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 Posted: Sat Aug 16, 2014 8:11 pm
The piano spidered across the dead air, all tin and shattered treasures. One speaker crackled immesnely, grinding shrapnel into what he recognized of the song. Many a time he heard it - over radios, in malls never fully shut down after hours, from an open window of a house too trusting to the outside world. It haunted him with s fettered message toward his old spirit, now nigh buried in wasting bones. It hurt to breathe, but he felt the dust peter away with every exhalation. Sometimes, in rare times, when the stars grew so dark that the moon stood piercing in an everlasting shade of black, he felt a swell in his chest no different than when fragments of the world fit together in a rare and utterly mindblowing revelation.
There he lay, atop the dirtied leaves so shriveled and dry that they disintegrated beneath his weight. He knew, then, that he'd leave Hiroshima shadows in his wake. It didn't matter; no more would remain of him than stray feathers left by birds far too large for this state. Breathing shallowly, he left his gaze to fixate on the far lip of the building, where he watched the soft neon glow fade to black not far from its surface.
A repetitive grind somewhere behind him indicated the gas station's globe still rotated, though its slanted position and desperate claws at its base indicated beleaguered times. He sighed, and shards of leaves whirled with his breath.
He felt too tired lately - too tired to hunt, to fight, to move.
Even the mouths buried within the down fell silent - a funeral pall held for those still living. He didn't mind it, not with the soft, haunting voice staining the stagnant air. He knew a few of the words by now, from the few times when the melody echoed so clearly from higher quality stereos. He couldn't remember when. It didn't matter now. It didn't matter anymore.
Hardly anything mattered anymore.
Initially he mouthed the words known as they played, dead and empty against the drum beat. Soon after, a rasped voice filled the void.
"With his ultraviolence
Ultraviolence
Ultraviolence
I can hear sirens, sirens
He hit me and it felt like a kiss
I can hear violins, violins..."
His voice gave out before finishing the final lines of the chorus. Smiling weakly, he closed his eyes a moment. The urge to sleep grew so great, etching shadows of dreams across his eyelids until the thick stain of chaotic energies bloomed over his senses like black roses.
Finally he urged himself to sit up.
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Posted: Sun Aug 17, 2014 8:19 pm
It hadn't rained for days, and that parched the air, the lazy heat of summer slowly baking away the city's energy. Harvesting was always difficult in dog days like these, but with the temperature being more oppressive than the Negaverse itself, Zircon found herself out-competed by the weather. It didn't help that she skirted the perimeter of the more heavily populated areas, preying on lonely dregs where no one could find her, but it couldn't be avoided. Even as a Captain, she still never felt quite safe at night.
Tonight's catch was a delinquent teen, someone out just a little too long after sundown looking for a midnight fix. He'd found it in alleyways with his friends, a shared pack of cigarettes, and a bottle of 151, but at the first sign of trouble they scattered like cockroaches, leaving him drunk and clumsy to die. "It's not your fault," she murmured, cupping his face with her hands as she knelt down beside him. "They were meant to leave you behind, it is the natural order of things." With a gentle hand, she pulled the energy away from his skin and pocketed it, watching his unconscious form with steady eyes. She stood, ready to leave him to his fate, but after a moment she turned to give him a frown.
"Maybe you will learn from this," she grunted, dragging his body out to the main street where he was more likely to be found by the proper authorities. "You can't afford to be vulnerable around others if you can't stand on your own." She let his body slump to the pavement, then scowled, nursing the hurt that panged deep in her chest. The boy lived tonight because she knew what it felt like to be left behind.
Something chaotic lurked on the edge of her senses, and her eyes tilted up, apprehensive but curious. Though she'd been spurned an spurned again, her encounter with Kairatos left her wanting for company of her own persuasion, and the familiar warmth of Chaos was just what the doctor ordered to soothe her aches. She kept her wits about her as she closed the distance between her and the signature, taking a shortcut by leaping onto the roof of a gas station between them. When she glanced down at the pool of feathers and detritus, her heart leaped to her throat and froze.
The Youma-General Bischofite. She had heard, but not seen.
I can hear sirens, sirens...
Her first instinct was to turn and run, to fly far away and power down like nothing had happened. Just the sight of him made the scars on her brow ache and burn, like they might split open and run red again. However, a stronger, darker force held her legs still, calming her fluttering pulse. The terror that he was, Bischofite was nevertheless injured in some way, or otherwise exhausted, which meant that he would not be in top form to cause her harm, and furthermore, Zircon was no longer a naive little lieutenant. She was a Captain now, and she felt Metallia's reach even stronger than ever, down to her fingers and her toes. She would not mewl and quiver before another agent of Chaos, not when she'd just earned her wings.
She jumped down to equal level, keeping her distance under the flickering lights of the station. "I never would have thought of you as a music fan," she called out, more wavering than she would have liked to admit. "Do you need help, General?"
The potential consequence of associating with Bischofite made her insides screech, but the definite consequence of leaving behind one of her own was laying before her and noticably worse. Besides, she could stand on her own. She would not let herself be vulnerable to him again.
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Posted: Mon Aug 18, 2014 10:03 am
The haunting melody soon fused with the cold splay of lights over the root. They swirled and danced, coursing together with old memories peripherally related, the words themselves warping to associations. The world now black behind closed lids, only the sounds remained - the slow tune carrying on through a host of thoughts dispersing beyond his conscious grasp.
The sense of chaos on the air drove out the slow swirl of sleep, jarring him awake without want or recognition. The world reeled, all cacophony and epileptic seizure, with a thousand stimuli vying for his attention beyond the specters issued by sleep. The shadows in the corners, the faces in the windows, the fingers in the edges of his peripheral vision, the hard crunch of leaves beneath his elbow, the breath against his feathers. The creature forced himself upright in a slow, agonizing process - both hands braced to the floor while he worked at a snail's pace to right his leg for the task. And when he finally straightened, finally stood, the crushed remainders of leaves fell from him in their own shambled rain while he swayed with a lack of balance.
He ruffled his feathers automatically. More leaves fell, one as a hand reaching toward his waist. A glance, and it vanished. "Why are you here, Captain?" He started, voice a rasp while he raised his gaze toward the blonde. She looked familiar... "Are you here to gawk? To memorize what becomes of Negaverse agents who sink? Who look beyond ze orders and ze agonizing projects and wonder, how can we better ourselfs? How can we strip ourselfs of all zese weaknesses, all zese distractions so we might finally finally eke out some progress against our common foe? Or are you here because you want to seal away all zat derision wis' a corpse? I suspect - no, I am certain ze Negaverse would applaud you for such efforts."
He started a slow walk toward her, a fleeting glance cast to the floor to ensure himself of a lack of unstable terrain. Even with such assistance, his footfalls faltered with missteps and weary plodding.
He used to call me poison
Like I was poison ivy
"It is clear zat my aims, my tawdry little goals, are your harrowing nightmares. Ze Negaverse and I nurse differing views far too stark for reconciliation. Are you here to take care of zat problem for zem, Captain? Are you part of SpecOps? Are you suited to zat job, zough you cowered so wholly when I sreatened to put you srough a window, or haf' you risen abof'e zat by now? Or am I still cast ze part of Eldritch Abomination?" He halted finally, a short distance from the blonde. Music tainted with echoing speakers flowed through them, rushing away the silence left behind.
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Posted: Mon Aug 18, 2014 11:03 am
Zircon might have been apprehensive about approaching general, but all of her systems went into full panic mode the moment he shifted, feathers rustling as he began to rise. Her shoulders tensed and she gritted her teeth, but she refused to move, even as his rasping voice scratched its way slowly into her ears. Eyes open, breathing slow. Watch for sudden movements.
"I was doing patrols when I felt your signature," Zircon explained, the pitch in her voice climbing as he approached. "I'm not the sort of officer they would send for that sort of mission, sir. But then again, I think you're experienced enough to know that."
Was she shaking, or had the air around her dropped twenty degrees? It wasn't outside the realm of plausibility, given Bischofite's youma nature, but Zircon thought it more likely that her fight or flight was just thoroughly kicking in. Fight it, Captain. You are better than this. You are not prey. You are an Agent of Chaos.
"...I'm not unfamiliar with the concept of being against the views of the Negaverse," she said, offering up her wrist, marked with Zinkenite's brand following the White Phoenix incident. His body was frail, too frail, a great cloak rested upon a scarecrow's pole, and as she looked to him her eyes softened, still fearful but pitying. "Whatever your lot in the Negaverse, you are still Chaos and that means you are still my ranking officer." She bit her lip to keep her shoulders from shrinking as he leaned in to her, still impossibly tall as ever.
I could have died right there
Cause he was right beside me
"You need help," she murmured, frightful eyes locked with his, like staring down a hungry wolf. One sign of weakness was asking to be devoured. "It doesn't have to be me, but it won't do to leave you to White Moon buzzards. I have more than enough energy to fill my quota. Let me help." With that, she reached into her pockets, revealing her latest catch. With her branded hand, she offered the pearl of energy, holding it up with shaking fingers.
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Posted: Mon Aug 18, 2014 11:43 am
The brand proved curious enough to wrench his feverish gaze from hers, casting attentions downward toward the warped skin. A taloned hand caught hold of hers, denying her the right to draw back under examination. He leaned closer for a better look, the bone beak of his mask grazing her palm just lightly. "A key," he responded, breath little more than a whisper. "We were all punished for it. For you, for Buddingtonite... Brands. For me, solitary confinement." A key... What does attacking the Dark Mirror have to do with a key? Opening new paths, unlocking doors... But this brand marks the permanent closure of such a path - a reason against pursuing it in the future. Zinkenite, you pompous, bombastic sack of s**t...
Realizing that he lingered for too long in his thoughts, he relinquished his grasp on the captain's wrist to return his attentions to her words. As he spoke, he crossed his arms over frail chest to guard against the slow breeze. "My experience has taught me zat ze Negaverse believes strongly in ineptitude for its own reasons - promote zose to ranks and branches lesser suited to zem, so zey might spend all zeir time trying to keep up wis' ze rest razzer zan concentrate on ze greater picture awaiting zem. Effectively, by zis logic, you would be first pic for SpecOps." And that offers me an equally damning stance - for my position as a general is wholly unwarranted. I lack the leadership, the compassion, the motivational skills to drive those around me into combative missions.
He glanced toward the brilliant ball of energy offered by his subordinate, head cocked lightly while his train of thought suspended in the active display of whirling particles within the ball. Seizing the offering between taloned fingers, he held the orb between them for examination. "We are bos' considered chaos, Captain. Yet... What I see here qualifies far more soroughly as chaos zan eizer of us. Watch - each fleck of energy whirls about in a pattern incomprehensible to us - a pattern dictated by chaos. Yet for us, 'chaos' is a misnomer.
"Ze Negaverse is a stagnant stream of predictability. We draw our power from ze same source - Metallia. We work toward ze same goals dictated by our superiors. And we preserf'e zis... asinine notion zat we are good people srough ze use of media manipulations. We run from our own shadows while casting ze pantomimes of what we fear most. We are ze ones zat seek darkness when ze allegory offers us luminance. But who or what qualifies as Chaos, you ask?"
The creature gestured toward the stars with his free hand. "Ze White Moon buzzards, as you termed zem.
"We are far too stifled and chained wis' regulations to serf'e our name as Chaos. Truly, zey should grant us our freedom while we pursue our own steady journeys toward entropy. Free and brilliant and random as ze stars..." Adding mounting pressure, the creature squeezed the fragile orb until it burst into a shower of energy soon dispersed into the atmosphere. "Metallia may be my God, but ze Negaverse is not my Religion."
But you cannot break from her because you cannot dream of it, cannot fathom the want to part ways. There's something missing here... No, it's a wall. There's a wall here, and no limit to its height - its depth. Why?
"I can still eat, Captain. If you want to help me, you can start by finding me food."
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Posted: Mon Aug 25, 2014 8:35 am
He seized for her arm, and Zircon let out a startled whine, tensing against his touch. She dared not rip her arm away, locked in his talons as it was, for fear of her knee-jerk reaction rending her skin to ribbons in his grasp. Instead, she could only watch as he scraped against the burned flesh, wondering briefly if he was searching for a pulse to snuff out. If he did choose to go for the kill, it would be hurt fault and hers alone. Silly Zircon, trusting another because of their energy signature or their current lot in life. That was how people got themselves killed.
Instead, he let her go, and without a moment to waste she pulled her hand inwards, coddling it as she looked for signs of damage. Despite the vicious curve of his talons, however, Bischofite's grasp had left nothing more than some flushed redness and the remaining quivers of a panic attack. She watched, reserved, as he held the ball of energy aloft, feeling herself soothed by the soft swirls of light that encapsulated the center. She let Bischofite preach to the beat of her slowly calming heart, and when he gestured towards the night sky Zircon followed his hand with her gaze, letting out a sigh.
If only they were free and brilliant and random as the stars...
Zircon winced at the sound of her hard work crunched, but made no comment of her night's bounty dissipating into the air. She had offered it to him in a time of need, it was only right that he used it as he pleased, even as a waste.
When he mentioned where she could be of assistance, though, she was quick to snap to attention, eager to actually be of some help. "I can do that," she responded, and with a glance around to be sure of her surroundings, she closed her eyes and blinked out of existence. For about a minute, there was silence, nothing but the hazy roll of music and the steady whir of the lamppost. And then, with another blink, Zircon returned, a large bag of groceries tucked between her arms. The Captain stumbled on her re-entrance, gasping for breath, but she held strong to the sundry goods like they were precious cargo.
Everyone had told her that teleporting multiple times in succession would be difficult, but no one had mentioned seeing spots.
"For you--," she gasped, setting the bag down to reveal its contents, "--General." The bag contained a number of basic kitchen essentials: lunchmeats, cheeses, bread, granola bars, a bag of spinach, half a bag of apples, celery, an open container of unsalted sunflower seeds, and a tupperware of what appeared to be leftover chicken alfredo with sprigs of broccoli. Zircon left it for his inspection, resting one hand on her knees as she used the other to wipe beads of sweat from her brow.
"A question--though--if you wouldn't--mind," she huffed, standing. "If the Negaverse isn't your religion...then what is it?" She'd seen the others, the more zealous of her kind, and for a long time had assumed Bischofite to be part of the flock. She herself had been nurturing more pragmatic views of the organization, but she was wary to share her ideas with fellow officers, especially with internal affairs always snooping about.
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Posted: Tue Sep 02, 2014 6:31 pm
She vanished in a blink, the ghost of energy left shimmering in the air while he awaited her return. While it bore no visual, he could almost smell it in the air, feel it on his skin. Here we are dealers in the currency of the universe, yet we expend what we earn so easily - so frivolously. We are all so irresponsible.
Soon she rematerialized before him, another breath and she occupied the space in an exhausted stature, already overtaxed with the simple chore of groceries. His expression soured at the mention of his rank, but he offered no physical rebuke for it. Rather, he caught hold of the bag and peered inside while he corrected her on her folly. "Don't call me zat - I find zat I rarely operate as a representatif' of ze Negaverse anymore, despite ze constant chaotic miasma cast by my existence. If you must call me anysing, you can start wis' Alois." Picking through the cloth bag, a fingernail caught and nearly tore a small hole, yet managed to hold despite the hefty weight of apples at the bottom. Finally he drew one out of the bag, inspecting the fruit as if to diagnose its species in an instant.
"I cannot compartmentalize ze Negaverse into a religious similarity. For me, it's far closer to... A dialysis machine. It cripples me severely in ze activities I wish to partake in, assigns pointless rules wis'out explanation, and undermines itself continually while dividing zose who wish to serf' it. However... I need ze Negaverse to survif'e in zis form. No ozzer organization will dispense ze necessities to keep me around - and wis'out Metallia's power, I would not exist as I am.
"No... Not a dialysis machine. Life support. Life support for somesing zat cannot make ze choice to lif' or die. Zat is ze Negaverse to me." Afterward he took a bite of apple, wholly enthralled by the taste of fresh fruit after so long spent living off of leftovers and scraps. The juice tasted fresh and sweet, the flesh crisp, and the skin taut while he chewed. The impetus to devour the fruit at an inhuman pace seized him, yet he barely forestalled it with the intention of explaining more of the Negaverse to his captive audience.
Captive? No, she listens of her own choice. "I speak of treason, and readily so." Looking toward the stars, he continued. "I suspect if Metallia cared for my words against ze Negaverse, she would'f revoked all power from my veins by now. I suspect... She herself is not happy wis' zem." The second bite tasted as sweet as the first.
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Posted: Sat Sep 13, 2014 11:08 pm
"Alois...I think I can do that," Zircon replied, straightening her posture. Was that his civilian name? A moniker he'd chosen for himself in this state? Zircon supposed that the origins of his name mattered little for her purposes, but would pose an interesting question for another time, if she could manage it. Just standing next to the bird-man was enough to keep her senses on high alert, even emaciated as he was and focused entirely on the spoils of her travel. At any moment, those starving eyes could turn to her again, and just like that she could be made prey.
It was healthy respect of the danger that Alois presented that kept her from pitying the man as he bit into an apple, taking note of the way his thin body fluttered as he moved. He was the visage of the sick and plagued, skin and bones and inches from death, but unable to perish at Metallia's will. Zircon herself had never considered their enigmatic Queen to be an entity separate from the Negaverse, but she supposed that even General-Sovereigns were only officers, seeking to follow orders from a being older and more powerful than anything she'd seen before. It stood to reason, then, that they were all flawed beings, in pursuit of the absolute and the divine.
It all sounded rather much like religion, but then, Zircon hadn't gone to church in years.
Nevertheless, Zircon bristled at the word 'treason', running an errant hand across the scar on her wrist. "Why wouldn't she tell us, then? Wouldn't it fall on her to lead us if we'd gone astray?" Alois could use the words 'them' and 'they' all he chose, but Zircon could not imagine pulling away from the Negaverse, however flawed it might be. While she was not afraid of discussing its faults, the truth was that her bond with Chaos was increasingly becoming the only tangible thing she could use to ground herself. Everything else was tumultuous, stormy...chaotic?
Perhaps she didn't deserve the title of Chaos if she couldn't even relinquish herself to such entropic forces.
[quote="Aeeth]
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Posted: Mon Sep 15, 2014 8:53 pm
"Why would it matter to her? We still gazzer energy, pursue ze ones zat would oppose her. Do you correct a student zat gets C's, because zey can get A's? Additionally, I suspect zere is somesing of a... Breakdown in communications between ze flawed and ze divine - you'f heard of ze music of ze spheres, Captain? Now, given zat concept does not utilize literal music but more a... Mas'ematical concept, but imagine for a moment if ze universe around us truly did compose a symphony zat we ourselfs could not hear as flawed beings? Now imagine zat Metallia speaks along zat wavelengs', ze one zat we as incomplete creations cannot hear, and yet we strif'e to do well by her in draining energy and forming zis abominable military organization to better our process?
"How, zen, would she tell us how wrong we are? Musica universalis... Ze breas' of Metallia." In a sigh, he looked toward the stars. And what if they're but the same?
"We could all just be dead stars, Zircon. Wrais' zat crawl ze world over, looking for ze lives we never remembered. Someone told me once zat all officers were knights, had wonders to protect - wonders zat span our world, zis world, zat world." He pointed toward the stars vaguely identified as mars, jupiter. "Maybe she is ze heart of ze Ears'. Maybe she's naught but ze voice of a hundred dead planets, and we, her dead soldiers. Maybe we're nossing at all - chaff and charnel to scatter among ze stars.
Maybe I'm just talking nonsense. How much of my mind has given over to Chaos now? How much is left to hold out? How long until not even Quenton can get to me anymore? A taloned hand drew slowly to his chest, a single nail brushing against the thickened, raised scar etched in a frosted pattern. "You should be wary of zis organization, Zircon. I fear I'm losing my mind, and in time... You will, too. You will, and all zat would be left of you is a hollow husk where Chaos stares outward wis' eyes bright and beady, always hungry for ze rest of ze world.
"It's not Chaos we fight for, but desolation."
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Posted: Mon Sep 29, 2014 11:10 am
"Actually," Zircon interjected softly, "When it's my classroom, I do just that."
Zircon wasn't sure whether or not to interpret his apt metaphor as an indication that he knew what her civilian profession was; it had seemed to her that he wouldn't have been the sort of officer to care about one singular agent among all the cattle. Then again, she'd inadvertently spoken out against him, and maybe he'd pulled up her files as a way of learning how best to punish her, or where she could be found under her glamour. Both possibilities left an uneasy feeling in her gut; either she was one among many, and beneath the notice of a superior officer, or she was a target.
She tried not to think about it, but unfortunately, it was the only thing she could do.
At Bischofite's prompting, she turned her head to the stars, staring with a bitter resentment that nearly resembled longing. Of course she was imperfect, that was why she'd come to the Negaverse in the first place, seeking crystalline perfection in a flawed and disorderly world. Like many others, she'd been drawn in with honeyed promises that turned to rot, but now that she'd mingled with the stink and the refuse, she was determined to wash in it and call it her own. Four years was far too late to feel buyer's remorse.
"I don't feel like a dead soldier," Zircon remarked, folding her arms with her gaze kept skyward. Her eyes caught sight of a rust-colored speck in the sky, and her heart caught in her throat, remembering the ruins of Kairatos. "I've been to Mars, I've seen what the Knights call 'Wonders'. They're ruins, nothing more. The rest of the universe is dead, and now they turn to us, trying to take root and leech our final stronghold like weeds. We might be flawed, 'corrupted', but at least our legacy lives."
Zircon glanced down at herself, her mouth wrought into a pout. Looking at the stars for too long now made her uncomfortably small, a sensation she was familiar with but nonetheless loathed. She used to live for the view of the night-time sky, when had that changed?
You should be wary of zis organization, Zircon. I fear I'm losing my mind, and in time...you will, too.
Zircon turned her head to face Bischofite, a low thrum of fear gripping her once more. She had already given so much to the Negaverse, her life and her loyalty, why would they take the one thing she had left? "Most of our Generals and General-Kings can manage to stay sane," she interjected, more as a reassurance to herself than a rebuttal to Bischofite. "I can keep vigilant, and I won't deny what horrors they've committed against you, but...I can't believe yours is a fate planned for all of us." Miming his actions, she placed a hand to her chest, as if she had the power to protect her own starseed from such an ending.
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Posted: Thu Oct 16, 2014 5:21 pm
"Your classroom?" The assertion came as a bit of a shock. Was Zircon implying she was a teacher, or TA at the university? Maybe she knows Quenton. The thought roused a sour taste, and he pushed it away in favor of focusing the conversation on safer topics. "Maybe zat example is... Skewed. You are one person wis', on estimate, sirty-fif'e people who you teach, zen? Whereas Metallia governs far more zan zat, I would say. Ultimately my argument is conjecture wis'out proper input from her. It's... Difficult to say eizer way."
He drew a sigh, taking a seat in the dirt and macadam with little care for how his uniform might turn out. He closed his eyes, rubbing them gently with the express care about accidentally gouging himself with talons. "Life is ephemeral, Zircon. Ze cities of old... You won't find zem today. Zere is no more Pompeii, Pripyat, Babylon... Civilizations are alif'e, and like life as we know it, zey end. Zey die. Ze places out zere, zey aren't some harrowing reminder of a senshi's destructif' power. Zey're an example of inevitability. We will, in turn, become extinct as a civilization - by our own hands or ozzerwise." Even their lands are coming back into fruition - Ida was an example of that.
Bischofite offered nothing in response to the claims of sanity among their higher ranks. He doubted any comment would sway her from such assertions. "Mm," he answered in response. "I suspect we hold more use for her as humans."
In fishing through some of the bags, he nosed out leftover alfredo and cracked open the container to sniff the contents. It smelled fresh still, at least. Sighing, his lips pursed into a thin line as he realized another drawback to his new form. I hate eating with my hands.
"It's a shitty fate, nonezeless."AMItotic sorry! werk and school killed me
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