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 Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 12:21 pm
jaeger tech
Chel's dealing less with loss and more with keeping it together for everyone else. She needs to be a rock for Chris to cling to right now; he tries to hide it for the sake of the mission, she knows it, but he's dying. Nobody knows that better than the one who's been in his head. Jack's hyperfocused on his work; that means he's worried. She puts a hand on his back as they leave but does nothing to disturb him further. She wants to tell him a thousand clingy things (if I don't come back-), but she knows that one single distraction means another jaeger goes down without his instruction.
Just in case he's looking, when they hop into the elevator she signs I love you with her right hand. The doors shut and he's gone. The hand drops and she's back to being a rock.
Walking through the shatterdome means seeing all the other people that might die too. Abbi with Little Witch and Evan with Sasha in Titan Bomber. Yet Chel doesn't feel small like Chris; the opposite really. She feels big, she feels part of something. It's hard to imagine Kaiju being a threat when their force exists.
The only time she bites her lip is when Jack says Ready? in her ear. She knows it's going to be harder to drift this time.
"Ready," she says with Chris. And they are.
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 7:36 pm
one push
"I don't give a s**t what they do to me," he growls, and it's true. Jack has suffered through a great many things since waking up in that pod, and no damage to his person has been permanent enough to affect him yet. But if Chel dies--and the if is forced because the when is assumed, predetermined, grimly accepted and in no need of reminding, the when is what he can't stop one day but the if has to be something he can--if she dies from this--
Don't even think about it. Disregard its possibilities, ignore the risks. Stay safe, Hawthorn, like they don't share the same name; he takes her sentiment to mean them both now.
He takes a breath and sighs through his nose. "Suicide," Jack reminds her in a softer voice. "Not training accident, not whatever garbage was in Rep's case. Suicide. Okay?" He eyed Chel earnestly, trying to convey more support than he could simply with his arms and his words.
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 7:40 pm
jaeger tech
The drift was one of the safest places Chris could think to be. Chel's head was balance - not in itself, but together with Chris's. Steady and Chaotic, Weakness and Strength, Responsibility and Rebellion. She took his volatile state and captured it in a neat little jar so he could focus on what was at hand.
We have work to do. Let's go.
The chinook drops them in the water deep in the pacific, and countering the force of the fall is easy and rhythmic. They're maybe a hundred yards away from the kaiju, but it sees them and lets out a deafening screech.
"We're calling it Howler." Jack says, deadpan. They - probably Chris, but it's hard to tell where some thoughts originate - suspect he doesn't approve of such an obvious name. "Watch his tail, it will try to drag you under."
As if on cue, the kaiju lifts a long and muscled tail, slapping the water violently with it.
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 8:02 pm
revengeance 2.0
This ******** is actually--this ******** level of surprise lighting Jack's face is black comedy: it's never stretched so much for one expression before, never gone so pallid so quick. His struggle is a joke (his hand slides out from under Chris and clamps around his shirt in some futile attempt to pull him off) and doesn't last long at all as his carotids pump out a waterfall of blood. His hand falls, desperately tries to apply pressure to the wound. Owain is shrieking and the trees snap and fall, the leaves rustle like angry bees, their shared consciousness dims.
No sound escapes him save for a dirty gurgling as blood fills his mouth. Jack never stops staring Chris in the eye even as his vision blurs and darkens and his mind turns to a grey noise, the howling gradually softening into nothing but their gradual unravelling thoughts; every second of his last breath is spent pouring his hatred out in his sharp gaze.
I hope your next one is better.
< There is no-one like you, dear one. There is no 'better.' >
I could've been, though. I'm sorry. It echoes because he doesn't know how else to put it; in the last refuge of his mind, at least, he doesn't have to say it. He can practically see the giant's sad, affectionate smile, the large branchlike hands holding him in the last of it.
< I am not. >
The literal death glare boring into Chris glazes over, and Jack grows still.
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 8:02 pm
jaeger tech
The drift is a scream this time. She feels every ounce of Chris' witheld agony. She sees a memory Dawson and feels every pained shred warmth from Chris to him and for a split second, even though she's done this a thousand times, she begins to follow the RABIT.
But she pulls herself out and she allows herself to sustain her independence in the mixed fusion that is their drift. They've never been the best combination, but Chel likes the description the techs give them; a reliable wild card.
"That's a big one," Chel says out loud. It's a habit; she's always been talkative. She feels their mutual excitement, but a roar of vengeance sounds from Chris that becomes hers as well. She doesn't mind, she rides it.
Her grin's unafraid even if her head is a tsunami. She tries to push her own reassurances to keep Chris in check, but she already knows what he's thinking; there's no stopping them now. "Howler's gonna look nice on my back.'
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 8:22 pm
jaeger tech
He's so fired up at seeing Howler he screams back at it. Every screech it makes Chris answers with a roar or shout. It's not cathartic, persay, but it's focus.
Chel grounds him not only with her thoughts but her voice. It's easy to get lost in their heads, but every time he goes too deep she says something out loud and he's jerked back. The tattoos are a good anchor, because they have a goal.
He sees/shows Howler on his left pec, his tail squeezing a deep red heart. It's an unsubtle display, but Chris is so distraught that it feels like the only proper tribute. Howler took a piece of him and dragged it down until it was lost. Chris lost every opportunity he could have had, and he doesn't know how else to deal with the loss. "He's ********' ours," he replies. There's no way they'll let it beat them.
The kaiju charges, cutting through the water with surprising speed. They lift their round shield and engage achilles shock absorbers as it launches itself at Rogue Soldier, and the impact forces them painfully back, rattling them in the conn-pod. It screams in their robo-face, but it's put itself close enough for their sword.
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 9:05 pm
one push
That night she throws up before settling in Jack to cry. She can't stop hearing the crack as a brunette skull was stained red. It's an unusual sound, that's what's so bothersome. Chel's cracked a thousand monster skulls before, but nothing sounds quite like a human.
It haunts her even as she details to Jack what she'd been hiding. That she felt second best to a shell of a person, always. That even a ring never really took that feeling away; that it wasn't really a feeling that could be succinctly described so much as it was hollow, lonely.
The next day she goes in for questioning because they've recovered the weapon and it's screaming murder. Chel continues to deny it; suicide, suicide, suicide. She'd been out collecting firewood when the girl had jumped. She'd fought past an enormous monster to get her way home. It's becoming less a defense for herself and more a defense for him.
She steps out of the death questioning rooms, feeling very much like the many students they interrogated for weaponization. It's quiet and she just has to make it home. Her hair's gone a little blonde with time and stress. It desperately needs to be painted pink again.
She beelines for Jack's house. There's no way in hell she's being seen out for a while, not with so many eyes. Chris is supposed to meet her outside; she doesn't get that far.
Evan's hands are on her throat and she doesnt fight them. She screams at him as many times as it takes that it was suicide, suicide suicide; he doesn't believe her. Was it someone he trusted maybe, but he doesn't trust Chel anymore. He hasn't for a long time, and this is just an excuse to confirm his suspicions. He bashes her head against the wall every time she says suicide.
"She jumped!" It's a roar as her hands grab his forearms. Her nails dig into his arms, because Chel has never done anything without a fight.
"Bullshit-"
Chris shows up because she didn't meet him; it takes the both of them to pry Evan off. After a moment or two, other moons show up to diffuse the fight. Evan is so pissed that Chel can see the veins on his neck, she feels every iota of anger thrown at her like a knife. Chris asks what she wants to do and she says, "I just wanna go home." He nods and doesn't ask anything more of her; there's always been a connection between them. Chris doesn't need an explanation and Chel doesn't need to feign self-reliance.
She shows up on the doorstep with day old cuts from the mission and fresh bruises around her neck. Her head is tender, but it's not bleeding thankfully. It's funny how she escaped her home in Michigan to end up in the same situation. Different, but the same.
It's been one day since the incident.
Five days past. Two weeks. She feigns mission trauma to avoid having to go to duties. Then she works on golem files from home. Anything to avoid having to walk out the door. She recovers quickly and is already telling jokes, but there's a staining fear that if she walks out the door, Evan will be there. Or Gale. Tuck. Lex. Any number of people that want answers she can't give them. Any number of people that would settle for her at the bottom of a cliff instead.
Chris eventually cajoles her to go to the gym with jokes about being flabby from being indoors too long. Jack taking her away from the island for a 3 day vacation helps too (it fuels the anger on island- "they're taking a vacation after what happened?" but Chel's mental state is more important). Abbi gets her to go to a party and since they're safe, Chel actually enjoys herself.
It's strange that after months have passed there is still an omnipotent, crushing fury surrounding her and yet ... life goes on. She's able to continue her projects. Evan eventually subsides to hostility over animosity. It ebbs into anger, and becomes a dull throbbing pain instead. He never really forgives her. Laughing comes easy. Her hands move when she tells them to. They don't talk it about it ever again, but it lingers and it's a part of her.
She's never really sure how he feels about it. She doesn't dig up what he buries.
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 9:12 pm
jaeger tech
There's no need to speak now, not when sparks are flying and a sword is jamming it's way through kaiju flesh. It's a solid hit and adrenaline fuels them both to scream. That's one thing Chel's always liked about Jaeger piloting; there's a freedom in that although she's being monitored by the comm tower and literally lived in by her cousin, it really doesn't matter what they do so long as at the end of the day a kaiju is down.
She sees a part of the downed Chimera from the corner of her eye, and every part of her regrets looking because she can feel Chris in every crevice of her mind.
The sword saws through part of the kaiju's face and shoots a beam of light through the rest. It's a win, but the tail-
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Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 10:15 pm
one push
He's killed someone before and gotten away because of the extreme circumstances; that is the only evidence he can't say aloud to assure her she'll be okay. Several years later, and he can still remember the way Fred's skull made that crack against the bars, the bits of brain jostled out of place, the blood, the noise, the sounds. Murder, she cries, guilt, second best, never enough. These aren't experiences he wishes for them to share in at all, but there they are, clear and present and staining Chel in ways he can't simply clean and bandage away.
Or is that his fault? Clean and innocent have never described her, but would she have honestly turned to murder without him? Would she have felt such a violence compulsion for someone else? (And even in hypotheticals he bristles, unable to imagine her smiling that way for a stranger.) He has joked before that he brings out the worst in people, but maybe this is actual evidence for the statement.
(He fears that she might try to leave again, irrational thoughts of her trying to repeat the Merlin incident bothering him as he moves from day to day. If a ring isn't enough, if his promise his home and his love aren't enough, if he isn't enough to prove to her that she's not someone's he's merely settled for, then what is? Is Lina's death enough or just a mistake?)
There's a cageyness that lines his behavior some days at work, a sharper edge to his gaze and a shorter fuse to his patience. There's an infinite stretch between his mind and his body on other days where he remains unflappable regardless of the circumstances. And on others still he vents and nearly slaughters Leslie, the promise of near destruction his means of coping and the Mist's hallelujah cry; Peyton has long since become defunct, and lashing out at those that would harm his wife would only escalate the situation. At least this way he doesn't explode when they're together.
In spite of the brutality, it's Chel who comes home most days with the wounds and the bruises. Each one is an excuse to seek revenge, and while his logic remains a leash over it, every incident only makes the urge just a little more prevalent at the back of his mind, like a slow burning coal remembering its old blaze. In a way, this is the silver lining of Chel's decision: he never brings Lina up because she never returns to the forefront of his mind. Her ghost has been exorcised once and for all; she's just another Nevada he can't care for anymore.
And in her place, demons arise. As Chel carries her own ghost now, Jack can't help but begin to wonder every now and again: is this enough for you? are you happy? will you stay? He can replace the ring and kiss her scars and bite the hands that draw too close, but nothing can ever truly get rid of the fear that one day the answer will be no. He thought he knew her definitions, but the lines have blurred again; and if there is one thing that can drive a wedge that deep in him, it's the uncertainty.
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Posted: Sat May 23, 2015 5:35 pm
nest
The only light is coming from the glow off their runic parts. Chel's goggles leave Jack's face a pale pink that echos in the hands and elbows bent around her bow. Owain's green overpowers the pink easily due to sheer size and leaves the whole cave wall a ghostly green. It's similar to the light Chiyoo radiated, actually.
There's a cave connected to this one that's much brighter though. The entire stone cavern is illuminated with small candles, a holy shrine to the unholiness that lurks inside. Their goal is inside, and the figure is alone.
She isn't sure how Jack is going to handle it. She isn't sure what killing it will accomplish actually. Chel only knows that she needs to protect Jack's right to do so.
A hand goes to his shoulder, just enough to keep him grounded. Not enough to take him down; she lets him ride whatever he's powering himself on. It's silent; I'm with you, but her hands then sign move.
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2015 8:55 pm
revengeance 2.0
It doesn't sink in right away. Chris sit on top of Jack's chest, staring down at his lifeless eyes as rain runs in rivulets down his face. He almost expects it to be a shitty joke. As if Jack will lift his head and gain the upper hand.
He's not going to.
Jack's dead.
Chris lets go of his white knuckled grip on Jack's collar,fingers stiff from how hard they'd been holding on. He's soaked in rain, mud, and blood, and it's hard to find a white space toward the bottom of his coat it's so dirty. Blood slicks the surface of his weapon.
It's those little details that finally really hit it home.
He killed Jack.
He slit Jack's throat, here on the training field.
He launches himself up and away from the body, shuddering out a hard breath. "********. ********, ********, ********. Oh s**t. Oh god." His voice cracks, though it's barely above a whisper. He has to get out of here. He can't be found with Jack's body. <******** races away, towards the dorms. It's ******** laughable that no one gives him a second glance. So many bloodied hunters run through the island, he's just another ******** good soldier. Except where his hands shake in his sleeves, and his eyes wildly scan every face he passes. Witness. Witness. Another witness. Everyone he passes is a liability, and he feels like their unseeing gazes are a trick. They know everything he's done.
Somehow he makes it to the showers and doesn't even strip down before throwing himself under the spray. The water turns pink as it swirls down the drain and Chris has to lean against the shower wall to catch his breath and hold back the panicked tears. He feels his life swirling away down that drain, everything he's worked for up to this point. Every sacrifice he's made for himself and for Chel. He'd taken so many steps forward and now he was going to go tumbling backward.
God. Chel. She was stuck in observation and Chris was going to be podded before he could talk to her. He was going to be podded and she was going to hear that he killed Jack and that would be Chel's last memory of ********, he was going to be podded.
Another hunter walked into the showers, belting some cheery pop song from the 90s. Chris almost threw up as the colorful and happy lyrics contrasted so starkly with how he felt. He stripped off his clothes quickly and methodically and wrung out as much of the blood as he could before stealing someone's towel and getting the ******** out of dodge.
He couldn't do this. He couldn't be around people.
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2015 10:55 pm
nest
He kisses like a demon on his better days, but rare is the sight of it beyond their intimacy. In this universe, or at least in this tainted moment of one, he wears it more proudly than he ever has before. There's a wicked gleam in his eyes when they aren't surveying something distant or crawling their way through a sandstorm or clawing through the tunnels and its traps, and a dark look otherwise. (He wants it dead, he wants it dead, it needs to die.)
He doesn't know how they made it this far alive. Maybe it's providence. It seems too easy, though.
He glances at Chel as she touches him and not for the first time wonders if it's a blessing or a curse to bring her there. But then, it would have been a crime not to. She had helped him get this far; she had all but promised him this opportunity. But if Chel became caught in the crossfire--
< I would not worry, dear one. > Owain has been quiet, a silent supporter not of violence but of whatever will relieve his master of his thirst for vengeance. The few times he speaks up feel like an awkward nudge and a small pull back at the same time, a conflict of interests as always. Creation versus destruction.
There's a glimmer of something human as he looks at her, and then with the nod it's gone, replaced with the familiar, focused look for battle. With a slight nod, he fixed the grip on his weapon and lunged right in. They didn't have the element of surprise whatsoever anyway; this was Nests' home. Best to go in, guns blazing.
In seconds they were swarmed with moths.
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2015 11:01 pm
nest
"Scarves up," Chel called with a familiar sort of sternness, the kind that came from intense focused mixed with hours and hours of practice.
Under Jack's feet rolled a small smoke bomb; a more concentrated, potent version of the kind she'd used ages ago in Greece. It had been that mission that had inspired the idea, and it seemed fitting to bring the arc full circle in such a way. The moths went down, at least for the moment. She had more in her pack if needed.
It worried her, that look in his eyes. She had done everything in her power to assure him this moment, but it was under the assumption that this would be enough to satiate the drive. She ran the thin risk that he would never really be satisfied; that scared her.
Her scarf was wrapped around her nose and there was smoke everywhere, but she could see clearly through her goggles. While Jack ran in, Chel took a position at the door, both in case Nest had backup (unlikely) and to provide cover while he got his own spotlight. This was Jack's fight, not hers.
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2015 7:48 pm
jaeger tech
Chris's screams aren't just verbal but mental. He almost feels bad, on some level, that he knows he's being incredibly loud. He's being chaotic and ill-tempered and he's ******** grieving when the logical parts of their brains are telling him there's no time. Not now, he can't do this now. But he is. He sees the piece of the Chimera and his entire being fills with sorrow.
It makes it more satisfying to take out half Howler's face. But the tail came around from the side and wrapped around their shield arm - more specifically Chris's shield arm. It yanked hard and the arm came right off in a firework of sparks, wires, and liquid. Chris screamed in agony as his arm fell limp to his side, throbbing with real pain even though it was still technically attached.
"Kill it, kill it," he sobbed, gritting his teeth to focus and allow Chel the clarity to take it out.
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Posted: Tue May 26, 2015 7:59 pm
jaeger tech
Chel's teeth are bared in the same snarl he has; this fight isn't just hard, it's personal. Every scream that comes out of Chris is like an all out assault on her senses; Chris' screams are emotionally charged and every time he says kill it is another time she says, "Okay, okay."
The jaeger sinks down towards the water; Jack wasn't lying because the tail is strong. She can feel them being pull sideways and it's throwing off their weight not only on the ocean, but in the cockpit as well.
"Get up," she snapped at Chris, but her head was a mess. I can't do this alone and We're losing being among them. She kicked out with her leg, attempting to pry the creature off them while they went down, but the tail head on steadfast. Her strength alone wasn't enough. "Chris get up I need a leg now."
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