kyoupi generated a random number between
1 and 3 ...
3!
kyoupi Vice Captain
Dapper Entrepreneur
Offline
Posted: Tue Oct 01, 2013 8:39 pm
Lazarus was only paying Basil half his attention, his eyes looking at the other when he flicked on that lighter, and the most unexpected thing happened!
The lighter literally blew up in his hand! There was a sharp pain in his hand before the bright light drew his eyes back to the flames that erupted. "Ah!!" He yelled as he shut his eyes, blinded just for a moment by looking directly into the small explosion. Then he felt the fire crawl up his arm. What the ******** remains of the lighter fell to the ground with a dull thud as Lazarus snapped his eyes open, only to see his entire arm on fire! Although the fire doesn't really hurt him all that much, it was still a shocking sight to see it enveloping his bare arm like his arm was coated in some sort of flammable substance.
A scream snapped him out of his stupor and he realized to his horror, that Basil is on fire too!
Duncan was already asleep when Jeremy finished building the camp. The man was just thinking about eating the rest of his sandwich, stayed up a little bit to watch the fire before joining him in dreamland too. He settled down on a large flat rock by the camp fire and was about to take his first bite of the sandwich when he heard the small boom.
Storm grey eyes were reflecting bright orange flames as he witnessed the entire scene before his eyes. The explosion was only about one to two feet wide, not very big, but big enough to reach Basil as he saw the Frei's sleeve caught on fire. It only took him a second to drop his sandwich to the floor, and a few more to get up and rush to them. Although it also only took that long for the fire to spread to the Frei's neck and face. Damn! He need to act fast, get something to put the fire out!
Basil's drying sweatshirts!!
When he grabbed the articles of clothing, they were warm but still a little damp, as he could still feel the weight in his hands. Basil was already freaking out all over the camp by then. In the process of him flailing about, he accidentally set the camp that was drying on the side on fire. But Jeremy can't care about that now! "STAY STILL!!" Jeremy shouted as he chased the Frei, and managed to put the damp sweatshirt over him when he was writhing on the ground. Frantically he patted the fire on the Frei's shoulder, and was thankful to see it went out rather quickly.
Lazarus still stood there with his arm on fire. And now... he felt another sensation arising... from inside of him. The fire outside, he was aware that it does not belonged to him, it was the flame from the lighter. The flame that is brewing inside of him though, is definitely his. And this sensation, felt familiar somehow. Despite the flame enveloping his arm and slowly spreading to his body now, his blood ran cold when he realized what it reminded him of - when he exploded during his Sigel growth.
Eyes went wide, he looked at Jeremy with Basil, then at Duncan. He can't stay here!!
Water, he need water!! And not just any water, a body of water large enough to dip his whole body into with. Lazarus was well aware that there isn't anything here that could put out this mysterious, magical flame. The few bottles of water wouldn't be enough, and he can't stay too long to wait what would happen if they don't put him out in time.
There is only one thing he could do. Spreading his wings, he gave a mighty flap and rose up into the air. He need to get as far away as possible, and the only water source that is anywhere near here was that small river from where they came from. It wouldn't be a long trip, a couple of minutes at most. Flying is faster than floating, although he had to exert more energy to do so. The ticking sound was getting louder by the second, and he had no time to waste! With another flap and he was already gone, soaring above the tree canopy, like a flaming meteor flying through the atmosphere.
To tell the truth, he wasn't sure if he could make it. He could feel his chest expanding, overflowed by the dangerous energy that dwells within him. He is trying his best to suppress it, but the ticking that was growing louder and louder by the second, to the point that it is actually all that he could hear, the sensation was too overwhelming. If he explodes halfway, at least he is now a decent distant from their camp.
At least, there will only be one casualty.
Posted: Fri Oct 04, 2013 1:51 pm
Duncan sank into a deep sleep not minutes after he rested his head against his sleeping bag. Despite the chaos of the surrounding area, the man seemed at-peace with dreaming on, rollicking with his sleeping bag against the dirt of the forest like a slowly moving rock. Though he didn't have the inclination to move much, he did favor his sides occasionally.
His ears were cozied into the pillowed layer of the sleeping bag. Despite Jeremy's attempt to shout, it only reached Duncan as a faint murmur, the pat-pats of everyone's best efforts seeming like nothing more than the acoustics of the surrounding forest.
Rookeries Crew
Offline
Anachrophobia Captain
Offline
Posted: Fri Oct 04, 2013 6:27 pm
The damp shirts smother the fire on Basil's arm and neck with great quickness, and the tired cobra may be happy to see that the burns that licked his arm and throat are not of a serious variety. While red and inflamed, they have not eaten skin, and the magical fire sputters and dies without the strength to leave too much carnage behind. Some anti-burn cream, some gauze, and perhaps ice (if only there were ice!) and Basil will be fine.
The tent, however, and Lazarus, are another story. With Basil now free of the flame, he and Jeremy are free to notice that one of the two tents is now engulfed in flames, with all of their gear within! They should act quickly if they want to save anything.
But of course, this is not the only matter commanding their attention. Lazarus is gone, and they can see a flickering through the jungle canopy as he sears across the night sky away from them, still aflame.
Soon, though, they will hear where he has gone.
For Lazarus, it must feel like choking on smoke in reverse, with the fire bubbling up within him and trying to exit from his nose, his mouth, his fingernails. He is lucky he took such quick action, because no sooner does he hit the water's edge that his body erupts into an inferno, engulfing him inside and out like fat on flame. The water makes a sharp hiss as he enters, and then there is a deafening boom as water and fire fight against each other, fish and frogs exploding high into the night sky. If he had been on land -- or worse, at camp -- there is no doubt that he would have reduced all his teammates to smithereens.
And then there is just Lazarus on a half-dry riverbank, wet and black with soot, smoke rising from him like magma that's hit seawater. So much of his power has gone into that explosion -- and avoiding destroying others -- that he barely has the energy to lift himself from the fast-drying mud beneath him.
Posted: Sun Oct 06, 2013 12:09 am
Jeremy acted fast, and Basil was soon smothered with hissing sweet relief. He groaned in a way that was almost pornographic as his sweatshirt doused the angry flames. Gripped with shock, there was a delay before he bolted upright, flinging the sweatshirt off himself the way a sleeping person would kick off their sheets after a bad dream.
His heart was beating rabbit-fast. It was okay. He was okay. His eyes darted in all directions. He looked at Jeremy's feet. Then up at Jeremy's horror-stricken face. He looked at the flaming tent. He looked at the flickering shadows between trees. His own shadow, cast long behind him, stretched farther than he could ever throw, even right-handed. Then, just for a second, he saw something burning away into the brutal night. A straight-shot, like the trajectory of a satellite as seen from the earth. His brain couldn't catalogue it all fast enough.
He quickly checked his damage, touching a cluster of trembling fingertips to the red blotch across his shoulder. To his total dismay, it seared even worse than the burning itself. He actually had to shut his eyes. Seething through his teeth and going red in the face. <********, that ******** hurt!
He didn't know enough about burns to know it was a good thing. It was only the top layer, barely first-degree. A little worse than a bad sunburn, but extremely sensitive. It would probably blister up later. Fill up with fluid and then peel like the thinnest skin of an onion. It hurt because his nerves were that much closer to the surface, but it would have been worse to not feel anything at all. Much, much worse.
He stood up, hovering his hand defensively over the angry skin. He was shaking all over.
Just when he let his guard down. Just when he thought they could catch a break.
Then he realized. Wait. Where was Laz? What happened to Laz?
He looked frantically around him. It didn't even show up on his radar that he should recognize that flaming light in the sky as his team-mate.
He shouted, "Laz?"
Again, louder and more urgent, "Laz!?"
He clutched the sides of his head, spinning in place while the tent burned and smoldered. He wasn't sure he could take much more of this. The suspense and surprises and sudden ambushes. What the hell was he thinking? What was he even doing out here? What made him think he could possibly do this?
At some point he stopped turning, and locked eyes with the cat. It was barely an outline in the trees, but he knew it was there. He could sense it. Its eyes squinting into golden slits. He started to shake even harder at the sight of it, something boiling up from deep inside him.
All at once, he threw down his arms and roared, "Stop it! Just stop!"
He bent to the ground and dug a weathered stone out of the earth, wrenching his fingers underneath and feeling the solid heft of it in his hand. Stringy tree-roots dragged out with it, dirt caking under his nails. Then, without aiming or even really trying, he drew back his arm and fired the stone into the trees. Hard. A desperate act of impotent rage. Stop it. You're killing us. Don't you know you're killing us?
He didn't really care if he hit the cat or not. He didn't expect to. He could barely even see it through the trees. He just had to try. Reason with it. Threaten it. Something.
The campsite was in total chaos. He looked back at the tent. All their stuff was in there! He should help! Do something! But then, he also heard something far off. Something in the distance. Was it Laz? Was it the panther?
There was an explosion next, which wasn't any more definitive. Only more alarming.
God, what should he do? What was he supposed to do? What would The Other do?!
He didn't have the time or the luxury of weighing his options. Stay or go. Stay or go. It was the hardest choice he'd ever made in his life. Laz could need his help! Or maybe he was wrong and going out into those woods would just get him mauled. Genie told him not to break off from the group!
And what about all their supplies? Their food and tents and compasses and... everything!
Basil had to make a very hasty decision, and in the half-second it took him to make it, he decided—with some hesitancy—that saving a life was more important than some sleeping bags. If he was going to do it, it was now or never. Adrenaline could be a pretty good substitute for bravery in times like these, and right now he had it in spades.
Without even a warning or a lantern, he bolted back onto the path. He wouldn't need a lantern if he just followed his ears. If he had even a little faith in his abilities to guide him where he needed to be. He was coming.
Laz, hold on!
Twintastic
Dangerous Conversationalist
Offline
kyoupi Vice Captain
Dapper Entrepreneur
Offline
Posted: Wed Oct 09, 2013 8:47 pm
When Lazarus saw the body of water, the fire was already so overwhelming that he is no longer in flight, but instead pummeling through the sky into the river. For a split second he passed out, but was rudely awaken when he hit the cold water. He gasped deeply at the sensation of the fire spilling out of his body, through his nose, his mouth and even his eyes, as it fought against the water that is overwhelming it. Even though it was agonizing, he sank his claws into the river, grasping for large heavy rocks and thick weeds. He needed to engulf himself into the water, he needed to put the fire, his fire out!
A harrowing roar escaped Lazarus's lips as he exploded, although it was muffled by the sound of the explosion. For a moment the river bed could be seen from the ground as the water was blown apart, sending all the aquatic life and rocks in the immediate vicinity flying in every direction.
Lazarus must had passed out for a minute or two at that time, as when he woke up with a gasp he already found himself laying face down on the riverbank, his drenched ribbons still dangling in the water, and his blacken body still smoking from the explosion. The Sigel heaved and coughed as he laid there, his throat felt dry but he was still expelling water when he coughed. This must be how it feels like to had suffered smoke inhalation from a fire and nearly drowned at the same time. He was so weak that he could barely move, he just wanted to close his eyes... and...
Then he saw the bracelet on his wrist, the beaded bracelet that Xiu had given him. It was charred and mostly covered in dried crusted mud, but there were hints of green still glistening in the moon light. That's right, he cannot give up now, he still needed to find Kyou, and to see Xiu again to give the bracelet back to him!
Fingers digging into the almost dried mud, he tried to push himself off the ground. However he only got a few inches off the ground before he fell back down with a groan. His body was just so heavy, his mind still so muddled. The foul stench coming from the pit of massacred dead body parts came back to haunt him again, and he coughed a few more times, trying to expel it out.
"Help..." His voice was barely a whisper as unconsciousness began to take over. No matter how hard he tried, how much he wanted to get up, he just... can't. Red eyes were a dull glow as they began to roll back. But just before he closed his eyes, he thought he saw a figure of someone emerging in the far distant.
Jeremy could only watch helplessly as Lazarus soared off into the sky, his only consolation is that he knew where the Sigel was headed. That was some quick thinking on Lazarus's part.
However, these is still something else on fire at their camp site. "s**t!!" Jeremy cussed as he rushed over to the tent with the damp sweatshirt. The fire had already engulfed nearly the entire tent when he got there, the only thing he could do was continuously slap the sweatshirt onto the fire, trying to put as much out as he could. When that sweatshirt finally caught on fire too, he threw it aside onto the ground and grabbed the other drying sweatshirt. He heard the explosion going off in the distance, but is too engrossed at that moment trying to put the fire out. It took him a few minutes to finally put the fire out, and by that time he was panting heavily from the exertion, and covered in soot and ash as well.
The tent had completely fallen apart, and to his dismay he realized that Basil had placed his backpack in it, as well as some of Duncan's gears as well. Burnt maps, guide books, dry foods and even Basil's theremin did not escape unharmed. It laid there by the side of the burnt tent, crushed in the chaos, it even had a little burn marks at the edges.
Sadden, Jeremy turned around to tell it's owner of it's fate, but was only greeted with emptiness. Where did Basil go?
Posted: Sat Oct 12, 2013 11:04 pm
The campsite was turning to chaos. Duncan rolled in his sleeping bag and blinked one hazy blink into the emanating warmth of his surroundings. While Basil and Jeremy were rushing among the fires to try and cool it, Duncan was only just sitting up, his bare eyes staring bewildered. The events didn't settle into his mind well, at first-- his body registered it as an immediate reason to panic.
Duncan rustled his shaking hands into his jacket and struggled to put his glasses back on. Unzipping was harder than he expected-- the zipper was tugging on the fabric too much, and too much dirt caught onto the line. He stared wide-eyed at the blurry figure that was Basil and then to Jeremy, the words they were trying to say completely muted and incomprehensible to him. Reality snapped back into more clarity once he was able to adjust his crooked glasses and tug himself away from the sleeping bag like a belligerent infant nestled into his blankets.
"Jeremy!" Duncan yelled, immediately going to him while he collected the campsite's bearings. He didn't recognize that Lazarus had disappeared entirely from the team, and that Basil was following after him. Duncan felt useless, but he took off his jacket immediately nonetheless and started to helplessly fan out the campsite. Though he deeply doubted that this would work, there were no other provisions with him that he could use. A moment of disappointment settled in when he noticed his backpack among the burning fray, which caused his fanning to become faster, if only by a little bit--
He wiped his temples and noticed the billowing smoke just over the trees, shrouding the night, a fair distance away from the campsite.
"What--" Duncan looked around him, then yelled, "The Raevans! Are they--?!"
Rookeries Crew
Offline
Anachrophobia Captain
Offline
Posted: Mon Oct 14, 2013 9:59 am
Smoke rises, both from Lazarus's body and from the remains of the tent in the campsite. Adrenaline may pump through the teammates' veins - those of whom are still conscious-- but nothing else pops up to frighten or threaten them. There is only silence, as though the volume of the jungle has been turned down, and a pure and starless blackness of the canopy above them.
It remains this way, like the jungle holding its breath for more carnage, until well past sunrise and into the morning the next day.
Posted: Wed Oct 16, 2013 1:41 am
It wasn't long before Basil had deviated from the path, which was a generous label for the trampled strip of long-grass left by his human team-mates. He couldn't see it or sense it, except for a vague feeling that the terrain was somehow more hostile than he remembered it to be. The foliage turned lush and fragrant. The treetops were so thick they blocked out every trace of light. Even when his eyes adjusted to it, he could only make out blurry outlines, made distorted and sinister by some trick of the mind.
His only consolation was speed. His plan was to move faster than his brain could make sense of what it was seeing. Never stopping long enough to ask himself the origin of a shape or sound. Even when he blasted through thorny patches of briar that raked lines of fresh blood down his arms. Plucking at his clothes like nasty fingers.
Admittedly after a certain point, fear had started chipping away at his sense of heroism. Finding Laz became less about protecting him, and more about just having a destination to get to. It was like a game of tag and Laz was home-base. As though if Basil managed to outrun the forest and clear its hazards, if he managed to find Lazarus in time, then nothing could touch him. It'd be against the rules. He'd be in the clear...
He wasn't sure when he first started to smell the smoke, but knew that it was getting stronger. Maybe it was because it was such a change from the monotonous blackness that his first impulse was to follow it. It had to mean he was getting close to something. That he was on the right trail. Unfortunately his perception of distance was off. He had no landmarks or point of reference to tell him how far he'd gone. It felt like he'd been traveling for miles before the doubt started in. A little longer before he realized the fatal mistake that he'd made...
He knew better than to trust odors over sounds. Especially smoke. Smoke behaved differently from other smells. It spread like a blanket and lingered for hours. In a huge, open area like this, it could easily obscure its point of origin. So now, there was a very good chance he was all turned around. Maybe going in the wrong direction entirely. This was bad.
"Stupid... Stupid!" He whispered, short of breath. God, this was so typical of him.
He slowed down, and then stopped. Well, maybe somebody would come looking for him... Maybe he could find somewhere to hide.
He checked over his shoulder. Checked it twice. Then a third time. A fourth. There would have been a fifth but his neck started to cramp. He felt exposed, like someone bringing up the rear in a haunted house. The noises around him were numerous and deafening, but somehow all he could hear was his own ragged breath. His heart pounding in his eardrums. It was so dark. Death was coming with yellow eyes. Any minute now. He couldn't breathe.
He slapped himself. Once, and hard. He wasn't entirely sure why. He'd seen it done in the movies. A well-timed slap in the face was supposed to help. It was supposed to have some magical clarifying effect. But unfortunately, touching his cheek, he couldn't say he felt much different. Not any more confidant or resourceful. Just stupid, and kind of glad there was nobody around to see what he'd done.
He put his hands to his head. Seriously, get it together. You're a Raevan. Doesn't that mean something out here? Doesn't that count for anything?
A tree-frog cheeped and a chill raced up his spine. He couldn't sit here anymore. It was making him jumpy. If he concentrated he could hear the river. Maybe he could get his bearings from there.
It was probably the brightest idea he'd had all night. It wasn't much longer before things started to look brighter. The lines became a little clearer. The shadows contrasted a little darker. He could see an opening in the trees. He focused on it. Ran to it at break-neck speed.
It almost felt like he was flying as he crashed through the tree-line into pale moonlight, catching himself just before tumbling headlong into the pungent-smelling river. He looked around and laughed once, a shrill and delirious sound. It was such a relief to see his hand in front of his face again. A reaffirmation to see his skin and knuckles and dirty fingernails. He'd taken a chance and he wasn't dead. He felt like cheering.
Then he took a breath.
The smell of smoke was much stronger here. It wasn't like the spicy smell of a grill, or the strangely comforting smell of Cordelia's skin; like if charcoal were a woman's perfume. It was more sulfur-y. Like match-heads. He sniffed at the air. The corpse-pit was near here too. It put a sour taste in his mouth. Put bad thoughts in his head.
Maybe that was why he startled when he noticed Lazarus was nearby. Almost as if he'd forgotten why he'd come running all the way out here in the first place.
It was a shock to see him face-down in the mud like that. Half of him on land and the rest of him dragging out of the river, his ribbons dark and wet like entrails. He shook his head, his eyes going wider. Had he knees, they would have buckled under the stab he felt just then. Some volatile blend of grief and guilt. Until he realized that the Incubus still had a pulse. He could hear it. A little slow, but not life-threatening. He couldn't believe it, caught in a kind of emotional whiplash.
He found him. Lazarus was alive.
Somehow that was disorientating to him.
Not that he wasn't relieved, of course!
It was just...
Nobody had ever needed his help before. Not like this. Not this badly. It was a little overwhelming.
He braced himself and went to Lazarus' side. Tried to turn him over on his back, leaning over him. "Hey, it's okay! It's me!" Lazarus' body was cool to the touch, but steaming. Basil tried to shake him. Pat his cheeks.
"Hey. Wake up. What happened? Are you hurt?"
Basil felt his insides start to go cold when he didn't respond. He shook him a little harder, "Come on!"
And then, Lazarus' eyes slowly slid open.
--
Once Basil had extracted Lazarus from the river and brought him into the grass, there was a long deliberation period on Basil's part of whether or not it would be better to stay put, or even attempt the half-mile hike back to camp with no light, no flares, and with Basil more or less doing the leg-work for both of them. Basil wasn't sure he was up to it. He still felt weak from his encounter on the ice, vaguely aware that as the night dragged on, the jungle seemed to settle into an apprehensive silence, and his food-source was rapidly diminishing. He wasn't too worried about it though. He had a very slow, very efficient metabolism. His last meal would hold him for a while.
He settled under a tree, idly plucking at some white shelves of mushrooms growing out of the bark. He decided Lazarus was more or less stable, and he'd done the right thing by pulling him into the grass to dry off. But that was about as far as he got.
Thinking about a course of action was much easier than actually executing one. Now that he had found Lazarus, he was sort of at a loss. Deadlocked by his reluctance to take charge, despite a strong moral compulsion to do so. In his ideal mind, he was carrying Lazarus fireman-style back to camp by now, fighting the elements and being proactive. But in reality, his body sat there like a sack of potatoes. Numb with a total lack of confidence. Waiting for something, anything to happen.
It wasn't long before the quiet started to take effect on him. Before he fell into a reflective and troubled state of mind.
This was the first quiet moment he'd had to himself all night. The first spare moment he'd had to really process everything that had happened. The jungle was quiet enough that he could now hear the whistling spaces in his mind and heart where another person was supposed to go. The way an empty cave howls when a breeze passes through it. A long, mournful sound.
He looked at the river. The surface of the water was black and choppy, slapping at the inky shores. Leaving behind little trails of white foam. He started to wonder if maybe this was all an act of fate. If maybe things had finally come full circle for him.
He'd lived in a jungle once, in a lifetime before. Genie had told him as much. Who knows, maybe it was this one. This sure seemed like a jungle where strange and inexplicable things happened. A baby snake born two-headed wasn't such a stretch. Call it an innovation. One head to watch the other's back. Keep an eye out for bloodthirsty panthers.
Maybe that's why things had happened this way. Maybe the jungle had decided it was time to take his brother back. Maybe it was taking him home.
So then...
Why did Basil feel more like the shed skin the snake leaves behind? The brittle remnant of a living thing.
He turned his eyes at the sleeping Lazarus. He was missing his guardian right now. His friend and life-giver. That was sort of the same thing wasn't it?
A Greek playwright once wrote that in the beginning—in a young and virginal earth—all people started as two. They had two faces, four arms, and four legs, and despite having to move across the earth hand over foot in cartwheels, they were as contented as a living thing could be. Efficient and powerful. In a word, perfect. The jealous Gods, both in an effort to double their followers and secure their sacred stations, chose to halve these proto-humans. But instead of ensuring leagues of loyal worshipers, they only guaranteed that the halves would go on forever hungry. Forever searching for The Other side of them, giving birth to the Soul Mate theory, and the origins of true love.
Of course, it would be grossly inaccurate to say they were soul-mates exactly, but weren't they born in a similar image? Didn't they have the same potential for perfection if they worked at it?
Sure once they were older, trips to the bathroom would need some sensitive discussion, and there would never be enough closet space to go around. But those were all little things. Certainly negotiable things. Those things were trivial when you were an Ouroboros. A snake swallowing its own tail and making itself into a ring. A ring where it was impossible to tell exactly where The Other started and Basil ended.
Well now, Basil had a very clear idea of where he ended. In that moment, he could actually feel his limitations. His ragged edges. Like someone had ripped off his arm and left a bleeding stump he couldn't stop touching.
Without fully understanding why he had started to cry. His stinging eyes were over-bright and unblinking as the first tears slipped out. With nobody conscious around to see it, he made no effort to hide them. They were wet and nourishing as he stared at the water. Sitting in a big heap of himself.
He started to wonder if maybe The Other was happy here. Where the constant noise kept him fed, and his paranoia safe from predators. The Other was always at his happiest when he'd outsmarted someone... Maybe that's why he hadn't reached out for him. Sent him some kind of sign. But then...
Maybe he was in danger. Now there was a thought. What if he was out there somewhere, as halved and vulnerable as Basil felt now? And if so, why was he just sitting here? Too scared to talk? Too paralyzed to move?
His eyes went to Lazarus again.
Okay. So maybe Lazarus didn't know what it was like to share a brain with someone. Maybe he would never understand that level of intimacy. But he did know what it was like to lose someone. To worry for their safety. To be beaten down by the possibilities.
The only difference was, Basil's world was in upheaval too, and he couldn't tell any of these people why. Not Lazarus or Jeremy, or even the quiet, scholarly Duncan—assuming he ever saw them again. Even if they believed in the invisible brother that lived in his head, what then? Would they form another search party? Throw a blanket around his shoulders and tell him everything was going to be okay?
God.
For the first time in his short life, he wished he could talk to the Doctor face to face. For the first time he wondered.
What must he be like? The man who'd made all of this possible. The man they were doing all this for.
Was he a kind man? A cruel man?
And what did that say about him? About Lazarus, and Cordelia, and all the others?
To be honest, a small part of him was angry. A part he didn't like to think about very much. It wanted to ask what purpose the doctor had intended for Basil and his brother. Did he even intend anything at all? This couldn't be normal. This couldn't be what other people felt every day. People didn't ask themselves these kind of questions. He was just so frustrated. Was this really the life his maker had intended for him? What was the point? Was he an accident, a joke? A hiccup in a gene sequence? A bad mix of chemicals? What?
How much ownership did that man have in how totally ********> things had become?
Just then Lazarus stirred in his sleep. As though trying to turn over. Get comfortable. Basil's eyes narrowed. Had he knees, he would have drawn them to his chest. He felt stupid doing this. Watching over Lazarus. It felt like some huge prank he wasn't in on. Like he was so competent. Like he could even do anything if say, some big monster were to rise out of the river and swallow them up.
Or could he? 'I guess I don't know for sure until it happens.'
He gave it a minute. Then five. Nothing. The water was still.
He sighed.
Kyou.
He supposed they wouldn't be going to so much trouble to find him if he was such a bad guy... He just had so many questions now. Questions he wasn't sure anyone else could answer for him.
Questions like...
How do normal people stand this, Doctor? How do they live like this for years and years?
Do you go numb or something? Does it ever get better?
It figured he'd pick now of all times to be curious. When the man could be out there bleeding to death or dismembered in a pit somewhere. He shut his eyes. Pretended he was talking to him. One person to another. 'How do you people deal with how completely and utterly alone you all are?'
He hiccuped a sob. Covered his mouth.
I need to know because...
'Because I don't think He's coming back.'
Time passed. He might have sat there forever, keeping a restless watch over the sleeping Sigel, if he hadn't eventually picked up the sound of his name over the treetops. Both faint and loud to Basil's ears. He looked up suddenly. That was Jeremy. Jeremy and Duncan were out there. Calling for them. He jumped up, swiping his face on his forearms. He listened for it again.
He really wished he had a flare-gun right about now, and wondered if they'd been damaged in the tent-fire. For lack of a better alternative, he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air until they tingled, painfully full. He leaned back, tucking his elbows like chicken wings. He gathered up his energy, focused it, then shouted a single world at the volume of a jet engine.
"Marco!"
He leaned into the word, feeling a little light-headed afterwards. There was some delay before he finally heard a "polo". Jeremy again. His mouth made a shape like a hysterical smile. Help was on the way. He seemed almost possessed as he flew to Lazarus' side, trying to find the fastest way to move him. He hastily observed that Lazarus' horns looked a little like bicycle handles, but it only took one wrong pull and a groan from Lazarus to tell him it wasn't going to work. At the very least, the Incubus sure woke up in a hurry...
It was about five the morning when Team C finally regrouped in its entirety, after what had to be the most nightmarish game of Marco-Polo in recorded history. With the sky lightening overhead, it wasn't hard for the Raevans and humans to spot each other at a distance, looking like figments in the hazy light of dawn. Needless to say, it was a very brief, very somber reunion.
And just like that, Day Two of the search and rescue mission had now commenced.
Twintastic
Dangerous Conversationalist
Offline
kyoupi Vice Captain
Dapper Entrepreneur
Offline
Posted: Fri Oct 18, 2013 9:48 am
After he had put out the fire and sorted through the wreckage, or what remains of them, Jeremy realized that there was still no signs of the Raevans. It was still dark, and even though he had a basic idea of which direction the blast came from, it was still a little too risky to venture out right now in the dark. Who knows what dangers lurk in the darkness, and it would be a bad idea if they got lost too. Plus Duncan seemed exhausted as well, having woken up rudely from his sleep like that and had to go through his burnt things, must have been rough. So the man decided, and both agreed upon that they should only venture out to look for the Raevans at the first sight of daylight.
The night was long, and Jeremy was so worried that he didn't catch much sleep. He took some naps in between, but he stayed up most of the night in hopes of seeing the Raevans' return, but to no avail. He was sure that Duncan had more rest than he did.
At the break of dawn, he gently woke Duncan up and they head out in search for the Raevans, slowly making their way back towards the river.
All night Lazarus floated in and out of consciousness. It wasn't a pleasant experience, as his head and his whole body hurts when he regains consciousness, even for a little bit. However he at least knew someone else was with him. He was not alone, laying at the bank of the river just waiting for the panther to come back and finish him off.
The Sigel was still pleasantly unconscious at day break, when a sudden and hard tug on his horns sent sharp pain through his skull, waking him up immediately with a groan. "Ugh...."Why did he have to do that?! Horn tugging is right up there in Lazarus's most-hated list. It was no surprise when he saw that it was Basil who did it, who is now waving frantically at someone in the distance. Someone... Jeremy!!
His eyes cleared and refocused after a few blinks, and he finally realized that it was already morning. The Sigel still needed to hold onto a tree as support to get up, he was sore all over and still feeling exhausted, having one hell of a migraine too.
"Thank goodness!!" Jeremy practically threw himself around Basil as he gave the Frei a hug, but was careful not to hurt himself from his sharp wings. Then he noticed Lazarus not far behind him. "Goodness you look terrible." He said as he released Basil, then proceeded to go help the Sigel instead.
"I'm fine..." Lazarus's voice was hoarse, likelihood a result from the events during the night. "I just need some water... and maybe some... some fire." He was still unsure about the latter, but that odd, suffocating feeling was gone from his chest now. Aside from the physical weakness, he actually felt... rather refreshed in the magic of his core. He suppose that there is only one way to find out if fire still makes that tick tick sound inside of him.
Slowly they made their way back to the camp, and Lazarus was glad to see that Jeremy still kept the fire burning at the camp site. And thankfully, he did not feel the power inside him well up in his chest anymore, there was no ticking sound, and he don't feel suffocated. Lingering close to the fire, he indulged in all the fire that he needed, even putting his hand in the flames at one point, which might have cause some alarm to his fellow campers. After a brief clean up and some water, he felt refreshed enough already to continue on their quest. And by that time the sky had pretty much lit up.
Posted: Sun Oct 20, 2013 6:05 pm
Duncan wasn't too sure if there was any way he was able to truly help the Raevans or Jeremy out. He did have some searching to do, though, considering the fact that his tent and belongings were now mostly decimated with the rest of the fire. He was put to considerable unease when Jeremy allowed the fire to continue rolling, as the logs used to secure its border were brittle and black and worse for wear. Nevertheless, when the Sigel cited his need for water-- which struck him as strange, initially, given his unique stature-- Duncan tried to speed up his search.
Thankfully, the metallic canteen inside of the burny remains of his backpack was still intact. Duncan shook it a couple of times to make sure there were still fluids in there, before turning around to the Sigel. He held out the canteen, "There's some water in here, Lazarus." He figured that the route back home would be best kept along the riverside, and he figured restocking supplies would happen at some point in the future. He was hazy from a lack of sleep and was uncertain of their journey here, to say the least, but his lethargic self was more optimistic than anything else. Strangely.
Just then, Duncan felt a dull vibration in his pocket. He nearly jumped in surprise, which looked rather silly, as he still had one arm outstretched with the canteen. He dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone, eyes wide-eyed with revelation. During the series of events that followed up to this morning, Duncan had completely forgotten about his cellphone. Unfortunately, the number was a foreign one, and he could tell from the 3G sign and low battery sign that its energy was quickly draining. nonetheless, out of some inclination for hope, Duncan received the call.
"Ah," Duncan began, his voice ragged, "This is Duncan Clarke. Who is this?"
Rookeries Crew
Offline
Anachrophobia Captain
Offline
Posted: Sun Oct 20, 2013 6:25 pm
As Duncan answers his phone, there is a strange feedback whenever Anita speaks. They are capable of holding a conversation, but not much of one -- one that requires much repeating and clear enunciating on both sides. Soon enough, however, the weak signal on Duncan's phone gives out, and the brief connection between the two teams is lost.
The next few hours feel both grueling and strangely boring -- taking inventory of supplies, restocking what is possible, leaving behind what's too burnt to use. Then there is the hike itself, which is tedious and difficult, the humidity causing both humans and Raevans alike to pour sweat and to drink as much as their rations will allow. The scenery seems unchanging as the hours go by. That strange tree with the split trunk, hadn't they seen it before? What about that nest of birds, wasn't that the same as the one two hours ago?
It's going into late afternoon and surely, surely they would have come across something different by now, wouldn't they? But then again, it's so hot and buggy and uncomfortable, and there are centipedes on the ground and mosquitoes the size of one's palm, and the sun is baking their heads somehow through the canopy, and the sweat has gone through their shirts and feels like a bug crawling down their backs and scalps, and they're all so sweaty and smell so bad.
Who is carrying the map and compass? Are they sure they're going the right way?
Perhaps unnoticed, a bush rustles to their left. Probably just another one of the many jungle creatures, right?
Posted: Tue Oct 22, 2013 12:56 pm
Needless to say, after the horn-pulling incident, relations between Basil and Lazarus had become even more strained than usual. After they were safely reunited with the others, the cobra and incubus had made an unconscious and unspoken agreement that it would probably be in the other's best interest to stay out of each other's way for a while.
Packing up their campsite and what little remained of their supplies was a hollowing experience. Discarding what was too burnt to use. Feeling the new weightlessness of their packs around their shoulders. Basil tenderly running his palm over the charred remains of his theremin...
It all just smacked so much of... futility, and everyone felt it. Like a thumb on the backs of their sweaty necks. Or perhaps a very tiny paw.
Basil poked at the cinders of the campfire with a melted tent-stake, watching with dull interest as Lazarus passionately drank from the blackened cantine offered to him by Duncan. Watching him quench his thirst was enough to make Basil smack his tongue with similar want, but he said nothing, casting a sidelong glance to his theremin instead. He wondered if it could be repaired. If it would ever play music again. Maybe a burial was in order. Some kind of ceremony. Something quick and dignified.
He put his chin in his hand. What a dumb idea.
He turned up his eyes, sensing the vibration from Duncan's cell-phone a full beat before he did.
Was somebody really calling? Out here?
Duncan flipped the cell-phone open and spoke into it. Although Basil was the only one equipped to hear the conversation with as equal clarity as Duncan, the mysterious caller had aroused the team's total attention. All eyes watched, unblinking. All ears strained to listen.
It was distorted and staticy, but Basil could tell it was a woman on the other end of the line. He didn't recognize the voice. There was a brief exchange of information, none of it helpful. Was she saying "I need a" or "Anita"? The phone cut out before he could decide, fizzling into the worst kind of silence. The team exchanged glances over the sound of the dial-tone. How was that for eerie?
Basil flung his tent-stake into the bushes.
--
Again in line formation, the team pressed on, headed deeper into the savage wilderness.
Although Basil had now taken a stronger liking to Jeremy over the course of the expedition, he installed himself instead at the rear of the line. Slinking behind the others like the lamest member of a four-man wolf pack. Chewing a straw of long-grass and draining his blisters with a safety pin.
The hike was miserable, and seemed to stretch on in dog-years. The men were dripping with sweat. Actually dripping like leaky faucets. Sweat bled through their clothes, the fabric clinging to their backs in huge dark capes and rings around their underarms. Everyone was bruised and chafed and exhausted. The lack of sleep and biting insects made them snappish and impatient with each other. There was a lot of groaning and sarcasm, in the off-chance anyone chose to speak at all.
Basil for one hadn't said much of anything after leaving the campsite, his eyes glazed with a mixture of boredom and contemplation. Every so often he'd slap at a gnat or a mosquito, wiping their crushed bodies on passing trees. Sometimes he'd thoughtfully roll the straw of grass with his lips, making it twirl like a parasol. Sometimes he'd grunt or request a drink of water, but otherwise went totally without remark or complaint.
Since the night before, he'd found himself nursing a quiet hope in his queasy and cold-blooded heart. A hope he fed secretly with worms and grubs like a nestling bird.
The events of last night had now doubled, even tripled his determination to find the doctor. Alive and intact. Of course that had been the objective from the very beginning, but now, it had become so much more.
It wasn't just about saving the doctor's life—although that was motivation enough—but the even more corrupting belief that where the doctor was, the truth might also be found. A chance to soothe his ragged edges, and put right to his excruciating singularity.
Maybe it was all connected, He thought. Maybe once they found the doctor, it would add some new pieces to the puzzle, and Basil would be one step closer to being whole again. He had to believe this. Had to fixate on it and think of nothing else. Because otherwise he might think of reaching behind him.
He'd never make it.
He might close his long piano fingers around a shard from his wing. Pluck it out. Trace the fine edges with his thumbnail.
A life with his brother was the only life he'd ever known. Sharing a brain the way twins share a womb. Their condition was an institution as sacred as prison or war, not meant to be tampered with. And that was the fact.
Some people were just born to die in prison, weren't they. When they'd been there longer than they'd been in the world outside? No sir, I'm an institutional man now. Some were made to die on the battlefield, too hardened for civilian life. Trying to breathe life into it with flashbacks at the dinner table and sheet-twisting nightmares. Some people lived in their eating disorders and dirty compulsions. Too conditioned by the rules and habits. Suffering in them, dying in them, but unable to conceive of a life without them.
There were some things there was just no coming back from. No coming home again.
He knew the real world would be too much for him. Too harsh. Too confusing. With only his judgment to rely on, it would cut him down. Grind him up with its flat dirty teeth. There wouldn't be any point in it.
He'd need a way out. An exit strategy. In case.
He'd pluck it out. Plug the hole where his neck ended and his collarbones kissed.
There wasn't any place for him.
If not out the mouth, then into his head with all its new empty spaces. The acoustics of his skull would be beautiful.
Genie would understand.
He'd have to send the pain up. Straight up like a pipe organ. Booming through his brain in a long. Pure. Note.
--
Sweat dribbled into his eye, stinging it shut. He mumbled and wiped it clean with two dirty fingertips, then used same fingertips to tap Duncan on the shoulder. "Water." he said curtly.
As the man rummaged for his cantine, Basil looked around for the first time in miles.
Trees. Lots and lots of trees.
He glanced at the front of the line. At the back of Jeremy's shaggy gray head. How about an update, guy?
Twintastic
Dangerous Conversationalist
Offline
kyoupi Vice Captain
Dapper Entrepreneur
Offline
Posted: Sat Oct 26, 2013 10:00 am
Lazarus didn't know what to say to Basil as they trekked on into the depths of the forest. At one side, he felt irritated that the Frei had actually attempted to pull his horns. General knowledge, you should never pull someone's, or even an animal's extremities without knowing what might happen. A dog would probably bite your hand if you pulled it's tail, a scratch from a cat's, and maybe even a slap from an elephant if you tried to pull his trunk.
However, at one side Lazarus was sort of thankful that Basil had pulled him out of the river and stayed by his side all night, guarding him as he rested.
These contradicting emotions and thoughts were probably what contributed to their current awkwardness. They didn't exchange a single word as they marched on, he only talked with Jeremy and Duncan on the on and off occasion. Which is probably why he's trailing right behind Jeremy, with Duncan in between the Raevans. However, the Sigel still looked back once in a while to make sure that Basil is still following them, and not wandered off somewhere or left behind.
His body still felt all sorts of awful though. He haven't been so physically exhausted his whole life. Although he had his share of feeding to replenish his energy to the fullest, Lazarus was still suffering from some after effects of the explosion. Like a terrible sore throat, his skin felt super dry and still stained with soot, and his muscles felt sore. He drank quite a bit of water already to soothe his throat, which he knew he shouldn't, since they had to ration their supplies. But it just felt soooo goooooood!
While thankful that nothing weird, bizarre or dangerous had befallen them all day, Jeremy was finding the trek difficult. He was leading the team as he held the compass in hand, and the map folded in his vest pocket, now kind of crumpled and worn since he had taken it out to see where they are so often. The map seemed right, it was mostly flat land in the direction they were headed in, but why does everything look more or less the same? He could have sworn he saw that rat shaped bush a mile ago. Taking a look at his watch, he realized that they had been walking for four hours already. Really? Just four hours?? It felt like they had been walking for much more longer than that. His feet are starting to hurt, and he could feel the calf on his left leg cramping a little bit.
Taking a water canteen from his backpack, he took a large gulp to quench his thirst. He can't get dehydrated in this vast forest.
As he stuff his canteen back into his backpack, he saw a large tree with some green fruits on it. Didn't they pass one a few miles back? Stopping for a moment, he took out his knife and decided to mark a triangle on the bark. At least this way, he'd be absolutely sure that they weren't trekking in circles. Just in case this is some bizarre scenario that was messing up his compass.
The bush right next to the tree rustled suddenly then, which nearly made his heart jumped out of his mouth. Having jumped a step back, he took the hunting knife slowly out of it's sheath on his belt, eyes widen with wary, with even a hint of fear as the bush rustled again.
Despite his tiredness, his mind and body kicked into high alert when the bushes rustled. The hunting knife was swiftly drawn out and poised to attack at any time. Is it more cats? Is it the jaguar again? Or is this just some harmless bunny looking for food? At any rate, there is only one way to find out. Seeing that Jeremy and Duncan was not moving forwards at all to investigate, Lazarus decided that he should as he approached the bush, gently sticking the knife in and parting some of the leaves...
Duncan looked around to see if anyone else was present, and lowered his voice to Anita. "I'm afraid my battery's running low. I have your phone number... is it alright if I call you again, soon? I believe we're also starting to head out." He seemed reluctant to rely, as losing contact with Anita was the last thing he wanted to do. Upon looking back at his group, though, it was evident that they were preparing to leave, with what little supplies they had left. "I would hold out some hope, Anita. I-- know it's been rough, and we've both had long days, but it seems like we have no choice. Do you think it'd be a good idea to convene somewhere?"
Anita agreed wholeheartedly to the idea. Troxel was able to relay to Duncan the locations that both of the groups were in, and the walk itself didn't seem to arduous or horrible, especially given what they'd endured just a day before. Duncan was hasty go give Anita a farewell before hanging up, as the battery was in dire need of savoring. At best, Duncan reasoned that it would hold up for another half-hour or so of conversation before dying completely. Hopefully, the amount of communication the two groups had to do would be minimal-- all Duncan had to do was to propose a plan for their group and hope they would agree to it. When he put his cellphone away in his pocket, though, it seemed that Basil was staring over in his direction, and he offered a meek smile.
"Another team might want to meet us soon. It might be best for us, considering all of the supplies we lost."
Disagreement or agreement aside, Duncan complied with gathering what salvageable supplies they would before wandering onward again. When he received his canteen back from Lazarus, he shook it to measure its volume-- the Sigel had take a significant amount, but Duncan found it best to bear down and not complain. His hope, of course, was in walking back towards the river again.
---
Alas, as the time passed, and Duncan was nothing more than a ball of sweat and ache, hope was lost.
His obedience toward the people he trusted still held strangely strong, as Duncan's optimism was one of the few lasting equipment he had in the remainder of his hike. He did not, however, have the energy to pursue hours of walking without the consequences to follow, as he wasn't nearly as robust nor magical as Jeremy nor the Raevans. When Jeremy carved another marking into a tree-- he wasn't sure how many he had carved before then-- Duncan leaned against the weight of an old oak and slid down. He panted and wiped his forehead, ruminating over the ache of his back that refused to go away. The passage of time was evident by the heat and the warmer, brighter smatterings of light passing over from the trees.
"I'm sorry, everyone, but may we take a break? My back," Duncan stood back up, slowly, and brushed the stray leaves from his jacket and pants, "It's not cooperating."
Just then, Basil tapped him on the shoulder and asked him for water. No doubt, Duncan had been straining driblets of water here and there from the same blackened canteen he'd given Lazarus hours ago, but there were still a couple of strained sips left in the whole thing. For a moment, Duncan was reluctant, but he recalled Genie from the beginning of the trip. Take good care of him.
"Ah, of course," Duncan replied, before searching through his backpack for the canteen, "But we don't have much water left." Duncan wiped the sweat off of his brow before handing Basil the canteen. He looked over to Jeremy and staggered slowly towards his direction.
"Jeremy?" Duncan tapped Jeremy on the shoulder, lightly, straining hard to look at the map and compass, "Do you know where we are? It looks like we may need more water. There was a river up north a while back, but we never passed it... I'm still unclear on whether or not we're meeting the other group."
Rookeries Crew
Offline
shushida
Indulgent Bunny
Offline
Posted: Thu Oct 31, 2013 3:58 pm
As Laz's knife glided smoothly through the bush's underbrush, the foliage gave a frighteningly harsh shake before it lashed out. A flashlight swung out of the shrub. Its weight collided with the incubus' hand with just enough force to smack the blade from his grip. A small voice squeaked in terror. The cry remained garbled until LuLu's eyes focused on her assailant long enough to identify them as a raevan. She managed to calm herself enough to form strained words, "You scared me to death!" The flashlight fell to her side as she poised her hands on her hips. Her tone was accusatory as though she was not the one who was lurking just a few seconds prior. Then again, who wouldn't want to lurk in hiding in this forest? Especially, when they were trekking it on their own.
Sure enough, LuLu had fired a flare when they had found Prajna out cold by a lake. She had remained at the frei's side along with their guardian long enough for the rescue team to arrive and to become woefully aware that Luka had gone missing. The rabbit was never one to leave a friend behind. In fact, she almost felt obligated to Luka after the trouble she had put the satyr through during her growth. Perhaps finding him could be a way towards redeeming herself.
With her mind made up, she had returned to the forest with one of the villagers in tow to find her last teammate and assure his safety. Unfortunately, said villager had gone missing himself just a few minutes earlier, around that time Lu had decided it would be a good idea to hide in the bushes from any enemies and scold herself on why she had ever believed she could manage this jungle on her own. Her mental berating only ceased when she had heard voices approaching. Uncertain if it was friend or foe approaching, her fear was mounting. The turning point had been when she found the sharp edged of a knife thrust into her face. Her instinct for fight lashed out and unfortunately Laz had been on the receiving end.
And here they were now. A gaggle of men eyeing a frazzled rabbit.
Reply
