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 Posted: Sun Jun 08, 2014 10:03 pm
Bischofite stood silent, eyes closed, easing into the ambient life emanating from the cityscape. Crickets chirped at indeterminate distances while cars still churned in their night owl routines, and the wind stirred vaguely with the scent of car exhaust and industrial plants, intermixed with damp concrete. A handful of voices played off one another below, still too far for the winged general to discern any phrases. The wind lilted through hair, tattered coat, and across skin exposed to the elements. It caused the building scar tissue over his chest to prickle in some bastardized mix of anxiety and anticipation. The moonlight beat against his eyes, a siege compared to the ambient, low lighting present throughout the Rift.
He bristled when he realized the city's night life felt quite close to overstimulating. For so long I spent my nights in the depths of a moonless cavern, listening to nothing more than the occasional trill of a youma or restless pacing of an officer. No other life coursed through those halls. Yet here... Far too many sights, sounds, smells compete for my attention. How had I functioned before? With the introduction of all this background noise, I find it far too difficult to navigate toward my priorities.
Priorities? How cute. Mine were confiscated long ago, now.
Lifting his gaze to the stars, Bischofite poised one warped hand skyward where he watched the moonlight filter between his fingers. This place... I wonder if I succumbed to the spell of nostalgia more than any true desire to revisit the city. My sentiments carried me toward its destruction, as did my dreams, and i found nothing more than glee therein. So why was I so magnetized to this place, in the days following this infection? Vapid yearning, perhaps. The turning of seasons affords its own allure, and while it held far more significance when I was younger, it offers little more than passing fancy. So where do I go from here? Amidst a surfeit of lies, of enemies... Who is there but the stars to turn to? A crude, juvenile reversal... Oh, how far I've fallen.
Slowly Bischofite pressed both heels of his hands against the bridge of his nose, each flanking one side. With his palms resting over his eyes, he recalled the ubiquitous burning sensation of tar oozing through his pores, and surely enough, he felt the viscous, sticky black fluid course over his face, his mask. It dribbled down around his temples, traced his cheekbones, and curved down the angle of his jaw before rejoining at his chin.
And then he felt it - ever keenly, a livid spark at the base of his skull. A searing pain burrowing behind his eyes like the sun beating down on Saarland in midsummer. He knew it well: a knight approached. With a frown, the general peeled his hands away from his face in a slow, deliberate movement that stretched the tar to its fullest before it finally snapped between mask and hands.
Casting a glance over his shoulder, Bischofite tucked wings to back to prevent unwanted interjections. He offered no greeting, no threat, no acknowledgement.Kaefaux let me know if i need to change anything! work ate me alive ugh
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Posted: Sat Jun 21, 2014 12:53 am
The apartment was suffocating. Her own apartment--her home, her sanctuary, her work space. A prison! Almost in the literal sense, for how many of her mother's friends in the unit came to visit her when she'd first gotten home from the hospital. Her apartment complex had been in jitters, not used to such a heavy presence of officers--though the look on one of her neighbor's faces when she'd lied and said she was under investigation for murder had been almost worth it. The petty outburst had come back to bite her though, as most did.
It had been Dominic that had driven her out that evening. Nothing against him personally--a large part of her she was trying to not acknowledge on a daily basis had been quite touched and very much a twitter when he'd been so insistent on keeping such a close eye on her. Having him around so much was not the worst result from her run in with Jarosite that lovely, burning eve. But Dominic's watchful attention had one major drawback: less time for her as Themiscyra. On one hand she'd kinda agreed with him. Trying to transform too close to her hospital release had only ended in lots of pain and magically no more stitches where she'd needed them, without the extra support bandages either. The revert back hadn't been any more fun, but it'd been a lesson. But a few weeks later?
She'd been stir crazy and Dominic had left for his apartment. Her time was now to get out and by god did she.
Oh there'd been quite a while spent ducked behind bushes while she'd taken off her uniform to apply a potentially overdosing amount of bandages around her abdomen, but her thigh and right arm were patched up with a bit more care. She couldn't just hide those under her armor, after all. There wasn't any hiding her slight limp as she moved--but she did run a little, much to her later regret but it still felt good to move. To feel that power envelop her, flow through her veins. Ever the romantic--was that the term? she wasn't even sure--it hadn't been terribly difficult to pin point her red planet as she'd taken to the rooftops. It wasn't the easiest way to go, but it gave her the best vantage points. She wasn't looking for a fight. Exercise. Freedom. Themiscyra--to simply be the knight she could turn into, relish the sensation and enjoy the simple fact of being.
Which had been why she hadn't gone so willingly towards... that signature.
It was a beacon in its oddity. Powerful--far stronger than her, certainly. Chaos, dark, an enemy. And yet it felt... odder still. Bizarre, for the lack of words. Her curiosity was burning her legs and throat. Questions. To ask, to see. She finally allowed herself the chance to draw closer, under the personal vow that if it looked like things were heading for a fight, she'd get her a** out of there. Power down where she was sure she could slip into a crowd or something, lose the strange Chaos being by losing her powered signature. If the thing should attack people looking for her? She'd call in people capable of fighting it.
It did grate on her pride that she currently wasn't among that count.
Steady heels clicked with the faintest mar of that limp as she got her first visual of... whomever it was. The silhouette was striking with a beak coming from the figure's face. A bird? A... youma? But that didn't make sense. Or did it? This one was going to give her a headache. It looked to do something with its hands as she'd approached, but she hadn't been sure of what exactly. Too many questions. Too much curiosity.
"Anything of interest to you in a city like this?" The Martian Page gave into a variation of her curiosity, standing there beholding a creature she felt she could only attribute to too many comic books, too many fairy tales--mythology of old and new alike. Enemy was the answer every fiber in her gave her instantly. But the woman of the red planet was not looking for a fight, not another enemy. A flare of adrenaline threatened to bomb her system--if this avian was nothing more than a serpent waiting to strike, she wasn't sure if she would be fast enough to get away unscathed if she didn't watch herself.
Aeeth Perfect to me! Unfortunately I'm in a similar boat. Been a while since I've had to juggle work and school, still trying to find my beat. Will say, wasn't actually sure if Bischofite's energy signature is "wtfweird" now so if I need to change I will!
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2014 10:16 pm
"'Anysing of interest'... Poor choice of words. You speak as zough zis city is an utter bore, wis' only choice gems as wors' my time. Is zat how it is for you, page? Are you bored by what Destiny City has to offer you? Are you picking fights, now, wis' ze twisted and ze wretched?" He half-twisted to regard her, a single gold eye peering out from between black-stricken, warped fingers. His gaze lingered on hers for but a moment. Soon it grew half-lidded with bitter mirth; his shoulders shook slightly, a whistling stirred within his throat in short stutters.
Turning his attention back toward the myriad gloomy lights prickling the city, he offered a sigh. His hands never left his face, now sticky and dripping with tar. "You speak as zough I am youma." And I am such, to my chagrin. This city... I never knew how vast it was until I met so many of my allies and enemies that never recognized me as human before. Now I am alien to them - some wretched abomination that fell from space and haunted this town like a broken doll, like the Dark Mirror that so desperately cling to life. Like Zirconia, the castellan of a dead court, who only wanders these halls without a place.
"Do you sink I am a passing traveler, Page? A creature stirred from ze deps' for a time, one zat simply meanders ze city looking for purpose before slipping away into hibernation?" I was once a scourge, a devious schemer. Now what am I but a passing curiosity? So far we fall when we overreach our potential.
"Tell me what you find in zis place. Tell me what interests you here, on zis planet, so far from whatever wretched rock you came from." Finally he wrenched his hands from his face, initially slowing into a languid stretch before the hot, sticky tar finally peeled in half. He felt its thick residue clinging desperately to his skin, and the warmth spread like a blush through his cheeks. Tell me why you stand there gawking at me so, why you look so wild-eyed and furious and curious and perplexed by my existence alone.
Tell me why this existence feels so much closer to purgatory.
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Posted: Tue Sep 23, 2014 1:35 pm
His accent threw her a tad, as did his words. Hers had been a poor choice? A stubborn chin was set, wary eyes hardening though she didn't move any closer to the... being. There was perhaps a tiny bit of pride on her side that she didn't flinch from the golden eye as it stared back from under what she could only comprehend as claws. Reckless though she might be, she'd already suffered pain from someone weaker than the one before her. The urge to acquire more scars so soon wasn't tempting for the moment. It at least offered her a small clarity, the ability to restrain her movements and, to an extent, her voice. "Only thing I find boring around here is a hospital bed," she told him honestly, before quieting to peer curiously as he.... laughed?
If he wasn't a youma, by his own words, what was he? She certainly couldn't even turn to whatever magical sense told her someone was Chaos or Order, knight or senshi. It didn't have a clue. She didn't have a frame of reference for this encounter, no one's experienced words ringing in her skull. The sensation was both alarming and soothing, a glimpse of how much more there was to this war. This world. This universe. She'd walked on Martian soil and breathed its air, but by no means had it given her a concept of what else may lay between the planets and stars. Or even between one life and another.
"I come from the wretched rock you stand on." That was a point she never understood. Claims that knights and senshi didn't belong on Earth, but they'd been born here. How did that lessen their claims to this oasis within the cosmos? She'd been unable to hide her fascination as his hands had moved, the tar holding tight till its limits were reached. Still, she stood her ground, her one little square of concrete and no closer. "But since you asked... I'm pretty fond of comic books and fairy tales. It's nice to think there's someone out there with all the knowledge to solve the riddles, or all the strength to stop an enemy, or speed, or magic, or... well. Whatever it takes. Maybe they won't win at first, but eventually they'd succeed, or someone would take up the mantle in their place to win the fight. It's a nice thought to hold onto." Themiscyra glanced out towards the rest of the city, not sure what sort of answer he'd been expecting, or wanted. "I like my family and friends. Would suck to leave them. I'd like to think they'd think the same if I left." Perhaps her answers were typical and boring, but hey. He'd asked.
Still, her attention shifted back to him, mind holding onto a few things he'd said. "If you're no youma, what are you? And if you're from the depths, you're not Cthulhu. You're missing a few inches and tentacles for that." She leaned back a little on her heels, letting her voice take on more of a humorous tone, curious what reaction it would bring. "Are you one of the Morrigan's then? Here to watch the rest of us as we die, pick our bones clean while our souls hopefully go onto the next life?" Was she hoping for a yes on that? Not really. But the symbolism was there, the crow of war. A part of her realized this should disturb her more than it did.
Aeeth Sorry about this delay. Know I owe you another.
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Posted: Mon Sep 29, 2014 9:46 am
"Perhaps you do as a civilian. Perhaps you were born here, or ze neighboring town, raised by loving parents in a white picket house wis' one-point-fif'e siblings and a cherished family pet. But part of you, ze part zat stands before me now, sporting ze auric energy of a Page like a dare to all who feel it, is not of zis Ears'." He halted in his speech, watching her. The way she stood, so solid in her edge of building so far from him... Why was she so averse to expansion? Was she trying to minimize her presence? Curious.
"It's nice to haf' your head in ze clouds, to sink zat deas' might not happen to you, zat zis might not happen," he started acerbically, gesturing toward himself. "We're superheroes in Kafka literature, where everyone comes away cold and sobered on ze stark reality of life. Our lives are closer to absurd zan heroic." The whole of that line argued semantics mostly, and he knew it. He knew their lives often offered little difference in the scheme of the war, even in simple daily life. They toiled and bled and died for causes that never mattered in the end - for people who never knew the greater half of their fallen.
But it never truly concerned him.
Slowly Bischofite approached, hands loose at his sides, his tattered coat ruffling slightly in the evening breeze. "Perhaps not, but I lif' in R'lyeh nonezeless." You will never know the bowels of the Earth as I do - no matter how you've traveled its surface. I wonder how many of you know of the existence of the Rift... How many might've traversed its myriad caverns before coming to your side.
He paused in his approach at a distance of only feet from her. His scrutinizing gaze fell on her features, and he drew and exhaled a breath before he chose to speak again. "I am nossing of ze sort. I am an officer, Page, an agent of ze Negaverse. Of Metallia. And if I am anysing close to a Morrigan... Zen I am picking at your soul so it never makes it toward ze next life." He leaned forward slightly, cocking his head just so in peering toward her. "A male Walküre. A Morrigan. It doesn't matter what I am, in Mys'os or reality. What matters is what will become of you if you linger here."
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