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 Posted: Mon Oct 19, 2015 1:21 am
"You have already revoked your rights as a Hunter. You are alive only because you set an example to all the Hunters remaining in this room of the consequences that follow from misbehaviour. If you wish to cross every line, then you will receive the consequences from crossing every ******** line. For once, use your own goddamn mind and consider your very, very limited options. There are two things I request in this division from someone of your level. The first the ability to execute orders. The second is the ability to obey orders."
He held out his hand. "Your weapon, Chel."
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Posted: Mon Oct 19, 2015 2:22 am
Caelius's assignment of Chel was punctuated by a folding chair clattering to the floor. " Seriously?" Lucky whispered to Mark, just slightly too audibly in the small room. "Oh, um. Thank you, sir," he answered Caelius just as quickly in a flat tone. For once, it was something that wasn't his fault, at least. Lucky looked very pointedly at Chel. "I will, uh, see what I can do, 'Pink'." He was a stranger, maybe - a stranger who'd tuned in to the radio. chiickadee WELCOME TO TRAINEE TRAINING
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Posted: Mon Oct 19, 2015 4:04 am
Rep was a nosey s**t, which was why he was in nosey s**t division. He very slowly folded up his chair - taking way longer to do so than it should ever take to fold up a chair.
Specialising in operations sounded like a start, and a specialisation meant that somewhere he was probably considered a hunter by now and didn't need to keep fumbling in the dark hoping that he was. He had simply nodded at Cael at the time, and wasn't about to start any further problems for himself.
Other than the aforementioned nosey thing.
He was just about to leave (no, honestly he was, look he was hovering in the doorway) when he heard Lucky's plight, laughed, covered it as a cough and had to walk VERY QUICKLY OUT OF THE ROOM.
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Posted: Mon Oct 19, 2015 6:17 am
Well, he wasn't dead.
Or demoted. This was a bonus. Gale had remained silent throughout most of Caelius' tirade, listening while he went through each and every person and not so much dreading hearing his own name, but rather resigned to hearing it instead.
He toyed with Jinhai's ring, lifting his gaze to meet the division leader's, his expression as stoic as ever, lips pressed together. Gale gave a quiet nod of assent, and for once did not flush in irritation or shame at his review - because surprisingly, it wasn't quite as negative as he'd thought it would be. Granted, it still made him cringe a little internally, but at least there were no threats of kicking him out or killing him, which Gale had to appreciate.
"Yes, sir," he said quietly. It was a sad fact. But he would take what he could get.
He would come up with something else, after a few choice discussions with certain people. Gale got to his feet slowly once they were dismissed, almost running into Rep in the doorway, stopped behind him, cast a curious glance back at Lucky -
- and promptly snapped his jaw shut, any and all comments held firmly back. He did, however, raise an eyebrow at Lucky, and then slipped out after Rep, making a mental note to start off said discussions with a certain helicopter-loving hunter.
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Posted: Mon Oct 19, 2015 8:36 am
At this point in his life, Wilson had managed to grow some sort of iron skin to Caelius’ scathing insults, although he had to grudgingly admit there was a pinch of truth to them.
But it wasn’t like the man made Wilson want to work any harder. He was struggling to get out of bed as it was. He just sat in his seat, sitting semi-comfortably in the silence with his arms still crossed and waiting for the orders to actually ******** leave. Once the division leader gave everyone the clear, Wilson, like everyone else, lingered slightly. But unlike others, he stayed less to be nosy and more so he could chat with Lucky. He felt tempted to assist him in folding the chairs, but he wasn’t sure if Caelius was going to toss a stray chair at him for that, so he just. Slowly. Stood up.
He tried very hard to slowly fold his chair and make some sort of eye contact with Lucky while ignoring the awkward conversation between Chel and Caelius.
It was the loud clattering of a falling chair that did it for Wilson. A very pointed look to Lucky. “Let’s talk after this. I’m going to wait outside.” He jutted his thumb toward the door, put his chair away, and briskly walked out.Molten Tigrex the struggle to integrate back into rp life is real
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Posted: Mon Oct 19, 2015 8:58 am
Chel said nothing but the defiant spark in her eyes and the tightening of her jaw was enough to speak volumes. Chel was not a child that took things in stride, she was a child of why, why, why? She needed explanations and careful, slow mentoring, not do as you're told or else. She summoned Tenebrae to his full weaponized extent and slammed the bow down on the desk, grateful if she even knocked a few things over. She even went to the bother of removing her belt of knives and putting those on the desk too (she was grateful she'd been wearing the spare set today and not her actual mission knives). "Don't act like yer happy to get me. S'all over yer face you don't like this," she muttered at Lucky in response. To Caelius she repeated, "Do I get ********' runics or not?" molten tigrex THANK YOU FOR HAVING ME :'DDDDD
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Posted: Mon Oct 19, 2015 12:39 pm
Chel didn't get any further than that train of thought before she heard a light hum - it was so subtle her brain might not even have registered what was happening. Something grazed the tip of her neck, ripped into her shoulder - there was pain and-
*
- "Hello Chel."
She was lying face down against a marble pavilion. Around her were statues of various humanoid forms, scattered down the expanse of fountain and awning. The colours above her were a rich green, blue, white. It felt oddly quiet.
"Hello Chel," repeated the quiet female voice, just as a delicate hand reached out to touch her face, to brush stands of hair against her forehead, and make the demoted Death Hunter realize she was unable to move, herself. An inquisitive face stared down, as beautiful as the landscape around her, long black hair wrapped in blue flowers, tied behind her. "Do you know who I am?"
The woman did not wait for a response, stroking Chel's hair as if she were some kind of tame animal. Her voice was oddly tiring to listen to, as if it took every ounce of effort just to stay conscious. "I have been observing you, it must have been difficult, to struggle so much. I am always curious, it is an innate fault of mine, yet, what makes a human so human?"
The next fingertip brushed against Chel felt like live electricity, as her body involuntarily arced - and then her mind simply unfolded, without any resistance. Every memory, every accessible point of emotion simply because intangible pages, and they were being flipped through, openly stared at and observed. It felt like cold fingertips piercing her mind itself.
"This one," the visitor whispered and immediately without Chel's consent, memories related to anger began to unfold around them. They flashed quickly past, like watching disjointed clips on film. She was her past rebellion, her present struggle, her growing pile of future conflicts all in haphazard order.
"I see, maybe I am wrong. Is it perhaps this one instead?" Next were memories related to happiness. As they played through, they ultimately felt almost the same.
"Ah yes, I am mistaken. Of course, from joy and anger, there is only one more memory strong enough to complete them." The source of the voice ripped through the pages of anger and joy until it reached - and here, the guest smiled just a little coyly.
This time, the memories slowed down. Everything seemed to reach a standstill. "Is it not the most fundamental for humans to of course, make connections? Without it there would be no anger or joy, without it fear seems to pale. Tell me a story Chel - what is it that you love?"
But she did not wait for Chel's permission to access those memories. She gazed at every page and tore out ones that fancied her, and in the end left only gaping holes of where those memories should have been. The feeling of having entire memories torn out was indescribable - it was someone trespassing the most personal, most inaccessible place of what made someone human. It was watching helplessly as the most important parts of what defined a person simply collapse onto itself and become obsolete. That exact memory, that feeling that defined them, would never return, and, like pulling the roots of a weed, left incomplete gaps everywhere else.
Cold fingers grazed against Chel one last time, and they felt like iron claws, they dug into her cheeks and drew black blood even as the voice spoke pleasantly, tirelessly. "Thank you Chel. I will cherish your memories. Please do make more treasured memories, I will always find you."
There was darkness.
*
- what Lucky would unfortunately see was an impossibly bright arc of blue-white and then a spray of blood as the end of Circe grazed and punctured Chel twice. She collapsed like a folding chair - and then began to spasm uncontrollably before stopping entirely. The Death lead sat back against the desk as if he had just inconvenienced himself by standing up, and there was no longer a bow on the table, just a weapons tablet lying next to a couple of runic weapons.
"Take everything with you." This was directed at either Mark or Lucky, it was impossible to tell, but considering Mark immediately began to escape down the hall, it was once again, Lucky, who's name really was starting to get the better of him. "Dispose of any garbage. I will expect proper reports where necessary."
In theory though, Caelius hadn't said to keep Chel alive.
chiickadee From this point onwards Chel cannot use her weapon until Lucky has written permission for her ICly (or she asks for permission directly from Caelius and is approved). She is allowed to use any form of runics, which amount to 2d6-6 as there isn't really anybody stopping her from doing so. As per punishment of usual demotions, there is also now a bracelet attached to Chel's wrist. She will not be able to leave any part of Deus without the bracelet literally exploding her. Chel's "death solo": In addition, a certain guest has played around with Chel's memories. Go ahead and write up a memory reaction post below! Pick three memories (they must be KEY memories) related to the emotions "joy" and "anger" and discard them. They must have happened prior to this RP (ie you can't pick anger related to this RP). You can pick for example, 2 joy 1 anger, but not just 3 joy or 3 anger. Your character will permanently forget those exact memories, and personally witnesses as they are torn away. Lastly, decide on what Chel's major memories related to "love" are. She forgets everyone she has ever loved and the memories related to them. The emotion of love is defined by anyone she feels a personal bond or connection to, including friendship and trust. She experiences these getting extinguished, leaving a hollow, incomplete sensation. OOCLY: These key memories may be recovered if Chel gets her weapon back. In addition, it is possible, if Chel gets a little too memory-making happy, that someone will visit her to consume them. Once a visitor, always a visitor. - You may recover any lost memory from the above by doing a DREAM solo later about this related to the memory. It seems ??? is not entirely merciless. - A CD has been added for this effect - after one OOC month it is assumed that the situation has been icly resolved otherwise this may happen again.
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Posted: Mon Oct 19, 2015 2:32 pm
"Can this wait until we're outside -" he began. Lucky had already finished giving Rep, Gale, and Wilson a series of desperate looks as they abandoned him to his fate. He had turned back to Chel and was about to give her a more resigned one when the blue arc slashed through her. No matter how many times he watched something like this happen, Lucky still flinched. Upon being addressed by Caelius, he had already looked over his shoulder to find Mark making himself extremely scarce, and grimaced. Maybe this was why Mark had been so eager to see him promoted. Damn it. Well. Best not to waste time here or he'd be next. At least this wasn't the first body Lucky had dragged out of Caelius's presence before - and she looked lighter than Finn had been. The folding chair was more or less forgotten for the other stragglers to deal with as he approached Chel's unmoving form. He continued his tradition of making no eye contact with the death lead as he stuttered a combination of two frantic answers at once. "I'll - yes. Right - yes, sir." He grabbed Chel unceremoniously under both shoulders and began to drag her away to the only place he could think to -- the pod room. If she wasn't dead by the time she got there, then someone else better qualified to stop the bleeding could figure out how to get her the rest of the way to the new infirmary. "Let's work on your attitude first," he mumbled to the unconscious body. "I really don't want to have to do this again." * Text to Mimsy where is robert? i've got a small urgent medical emergency in the pod room... Text to Robert hey, robert, do you know anything about keeping blood inside someone's neck instead of outside? Text to Robert and before you ask, it's not my neck Text to Robert just come to the pod room i can't carry her all the way to the infirmary chimarii Chel will be in the tent-infirmary by the time she wakes up. nothing yet Paging the other Dr. Morris
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Posted: Mon Oct 19, 2015 9:27 pm
It was quick, actually. So quick she didn't have time to register the pain, the feeling. She was just in existence one moment and out the next.
---
Trickling water was an odd thing to hear in hell, she thought.
(Because what other afterlife option would she have than the flames of hell?)
It was a blurry, airy feeling being dead. Objects weren't fixed in any one spot, they smeared into the sky, into the soft scent of flowers exuding from a strange figure standing above her body. She struggled of course (as the figure so keenly pointed out; struggling was her nature) but to no avail.
"Do you know who I am?"
Was she supposed to? Chel thought back to the deepest parts of her memory. For some reason, her mind fixated on the flowers; they reminded her of the flower crowns Nevada so often wore. Yet another sign that she'd definitely died. She opened her mouth to say as much, but she was frozen. That was when she panicked, because she remembered. She remembered everyone she'd left behind.
Somewhere a girl faintly heard the beep of a heart monitor. Hospital?
Eyes widened as fingers came near. Don't touch me she wanted to scream. That wasn't hers to touch. Not her mind to invade. Not hers not hers-
Memories.
Electricity.
She could only attach very small words to her experience at the moment. It wasn't her experience alone.
"This one."
---
Chel took a few running steps to move in front of him, the headphones bouncing against her ear somehow adding to the joke of it all. But when she got there, words failed her. She thought she was somehow ready to do this. She wasn't. Even Owain couldn't give her the encouragement to move forward.
Instead all that escaped her was an angry, muffled guttural noise while she oh-so dramatically slammed her fist against one of the lockers, leaving a small dent in it. Even weakened she was still blessed by hunter strength and a sick set of muscles.
I care is what she wanted to shout, but how little that would have effect. Regardless of anything Owain said, Chel felt very deeply in her core that Jack cared little for her feelings; that much was evident in his actions. Maybe Owain had to be ignored. Maybe it was time to give up.
---
It was a horrifying sensation, choking without being able to move. "I see, maybe I am wrong. Is it perhaps this one instead?"
---
Chel sat on the counter, because her parents weren't there to tell her not to drag her muddy rubber boots across the tile. She stomped a soldier's march, barking orders at Chris to add the mix, add the milk, add the chocolate, add it add it-
He only laughed and did as she told him. They got along, even beyond the forced bond of family. They were two people that just understood one another, even at such a young age.
The only time they argued was upon deciding whether to toss them in a pan or to make waffles. Being so young, Chris hadn't quite pieced together that they needed a waffle iron to make waffles, so he pitifully attempted to make a waffle in a frying pan.
Needless to say, pancakes won that night.
Chel bought ("bought" being used lightly since it was her parents' money and it was Christmas) him a waffle iron that winter.
---
She was crying now. She wasn't sure if it was a bodily reaction to the pain or a legitimate emotional response from losing something so dear to her. Those weren't hers. That wasn't-
---
"You'll probably do better then any other choice I've had. I like you, I really like you..." She couldn't bring the girl any closer then she already was, her hands rising from Chelsea's hips to the small piece of bra. "Then have me, I won't stop you Chelsea..."
---
Chel's breath was ragged. It was already too much. It hurt just to relive the memories, let alone watch them burn in front of her eyes like small rags in the wind. Like meaningless, churlish pieces of trash being throw into a landfill.
And then nothing. Stark nothingness. The kind promised by Merlin, the kind held between Jack's teeth and dragged across her skin by thinly knit leaves from a fairy. Just nothing. Back to the bleakness of disappointment, disappointment, disappointment. Of cold beds and icepacks on the bathroom floor. Of tossed water bottles and rotten daisies.
"Thank you Chel. I will cherish your memories. Please do make more treasured memories, I will always find you."
There was nothing left.
She had been wrong about the fountains and pillars. This was hell.
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