copper notes over a moondust base note and under a salty top note. It smelled nothing of combustion, nothing of what was expected. More the beach than the bonfire, he supposed, in that liminal space of seconds.
Faustite observed her, somewhat moodily. "You're curious." His hands folded before him, laced, and he looked into his palms where black formed a line against white. My story. Who last asked for that? "Fine. I'll tell you how I became youma.
"My general commanded me to eat starseeds as a lieutenant. He forced the issue with his harsh training; he broke bones until I needed them. But I never liked tasting someone else's life — the rush sickened me. It eats into a man like guilt. He was relentless; once he stabbed me in the leg and left me to pull a starseed on my own lest I die. I had two minutes." His hands broke away from each other and he looked to Lysithea blankly.
"I got used to pulling starseeds after training. I pulled a set, ate them, and the change happened like a lightbulb bursting in my skull. Suddenly I wasn't me anymore.
"There's your story," he finished as quietly as he started.
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Posted: Sat Jul 28, 2018 9:27 am
Lysithea sucked in a breath nodding when he said he would tell her the story of him becoming a youma. That had been the one she was hoping for anyway. Though, she was sure she had the general idea of how the transformation happened. She had thought she knew so much…
And it was uncomfortable to find out just how wrong she had been.
After he finished, she looked as though she were struggling with the information, the processing systems of her mind seemed to be gumming up with this new thought that…eating starseeds could do this to a person…
“I’m afraid…that I don’t quite understand. I thought that the only way to turn someone into a youma…or…” She gestured. “Half of one was to do something to the starseed itself, a botched corruption is what I’ve always understood it as…but…”
The senshi watched him, brows furrowed, really taking in his appearance again. “How…how does eating…well, people’s souls do that to you? Does it just…strip away your humanity and replace it with chaos…? I…I’m sorry that you had to go through that, Faustite.”
Her voice was gentle, though there was a touch of horror in her tone. “…What kind of a general would put their subordinate through something like that?” Sanidine wouldn’t have, she was sure…and had Tobias ever reached that rank…she was sure he wouldn’t have been able to be that cruel either. It baffled her.
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Posted: Mon Jul 30, 2018 7:51 am
A botched corruption. That left the question of her insight's origin — who, then, had she met with to divulge this theory? And was it a divulgence rather than first-hand experience? Was Lysithea herself a youma once? So garbed in carefree and whimsy, with no more than the smile on her face until he recounted a tale that never quite fit, that never squirmed into her pre-set worldview, Faustite doubted youmafied origins. No, she borrowed that information, acted on it, sought it as a cerebral, abstract blemish on her otherwise aesthetic life.
Faustite's mouth tightened into a line. "That affects youma," he confirmed curtly.
"They always warn about eating 'too many' starseeds." Hands still clasped at the small of his back, he settled into a directionless pace. Circular often led the dragon's tail too far ahead for him to chase it. "My theory is it excites the chaos in us. Stokes it. Encourages it. It invites more of itself inside. When there's no more corners for it to fill, it makes new ones — extra appendages, scales, pigment." A hand slipped free of its confines for his own lukewarm perusal.
Her question, heard, went unanswered. The weight of that query poisoned like so much raw meat. Tight-lipped, he kept his stroll, ever wary of his own thoughts.
"How do you know any of this, Lysithea?" Faustite turned his gaze to her, halting. "What are your stories? What have you seen?" Most senshi knew nothing of youma origins. Most were quick to dismiss, quicker still to attack. Perhaps they saw their own visage in those monstrosities, or they struck out of fear, or they saw the easiest route to dehumanization of the enemy. So went his own experiences, expect where officers or senshi figured him as a tragic byproduct — as shackled by his own fate. As powerless, victimized, isolated.
So what did she see?
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Posted: Wed Aug 01, 2018 8:19 pm
Her mind was trying to process the information, trying to file it away to think about later. To try and figure out just how they had missed it. But. Obviously they had missed it. So far as she knew…none of those she had thus far helped had been through anything quite like this, and as much as she wanted to keep prying, to offer aid…she didn’t. Not yet.
Not now.
“I’ve known a few who have been turned either into youma or into half of a youma. And I’ve saved three from this fate thus far. My…one of my closest friends was turned into a youma by a clumsy captain and it took me over a year to figure out how to save him, but I finally did…and since then…” Lysithea drew in a deep, calming breath. “Since then I’ve been curious. I’ve been cautious. I’m not one to just attack recklessly. I’ll fight the youma if I must, we all have to fight if we must. This is a war, but…”
She shrugged, watching him with renewed compassion in her eyes, a frown still etched on her face.
“I’ve struggled with saving youma for…several years now. Another friend of mine. I watched him…” Her eyes closed, shuddering. “I was there when he was turned into a half youma. I tried to save him, but back then I didn’t know how. I didn’t have the power and I had no idea where to start looking but…”
Finally she looked up again, her anxious, tired expression disappearing as she forced a smile. “But I know what that power is now. And I have it. I will save him, and soon. And if you ever wanted, Faustite. I could save you too. I don’t have to. And I won’t push it.”
Lysithea shrugged. “But I’m making the offer, and I won’t be taking it back. All youma, all half youma are worth saving.”
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Posted: Thu Aug 02, 2018 11:08 am
Faustite paused in his pace, his foot a small measure in front of the other, before he simply stood. His attention leveled on her, measuring against her all his expectations, interests, chances taken. How much was truth? How much was verifiable? And what, further, was to come of the ghosts left behind by her actions? 'Turned into a youma' and then liberated did not absolve the youmafied individual of their actions, nor did it erase the damage or the memories incurred by the public around this creature-figure. And what, then, happened to the youma-turned-boy? What parts of him were left intact enough to function? Was it its own tragedy to be subject to reintroduction to society? Could anyone do so after living as a youma for weeks, months, years?
What of the captain that claimed the youma? What target was now placed on the once-youma's back due to Lysithea's actions? Questions easily compounded on one another, collecting like rain in a barrel, until finally he resolved their answers with a simple request — "Introduce me to him." If he was but a youth now, then he had the background of the entire war already in memory. Meeting someone of the Negaverse should do no more than cow him.
Beneath the single overhead bulb, affixed weakly to the warehouse beside them, Lysithea truly looked the part of a being outside of this world. Lavender and diaphanous lace belonged nowhere in the heart of industry, and yet she wore worry and woe for her next retelling that anchored her so seamlessly into their shared space. The alley, smokey and wet with summer heat, scented thick with tobacco and sweat and grease and copper and moondust, was as much the scent of the memory she retold. Yet he looked on impassively, no more a part of this occurrence as he was in any other of Lysithea's life.
'All youma, all half-youma, are worth saving.'
As Faustite drew breath, smoke left his back. He studied her, his jaw set, his face sanitized of expression. "You found that power," he recapped delicately. "Is that power a prince named Castor?" Or is there something else that seals starseeds back together? How curious. More curious is that word — 'saving'.
"To undo bodily what was done is potent magic. Does it leave side-effects?"
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Posted: Thu Aug 02, 2018 11:55 am
Lysithea stared for a long moment, and finally blew out a breath. “You…you want to meet him?” She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it…Evan would be afraid…but if Lysithea brought backup…it shouldn’t be difficult…even if she had just one other, to make sure they didn’t try to return Evan to the state he had been in…not that it would be the same now…he was a senshi now. Awakened and powerful. More powerful than he had been when all of this had started, at the very least.
Quietly, she nodded. “I’ll speak to him about it. He has a passion for helping youma. He has a soft spot for them now, he pities them and wants to save them all, the way he was saved. It’s foolish…but he tries his best.” The senshi wore an almost amused smile and shook her head fondly. “He’s a wonderful boy. One of the most important people in my life, so if you swear to me that you won’t try to bring him back to your side, I will work to introduce the two of you, but I tell you.”
She looked up and her expression was firm, though the warmth was still there, burning behind the façade of fierceness that she threw up. “I will fight for him. I will kill for him. The people I care about, I protect.”
It was a pointed statement, for he was beginning to fall under that umbrella.
At the mention of a prince, her brows furrowed. “…Prince? I know of no prince. The power comes from several close friends of mine. We discovered it. We have help, of course, from a being named Cosmos, she lends us the energy and we perform the purification. I know of no Castor.”
His curiosity pleased her, and the questions that he was asking…the manner in which he was asking them caused hope to swell. “With the boy that I hope you’ll be able to meet, there were no side effects. He had nothing going for him. He wasn’t tied to the war in any respects. He…went on as normal. Of course he was traumatized…but he’s doing so much better. With the other two, there were the normal side effects of purification. Memory loss. The need to start a new life…but…”
She sighed. “…The monsters which plagued them are gone.”
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Posted: Sun Aug 05, 2018 7:26 pm
"You're an eternal. I'm a captain. Why hesitate?" The gulf between their respective abilities was pronounced enough to stay him regardless; his aptitude with teleportation granted him the boldness to continue entertaining notions of approaching senshi so powerful. Even Castor, who stood another head and shoulders above Lysithea's power, though she was no less a force of her own right. In that alone, he kept a measure of distance. Likely, so would she, if she deigned to let him meet this once-youma.
'He has a passion for helping youma. He has a soft spot for them now, he pities them and wants to save them all, the way he was saved.' The corner of Faustite's mouth twitched. He gave no further indication of his thoughts on the matter; he half-turned, hesitated, then continued on his pace. Effluvient smoke wended into its own meaningless shapes, ever cast out behind him. "An admirable goal, isn't it? Everybody wants to save someone."
He turned, paced back, listened. The power comes from several close friends. A group. I wonder what that means compared with a prince's power.
And Cosmos. I wonder what power matches that pretentious name.
His gaze occasional cast to her, then to the path before him, then the distant mouths of the alley where they met ordinary street or extraordinary darkness. They kept to their liminal alcove, however, as two rats often did with their burrow. When he spoke again, he bid as much with his hands as with his words. "Are those monsters really gone? The Negaverse hunts what it doesn't have; many officers hunger for that chance to make an example out of a traitor. They're each turncoats — willing or not." Even if they crept out of the shells of their own lives, the chaos forming the husk remained. It sought relentlessly, ever devouring, ever ambitiously pursuing. They made the choice to be haunted.
"What happened to their bodies? What else comes with purification? Tell me everything you know." Hands steepled before him, black-clawed and crooked, as he paused his pace. His attention settled on her, then, like so many crows on a gate.
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Posted: Wed Aug 08, 2018 9:54 am
“I hesitate because he’s easily frightened. He’s been through a lot and I worry.” She shrugged lightly, watching him, wondering what he would be like if he purified. Would he stay in her life? He seemed so young…she would have to insist that he did. The others…They had been adults. They hadn’t wanted any help…they hadn’t really wanted anything. Had never sought her out again, and while she was a little unhappy about it…she did understand. Sure, it was her court that had helped…but they knew what they had been.
Sometimes a true fresh start was the best way to go.
“The monsters are gone. And so far as I know…the Negaverse doesn’t even know about the others. Not that I’ve had much contact with them, but…still.”
Lysithea’s eyes followed his pacing and when he stopped, peppering her with more questions. More demands, she gave a smile. “Of course. The bodies? Their bodies revert to what they were meant to be. Horns disappear. Extra limbs disappear. Extra eyes are gone. Why, with my friend, he turned from a three foot tall…almost…dog like creature back into the same bedraggled boy he had been before the accident…So, I assume it heals whatever damage has been done to the bodies. At least, I have no evidence that it doesn’t.”
Quietly, she gave another smile, focused on him completely. “You’re in interesting kid, you know that? What else do you want to know, Faustite. I’m not holding back.”
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Posted: Wed Aug 08, 2018 8:01 pm
Faustite fell silent for a moment as he cupped an elbow in his left hand, his right hand poised near his face as if debating an action. His dark gaze fell to her hip where a lavender bow sat proudly over silver and white. His lips pressed into a line as he considered what she had to say — as she spoke of her friend's flightiness, the Negaverse's oversights, her knowledge of how the body reforms after purification. Evident in her words was a margin of regret over lost contact, procured in a distinct gap between words.
To her observation of him, he smirked. When was the last time he heard anything short of berating about his performance? Schörl so knew how to pull him down, and his own subordinate so clamored for attention that he knew nothing of the world around him. How strange it was that he was paid a complement by an enemy he knew for maybe five minutes.
When he spoke again, his idle hand caught a weft of hair and coiled it around index and middle fingers. "Purification requires you, your friends, and someone named Cosmos who acts as your energy bank. You and your group execute the purification. The affected's body is reformed human with subsequent memory loss. They 'need to start a new life' — I assume new name, new identity, new friends, new job. They become their order equivalent: knight or senshi. Is this everything to expect out of purification or is there more? Other side-effects? Other procedures?" Does it really take so little to pare the youma from an officer? Disconcerting; the Negaverse can do nothing for its own and yet a group of senshi can return someone to human.
He paused, then added, "I haven't been called interesting in a long time." The thought unsettled him, although he couldn't place why; in every attempt, the answer scattered like a flock of birds, leaving him grasping impotently. He swallowed, his expression fading to neutral.
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