Welcome to Gaia! ::

She asked as if there were options left, as if every strike didn't all but literally nail the coffin the armor effectively was tighter. His armor couldn't be pierced while her spears diverted every attack, and every failed attempt fueled the need to retaliate for it that she simply met with a serenity that infuriated him deep at his core. It was an endless circle that would soon turn into a spiral down the drain as his breath shortened more and more, as he felt metal and crystal slowly dig into and under his skin.

But the pain meant he was alive, and wasn't that all he needed to be? If he could draw breath at all, he was succeeding. If he kept fighting, if he kept feeding that need that was his price, then he was winning. And in Jack's utterly narrowed view from the edge of death, it was sufficient enough. Morality no longer mattered when survival, and the vengeance that still needed to be carried out through it, became paramount, not when so many deserved punishment. Choices were in and of themselves laughably, ironically, and cruelly no longer an option when the umbrella covered them all.

He became more cautious of her weapons, testing the barrier of spears she always put up before executing more extensive maneuvers, every clang like flint sparks searching for fire.

What was most important right now? It was still us, however twisted it had become. (Mine mine mine.) She was saving him and damning him all the same.

Noemi stared at the blue crystal that Milo pointed out, since the girl had been taken.

"Y..Yes! I sent a moon hunter for them!" She exclaimed as she continued to examine the crystals. As she did so, she checked him for injuries or malformities with the new blue entity attached to him. Her hands danced over his ribs and his waist in their hug. Nothing was wet or sticky, so no blood. She didn't feel any swelling. There was an audible sigh of relief.

"I am okay! These blue crystals, they helped me helped wounds. I could work faster, so I came to get you." She brought his head down and examined his eyes. Besides the normal stigma of adrenaline, he didn't seem to show any signs...of anything. That was good too. She only realized how close his face was, and that she was staring into very pretty eyes that she let go with a open mouth, and bright flush.

"Infirmary!" She squeaked out. "I....am...glad you are safe...."

As the blackness spread Abbi felt more and more that her time was running out. If she didn't cleave him in two right now, she never would.
And its that thought, coupled with the feel of power other than her own, that makes her give one last push on the blade and then draw back.
This isn't... This isn't what she wants.
This isn't who she wants to be.

She doesn't remember the explosion, Abbi only remembers... Well, she's not really sure if what she recalls is what actually happened.
More importantly, she's on the ground and everything hurts, but from where she lies there isn't any sign of the doctor. Taking that as a good sign the girl does her best to shift herself up into a sitting position, cradling one hand awkwardly against her waist, palm out but still pressed against the cut on her side.
"Did it." She mumbles with a crooked grin, hating that no one is here to hear her humor.

Speaking of others, she manages to find her phone, clumsily shaking it out of her pocket with her good hand and fumbling it up to her face. The concern Scout expresses is appreciated, but Abbi is glad she'd ignored the buzzing until now. Having someone witness her attempt at brutality is not something she wants to think of now.
Instead she tries to text the woman back, but in her tunneling vision she writes the message twice.



Consciousness flirts with the girl and now that she's hopefully called for help, Abbi lets herself slump back down onto the ground. Man, it was really bad timing that the Infirmary was probably a heap of bricks and debris now because she really needed it. But if Scout found her, at least she knew the basics of first aid!

In an attempt to keep herself awake Abbi lifted the hand with the crystal up into the air over her face, tried to focus on the crystal imbedded in her skin and that provided a deal of pain.
"So does this... Make me Ruby or Sapphire?"

With the destruction of the lighthouse everything in the clone drained until he was a limp, desolate looking shell of Chris. It was gone. Their only chance of getting off the island whole and alive was just. Gone. He stared at the monstrosity masquerading as Chel (the irony was rich), expression blank. He had nowhere to go. He could collect the weapons, but for what? Where would he take them? He was stuck here too. "You could have been free..."

The sharp trill of his phone's ringtone made him jerk in surprise and he fumbled it out of his pocket. Dawson. How had he forgotten? He couldn't do anything for him now either. But it was better than standing here in his failure.

With numb fingers he replied.

With a last glance at the would-be Chel, the clone turned away. He'd failed, there was nothing else he could do here.

He followed the texts instructions, but slowed as he got closer to the infirmary. He could feel himself getting closer to the real Chris. Did that mean Dawson knew?

Did it matter?

He continued to get closer and closer, until he was below the infirmary and there was no doubt about where the real one was. He kicked through the falling debris from the floor above, just following that feeling until he came upon a room. "Dawson?" He called, unwavering. There was no reason to care if he knew anymore. No reason to fear it.

She felt the buzz against her heart, and stopped her half-hearted searching to read the next text. The words were so Dawsonesque in nature, it took her two reads to fully understand what he was saying. She just assumed Meri meant the clone, but the other words had been difficult to process, until they didn't matter.

Tahm.

Taym.

She tripped trying to stand up from kneeling position, but did not let it stop her from scrambling through that half-destroyed hallway, headed in the direction she remembered hearing the voice.

If he'd found Taym, then Meri was Meri, and everyone was okay. Everyone was alive. Everyone was within her reach again, just around the corner. Just around-

"Jesus Christ," She coughed out, moments after falling fantastically through a hole in the floor (She would kill him if he said he'd told her so) just to land on her a**, several dozen feet away from the them.

"So, whatever." She grumbled out angrily. "I took a shortcut."

Hurricane

Maebe's abrupt entrance should have made him jump, but instead Dawson's instinct was to summon his shield and heave it over Chris' head before he realized whatever had fallen was nearby rather than on top of them. When Maebe's voice rang out and it wasn't in pain, he thanked God for little miracles. Maybe they were compensations for all the s**t he had to go through recently.

"Glad t'see you dropped by," Dawson greeted her with a hack into his elbow, because this was Dawson, and he had gone a little too long without cracking a stupid joke. It was as tired as he was. "Meri's still weak but awake, so be careful. Taym, uh..." He didn't know. The guy still hadn't moved from ground zero and his mind was processing too much again to handle more.

Chris' voice gave him an out for trying to wrap his head around it a little longer. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed under the real one's arms and dragged him closer to the group as a whole to calm his nerves a little. "Listen, m'gonna try a thing here. I'd appreciate it if y'just watched them fer me n' kept quiet, okay, darlin'?" he said to Maebe, putting a dirty hand to her shoulder and squeezing. Up close she could see the red eyes, the grime and blood, and several tear stains that he had yet to wipe off. Dawson turned away without waiting for a response and cupped his mouth.

"Over here!" he called in the connecting room to the clone's. "Watch yer head."

Hurricane

She was already up on her feet by the time his bad joke left him, and she started (carefully) treading over to them with that familiar sour look on her face. "Terrible." She huffed out, crawling back down to her knees the moment she'd reached them. Her eyes dropped to flicker from one face to another, reaching out to cup America's face in one hand, and awkwardly press her other against Taym's forehead. The sourness was bleeding away, and what was left had more heart wrenching joy than she knew what to do with. She was just so happy to have them back in her arms.

She picked up Taym's head and checked him for a pulse, before punching it right on the temple with a weak, pathetic fist. "********." She whispered, in a voice that entirely did not sound appropriate for the word she'd spoken. She couldn't keep her eyes focused between the two of them, and when they started to tear up, she buried her face in America's hair and decided not to focus on anyone, anymore.

Dawson wanted her to watch them, and keep quiet. He had no idea how easy that was going to be for her, in this moment. Whatever he had planned was fine with her, as long as she kept what she'd lost.

Because this time, she wasn't letting go.