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 Posted: Sun Sep 18, 2005 12:28 pm
Though it's been only a few years since the quake, the name of this beach has been lost to time in favor of its new name: Abyss Beach. This is the place that it all began, with Dr. Vrais's discovery of the egg that would later become her child, Snowline.
The Abyss that gives the beach its name is a crack in the face of the earth that begins little more than a hundred feet offshore and stretches as far as the eye can see. Though it must be miles deep, there's no indication that it opens to the earth's molten depths... Strangeness compounded upon strangeness, as a faint golden light can perpetually be seen leaking up out of the crack.
In all other respects it appears to be a normal beach. There are tidepools in which anenomes and shellfish and tiny crabs have begun to re-establish themselves. A line of drying seaweed, broken shells, and driftwood marks the high-tide line, below which the wet sand is peppered with the airholes of clams and crabs. People from the Institute occasionally come down here, not to look for new atavistic eggs but simply to to picnic and enjoy the surf and sand. All in all, it's still a nice place to go for a day off.
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Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 5:52 pm
Coronaviridae For a moment--just a moment, as Eva kneels to collect the egg so carefully--the tumult of the storm dies. The wind falls, and rain patters down gently on the two women and the strange inchoate being in the tidepool. Almost, it seems, the world is holding its breath--waiting for something to happen. That feeling dissipates almost in the instant Eva rises as lightning plays crack-the-whip overhead, a rumble of thunder that shakes the earth following in quick succession. Somewhere, in the abrupt silence that follows, a lone car alarm wails into the night. The wind picks up, whipping Dr. Vrais's labcoat around her, tugging her hair into a ragged veil across her face--one that ill-conceals an almost lopsided smile. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" she inquires, completely ignoring Eva's question. Forward she steps, one hand dipping beneath the hem of the labcoat, coming up-- Click--with a cocked gun. "Very beautiful. If only they could stay that way, instead of growing up into monsters." The lopsided smile widens. "Since I've gotten to like you, I'm going to give you one chance to destroy that egg yourself. If you choose not to, I'll kill you. "It's nothing personal." Inle-roo As Vrais steps towards her, Eva holds the bagged egg closer, so as not to crush it between them. The egg feels right in her hands, a warm, pulsating thing, a bright spot in the middle of this dark and stormy night. Her eyebrows draw down in confusion as she studies the object in the doctor's hand--the darkness made it hard to tell at first--before shooting upwards as she recognizes the gun for what it is. She holds the bag closer to her now, slowly shaking her head. "It's nothing personal." No, murder never is, is it? A more cowardly person would have instantly complied with Vrais' demand, in order to spare their own life--though Eva is as timid as a deer before a pack of wolves, she is no coward. She has been through too much to be called that. A savvier person might pretend to crush the egg before doing something brave and stupid, like try to throw sand in Vrais' face--Eva is not nearly so danger-smart. She is somewhere between the two, so she does something between the two: she runs, clutching the egg to herself. The sand attempts to suck her down as she flees, as if it wants her to meet this grisly fate, and she stumbles, but presses on. She doesn't make it far, however, as she trips on a piece of driftwood--how did it get all the way up here? It seems even nature itself is against her tonight. Eva yelps, twisting to land on her side so as not to crush the egg. It falls out of her arms but luckily she's close enough to the sand that it doesn't harm it. Rather, it puts her face to face with it, and she stares at the embryo inside. She tries to get up but finds that she can't; she must have twisted her ankle on the way down. Subdued but not yet defeated, she twists into a sitting position, sliding the bagged egg closer to her. Maybe she'd try that sand thing after all, although the way her luck was going the wind would shift and send it flying back into her own face. Well, at least that way she won't have to see what's coming...
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Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 6:11 pm
The same water-sodden sand and beach wrack that work against Eva also hinder her pursuer. "Dr. Vrais"--although that's probably not her real name, wouldn't you think?--can be heard cursing somewhere behind the other woman. The expected bullet in the back doesn't come, though a sudden flash of lightning and a long peal of thunder from overhead sounds much like the report of the gun. In the incandescent flash, the woman in the labcoat wrestles with a long length of kelp that's snarled up around her ankle. (Is that the faintest golden glow to the seaweed? No, it can't be--it must be a reflection from the Abyss and nothing more.)
She looks up after a moment--one gray eye and one blue crazed with excitement and a lopsided grin on her face. Her lips move as she shouts something into the storm, the wind shifting to blow the words away from Eva, except for the ominous, "--kill you--" Then she leans down, producing a knife from her boot and slicing away at the strand of kelp. The gun is for a moment forgotten and hanging loose in her right hand--she seems much more interested in freeing herself. After all, Eva's downed--she's got all the time in the world.
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Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 7:37 pm
It's an interesting coincidence that marks this particular storming beach as being the one Juste Moreau is supposed to be keeping an eye on tonight?
Better that Eva had to deal with the seeming madwoman than him. The commotion has not gone unnoticed, and his stride through the storm and wind from higher on the beach is swift and sure, raincoat pulled close around his frame. Even then he might cut an imposing enough figure, tall and rather strongly built for all that his hair is gray at the temples and perhaps somewhat on the thin side. Eva can't really have the luck to run into two of the Children in one night, can she?
Apparently so. And perhaps even worse, it's the same man who had all but televised his murder of another caretaker and her own monstrosity.
His purpose, even when he isn't entirely sure of the situation, is clear enough when he sets himself directly between Eva and escape, expression creased into a frown. He remembered this place. He didn't much like being here. Every time he returned with the dark sand in his clothing, Albedo always seemed to know, and a thrashing pikaia can create an incredible amount of spillage.
All the time in the world, now that it's two against one - and the one has a delicate egg to protect. "Clumsy," he mutters over the growl of thunder. Not Eva, but the woman struggling with the seaweed. 'Clean and simple job', huh? Then what's taken so long? "Get up." They disgusted him, but he'd offer this particular wretch the chance to die on her feet. The Institute always set its hooks in early, and warped perfectly intelligent people to do their bidding.
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Posted: Mon Oct 17, 2005 9:12 pm
Sarah pulls her hood tightly around her face, hunching against the lashing rain. "Cant, can we go home yet?"
Almucantar has his eyes shut, feet planted solidly in the sand, arms outstretched, face turned to the sky, the rattle of hard cold rain and the rolling vibrations of thunder shaking his whole body. He does not seem to hear; his mouth moves in silent speech.
Sarah is cold and wet and tired, and would very much like to be in bed. She leans against one of the rocks that jut out of the sand, staring down the beach. Whatever Cant gets out of the storm, she doesn't share it. In the crack of light that flashes over the beach, she sees figures. Three figures.
More people are crazy enough to be out in this kind of weather. She shakes her head, goes over to brush Cant's wrist with her fingers. "There's some people, sweetie; I'm going to go see."
Cant blinks his eyes open, nods, follows her down the beach; he sees senses understands what's happening before Sarah does, but not before they're easily in range to view. Something is Very Very Wrong. He grabs silently at Sarah's hand, remembering another beach, another time when fear twisted his throat shut with silence. "No, //u-u," he chokes out.
It's barely audible over the rain and the ocean. Sarah looks back to Cant's expression of terror in confusion, twists around to face the other people on the beach. What - That woman has a knife. She stops short.
Oh, s**t.
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Posted: Wed Oct 19, 2005 6:00 pm
The sound of a voice behinds her causes Eva to twist, the crazy non-Vrais temporarily forgotten. Her eyes are wide with fear, though she tries to squint in order to be able to clearly see the man behind her through the darkness and steadily-falling rain. Could it be that someone's come to help?
Lightning flashes once more, and the rumbling sky seems to be laughing at her naivete. Eva's eyes widen as the man she thought a potential savior is revealed for who he truly is. She has seen this man before, in the newspapers--who hasn't? "Monster" is synonymous with his name, and any hope she had to get out of this alive is lost.
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" she shrieks, scrambling sideways, away from the false Vrais and the man behind her, nearly crushing the very thing she's risking her life for in the process. She grabs the piece of driftwood that had felled her, although it would be both a horrible shield and weapon. It certainly won't stop a bullet, or two determined attackers, and she certainly doesn't have the strength to wield it with any hope of injuring someone.
Another flash of lightning illuminates the beach, and it is only by chance that Eva catches sight of a woman further down the shore as she looks from one threat to another. Does she really have the misfortune to run into THREE Children on this horrible night? But wait...what's that with her?
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Posted: Sat Oct 22, 2005 3:45 pm
"Hh...hh...I didn't see you running to help out either, Moreau..." This from the woman gauded up as Vrais, as she finally frees herself of the entangling kelp and kicks it aside. If his appearance hadn't been enough, she's just given a name to him. "But I guess that doesn't matter now. Are you going to--"
A crash of thunder--her words are drowned out, but her eyes follow in the direction Eva looks. There, down the beach-- Eyes made mismatched by a lost contact widen at the sight of a woman and her monster not far from where they are. "--ake care of the girl; I'll get this one," come the words, as the not-Vrais starts down the beach, knife still in hand.
Where's her gun? Forgotten on the sand somewhere, or so it appears. Whoever this Child is, as good as she might be at imitating others, she's not the sharpest tack in the box. On the other hand, since the opportunity's presented itself to kill not one but two of these monsters...well, Juste knows how to handle himself, right?
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Posted: Thu Nov 10, 2005 11:06 pm
RedChimera "I had more important things to tend to." Juste's reply is flat, and barely heard over the storm - his gaze isn't on his downed 'companion' at all, tracking Eva instead with terrible patience. He doesn't like being -told- which to handle himself, but will obey for now. Eva was no terrible risk to him. The arrival of another is unexpected, but not even noticed until the faux Vrais points them out intentionally or not, gaze sweeping briefly away. It's only a moment, but gives Eva more than enough time to snatch up her piece of driftwood. It disgusts him. Were there more light, his disdain would be quite clearly visible, but it's illustrated clearly enough when he draws a weapon downright archaic in comparison to the gun not-Vrais had used - an actual /sword/, its edges illuminated briefly in the lightning. Wood versus steel wasn't much of a match either. But he'll give her a more elegant demise than simply being shot. (In order to feed Albedo properly, food had to be cut up into small chunks..) And he does not, very clearly, 'stay away', instead stepping forward with deliberately measured stride. "Put that down," he snaps, tone aggravated and not in the least bit afraid of the driftwood or what Eva might do with it. What the hell was that woman doing, leading an impressionable young person to these monsters' eggs before beginning extermination? "If you want to live, do as you're told." He's used to giving orders. And used to having them obeyed. The other person and her pet monster, they're ... simply left to his unwilling partner to deal with. Surely she can handle one monstrosity and its handler, while Juste handles the more delicate task of seeing (albiet briefly, his patience is not the best) if he can dissuade Eva from this path of stupidity she'd been /led/ onto. By his own organization! There were going to be harsh words later over this, oh yes. But one chance was all he'd offer. The rain made him cranky. So for that matter did the roiling turmoil this place always brought up.
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Posted: Sat Nov 12, 2005 1:41 am
"No - no no - no no no - //u-u, RUN, Mama, run - " Cant backs away down the beach, eyes flicking back and forth between the dangerous people and Mama and the hunted - the new mother - she must be protected, she must, she must. There are knives and guns and it is far too possible that they will be killed, and it is far too possible already, he can feel his internal rhythms quivering with fear and readiness, and when he bolts he is quick as lightning in his stumbling shambling run. Down to the waves. To the embrace of the water. If he can get closer he can, he shouldn't get closer, it's too dangerous, it's dangerous already, and the new mother needs help ...
Sarah holds her ground, freezing cold and shivering with adrenaline and ferocious fear. Run, Cant, she prays. Not to Grandmother's God, but to whatever God made Cant and his kin and brought them to the Institute. She fixes her eyes on the woman approaching. She looks so much like Dr. Vrais, but the mad glitter in her lightning-lit eyes says otherwise.
Sarah can't see a weapon in the woman's hands. This is just as well. She doesn't have her gun; it's being repaired, the trigger mechanism jammed during practice at the range. She tries desperately to remember long-ago tae kwon do lessons. Her memory is hazy, and she's out of shape. But if she can hold this woman off long enough ...
A glance back reveals that Cant has nearly made it down to the ocean. Good. He'll be safe there.
Cant plunges into the cold dark waves, feeling his senses expand like a coral unfolding into the water, as always when he enters the ocean there is a rush of exhilaration, of This Is Right, of Joy; though right now it's muted and tainted by what is happening, it's still there, unquenchable, the ocean is his and he is the ocean's. He pushes out through the waves, turns parallel to the beach, carries himself through the water and lets the water carry him, he is supposed to be getting away but instead he is getting closer, trembling with terror at what awaits but the new mother on the shore needs help and Mama should run and that leaves him.
He comes out of the ocean closer to Eva, staying where the water can coil and eddy around his feet and he can dive back quickly - "Here come here come here," he shouts above the roar of the storm and the waves, voice high and cracking with emotion. "Come swim come here come fast!" Proper English syntax isn't necessary in the moment, all that matters is that she hears the words, knows that the water is how to get out get away.
Sarah can hear Cant's voice, and it almost paralyzes her with fear as she realizes what he is doing. She can't worry now. She has to get past the strangers. She braces herself for the inevitable attack.
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Posted: Thu Nov 17, 2005 9:07 pm
Frightened eyes widen, jaw dropping as this man, this new threat, draws a sword. A sword?! In THIS day and age? Who carries a sword anymore? Eva finds herself more afraid of it than she was the gun only moments ago. This, she knows, would be a much slower, more painful way to die. Years of being told what to do and being expected to obey without hesitation almost causes her to drop the shaft of driftwood at Moreau's order before her subconscious slaps her upside the head. What is she thinking?! This man wants to kill her! Like hell she's going to listen to him!
A very small part of her is angry at being threatened for the umpeenth time tonight. What right do these people have to kill others? What kind of sadistic bastards would drag her out here only to kill her for doing exactly what they told her to? The angry part of her grows larger (though it is not enough to overpower the cowering, scared-for-her-life part) and Eva shakes her head, gripping her single pathetic means of defense tighter.
A noise breaks through the din of rushing water and angry wind and pounding heartbeat and though she wants to look for its source, she doesn't. She knows that if she does that will be the moment the man with the sword will attack, because that just seems to be the way her luck is running tonight. The resigned part of her (which is smaller than both the angry and scared part) wonders if whoever this new voice belongs to just wants to kill her too.
Potentially drowning, she decides, would be much less painful than death by sharp-object. Less messy, too. And there's always the chance, the small but hopeful chance, that this voice is friendly. She should probably take the egg, too--it would be better for it, either way. It is with that in mind that she snatches the egg-bag with one hand while planting the end of the driftwood in the sand with the other, boosting herself up. She turns towards the shore and hobble-runs towards the voice. It has been many, many years since high-school track, but she has kept in good shape. She'd probably be faster if each step of hope-pain-hope-pain-hope-pain-please-don't-let-me-die-tonight didn't bring tears to her eyes, but with any luck she'll reach the water before the man with the sword reaches her.
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Posted: Thu Nov 17, 2005 10:17 pm
s**t.
When Cant breaks left, and Sarah stands there like a stunned deer, the imposter-Vrais hesitates. She's not very bright--THAT much is clear--but is certainly smart enough to know that screwing up again in front of a pissed-off Juste is a one-way ticket to being Pikaia food. So what to do? That shambling monstrosity running pell-mell for the water looks like it knows what it's doing; she'll be at a serious disadvantage out there, even if it's one of the ones that wouldn't take much to kill.
Sarah, on the other hand, is a standing target. That moment of wavering may have given the other woman time to prepare, but the false-Vrais doesn't seem to care or notice. After another second of hesitation she takes off running down the beach, knife still close at hand. Who uses a sword in this day and age? Or a knife, for that matter--only the dreadfully skilled, and what this madwoman lacks in intelligence and political savvy she makes up for in a certain kind of brutal grace.
Another step forward, a leap and the madwoman is right THERE in front of Sarah. The blade in her hand is a blur, a humming one at that--high-frequency blade, the sort of thing that can shear through bone like butter. "Two for one tonight, huh," she manages above the noise of the storm. Her hair hangs around her ears, sodden, obscuring her vision but apparently not so much she can't follow the other woman's motions.
"Lucky me." And this is the madwoman leaping in at Sarah, trying to grab and grabble so she can find a place to put that razor-sharp knife of hers. Maybe if she puts on a good enough show, Juste's ill mood will be tempered a bit. Either way, though--there will be one less monstrosity to deal with, right?
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Posted: Thu Dec 01, 2005 11:29 pm
The only people who use swords in this day and age are very, very good at it. It was vaguely cathartic for Juste to kill people with a blade instead of a gun or something similar; didn't people get put to the sword long ago when they did irreprable harm? So the tradition lives on, and soothed some ingrained need to kill his foes up close and personal enough to get hurt in return if his opponent is skilled enough as well as conveniently bled the target out for better butchery and resultant Albedo-food at a later time. He is not surprised when he's not obeyed. It would have saved her much pain and possibly her life if she'd simply complied. That little bag of egg was his true target, she was simply another stupid pawn.
And now one that had to die.
It was a pity.
Thunder rolls, there's a flash of motion in the waves that is /not/ human nor any natural animal, and Eva is attempting to escape. The very languor which Juste moves with says just how much he thinks she'll escape, injured and for a cold sea in a storm ... namely not at all ... so he doesn't bother to hurry past one swift lunge and delicate-looking slash at the hobbling woman aimed at slicing open her shoulder and back to the bone. Not lethal, not in the least, but extremely painful. And then, he'll simply follow at his own pace, eyes narrowed against the rain, disgust boiling up at realization as to exactly /what/ is in the waves, calling his target to supposed freedom and likely cold, dark death. So she runs, and he follows at a lazy stroll, keeping the swordblade from touching sand, intent still. Run to the water, there is no true safety there.
Distress calls sharks like nothing else, after all. And he couldn't imagine them /avoiding/ this wretched place. Opportunistic predators all. Maybe she should die in the water instead and save him too much effort cleaning his blade--
joy
Out of all the interference Juste could have expected - the ineptness of false-Vrais dealing with the race-traitor further away, perhaps her pet monstrosity attacking him like a well trained dog, but being blindsided with raw emotion, a fierce joy so great it was almost pain, and a certain unexpected roiling apprehension, these aren't expected at all, and jerks the older man right out of his purposeful stalking as effectively as being backhanded out of nowhere might have. Nobody else will know why he suddenly stops on the beach, in the rain and storm, or why he glances away from the beast in the water and the woman hobbling towards it in favor of looking further east than the eye can see in this storm.
And silently resheath the shining blade and walk away in a swirl of dark trenchcoat, abandoning Eva and her prize to whatever fate waits for her in the water. He'll deal with these scatterlings later. Elation that wasn't his took up his attention at the moment, spinning impressions of light and snow in his mind.
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Posted: Fri Dec 02, 2005 6:55 pm
Cant stretches forward, half in half out of the waves, afraid and shaking and ready to dive away away away - the man is following, except now he is not? Cant does not bother to wonder about this luck right now, right now he is skittering forward to take the woman's hands and say, "You hold on, hold on to me, hold on to eggs, we'll swim and go home, not long, hold your breath a little, the waves are high - " //u-u, he thinks like a prayer. Mama, come home safe, like you do.
Sraha sees the knife barely in time to make a scrambling dive back. Oh s**t. Oh s**t. That's a high-freq blade. All it has to do is touch her to rip her apart. Good thing Cant ran. Is he safe yet.? It's so dark she can't tell. She doesn't waste breath replying to the madwoman; instead she scrambles back, pretending to drag her leg, whimpering as though she's twisted it.
My wing is injured. Follow me, and come away from my hatchlings.
Sarah is terrified and cold and wet and she can barely see. Damn. She wishes they'd both stayed in bed. Damn the storm. Damn the Children.
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Posted: Mon Dec 26, 2005 11:41 pm
Lightning flashes, illuminating the beach for a mere instant--long enough for Eva to vaguely discern the form of her would-be rescuer. It's quite obvious the creature in the waves is far from human. Even so, the foreign creature in front of her seems much less frightening than the human monster at her back. One is salvation, the other destruction, and outward appearances don't seem to matter much at the moment. Air rushes from her lungs even as it whistles past her ears, the wind creating a stark contrast between cold skin and adrenaline-warm insides.
And then suddenly she's warm all over. Moreau's blade cuts easily through sweater and shirt and flesh, and blood immediately starts flowing down her back. There is a moment of pure warmth, a second of true bliss before the agonizing pain sets in. Eva's eyes widen in shock and oh, god, the pain, and her brain is still on "flee" mode. The pain is there, yet separate somehow, as if she hasn't yet figured out that yes, this belongs to her, and it's the only thing keeping her feet moving. It takes a moment for her mind to catch up with her body and she gasps, stumbling the last few feet into the water, into the dark creature's grasp. The water is freezing and her body is warm and the creature is slippery; gone is rational thought, replaced by primal realizations of sensations. The bag threatens to slip from her fingers but she holds on resolutely--she's gone through much trouble on this egg's behalf tonight, and damned if she's going to let it go to waste.
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Posted: Wed Dec 28, 2005 5:09 pm
This woman shouldn't have been sent to deal with this. Sarah and Cant and Eva's unexpected resistance, all of these things were out of the league of a two-bit charlatan who's good with a knife and not so good with the planning side of things. Given the Children are known for passion and not good sense perhaps that's not so much of a surprise, that she's just some fanatic who thought that becoming a god-sponsored murderer would be the best thing she could do for her people. Hindsight... She's all too easily led to follow Sarah, that is--until Moreau makes a break for it, the sudden departure of his presence almost tangible.
A moment's hesitation as lightning snaps across the sky again and the woman looks back over her shoulder, away from Sarah toward where her partner in crime should be. "Moreau! Moreau, where the hell are you going!" she shouts. "Moreau!" He's leaving. This makes things increasingly inconvenient, and when she turns back to the retreating Sarah it's with uncertainty in her eyes. Those mismatched eyes harden, though, on noting the other woman's weakness.
"That b*****d," she hisses, grip on her blade redoubling. "Leaving me alone. Well--I'll fix you, then get rid of your pet monster, and the girl can drown for all I care." She lets out an explosive breath of air, taking two leaping steps forward and lashing out once more with her blade.
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