Welcome to Gaia! ::

He felt some relief. America was way more chill and reasonable than he gave her credit for. He didn't feel so much like a scared little kid running from everything. "Thanks... yeah. See 'ya on the other side." And even as she left, he knew he'd see her again later, and nothing would have changed for the negative.

Suddenly he was on the receiving end of a vision. Something scarier than his own upbringing. Something much more violent and terrifying. He couldn't grasp who it had been from until he saw the origin of the memory cowering a short distance away. Was that Reine? Had it been her memory or was it a coincidence that he'd seen her first after the fact.

Cautiously he moved toward her, lowering himself to place a hand softly on her back.

"Reine..?"

Damage: 0

SCIENCE stared up at the multi-limbed Queen. She was feeling... odd. She hadn't taken any damage, and the Queen wasn't attacking, but she felt... slow. She could still move, but it was as though her limbs were reluctant to do anything. The very presence of the Queen also seemed to have a strange effect on her.

SCIENCE felt something being drawn out of her. It flowed out of her like a wave of color, that slowly unfolded and billowed outward until she could see...

Herself?

Wait, she knew this scene! She remembered this!

The vision showed Canon in her natural form, swimming through swampy waters with a bundle of herbs tied to her back. It was her home swamp, and she was perfectly comfortable among the bright green algae, choking weeds, and rotting logs. She was also considerably smaller, since this had taken place several years ago.

Tail propelling her handily through the muck, the young Skark clambered onto a mossy hillock, untied the herbs, and carefully arranged them on the moss. Then she got to work. To the outside eye, it looked like she was crushing and fiddling with the herbs. And that was, technically, what she was doing. But she had a purpose! She was determined to make a new type of poison! Something to really wow her family. She'd done some research, which led her on an herb hunt that took her into the nearest non-swampy village, and all around the swamp besides. With all the ingredients gathered, she was now testing the proper combination of herbs.

While it had taken her some hours to get the mixture right, the time had flown by for her, so it did the same in the vision. Soon, a tired, but triumphant Skark stood over her new poison, which was turning the moss black around it. Success! Well satisfied, Canon gathered up the poison, and prepared to head back home.

The vision faded.

Darkness came first, quickly followed by a hazy view of the Queen she'd fought for, the whole room topped off with memories that are not her own. Those crowd in first, the only semblance of color in this strange place but they are still hazy at best. First is utter disorientation with a home, then hurt, then a city, then more pain. It was terribly startling to watch someone else's memories unfold let alone something as terrible as what she saw from Leslie.
A small noise left Abbi when it ended, her hands snapping against her mouth in hopes of keeping it in. But her feet moved forward, tried to catch a glimpse of him in this place of confusion. Instead of the boy, she found another memory that was not her's to own. Startled by the beginning, Abbi watched too much and turned away with a flush of face when she finally realized what this was. She should not have peeked at that, she is certain Finn will be angry with her if she tells him she saw it, but the girl still moves forward, now searching for both men.
It is the last flash of Ripley's memory that makes her finally stop, bending her knees so she can remain on her feet but still curl in on herself.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so--" If she stays like this, curled up with her hands over her ears and her head pressed down against her knees, she will be alone and she won't have to see the glimpses of pasts that are not her's to be privy to. If she just lets herself rock back a little so that her backside hits the ground, she could ignore everything and be alone.
If she just keeps her face down she can--

--Ignore the inky blot of black that peeks out over the bottom of the car's back window. It has been a week since the funeral and finally she can avoid vehicles no longer, but the darkness follows her. When she begs her father to let them walk, he says nothing and when she cries because she is so small and so young he only continues to pretend she is not there. His driving is reckless, anger making his mannerisms harsher as he carts the young girl to a destination she has forgotten already.
She will loathe cars for the rest of her life, but when they rear end the truck in front of them she screams as though she is dying because its happening all over again only this time she won't be the only to make it out alive.

--She does, of course, or else she wouldn't be on the floor of a dark room, confused and scared and overwhelmed, unsure whether to find someone or go this alone.

Damage Done: 0

He tried to ignore, the memories as they continued to unravel from his mind, bits and pieces trying to escape as he tried to shove them all back in. His fingers kept shuffling the cards, looking for one looking for the right one anything to make it stop. Keep them; he wanted to keep them all, yet the white queen made it hard to see any more as he tried another card only to watch it fail.

“What’s wrong with her?” The round blue eyes peaked up over the glass peering into the hospital room. “Why can’t I play with her mommy?” The thin pressed line of his mother’s lips were lost to him at the time as he watched tears start to flood the lip of her eyes. This was the third time this week he had been to see her, yet she remained in the room beyond the glass as various tubes ran around and machines seemed to constantly beep.

Sniffling she kneeled down to him and held his shoulders, “she can’t play because she is sick hun. When she get’s better she will play, I am sure she will want to play every day with you.” The last few words came out wobbly as his mother burst into tears. Getting to her feet she sunk her head into his father’s shoulder as he held her. Matt’s attention was turned back to the room as a shadow danced across the room. They were there, they were always there lingering, like a creature under the bed or a shadow behind a curtain. It wasn’t until she appeared into his life that he had noticed them, and it was never without her. Every time he mentioned it to his parents they waved it away, silly shadows that’s all they were to them.

[ 0 damage ]



There were so many memories whirling around him. Secret glimpses into the lives of those around him, those who at a glance he recognized as friends. Friends or not, there were parts of their lives that he didn't need to know about, and that feeling was the same; he had memories that he felt they didn't need to know. The last one was a perfect example of that; he could have gone his whole life without telling anyone about the decision he had to make regarding his family. He didn't want them to know, he didn't want them to pity him, and yet - it happened.

Damn this...creature. This Queen b***h, this echo of grief. How dare she dredge this up.

He wanted to end this, and end her. Ripley took a step forward with every intention of striking the monster, when--

**

"What are you doing?" A man's voice clear as day over the metronome tick of the dodge embalming machine. Ripley was standing at the head of the prep table, slipping an eyecap under a deceased man's eyelid; he didn't look up, and he didn't stop what he was doing.

"What do you think?" He asked, his voice short and blank. He had moved on to the other eye, and was working to make sure the eyelids stayed closed in the most natural, peaceful way possible.

"Ripley, you only just got out of the hospital this morning." The man was trying to be calm and stern with him, Ripley could hear that in his voice. The gentleman - an older man in a finely tailored suit with his hair slicked back - crossed the room and shut off the machine. "And the funeral is tomorrow." He was methodically removing the equipment Ripley was using from the table, though the young man continued to set the features as fast as he could manage which was, thanks to his still healing hands, slow and painful. He said nothing to the other man's stern but gentle reminders.

"When did you sleep last?" No answer. When Ripley turned to open a drawer to reclaim a scalpel, the older gentleman leaned against it, using his weight to keep it closed. "I'll finish this. You need to rest, and straighten up. Do you even have a suit?"

"Get out of my way, Jared." Ripley stared at the older man, his expression and voice startlingly hollow.

"No, Ripley. You can't be here right now. Go---" The word home almost left his lips, and the pause as he searched for a different word, however slight, was noticed. "--rest. You need sleep, Ripley. You need to eat. You need to get ready for tomorrow. You know this, it's your job to know this. Listen to your own advice." Jared remained in Ripley's way, but the younger man's gaze had since fallen to the floor, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He wanted to ball his hands into fists, but they simply hurt too much to do it. When he didn't reply, Jared seemed to need to continue.

"The whole town is going to be here tomorrow. All their eyes are going to be on you. You are going to be scrutinized, you understand that, right? It doesn't matter that you're grieving, because you're the 'survivor'. They want to see how their own Funeral Director handles such a large tragedy. I'm not letting you walk into that unprepared." By then, Jared had reached out and placed both of his hands on Ripley's shoulders, the older man's grip heavy and solid. "You don't get to be like them. You can't fall to your knees and wail. You don't have that luxury, and I know you know that." Ripley remained silent and empty; the only indication that he was even listening was the way his jaw tightened.

"You can do all the yelling, screaming and crying you want to today. We won't judge you, and we won't get in your way - but you can't be in this room, and you have to get some sleep today. Tonight. Take codeine if you have to, I know you're not stupid enough to O.D. - but do what you have to, to get it out of your system enough to survive tomorrow. Everyone here is going to be there to support you, and again, I know you know that - but you're the one that has to pretend to be Atlas for the crowd. Got it?"

He spent the rest of the day in one of the Funeral Home's many rooms, sitting silently on the couch that functioned as a pull-out bed. His gaze fixed on an invisible spot on the wall, and he barely moved until Jared came back late into the evening, to give him some food and silent company until, finally, he made the younger man sleep.

**

Ripley hated this place more than anything right now, and all he wanted to do - all he was desperate to do - was to punch something. Hard.

[ 0 Damage ]

No. GS's head shook violently. She didn't want to be here alone in the darkness with only the far, much to far away Queen in the distance. Even though she was glad the Queen was far, a part of her was more nervous for the distance. Why wasn't she moving? Perhaps she could just end them all with a wave of her hand so felt no need to approach? It was ominous, so very ominous and Lute didn't like it one bit.

Scary.

Everything was scary but she knew what she had to do. She had to try, she told herself as her hand clutched tightly to the hem of the coat she wore. She had to try. She had to fight like the others, to be strong even when even when she wasn't, she had to buck up and she knew it. But even after her pep talk and inward struggle to do what was needed to be done, all she managed to do was crumple in on herself with the giant spork that was her weapon. Her fingers laced around it tightly and she whimpered out in fear. Why was everything so hard for her, why had she been such a failure as a creature of Halloween. Lute's nose wrinkled at her negative thoughts. Closing her eyes slowly she took a few moments to breathe deeply, to remember all the bosses, all the mobs she had taken out up until now, Gabriel Santiago rose up, shakily but now on her feet again. She wouldn't just give up, not this time, not now. Opening her rosy eyes wide and nodded to herself before pushing a foot forward in a hesitant though confident step.

Determined to at least try.

As she rushed forward to attack the queen something strange happened, an overwhelming curiosity for anything and everything hit her, a crippling even curiosity. Skidding to a stop she turned one way then the other, head tilting as her mind filled with nonsense, loads and loads of unnecessary worry and woe. On a tremble she asked to the darkness, "are we suppose to fight?.. What if this is just a dream? How many times, how much damage, do I look fat in this outfit? What's it all for? Are we not going to simply die anyways?" When her voice finally stopped, she waited, waited for the answers that would never come. Gabriel Santiago wore a tight lipped frown as she glanced around, these were all pressing matters, she needed each of them answered and yet no one was willing to help her at all.

Why? Was there no one here at all, no one, and simply not just not around her? Gabriel Santiago's head hurt, her hand raising to allow her thumb and pointer finger to pinch the bridge of her nose. This was all terribly so unfair she muttered something soft under her breath, "..why?" Her head throbbing once more as she fell silent.

If only because more kept forming, "does it smell in here? How many creeple are in here? How do we get out? Is this the last battle? Will we survive...?" Would they? Everything looked utterly hopeless as it was, and she knew she wasn't strong enough. But -but where they? Was this dream ever going to be over, as her outer questioning stopped the inner stared up, never letting up. There was no rest for her restless mind as she stood alone in the darkness, glancing out to those around with no hint that he words were heard. Crippled again in questions of fear she leaned on her weapon, tears forming in her eyes.

There was so much pain floating around him, were there only sad memories in the world? It seemed like everyone was hurting. Why did the queen have to bring out these memories?

//-----------------

Mom, I know it's been awhile.

Exams are over, I did pretty well. And my term assignments were good as well, I could have skipped all my exams and still passed my courses! I didn't though, skip them that is. It looks like I'll be able to graduate with honours.

I'm sad you won't be able to be there. I don't think Dad would go, he's got other things on his mind, and it's a lot of fuss over nothing really. Everyone knew I would graduate anyway so it's not a huge achievement. I was more proud of my science report, you should have seen how long my reference appendix was!

Remember that experiment we did together when I was little, with the bean sprouts? You had to walk me through everything. I was so small then, I couldn't even cross the road without holding your hand. But I've learned a lot on my own. I miss you lots, but you can relax, I don't need to hold your hand anymore. I'll still come and visit always! But I think I'll be okay.

Oliver took a second to rearrange the flowers in front of his mother's tombstone, and then began his long walk home.

//------------------------