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 Posted: Sat Mar 10, 2018 2:36 pm
Adamantine didn't come to the dark castle as much as she was suppose to. Turning in quotas, for her was done in bulk and as quickly as she could. Most of the time, she relied on Laby or Zircon or even Dia who had more experience with the structure of the negaverse. The corrupt looked around, attempting to remember where the General Sovereigns offices, walked with a quiet click of heel on the stone ground.
She was, to be honest, quite lost in the large castle and partly disappointed in herself for not knowing the in and outs. She briefly remembered there was barracks, and some of the offices and the large rooms where the battles of the tournament had taken place. She thought of both battles as learning experiences, though remember Pyrite made her stomach drop and sick feeling spread through her body.
She wondered how long she would live with the reminder of abuse. With the easily pitted dread that lived in her belly like a slumbering dragon, waiting to rear its head. She wondered, how long would she be weak, under the guise of Adamantine? How long would the pretend armor hold up the already broken and crumbling human being that wore it?
She sighed, clearly letting her thoughts get the best of her in the castle, merely because she was lost. As she turned, she thought towards some sort of large expansive dining hallway, or what was left of one, for the first time she had seen another person.
Stacks of smoke rose from his back, and she could feel the odd aura assigned to those who had merged with half youma. The last time she had been blessed with the company of one was Wolfe, and he had long moved on from them.
"Excuse me." her gaze was stony as she approached him, "Where is the General Sovereigns offices?"
Short, simple and sweet.Strickenized Wow look at all those internal thoughts.
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Posted: Mon Mar 12, 2018 7:03 pm
Even walking the perimeter of the Citadel felt exhausting. Faustite's withered muscles groaned under duress, protesting their owner's insistence for reaching his prior pinnacle as soon as possibl. Ever in his hand remained a travel mug for such an occasion, laden with a nonsense herbal tea, and ever consulted at his frequent stops. This time he halted due to the lactic acid scream in his legs where a few too many stairs nearly folded them beneath him.
Now he waited, sat sidelong on a stone bench shoved against the corridor wall. Both his too-thin legs splayed out, one like a broken toothpick and the other pike straight, while he waited for their protests to subside. His boots met a long runner carpet that long since wasted away, its bitter holes showing newly-scuffed floor beneath its intermittently protective braces. Cave claimed part of the corridor's visage. Crystal came next, breaking up the regimented lighting system with its own eerie purple glow. The ambience of the Dark Kingdom commanded a similar sense of wild solemnty in all its locales, including the one so frequented by the Negaverse's youngest youmafied officer.
A voice behind him took his attention away from thought. He half-turned, ever wary of his back's burden, to meet her eyes. Familiar silks and stars and midnight blues comprised her uniform, similarly bombarded with boisterous ivory curls. She carried a certain blankness to her features, inviting of no great company, telling even less of her own state. Faustite's own countenance spoke of his tepid curiosity for why this Negaverse senshi of all their kind now spoke to him for directions.
Tepid, that is, for how the Rift tempered it. "Upstairs. Follow the east hall off the grand staircase. It forks at the end. Right is GenOps. Left is SpecOps. Infiltration and Information are in the opposite direction."
He paused, weighed the words on his tongue, then spoke again. "And congratulations on your tournament win. You showed better form than Kamacite."
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Posted: Tue Mar 13, 2018 1:54 pm
She was going to leave after the directions were given. She had no businesses with half youma's or youma's in general and wasn't sure what the difference was between them yet. There was no half youma's in the wolf pack, So her knowledge was limited to very brief interactions of them.
"Thank you." She was turning on her heel, a small click on the ground before her head turned to his next statement.
"I think so as well." The statement was simply that. She had won that day, and Kamacite hadn't. The other senshi had used powerful magic, but her ego and training had allowed her not too. Did that mean she showed better form? She showed what she had been taught best and it had won. It didn't mean she would have the same power in the future. She'd have to work on honing herself more ruthlessly if she wished to win magic without magic as well.
She turned and let her arms cross in a relaxed motion against her chest, staring at the half youma. The steam billowing him, the deep black eyes. He still had human similarities and it made her curious of the whole procedure and thoughts behind becoming a creature like he was now.
"Are you part of Kamacite's..." she mulled over the word, were they friends? Coworkers? "Group?"
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Posted: Wed Mar 14, 2018 10:16 pm
What a strange woman. There was nothing to read, the lot of it locked neatly behind her façade. But she hid her emotions not for professionalism — none of her mannerisms or speech belied an impeccable appearance — so he puzzled over her demeanor still. Was this how he looked to others?
Her question drew his attention directly to her. He spoke with brisk certainty. "No," he answered, as hands braced against the bench to rotate lightly. "I serve under Schörl. But I know Kamacite — I met him several times. He chokes under pressure. He had an audience to impress; he let them all down." At the time, Faustite maintained a blasé disinterest in the solar flares senshi, seeing him as merely an attachment that qualified Aue's status in leadership. He was the omega on which his 'pack' built their hierarchy — the lynchpin to poor leadership. But while the dysfunctionality of Kamacite's 'pack' occluded his ability to perform well in a tournament, it did not dampen Yuuri's loyalty to friendships. To causes he saw worth protecting.
To those who once fumbled in classifying themselves. "I could call him a friend." What would you call him? A comrade? An asociate? A waste? You're so guarded.
He stood at last, offering a silent invitation toward the greater corridor to their left. It yawned wide, forming a peak at its apex in which virulent purple crystals embedded themselves. The top-down lighting cast a shadowed veil over the faces of all who passed through it. "I'll walk with you.
"I assume your team was present for you." So many lined themselves up to cheer on their favorite comrade. To throttle jeers for the other side. Competition lost teeth. "Who were they?" Given tournament results, he imagined them the better with which to train.
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Posted: Wed Mar 14, 2018 10:55 pm
A small amount of respect coursed through the corrupt at the mention of being under the direction of Schörl. There was very few generals that ranked in the respect and seniority up with her own, Labyrinthite, but Schörl was one of them. It was often rumored that she did not waste time with her recruits and that they were, and more often then not, cream of the crop. It was filed away that the half youma was mostly like a good threat and ally, should the corrupt have an interest in that for the future.
For now, she was content with her current state in the negaverse. "I see." the words were not followed as he raised from his seat, taking a step back to allow him an amount of space for a personal bubble. Friends was a dangerous word to the woman, so she instead turned to head the direction he gestured too.
"General Zircon and Myself were the only participants. Though Silk, our General's Guardian Cat was also present." Zircon and herself were the only ones who needed to join after all. Regan had done it for experience and Zircon had come to show her ranks. "My pack had other callings at the time." She let her arms fall, only for one to rise again and brush a bang behind her ear.
"I did not see you fight." It was meant to be a question, but it came out as a statement as her gaze slid to look at him, mostly as a side eye of sorts. She had little to no information of the workings of Half youma's, but the idea of him being part of Schörl's recruits at least perked interest in him. "Do the stacks hurt?" She didn't make motions to gesture to the smoking back, assuming he would answer if he felt like it, or if it deemed nesscary.
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Posted: Fri Mar 16, 2018 9:22 pm
Your pack. So you use the word too. The Negaverse must aspire to be dogs. Faustite schooled a neutral expression. His hands found his back where they wove a tight knit, where they framed the underside of warm pipes and eased their burden on his bones. "So there are two 'packs'. Interesting." What a demeaning name.
"I did not fight. Combat injuries." Few in the Negaverse sported wounds of any kind; either they whittled their time frivolously in the Dark Kingdom's bowels or they knew such great combat prowess that they never feared injury by their hated foes. Faustite was neither. Even now, covered parts of him bespoke a garden of bruises, of cuts and of abrasions. Contusions gained from clawing his way through the Rift. Lacerations earned from the many they called ally. And with no great command at combat, entry into the bloodsport tournament sounded asinine. Schörl condoned it not, even if a slim portion of her team participated.
At least Chrysocolla showed poorly in the end.
The long hallway terminated into a greater atrium, where the beginnings of the grand staircase coiled its imperious stone around a pair of columns. Up those stairs ascended, carved from stone and stooped with innumerable footfalls, and they curved with a mockery of natural matter. He began their upward ascent, hands finally leaving his back to find the banister. His steps meant nothing to the stone. Nor would hers — they couldn't hope to leave a mark on such a timeless place.
Her next question was a curious one — a tentative venture into the territory of his imperfect biology. He received the inquiry with a cocked brow, any stoicism temporarily suspended for interest. "They used to. The surgery took months to heal. Now they just get sore." Each breath loosed smoke now, necessitating that he keep his engagements walking when indoors. They spoke of their own problems beyond that — easy marks for keen senshi, or for those with wary olfactories. Copper and moondust haunted his every step. "It was necessary. I couldn't breathe without them opening my back.
"Now I have a question for you. Why didn't you use your magic?"
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Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2018 10:27 am
Regan wanted to correct him. There was not two packs. There was Laby and his wolves and Wolfeite and his........whatever they were. She wanted too, but allowing him to know that the fake group bothered her in a way was letting him know she had weaknesses concerned with them. Mostly Tourmaline and Wolfeite, betrayers, the girl thought, to her general and to herself.
Her gaze continued to study him from the corner of her eye, and the small cuts did not go unnoticed. She was curious about it, but also, like herself, knew that asking questions often led to answers she didn't wish to know. Whatever combat the half youma partook in, was no concern ultimately on her part.
As they climbed the stone steps, heels clicking in the silence of the raising hall, his answer of the stacks veered her attention from the fake pack to the biology of the half youma in general. Surgery, she thought. Modifications of the body. The wonders of the negaverse never seemed to amaze her. She wondered, if in his body, was a similar structure to a engine. Perhaps like a car or train. Some of the engines of muscle cars require exhaust pipes to bring hot air up and cold air in to keep the engine stable. She wanted to ask him more. Did he still have organs, or did were they now gears and grinds used purely in function to keep himself and the stacks exhausting.
His questions steered her back, and she hesitated on the answer. Her pride, she thought, had stopped her from using magic.
"It was unnecessary in the battle." She moved her dress as she climbed, so the fabric fell between her legs and was less likely to cause her to trip up. "Kamacite didn't not portray an aptitude for physical poweress. Senshi are prone to magic as fallbacks." She looked over at Faustite, "I would not mistake Kamacite's magic as weak though, if you are wondering. Mine is more situational." She couldn't burst out magic like the solar flares senshi. Hers was calculated motions, she had to draw them in and blow it in their face. There was also something to be said about being able to beat someone on fighting skills alone.
"I lost the second round." She wanted to make clear that she was also not so good, and her ego with Kamacite had a price. "I faced an agent who had no regard for her well being or.....the lively-ness of my own." She came to the top, turning to face Faustite.
"If we are exchanging questions, I have another to ask. Do you run like an engine, underneath the skin." She looked at him, directly in the eyes. "Does it bother you if I ask these things."
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Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2018 11:00 pm
"Telling." Kamacite's battle hadn't warranted magic use, the caveat being that hers was situational. Then what situation, if not at the fore of a watched tournament, would call for her magic? Kamacite spent his knowing that he would blind the greater half of their spectators. Hers must have predicated on an unaccounted-for force.
Adamantine Spar. Senshi of stardust. The hints of her sphere were subtle in her dress, as opposed to the great, hanging starbursts off Kamacite's sleeves. Glitter caught in the midnight of her outfit, fleeting catches of it, to downplay the striking comparison of snowy hair to night sky. Nothing beyond the basics were listed for this senshi, however; he could not further pry into her affairs without asking. Her magiic was barred to him unless it came time to unveil its use — whether in the field or in the next bout of tournaments. Pity that.
Faustite drew together a comment on her loss, but before he managed a coherent sentence, she rounded on him at the top of the stair. He looked up at her from where she stood, watched a coiling weft of hair come loose and dangle at gravity's beckon.
The question drew his brows up. "I don't know. The infirmary never handled it. General Arsenopyrite stabbed a pen into my back at the time. He left me on a call." Closing his eyes, he reached for memories that effortlessly slipped his recollection. "I called Schörl afterward. She… Handled it. I don't remember how. There were never x-rays. No MRIs, no CT scans. I never asked for them either." When he opened his eyes again, his expression was neutral. Time eroded much of the hurt behind the incident. "If I run like an engine now, I don't feel any different. Just hotter." He extended his hand toward her if her curiosity urged it.
"Your questions don't bother me. Officers should know more about their youmafied cohorts. Now they treat us as youma treat us — like curiosities. Little baubles to observe or explosives under pressure." Faustite shrugged with a c**k of his head.
"How many youmafied officers have you met? And what were they like?"
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2018 12:21 pm
His answer left a lot of unknowns to the woman. She wanted to know more, she wanted to know the inner workings, however despicable that was on her part. It was why she often wondered herself if there were monsters lurking in the small body, glamoured by white hair and star blue eyes. She had no regard to his well being, the idea of him being in pain was no consequence to herself.
And if she had been allowed to find out if he was human or not, it would not be something that bothered her later on. "What about now?" She turned her head, "To run efficiently, haven't you been curious if you need different sort of care then what they offer the human body?" She was no means a scientist. She was a mechanic that worked on cars.
His comparison to what others thought of him was far more favorable then what others thought of corrupt senshi, and she felt that was probably important. Half youma's offered more to the negaverse then corrupt senshi did. He wasn't wrong in her wanting to know how and why.
"Just Wolfeite." She answered, as she took his hand that was offered, her hand significantly cooler to his warmer one and she narrowed her eyes at it. It was fascinating. "Vicious. Hungry." She looked up at him, "Sometimes I wondered when my neck would be ripped out, and sometimes I thanked Metallia that he was on my side."
Her hand slipped out of his and away, "You are the second." Her gaze turned to the hallway where she would turn the energy in. Thoughts drifted in different directions into which she couldn't figure out how to place them and word them. The curiosity disappeared in a way, and her stance and face returned to the stoicness that unnerved some beyond her pack. The quietness loomed over them in way to her that was comfortable and unnerving.
He had also been one of the few she had been more chatty with.
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2018 10:14 am
She shared a cogent point that he hadn't considered. Since he still ate and processed food in a way endemic to humans, he never paid much heed to his inner workings beyond the issue with his back. And once the smoke was ventilated, lhe paid little attention to his body. He knew he stopped producing smoke for a time in the Rift; he imagined the cause to be dehydration, but that was under the assumption his body was still human on the inside. If it wasn't?
If it wasn't, it might explain his need for nearly twice the amount of food he used to eat. Perhaps his temperature was a symptom of, as she put it, 'inefficiency'. And for as much as the human body was akin to a machine… He may be destroying hismelf by continuing to operate the way that he did. Her hand felt chill, a cooling reprieve from his constantly skirting overheating in the lukewarm temperatures of the Citadel. Her hand in his served as another reminder to the barrier between himself and human in a very literal sense. And while he finally disregarded the moralistic, mental argument surrounding the meaning of that statement, surrounding the ontological definition of human, he understood with no remorse that his body never fit that definition.
Unlike the stardust senshi before him, who required six and a half to eight and a half hours of sleep and 1400 calories minimum and 60 fluid ounces of water a day, there weren't medically studied guidelines for what his body needed because his body wasn't human.
He snorted, a wry smile seizing his expression. "You're right." The smile lingered for a moment. Strange how it took a trip to the Rift.
His smile cleared and he swallowed his sense of judgment. It stuck in his throat, vehement for what it had to tell the world, and he did not speak again until it passed. "He sounds better suited to the front line." Her experiences matched those cited by Kamacite, who spoke of the youmafied general with far more waver, shock, and distance. But where Kamacite wwore his shattering in the shape of his wrists, in the movements of his face, Adamantine looked broken — ever expressionless, speech coded in deadpan, movements rehearsed. Questions lingered in every footfall she left behind.
But her attention drifted toward the hall, and away from their conversation on the stair. Had he spoken too much?
"Axinite is usually too busy to chat," he ventured. Turning, his black hand found the banister where too-long nails sung against the surface. "It was good to finally meet you, Adamantine." And strange. Ever more the Negaverse reassured him that it contaminated each of its recruits.
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Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2018 12:44 pm
The smile on his face was almost odd, since he had been carefully schooled before. It was odd to her, when the half youma mimicked some of the same emotions she knew herself to show.
"I wouldn't know much more then that. He left and has his own..." The words played, "team to send out now, doesn't he?" She brushed a bang back from her face.
"I enjoyed meeting you as well." She looked over at him, "Should you feel the need to chat, or should I get lost again, We should seek each other out again." She relaxed in front of the half youma for just a second, a small smirk playing on her lips. Faint but there for all of a fleeting moment.
"I do not care to converse with the general sovereign." She added as she walked down the hallway. There wasn't much needs for anymore goodbyes, her task was going to be fulfilled and she could leave. However, perhaps when she came back, she would seek out the Faustite half youma again.
Perhaps he would test his biology and she could ask about it. Perhaps not.
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