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 Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 10:53 am
Cassandra Norris-to-be-Hasan had not felt so wound up in a long time. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten so angry about something so small. So stupid. It shouldn't have mattered. It was stupid. It was all so very stupid and she was letting it get to her. Cass kept scratching the side of her head and frowning as she walked, headed towards the cafeteria for a quick coffee run.
It had been so nice when the machine had been located in their hall - but Jerry had blown that to Kingdom Come and Cass had never actually replaced the nice little set up she'd gotten everybody for Christmas. It was hard to get presents that were so..ruinable sometimes. Maybe nobody gave a ******** that she'd put in some good time and money to make sure everybody would have that if they got called on a three AM mission. Her time was worthless, wasn't it?
Why was she even thinking about that right then? A few other hunters were giving her wary looks as she sat scratching the sides of her head and ruffling her hair while frowning dramatically at the coffee machine as it slowly drip..drip..dripped....Hnngghhh, she wanted her coffee nooooooooooooooow. Her impatience showed with a tapping of one foot out of irritation. Then pacing. Then tapping her foot. Then checking her phone.
She'd get coffee then go to the library and pick up a monster manual, read for a few hours, and then everything would be better. She hoped, anyways.
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 2:03 pm
It was one of those days where everything lined up so perfectly to go wrong. Everything so precise, as if meticulously placed and planned, the slow, careful plotting of disaster that spelled Murphy's Law. On any normal day, or any other hour, none of these things would have happened; Cass wouldn't have been so on edge, Petra would have gotten some sleep, and neither would have met that day in the cafeteria.
Or perhaps it had just been a matter of time for them both.
The cafeteria was crowded and loud that morning, abuzz with hunters and trainees alike piling up on bland oatmeal (see: gruel) and thick black coffee (see: mud) to get them through their day, a few squabbles breaking out over the last brick-like biscuit left in the basket at the end of the line, sound lost amongst the conversations and the sounds of cell phones buzzing as they got their orders. It was nearly deafening, the cacophony of silverware and voices and pots and clanking mugs, enough to drive anyone even moderately stressed to the breaking point, but the Death trainee didn't hear any of it. From where she sat at the end of the hall, off by herself, Petra seemed like any other exhausted hunter, midnight blue eyes a little unfocused as she stared off into space, her mind wandering over whatever it was she was thinking about. Nothing would surprise the occupants of that room; they had all been there before, with the waking nightmares of dead companions, thoughts of committing homicide (both of monsters and division leaders alike), strategies buzzing like angry wasps in their skulls.
Another common affliction was the barrage of thoughts which came from the weapons each of them were bonded to. Some were quieter, others nicer, but in the end they all spoke to them, whispering words of kindness or advice or cruelty in their ears. It was something that no hunter could escape, no matter how much they wished it, and often times, they didn't want to. Sometimes it was comforting, having someone who understood you, who could see into your soul, who chose you because they wanted you for exactly who you really were, deep down. Other times, it was that very idea which was a curse. The realization that a monster had chosen you because, deep down, you were truly a monster.
It was this line of thought which was distracting Petra at that moment, meal and coffee untouched in front of her. Her spoon lay buried deep within the nondescript goop, as if she had half attempted a bite, but it had lay forgotten for several minutes now, the hand resting palm-down on the surface of the cafeteria table. The steel-eyed expression she wore was typical of the Death trainee, so much so that anyone who knew her wouldn't think twice about it had they seen her, but underneath it there was an air of distance which was startling even for her, as if she were completely comatose. In all actuality, Petra had merely been driven to the point of exhaustion, had pushed herself too hard and stretched herself too thin over the past several days, working feverishly on missions and observations and doing the research she could so thoroughly throw herself into.
And it was now that the dark, cold whispers filled the recesses of her mind, tugging so... familiarly... at her memories. Power. Unworldly power, it filled every nerve and every sense, and bright.... so bright... it burned... through everything... her humanity...
Petra. you need it find it
Focus. it burns you want it
You miserable do it
Worthless NOW
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 2:21 pm
Cass had been mundanely pouring herself a cup of coffee when a small delightful squabble over the pot had broken out, leaving her with at least half a cup's worth of coffee dumped down the front of her shirt and a small hiss as she'd had to retrieve ice for the burn... and still leaving her without the satisfaction of caffeine to hype her brain up to it's normal trigger points. Firing on high instead of this half-low that was trying to eat at the recesses of her brain.
Her brain was like a malfunctioning machine that even Nicodemus didn't know how to fix.He wasn't a mechanic by any means. He was just.. a Nicodemus. Tonberry. He stabbed things, and Cass's mind wasn't the best benefactor for such treatment right then, so it somewhat left him at a loss for what to do for her besides idly try to soothe her nerves with his presence. Make brain cement and put the walls back up.
Never the less, the day had turned into an inadvertent laundry day. At least her shirt was already brown so that didn't hurt it too much. A new cup of coffee that wasn't down her shirt, however, and it was time to find a seat in the ever so crowded cafeteria, trying to find any face she was willing to take a seat with. Probably not Leon because he'd grief her on her nutritional decisions, and - hey! Hello! Mrs. Texas Ranger was sitting by her lonesome, it appeared. A quick glance around the room showed there was no Robert to be joining her shortly, so...
Well, if Robert did show up she'd leave just because she knew it wasn't fun to be a third wheel to a couple's breakfast by any means.
Never the less, Cass rapped her knuckles on the table.
"Mornin' Petra, mind if I join you?"
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 2:38 pm
'WAKE UP.'
The rap of knuckles against the wooden surface snapped the Death trainee from her reverie, Petra's head jerking as her eyes lurched to a sudden pinpoint focus. At first, it looked like she couldn't really see Cass, only the white hunter's coat which they all wore, a sign which had become increasingly unwelcome as time went on and their missions became more and more harrowing. And truly, at first glance, she hadn't recognized the girl, seeing only someone who was bothering her at a time when she was trying to rest her mind, a few moments of peace in what would most likely be a very long day. Eyebrows furrowing, her expression turned dark in those few seconds, disdainful irritation coaxing harsh lines in her face, until she realized she knew that light brown hair, the pale blue scarf, the warm, friendly tone.
"Cass."
It was more an affirmation for herself than for anyone else. Her brow smoothed a little in recognition, retaining just a hint of the annoyance she had been carrying a few moments before; the Mist hunter's voice was just a little too friendly right now, grating on her nerves.
There was a few moment's pause before Petra realized there had been more to what Cass had said, a question perhaps, and she gave the other girl a skeptical, mildly bewildered look, as if searching through an addled mind to try to remember what she'd said. "What?" she asked idly, giving her only half a second -- not nearly long enough to reply -- before she reached up to rub her forehead, shaking her head a bit and replying, not really entirely sure what she'd replied too. "Fine."
Dropping her hand from her face, the Death trainee reached down to pick up the spoon with the glop of oatmeal on it, peering at it for a second before thinking twice about tasting, dropping it to instead pick up the mug of coffee. It was cold, having sat so long, but she swallowed it anyway, another few seconds passing before she realized that it was polite to ask her friend how she'd been.
"How are you doing?" she finally managed to say, gruff but a little lighter now, midnight blue eyes flicking to her friend.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 2:49 pm
Yikes. Seemed like Petra'd been having a rough da-..wee-..mo-..Forever. Yeah, definitely forever. It was mostly from what she could tell of the slightly darker circles around the older girl's eyes that made her look just a bit more tired, the lack of usual alertness. The Petra she was more familiar with was immaculate and precise, not to mention completely on the ball. It was the little signs that prompted the Mist Hunter to frown just a small bit as she sat down, taking a sip of coffee before crinkling her nose.
"This tastes like s**t." she grumbled, setting the cup down, but not pushing it away. Clearly she was going to finish it because if she didn't it was a waste of perfectly good nasty-a** coffee.
Or Motor Oil. Either or, it kept her running just a little bit more efficiently.
"Not...the greatest. I'm starting to feel frayed around the edges, to be honest." she pinched the bridge of her nose then took another drink of coffee. "Got my promotion recently.." she drew her thumb through the collar of her new coat, "and this lockdown has ruined all sorts of plans. Can't even get off the damn island to get some fresh air."
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 4:17 pm
Her mind was starting to wander again, lulled by the lack of conversation between them as Cass sat down. The Mist hunter's presence was noted, stored in the back of her mind, and deemed to be inconsequential, if not perhaps soothing in a way. They were friends, and she accepted her presence far easier than she would have anyone else who might have decided to sit down; there would have been a dark, seething look for anyone who had thought the empty table was an invitation to invade her space. But Cass was Cass, the girl she'd gone christmas shopping with, the other half to their Team Texas Ranger, friendly and bubbly and at that moment?
Blessedly quiet.
The rest of the cafeteria chatted on, loudly, but at their little deserted table, the silence stretched on, possibly awkward, possibly not, the ghostly-haired girl unwinding a little as she forced her thoughts to the day ahead.
Lighthouse Observation 1000. Close combat training 1100. Death division meeting 1300. Stealth recon 1600. Presentation, mission report, relic training...
Petra had just begun to let her eyes unfocus again when the grumbling tone reached her, forcibly dragging her back to the situation at hand. Again, blue eyes became pinpoint focused, and she flicked them at the cup in the girl's hand, narrowing a little. The muscles in her shoulders coiled as she attempted to ignore the complaint, her tone sounding far nasally and whiny than it was in all actuality. The Death trainee didn't reply to that, merely watching Cass wrinkle her nose at the brew, using her own typical silence to smooth over any obligation on her part to respond. Out of marginal politeness, she kept her attention on the girl as she paused to drink her coffee, waiting for her to answer her previous question. Except when the Mist trainee did finally answer, she immediately regretted having asked at all.
Someone else's problems was not what Petra wanted to hear at that very moment. Strung out as she was, the whispers of something she couldn't remember picking at her brain like a thousand tiny fire ants, she could not tolerate the complaint, not now, not when being confined to the island was what Cass was complaining about. She stared, expression hardening a little, as she listened to what was in reality a minor complaint between friends, hearing again a childish tone that wasn't there, her own problems rushing back. That she was stagnant in her life as a Hunter. That she couldn't have children. That she's stolen Robert's dream, that she'd alienated her sister, that she could. not. quell the frustration of wanting something she couldn't place.
"You're a hunter," she replied finally, her tone a little more unsympathetic than usual, "Life is hard."
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 5:18 pm
Cass sighed. "I know." she agreed. It was hard to be a kid that was having her attempts to keep that youth to her squashed at every turn. Why could everybody else have fun and fights while she just.....couldn't? She felt like she was being programed into being a robot sometimes. A horrid and useless little robot. Yes that's fine. That's okay I forgive you. We'll talk about it later. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I love you too. She said those words so many times as defense mechanisms against stress. Just keep the situation from escalating, everything will get better.
You'll be fine.
It was just getting harder and harder to tell herself to tough it out, it'd be fine afterwards and the stress would just level out. A lot of the time it did. Other times she just had to hold onto it. Hold onto it forever and ever until she suppressed it. "Just kind of wish everybody could get a break from each other. I think everybody is reaching a snapping point." She probably should have shut up.
She should have realized she was needing to shut up. How childish. This was why nobody really respected you, Cass. This was why you would never be the fearless leader of any group. Your experience would not measure up to the adults. You were too little. You were just a woman. Get in the kitchen. Do my laundry.
She pinched her nose again to try and force the thoughts out.
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 7:00 pm
If Cass was looking for sympathy for her lost childhood, Petra was the wrong person to turn to. The Death trainee was notoriously robotic, analytical to a fault and seeming apathetic to the point of being cold, her range of expressions limited except to only her closest friends. Her emotions were purposely stifled, leaving her callous and, while very good at functioning as a hunter, not quite the ideal candidate for someone looking to be comforted. Really, she wasn't the ideal candidate for friendship, something which ate at her in the middle of the night sometimes, plaguing her in her sleep by the means of horrific nightmares where she killed all her friends because Caelius told her to. A friend would have curled their arms around the Mist hunter, who clearly needed a smile and a hug, and would have validated all her concerns, which truth be told even Petra knew were quite valid and understandable, given the circumstances.
Yet even as she thought it, the Death trainee felt only that familiar grating sensation against her nerves, tension building in her muscles like the hot burn of acid.
"Our responsibility extends past ourselves," she replied coolly, finally lifting the cup of cold coffee to drain it in one gulp, no hint of the fact that it tasted like turpentine showing in her expression, "We take a break from each other and those who depend on us die." Swiveling her eyes back to Cass, she exhaled slowly under her breath, as if releasing some of the tension building. It wasn't Cass' fault; they were all feeling it, and she couldn't fault her for wanting something completely natural. She was the abnormal one, squashing those sensations. Still, there was still that little part of her that resented the hunters who clung to their pasts.
"What we 'wish' doesn't matter anymore."
That last part was particularly bitter. So bitter, in fact, that she felt a tinge of guilt for it, the emotion flickering in the corners of her eyes. Shifting her attention back to the oatmeal, she spooned some to her mouth, swallowing it forcibly, as if she didn't even taste it, as if she could be indifferent even to that.
"What brought this on?" she finally asked, tone a little gentler, despite still sounding a bit disgruntled.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 7:29 pm
'Doesn't matter'. It was almost exactly the same was what Rin had said. What she wanted didn't matter. How she felt was just that: a feeling. It held no weight in the bigger picture of anybody's world - except perhaps Marcus - and even then she was already on a pedestal to him sometimes. His 'perfect dream girl' as he described her so often. She was no such thing. She was not perfect. She was not something from a dream. If she was, they would have met some other way, some other time.
She almost wanted to say 'forget it', down her coffee and leave. But Petra was her friend and even if she was being stiff about it, she was trying to at least show as much concern as she could given...well, whatever was up with her. It was hard for Cassandra to even think of glimpsing into her mind. Cass and Marcus had never considered children, so the lack of them in their life wasn't something that had weighed in yet. Cass had no siblings and Marcus hated his - and they weren't even around. Her problems were just not the same caliber as the things Petra had weighing on her mind.
Cass was almost painfully simple in that way. Simple, tolerant, weight bearing. She was like an a** sent to work in a field.
'Nothing' was almost her answer. It was such an easy one to give, really, but she wanted to be as truthful as she could be. "The adults around here act like 5 year olds every day, they get tolerated for their immaturity. I act like a 12 year old for the first time in months and I get treated like a plague." she answered.
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 7:52 pm
The mild curiosity which had only just barely touched her expression completely vanished as Cass replied, setting Petra's mouth into a stony, judgmental line. This was beyond the range of relating to the other girl, just so far outside of what she was capable of understanding or sympathizing with. Someone would have had to ask Robert whether Petra had ever acted like a twelve year old when she WAS twelve, much less recently. He was the only one she would have ever been anything less than 'professional' and meticulous around, the only one she was herself with. She just could not relate to Cass' problem, and so she merely stared at her, focusing a little too hard on the brunette. Completely silent, she waited, stretching the awkward period longer and longer as she stared at the other girl, obviously pausing to see if she continued with the story.
Perhaps there was more to it. Perhaps something she said would make it all click, would make her feel empathy for this story.
The seconds ticked by almost painfully, each tick seeming to echo, reverberate, despite how it was literally impossible for either of them to have heard the ticking of a clock; the noise around them was just too loud.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 8:00 pm
She's judging you.
Cassandra, stop.
She's judging you for trying to have feelings.
Cassandra, stop it now.
She's judging you so hard right now and it's because you're the little kid everybody else treats you like.
CASSANDRA!
The harsh words, the steely tones, the disinterest. Somehow those hadn't bothered her, but something about that steeled look that said 'And that bothers you why?' made something in the back of her mind snap. It was almost like an instantaneous response too, flooding into her head like a rush of water down a stream when a dam broke, wiping everything else away with it.
"Stop LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!" Her voice rose angrily, her hands going to the chain that was settled on her hip.
Cassandra, STOP!!
She broke it apart, grabbing both half of her weapon as she suddenly brought the dull side of Nicodemus around in an angry swing at Petra.
Cassandra! Petra is your friend! Stop it!
And another swing followed. She'd keep swinging until somebody stopped her - and likely not the bewildered hunters who had stopped what they were doing to watch the Mist lose her s**t.
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 8:32 pm
The first real emotion slammed into her a few seconds before the weapon physically did. Her own shock hit her like a tidal wave, crashing into her so hard she forgot all her irritation in that single moment, the very second she met Cass' eyes and realized she'd really, truly hurt her friend. But no... it was more than that, there was something wrong. That scream, so unexpected yet somehow so completely understandable, so completely warranted, jerked her so hard out of her own pretentiousness that it left her completely stunned, her eyes widening in surprise at the reaction. Lips parting a little, Petra watched as Cass practically sprang out of the seat, one palm already pressing to the tabletop as if to rise, her body turning towards the other girl, ready to stop her from leaving.
She'd made a terrible mistake.
"Cass, I--"
And that's when the first physical blow hit her. Petra didn't see the Mist hunter grab for her weapon. Perhaps she'd have been more alert if she hadn't been so exhausted. Regardless, the blunt end of the weapon came around faster than she could react, her FEAR shield crackling angrily as the momentum bashed into her, her body slamming into the ground.
'MOVE'
Cain's voice was an angry snarl in her mind, shaking her like an earthquake, but for once the Death trainee was too stunned to react. The stinging in her shoulder where she landed roughly on it was almost surreal, and it took a few seconds for her brain to process what had happened. Cass had hit her. The second swing followed, another harsh crackle of the FEAR shield echoing like the snapping of electricity, and Petra grunted as the blow was dampened, the air knocked out of her as Nicodemus came down hard against her stomach. Wrapping an arm around her gut protectively, she rolled a little as she tried to orient herself, her eyes snapping up to her attacker and finding only unadulterated rage there.
Staring up at the Mist hunter, she realized two things: Cass wasn't going to stop, and she needed to summon her weapon.
Another flash of silver, echoed by a weak 'crack,' in answer, and the pale-haired girl was fumbling for the pentagram charm at her neck, her hands shaking in a way they had never shook before. Summoning her mace, Petra scrambled to try to brace it in front of her just as the FEAR shield dropped completely, leaving her vulnerable.
"Cass!" she snarled, regaining herself as shock was replaced by anger, her lips pulled back over her teeth in a vicious growl. Snatching at the other girl's coat, she tried to drag the girl down as she swung the large, spiked mace as hard as she could from where she was on the floor, missing completely.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 8:45 pm
The strange thing was that she didn't actually feel hurt when she snapped. She felt angry, but not hurt. Maybe she'd gotten numb to that feeling, or perhaps her brain had reprogrammed itself to bypass that feeling altogether. ..No, that wasn't true. She'd been hurt by what people said before, but for some reason it was just that time her brain just did a backflip over that particular feeling and instead of crying she just got mad.
Make life take the lemons back!
Get Mad!
I don't want your damn lemons! What am I supposed to do with these?
There was only a few times previously Cass had gotten so angry, and one of those times was with a ghost before she'd even had Nicodemus, watching it laugh at how powerless she was with her stupid flashlight and a handheld camcorder.
She jerked back as Petra grabbed her - likely the only reason why that lovely Mace didn't get her smack dab in the ribs - before she swung Nicodemus at the Death Trainee again, her brows setting as she went down to her knees with the tug. Rep probably would have been selling tickets to this fight if he were there.
"DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!!" Her voice was louder, angrier. She was just running on angry fumes by that point in time, but the good news was the angry high would stop within..oh...five minutes.
Five minutes of Cass attempting to use Nicodemus like an angry club on Petra while the Tonberry screamed through what felt like a wet towel to try and get her to stop.
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 9:28 pm
Then came the first real pain.
Truth be told, Petra wasn't really any stranger to pain. At Christmas, she had nearly died, only her husband's affinity for healing and his strong connection to the Life division saving her. There had been plenty of missions where she'd gotten in over her head; countless instances of fights with horsemen, or mindless shadow creatures swarming to tear at her viciously. But this was different. And somehow, she was far less equipt to deal with this sort of pain, no hatred or sense of pride to dull it, no knowledge that if she died, it would be because she was the perfect soldier. The pain here was all too real, and there were no delusions to hide behind.
Only the fitful screams as Cass bludgeoned her.
The Death trainee's fingers spasmed violently as the next blow crashed into her shoulder, dislocating her arm to render it useless by her side. The sound of scraping metal was present for half a second as Cain clattered to the ground, spikes squealing against the tile before the mace disappearing in a brilliant flash, the pentagram necklace sliding with the same momentum a few feet away. With her other hand, Petra grasped her shoulder tightly, hissing through gritted teeth as it throbbed angrily at the unnatural angle, her face contorted as she flashed a look at Cass, eyes a mixture of confusion and anger and pain. There was fear, yes, but somehow it was muted, overshadowed by an incredulousness, her eyes screaming silently up at the Mist hunter. 'You're a child throwing a tantrum.' It was such an irrational thought... the need to beg her to stop was completely overshadowed.
Breaking eye contact to flail out with her working arm, Petra grabbed wildly for her desummoned weapon, lashing out to try to kick the Mist hunter who had fallen to her knees beside her, trying to stun her long enough to grab her weapon.
And then came the crack that was not at all the sound of a fear shield.
It was the sound of her ribs snapping like twigs.
For a few seconds, Petra baffled before she realized that the scream that pierced the air had been her own. She screamed until there was no more air left in her lungs, and only then did the sound break off completely, pain like shattered glass suns exploded in her side making it impossible to take another breath. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. And the barrage kept on coming, over and over, the thick meaty thud of metal making contact with her vulnerable body. Her vision tunneled as the Death trainee fought to curl up, splinters of white-hot agony spidering up her body to the furthest nerves.
At some point, her mouth had started to bleed; she could taste the metalic twang on her tongue, in the back of her throat. Her hair was stained with blood, thick black-red spots, but she was only vaguely aware of the wetness of it.
Again and again Nicodemus came crashing down, Cass bludgeoning her over and over in blinding anger, but Petra had lost consciousness.
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Interesting Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Sep 23, 2012 9:38 pm
STOP!
Nicodemus's voice suddenly filled her head with a ringing clarity that made her suddenly drop her weapon to clutch her head in pain. A pain that drowned out the sound of the murmuring around her.
LOOK AT HER. LOOK AT PETRA, CASSANDRA. LOOK AT HER.
His voice was a ringing demand and she obliged immediately, her eyes turning down towards the woman she was half-sitting on, one limb dislocated, one limb broken, blood half in her mouth, half out of it... she could see some bruises forming as well.
She'd lost it and this was what had happened.
Cass panted giving a look around at the few hunters who hadn't just immediately run for the hills when she'd gone mad. Oh ********. She was going to be podded. She was going to be podded so fast if she wasn't just murdered by Caelius for this.
s**t.
s**t s**t s**t s**t s**t.
Cass took a moment, in her panic, to reach out and press her fingers to Petra's neck to check for a pulse. Please please pleeaaassseeeee don't be dead. Cass really didn't want to think about what would happen to her when Robert found out about this. She would die. He'd nearly killed her before (not like this), but.. ********. ******** ******** ********.. there was a pulse. That..that was a positive. A positive along with the fact she was getting really dirty looks and she had about two seconds to get Nicodemus back around her waist while he screamed in her head before she figured out how she was going to get Petra to the infirmary.
Like...
Immediately.
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