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 Posted: Mon Jul 16, 2018 12:52 am
Negaspace harbored a quietude that the Rift lacked. While it spoke of the same terse, inhospitable landscape, with its petrified forests and cliff faces hewn jagged and buildings tall enough to scrape the sky, it lacked youma's roiling presence. Nothing moaned or roared at him from empty hollows. Nothing stalked for prey, hoping to eat what would, in a count of years, command it. The only presence was the Citadel itself, staring out silently into the mists of misspent time.
"General Tourmaline," he spoke softly into the tablet mic. In the shadow of the Citadel, stretching great and lawless over its own desolation, Faustite melded seamlessly into the landscape ambience. Little stirred there to produce aural ambience; the call was silent but for the crackle-pop of airwaves.
"You said you were always open for questions. I have one for you now." He drew breath, his boot heel shifting against dead gravel. "There's something I'm looking for — a powerful bracelet. It's very old, older than this place." He knew the photo-flashes of memory painting promenade and stairwell and endless roman columns. He knew the runners, the tapestries, the targes, the sconces, the cots. Voices still sprung in his head, formed to words known and yet not. Faces and bodies clad in countries he would never know — no, planets. Entire worlds garbed about their person like so many bad habits. An army of stars making their home on earth, an invasive force, an infection.
But in their foreign grasp was a vermeil wonder, shaped to narrow hand named his of old. He saw that same shape, recolored black and deprived of adulthood. It would fit, he decided. He would make it fit.And if not him, one of the perpetually bored Mau who lay claim to some usefulness here.
"Will you help me find it?"skye starrfyre thank you for doing this!!
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Posted: Wed Jul 18, 2018 5:28 pm
When she had told Faustite to contact her should he have questions or a need to do so she had not expected him to actually do so-- not entirely, at least. Enough of him seem guarded that she expected him to keep mostly to his own and she did not further press things or attempt to personally invade his space as she might have done to one of her own subordinates. That being the case, the voice coming from her tablet as it sat on her desk caught her by surprise-- a pleasant one, of course, but a surprise none the less. Tourmaline rose to her feet, playing the message over again before responding. "Tell me when and where and I'll be there. If there's anything we might need for this venture as well, do let me know." Knowing 'where' might shed light on their needs; whatever things they could find in the barracks or the armory that might lend to a search, or even a bag of tools from above if nothing could be found below. She was thrilled by the idea of an adventure, recalling the 'fetch' missions they'd been sent on by Metallia herself after the Negaverse was invaded. There was no telling what else, if anything, they might find, and what good it could do for their kind. Strickenized Thank you for inviting me to. <3
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Posted: Thu Jul 19, 2018 4:53 pm
Her response was a boon. That Tourmaline's words held weight was not an unexpected surprise, but a welcome one — a small kindness paid out of life's tightfisted coffers. How easy it was to meet generals but once and be disappointed in their ineffectiveness. Arsenopyrite came to mind, followed by Chrysocolla, followed by Quartz.
He answered her questions at barest, part out of respect for her time and part out of the natural immediacy of their communicators' drain. "Rope. Rappelling supplies. Spelunking supplies. It's a hole." A very literal one by Moonstone's guidance. He knew nothing of when or how it fell into disrepair, nothing of its journey to the Rift (if one could call that a journey), and nothing still of how it collapsed on itself, imploded, self-destructed, and left behind nothing more than churning wreckage and absence. Disappointment, too, for how slim his chances looked for recovering anything more from that mess.
But they would try. "Meet me outside the Citadel." A beat, then "the Negaspace part." A thanks left intimated, Faustite cut the remainder of the call. Tourmaline hadn't time to dally if she wanted those supplies posthaste. He would not keep her from helping him so.
But he had his own tasks in the interim. With a piece of paper splayed over his tablet, Faustite took a pen to it while chasing fever-dreams. He recalled mainly flashes now, muddled as they were, and racked his mind for the remaining pieces to reconstruct an ancient journey. The floorboards, he recalled, were a darker wood. Walnut, maybe. The cot a hearty spruce. Neither of these would've survived the unkindnesses dealt to the Academy, but the mangy tin beneath the floorboards might still exist. So he continued to trace those memories into a crudely drawn layout, one perhaps already defeated by the blasted wreck.
But it would do, if only to confirm that bracelet's confounding existence. He folded the map neatly and secured it in a vest pocket.
He should show his own efforts to match hers. A second page was taken, drawn over with a far more recent memory, and he double-checked the few photos saved on his phone. Finally he approximated the size and depth of their enormous hole with a rudimentary idea of which paths to take. And, in spite of time, where that canister might still be.
With both maps now, he waited on the steps before the Citadel. Seated, legs bent with an adolescent irreverence, he recounted their journey. It would be hours by foot with no youma to carry them. Hours enough to plan their expedition, he supposed.
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Posted: Sun Jul 22, 2018 6:22 pm
It's a hole. Tourmaline lingered on that bit of the description, of all things, as she checked the armory for supplies before heading topside. It was as Katrina Halloran that she made the purchase of two sturdy backpacks intended for campers with a penchant for hiking and mountain trails. She made up some story about a weekend get-away out of a necessity for small-talk with the cashier. A few jokes were made in regards to the ropes and harnesses-- proper knot tying was very important -- would they need anything else for their 'weekend'? Not that kind of weekend? Oh, well then... Cliff bars and bottles of water were added on to the supplies as the cashier began to take her a bit more seriously. Flashlights? Yes. Glowsticks? Probably not a bad idea. The bags were packed as the items were rang through the register, totaling an amount she might have cringed at were she not in possession of a credit card Kian had given her specifically for her own expenses. It was rarely used as she didn't often care much for spoiling herself outside of special occasions. She supposed this counted as one, though, didn't it? It took longer than she would have liked, far more a fan of instant satisfaction and gratification when it came to thrill-seeking, but eventually she arrived at the designated location. Her presence was announced by the sound of heels clicking against stone, coat and cape left hanging on the chair in her office for practicality. Both were more likely to hinder than to help when it came to climbing of any sort. She would kill for the ability to tailor uniforms to fit situations. The bloody military had different uniforms for different situations... Now was neither the time nor the place to be distracted by fashion. Tourmaline dropped one of the two backpacks down a few feet from Faustite, shifting the other on her shoulder. "That should be enough to see us to the center of the Earth. You might be on your own if the bracelet has to find its way to Mount Doom after this, though." Her words were said with an impish grin, eyes bright with amusement. "Good thing is as long as we're not heading into the Rift we should be able to teleport back once we've retrieved it."
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Posted: Mon Jul 23, 2018 10:18 am
Faustite did not begrudge the general the time spent in preparation. He stood when he first felt her arrival, black and eminent against Negaspace's natural torpor. A soothing surge she was, black and heady, very nearly grounding.
Until she dropped the bag at his feet. Faustite drew a long breath as he looked to the straps, then over his shoulder at the long metal pipes sighing smoke into the air. They met but once, and he expected that the particulars of his appearance didn't stick with her. He wasn't her captain, nor was she his general — they seldom had need to contact each other, and fewer reasons still to look each other up on the Database. She must have many other tasks on her plate, none of which included memorizing his appearance for all its faults. None of that tempered the burn.
Faustite grasped the bag and hoisted it over one shoulder where it percussed lightly on the side of his pipes. "I've been there." His words were their own herald as he reached out for the crook of her elbow, hesitating only lightly in an unmentioned ask for permission. Grasping the firm answer of bone, he called to mind the vast emptiness he experienced alongside Wasgo. The way it yawned, wide, like the earth asked ill of the stars. Like it sucked at all the glister puncturing the black. The world shifted perceptibly, yet not — an instant shift led them from the towering Citadel to its inversion.
The cost of it left him weary. He reached, hand splayed, to pull nothing from the sky. A light distortion claimed the air over his shoulder until out popped a squid youma with a thousand infinitesimal fires in its translucent body. "Hold this," he commanded as he held forth the backpack straps. The squid dipped and coiled its arms about the pack before lofting it into the air.
It bubbled back at him as if in complaint. Staying aloft became a new burden without so many arms left to grasp at the air, but Faustite was unperturbed.
"Moonstone says it's unstable." He reached for the folded map, which he unveiled for Tourmaline's eyes. "We should stay close enough that we can reach each other quickly — too close and we'll get caught in the same fallout." His smallest nail, curved and dagger-shaped, traced one of the redlined paths. "This looks like the easiest path down.
"And this," he paused to reverse the map, showing a sketched canister and lid, "is what we're looking for. Around where the bedrooms would've been." Like it isn't so much rubble. But how could they possibly find an object so small in this trash heap disaster?
"What do you think?"
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Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2018 3:07 pm
Faustite was not her Captain, but she was generally more observant-- or, rather, she liked to think that she paid more mind to the things that she observed. As a result she winced at his expression in regards to the pack, but did not apologize. It was easier to let him pick up the conversation as he picked up the bag and she only just barely processed I've been there before he was teleporting them elsewhere. Transport by anyone other than herself had always been odd; disorienting. She would never forget the first tome another had whisked her away, the dizzying thrill of it all. Had it been so long ago? She shook the thought away in an attempt to clear her mind, convincing herself it was the sensation of being moved and nothing more. "Moonstone has a fair amount of wisdom, especially when it comes to the things below." The Haida Captain was a wealth of knowledge as well as a formidable warrior. There was more than a little bit of admiration in Tourmaline's voice as she spoke of her, nodding as she watched Faustite go over the course to their destination. It was with a smile that she straightened out, settling her own pack more comfortably on her shoulders. "I think that you've put enough thought into this that you don't need to wait on my approval to lead the way." The corners of her mouth quirked, the smile teasing into a smirk. "Looking at your map, however, I agree. So we'll start with the path of least resistance and see where it takes us?"
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Posted: Mon Jul 30, 2018 8:39 am
Faustite drew a steadying breath. He forced his muscles to move, to nod. Tourmaline spoke verification of Moonstone's knowledge, that she didn't simply stumble over the idiosyncrasies that composed their cultural graveyard, but applied thought and awareness to them Wisdom rather than simple knowledge.
Faustite knew, with every heavy step, that his weariness would fade in motion. Beside him floated his companion, ever awaiting orders, and Faustite himself reached the cusp of the crater with spent energy clinging to him like a shadow. Peering down, he spotted the long trail of bent metal and cratered tone that led down, down into perils seldom faced by their officers, down through the ribs of a time glimpsed only in memory, down into a separate reality. There weren't words for the vast gulf between human preparedness and the hole that felt so distinctly inhuman, both in history and in experience. He felt, acutely, that he stood at more than a simple precipice.
He waved his youma down, who allowed him a glimpse into the pack. From it he seized a length of rope and kept it coiled about his shoulder, then tied it just above his hips. Faustite started down by descending on a long, jagged, broken tooth of a pillar, where he could likewise tie the rope and begin his rappel downward.
He left the map with Tourmaline, which left his hands free. Down the crater descended, into darkness, into the black nowhere where senshi and knights once sieged their territory. He wondered, then, what would await them. Were ghosts the byproduct of spent starseeds, and would they accost Faustite and Tourmaline there? Wordlessly, he continued downward.
Faustite's descent began smoothly, despite the shift and groan of the pillar above him. Flecks of gravel rained down like so much protestation. With his head bent, he kept up a steady pace downward until he neared the bottom. His youma, further up, oozed down the rope with its pair of tentacles as its arms clung to his backpack. Finally he reached another plane of detritus, paved by the narrow remains of a stone pathway. The path itself was a mere foot wide and forced the youma captain to hug the wall. Jaw steeled and nerves alight, he cut the rope to save the rest. Tourmaline would follow, surely; he had to keep moving.
His communicator formed, trapped between rock and the webbing of his thumb and forefinger. "Seems stable," he informed Tourmaline as he spoke into it, "the floor is mostly gone." A pair of cracks, nearly layered, sounded over the line. Seconds passed. When Faustite spoke again, his voice strained under an unseen force. "Most wreckage sits at the bottom." Likely they would have to reach it. Faustite's outlook soured with his expression.skye starrfyre would you be ok with one of them stumbling/falling the rest of the way when they get close enough to the bottom?
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Posted: Sun Sep 16, 2018 4:52 pm
For all that Tourmaline considered herself a daredevil in most aspects of her life, spelunking had never come up as something she'd been of a mind to try. In most cases she preferred freedom and open spaces, racing fast towards wonders unknown and the thrill of the chase. Tight spaces, dark holes and confines were a different kind of challenge. She watched Faustite descend ahead of her, drawing in a deep breath before following suit after anchoring her own rope for the rappel as he disappeared into the darkness. If either of them fell... They were both capable of teleporting. There had to be a body of water or two in town that she could call to mind in a hurry if the fall was too far or too fast. It would potentially mean starting all over again, but it wasn't something to be concerned with... Was it? Tourmaline lowered herself after him, grip shifting to support her weight steady as his voice sounded from her own communicator, left clipped onto her uniform at the shoulder. "Roger that," she confirmed receipt of his assessment before loosing her hold to continue her descent. Her heels scraped rock as she reached the point where Faustite had cut himself loose, the sound of rock chipping away to dust below setting her on an uneasy edge. "You said that what we're here for is where the bedrooms would've been.... Any idea where that might be amongst all of that?" It would be far too easy for this item to call out to Faustite, wouldn't it? Maybe it would glow or resonate the closer they got to it.... Strickenized By all means! If it fits the narrative you've got in mind better for Tourmaline to be the one who falls I'm down for that as well. Also, apologies for the delay!
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Posted: Wed Sep 19, 2018 6:05 am
Faustite bit his tongue on an unhelpful answer. "The bedroom we want was floors up from ground." The solemn ascent, stairs racing underfoot in their sudden cause for action both came to mind in his hurried juxtaposition of the surreal space he both knew and didn't know. Columns once tall and proud now shattered beyond recognition, left as splinters jutting from the gaping, wounded mess under Negaspace's bleeding sky. It's perpetual twilight cast the forms as jagged, as violated beyond all recognition but for the astute and the few who experienced the prior reality.
"There's no wind, and little debris surrounding the hole. The building collapsed in on itself. That would leave the bedroom in the northeast corner from the entrance." Time-mulched fragments of a path, shadows of a prepared and kept courtyard provided the most rudimentary indications of an entrance. Whether they started climbing by some side view to the establishment or the main entrance was a question lost to time — too much deteriorated in the clutch of this otherworldly dimension and its eternal keeper, time. "We'll assume Moonstone showed me the entrance." Negaspace's austere appearance left little other choice.
Faustite edged along carefully, hands ever searching for a proper hold that would anchor him well to the cliffside wall, and ever looking over his shoulder for some sign of a bedroom. He found rotted, black splinters of wood, columnar fragments, shattered marble, broken idols, half of a once-proudly-displayed symbol lying on its side, and the pulp of wreckage so pulverized by its own weight that it looked like rubble. Occasionally there were scraps of cloth trapped, too dirtied to recognize, with their concentration greater in the far corner from where they started. Looking up, he wagered they were halfway there. And as the hole left no vantage points over the very bottom, where twisted metals and beaten rock jutted in an unwieldy pile, was it safe at any point to teleport? If he landed himself atop part of the remains, would it crumble under him?
Faustite wasn't certain it was wise, but they were far enough down that the initial spiderings of too-long beams and fat columns no longer obscured their vision of the bottom. Faustite took his chance —
He felt firm ground beneath his feet —
Until it gave way in seconds and crystal dumped him the dozen feet down splintered boards, crushed furniture, and torn tapestry onto the gravel-stricken floor of that great space. His body thrummed with a few pangs of familiar pain and his ears thrummed with an echoing toll. Groaning, Faustite pulled himself up into the microcosm of ruin. "Teleporting is still risky," he confirmed flatly.
Silently checking himself for injuries, Faustite continued. "I think I'm in the right area. We're looking for an old canister — something like a cheap soup thermos. The original owner kept it underneath his bedroom floorboards, so check under wood." He paused, sighed; a long gas opened along his outer right forearm and leaked its potent black onto marble. "Inside is a glove bracelet. That's what we need."skye starrfyre if you would not mind tourma finding the item whenever it seems fitting!
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