Welcome to Gaia! ::

The narrow hall full of eyes had been interesting, to say the least. Beyond, when it opened out to reveal a city, Lt. Schörl had held her antiquarian breath for a count long beyond what was healthy. This dim and shifting lights along the crumbling and petrified structures juxtaposed against the nightmarish, uncertain organic behemoths in the shadows beyond sight resonated with something.
Fallen but unconquered, empty of all human, living sighs or sounds for centuries but strong of foundation and bone beyond human hands could fashion.
Despair.
“Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate, “ breathed over her lips as she crouched, tracing the edge of the path - the break in the dust worn by the feet of the officers of the new resistance. Men and women who made up this Negaverse, with its floating crystals that defied the laws of physics and strange sigils carven in hearts and on walls even if they’d lost their meaning to the minds of those who’d come on them passed what must have been many dark years. Rising she wandered slowly the arched walkways to the promenades and paths where less feet had disturbed the cave dust and jutting teeth.

...

Humans had a distinct sort of feel to them, one that couldn’t possibly be mistaken for a youma. There were countless numbers seething about, and Obsidian felt their eyes as cleanly as he would a scalpel pressed to the back of his neck. They had learned not to trifle with the General, but even the meeker creatures grew bold if he flaunted his presence too much.

It was a lower pulse of strength--a Lieutenant, then--and the young man wasted no time in pulling himself to his feet. A less satisfying hunt to be sure, but still something to preoccupy his mind. A waiting game. God, but he was tired of the wait, the endless drivel that accompanied this current reign of the Negaverse. The sooner change could be implemented, the better. Obsidian had no desire to end up branded a traitor though, and they would have to kill him before banishing him to the Rift as they had Uranophane.

A flash of pale skin and hair stood in stark contrast to the interior of the Rift. “An odd choice of place for a Lieutenant. Is it the scenery? Has it taken your breath away?” Low and mocking, Obsidian wasted no time sidestepping around the woman, his eyes locked onto her face. “Or perhaps it’s the thought of power. So eager to tie your lifeforce up with an obedient minion? Be careful what you wish for--the consequences are more dire than you’d think.”

...

She hadn’t expected another, maybe loosely defined, person to be present at any point of her exploration. But the voice thrilling through her awareness and then matched by form and face that appeared and circled shattered expectations. Too close, he circled a little too close, and Schörl stepped back to re-establish a more japanese-normal sense of personal space. It was bowing or katana distance, enough to give her reaction time, she hoped. This one felt different from Bazzite, darker, and the feng shui of the area that was already chaotic felt like it whorled a little around him. “Odd the ruined city in general, or odd this particular row? Is it so odd? Here is a ruin peopled with history of a fallen empire that fought as this organization does, that died as I assume our own numbers die. Sacrifice as we do. From the ruins and samples of the old, oft times clever minds and sharp minds may glean something of use. Where there is a shadow, there is something that casts it.”

“Is that what you seek here, or is your usual modus operandi slinging random assumptions into the air and hoping something will hang there like the crystals here? I usually prefer cream to cut the bitterness in the morning, but to each their own. Did you want something?” He felt more like the woman that had lifted her off her feet. There’d been a similar bitter playfulness to her words as well. Schörl felt her own annoyance spike a little - a pack of halfwits on one hand and curdled-milk battleaxes on the other was no use in a war. “There’s no efficiency in derision without purpose.”

...

She had wits enough to give herself space, and Obsidian allowed her to keep it. This sort of spark had been lacking in new recruits as of late, and his teeth clacked together quietly with amusement as she carried on. “You cannot get to Negaspace without the aid of a superior officer,” Obsidian pointed out for one, “And the Rift is hardly the place for someone so inexperienced.” Perhaps it was deliberate slight--if she was not his age, she was close to it, and he always had taken pleasure in belittling those who might have held rank over him in conventional situations. It was the defiance that made his eyes spark, and one gloved hand reached out to stroke the pale frills covering her throat. A fond gesture, perhaps amused--and in the same instant, it circled around to seize her by the back of the neck. She was held as sure as a rabbit by the scruff. It was a wonder that he did not shake her until he felt those pretty bones give way.

“Too much talk.” It was a gentle chiding, and a patronizing smile settled on his lips. “You speak when you’re spoken to, Lieutenant. Short, concise answers or I’ll nail your tongue to the wall.” His hand tightening meaningfully, nails threatening to sink in even through the fabric covering his fingers. “What I do here is none of your business, and you’ll be lucky if I grace you with that much of an answer.”

Obsidian closed the gap between them, now denying her effort to grant some distance. It could be misconstrued as lewd, the way his wiry frame pressed into hers so he could better speak into her ear. “What I want, Lieutenant, I will get. If you leave this place a bleeding, pulpy mass, no one will so much as bat an eye.”

...

“As I recall, you did speak first, “ Her own lips curled into a snarl. “Don’t assume mortality a deterrent.”
Was this a*****e really trying to threaten life and limb? If she was worried about that, she could have said ‘piss off’ to the other woman and died before the whole chi-altering experience and its unpleasantness to give her new name as borne now. “Are all superior officers gaspers?”

Breath control play wasn’t usually her thing, but she could make exceptions. Maybe they all just went in for necks. She thought hers was elegant and long, and had done her well enough when friends asked her to model stuff for their fashion shows. It was still odd. Weren’t arms or shoulders more convenient hand holds? She supposed her chest wasn’t ample enough to be in the running. But she lifted one heeled foot off the floor and hitched the inside of her knee on the hip he was so elegantly grinding into her own. “I can do more than bleed.”

“Sir.” It was tacked on as a nod to his proof of rank. “A direct order to leave, sir?”
If she wasn’t supposed to meandering, and was supposed to be leaving her faith in....her superior officers, in this case she would follow orders. She wasn’t useful as a corpse, comparatively, in standards of money, effort or energy. This one may or may not value any of that. It was hard to read when his face was in hers. She refrained from licking his nose. He picked her rank out, but what did it make him? She hadn’t heard of him any more than really any of the other members of her so called new affiliation. For now she would settle on Captain Hypoxyphilia, but best not aloud.

...

A low peal of laughter pulled itself from him at her boldness, and his free hand slipped down her spine with something akin to appreciation. “I’m sure you can, sweetheart. If I needed something quick and dirty though, you’d have known.” His fingers massaged at the back of her neck almost absently before he shoved her away without even a blink, rubbing said fingers together thoughtfully.

“As for your question, hell if I know. Hell if I care.” Their ranks had grown fat and complacent as of late. Gone to seed, if one were to put it mildly. “Stay, Lieutenant. Walk with me. Come tour the wonderful glory that is the Rift.” His arms spread wide, a grand gesture complete with an indulgent grin before he turned with a sweep of his cape.

Yes, she was bold. Bold, and more important, not easily cowed--so far. He would see if that attitude still held by the time he was finished with her, but promising so far. Very promising.

...


’You’ll be lucky, I will get, you’d have known’ The cadence and choice of his speech were certainly unique. He was either a complete a*****e, or trying to hide a deep wound with very well-backed bravado. Considering Spazzite, the wonder clown, it was an equal chance of either in a commanding officer. She hoped her own faculties didn’t deteriorate. Maybe they had a promotion plus neurosis grab bag going. Still, complete a*****e-dom didn’t preclude being good at whatever it was this one was supposed to do with his time. Lurk in dark corners, subjugate the peons, the usual military calling card. Being shoved around was icing on the cake. Years of tai chi meant her balance was enough to keep her feet and not spill over like a fool on her hip or butt. He was already walking, unconcerned with if she fell or not. Noted.

“Of course, sir.” It was flat-toned, but she picked up stride, staying a prescribed six steps behind and to his right. Its called the Rift. But he is not touched by dystopic beauty.

...


“What do you think our purpose here in the Negaverse is, Lieutenant?” What were they feeding the sheep these days? It served well to sate idle curiosity, as well as feed him some much-needed information. “And more importantly, how have you been enjoying yourself? Have you taken your first life, yet?” Right out in the open, no dawdling about. It was, after all, his favorite part. There simply wasn’t anything like your first kill, but he would admit that the increase in power only added to the addiction. One simply hadn’t lived until they’d ground a starseed between their teeth.

...


“I was told this was the ‘Dark Kingdom’, ruled by Queen Metallia. That a thousand years ago Earth was a paradise, as opposed to conventional estimations about the 10th century with Leif Eriksson, the invention of gunpowder and the founding of the kingdom of Hungary. There was a Moon Kingdom that held all the heavenly bodies under its sway, and their Princess sought the dominion of Earth and the Prince. He let her. The rest of the planet did not. War. The enemies long gone. Now they are appearing again. The ones wearing black stars are converted to resisting the tyranny of the Moon Kingdom and the preservation of the Autonomy of Earth. The eyeballs are from another dimension, follow Queen Ares, and are also allies, not to be attacked. ”

“In a kingdom which plainly no longer exists, excepting nominally to itself, stricken from all history books; there are 193 member sovereign states where most aren’t monarchies of any kind in the United Nations alone. An amorphous, unseen ruler, no heirs, a military and no people. That isn’t the reason for what we’re doing any more than any other propaganda at the top level. Whoever Queen Metallia is, she has other reasons to have a war. ” There was the chance that this was all a fine ruse to weed out anyone who wasn’t a mindless drone. Secret societies sometimes purged underlings who let on that they weren’t just swallowing what they were given. It was a matter indifference to Schörl. She would like to know the true reasons, yes, but she wasn’t going to let that get in the way of doing her job. She was on the train now, and it was going fast as the conductor could drive it. “Need-to-Know as your own for actions, I’m sure.”

“Otherwise, briefing was apply to one of the three branches of operations, don’t mess up, get assigned to a Captain, and Captains report to Generals.“

Her meetings so far as an officer? “Experience so far is bleak. A Bazzite and a Mimistrobell. Both timid. I don’t know the spearwoman that brought me in, but she knew her business well enough, I wager. I have not killed. I have not located any Moon Kingdom power signatures while out in the field - whether for reconnaissance or execution. “

"Some parts function well, others very much do not. The ruins of this place, " she gestured with a hand, even if she was walking behind and he likely not watching to see it, "it stands for something."

"Its dangerous to make broad generalizations. It doesn't take account of enough important pieces when one does. But humans are naturally lazy on the whole, and the driven are exceptions to that rule. There are fewer driven individuals and fewer things to be driven for in the fragmetation of focus, of ideals, or the utter absence of them."

"Ideals are what move people, even the smallest of them, to be the angels or demons that are within each heart. Move us all beyond petty laziness, self preservation, altruism, or any other consideration. "

" ' The Lost Generation' , "generation X'....these are not titles or names that would have come about in any age where humans had ideals and purpse that they were striving for. They denote a generalized lack. "

"I care insofar as seeing ideals like this city live again. Seeing myself and worthy fellows...seeing the rise of what can be salvaged of humanity, blossom with drive and purpose. I don't care if I have to be an angel or a demon to do it, and now..."

" I have been given strength more than mortal man or science know. "

"Schörl, sir."

She was interested in what his was, but considering the earlier exchange it was likely as efficient to just ask around. 'Tall, dark and psycho' would have to be identifiable by someone in the lot. It meant he was probably an exciting ride.

Why be vanilla?

'Obsidian'....it seemed a little unmatched, There wasn't really a great deal of black or glass on him. Maybe it referred to the volcanic seeming stability. "Not Bloodstone?"

"June, six months."
"I've applied to Special Operations as of last month."

Rather than making him ask another question in case he wanted clarification, she expanded the answer, "I was approached after 4 months of independent surveillance on the 'terrorist' problem,"

"Pom poms?" Schörl quirked her brows lifting incredulously, "Not unless its a very special occasion. Rockabilly. Unless that's a direct order, sir."

It could be madness, but the lieutenant suspected facetiousness and sarcastic insults more likely. To a hardened veteran, it was not surprising that she should appear a mockery....worth no more than a cheerleader. It was plain enough how they all started in the infrastructure- he had once been a recruit. A lieutenant. Would he think the same, presented with himself then as he was now? It might be likely- scope was usually lost if too long was passed without meditation or 'detoxification'.

It was something to remember. Don't take crazy pills, and to keep up with her meditation. Maybe obsidian could use some wine, some tantric... Schörl shook her head a moment, clearing it. Now was not the time. "Your confidence in the organization is lacking."

"Then lead. Why are you waiting for someone else to do what you can yourself? Seize the carcass. " Her eye's narrowed, looking sidelong at the expression he was pulling across his visage- like a latex prosthetic pulled over too much area. Her imagination took it an unwelcome step forward where the latex started tearing at the corners of his mouth until the teeth were revealed to just keep going on into black with no other features, peeled away, and something indescribably Lovecraftian. Schörl blinked it away with rapidity and repetition like a newscaster wearing contacts.

She was impertinent, but what was the point bemoaning that no one was doing anything? If someone had the time to bemoan, that mean they were also not doing anything and adding to the problem.

'Meaningless alliances' ...was a reference to what? Mimistrobell's Painted-Princess? Most likely. The only others were the cracked dolls with stars-upon-thars that she'd heard had 'handlers' but were supposedly loyal to the cause. She hadn't met any yet. So whether they were 'meaningless' as a whole or not was equally an open book to her opinion just yet. But she was working on that, and counciled likewise. He'd seemed to be monologuing, so perhaps her council was not welcome nor wanted, but it kept the conversation moving. If it was a conversation. She still wasn't clear what her 'escort' was purposing. Maybe nothing. Psychosis doesn't always have definitive reason.

"Build Rome."

She was no more a girl than he a boy. Condescension was becoming annoying. The woman who’d recruited her had been bad enough. Did they all intend to lead through fear rather than inspiration? This was no compatriot to be had, no rock to build upon, neither did it seem to consider of their own blood worthy. If no blood at all was worthy, than recruitment at all was faulty or incontinent. He and all that did so were just pissing in the wind. She was neither meat for a grinder, nor cut of sackcloth when samite was asked. She was growing, she could feel it, so why was mask worn only scorn ? Was she motivated by his scorn? No. Nor did she feel compelled to act to remedy on his account. He was no leader to her, in this inefficiency, but he could very well be a mover, if this was not idle prattle and he was doing something behind the scenes that he alluded to with his ‘waiting game’. She knew the value of waiting, and the penalty of too little or too much. She had studied history and culture, and studied the battles that were depicted on the walls of temples of the great cultures in mosaic, stone, wood and fresco. But maybe once his masks ran out he would show a leaders face behind the facade and insults. They left a dry tang in her mouth- burnt coffee and soured milk. It couldn't be so simple as to try to elevate himself in the face of low self esteem. She hoped. One meeting would not answer the mystery of the derision.

She hissed at the breath and bite, “Tease.”

I will remember, Obsidian. Even if he did not remember or think on her, which seemed bloody likely given his tone. Schörl sneered. Waiting would have to be enough, with even her own kind it would seem. They were not enemies, but they were not friends. She had not given up her death and peace to that woman, despite the promise of knowledge, for adversity at every turn. He was leaving, but she had no more to say.

Hyenas in the dark indeed, just as he was. And in seeing her, had so little foresight or regard- limited current scope did not make useless a soldier, it meant it required a skilled mind to wield them. I am worthy.

We have either lost confidence that our leadership can help or concluded they do not care. Either case is a failure. A soldier does not look forward to report to their superiors. Does not do what is asked because they want it, only because it is ordered. But for now...doing at all is important. Moving forward. I will remember you and when I am your equal in power as I am in desire. I will know your face and you will mystery that I will solve.

With....or without clothes.

I will become a leader. I will find purpose for the tools gathered by us, will join with them, mold them. We will become one unit- many hands with one purpose, many voices with one song. We will not be a hive, stagnant to one thought process only that flounders against challenges numerous, but will use our gifts as individuals to innovate on our ideal and achieve it. Scorn then all you want, Obsidian.

She had work to do, as no doubt he did. She would look for his machinations. Support them if she could. Movement at all meant flux, chaos, inspiration and opportunity. She would always seize opportunity. She wheeled on her heel. She should return to where she belonged, in lesser spaces with lesser companions- build from the bottom up, and she was no exception to that rule of wisdom.