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[B] Star Pupil (Zircon + Eurydike, GDOC RP)

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frayedflower

Liberal Prophet

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PostPosted: Sat Sep 29, 2018 4:50 pm




To the uninitiated, Destiny City was like any metropolis in temperate America, diverse and dirty and thoroughly alive with the hustle and bustle of the flickering motes of energy that made up its populace. It had businesses and colleges and parks and six-lane highways and people that moved between them like clockwork, noisy and active and messy. In a way, it felt fitting that this should be the last stronghold of a senshi resistance, this resilient town that withstood the storm despite all it had endured. But there were cracks in the facade, should one care to look, old places that were never reclaimed for a better purpose after the dead were buried and the flames extinguished.

The locals called these places haunted. They weren’t exactly wrong.

Zircon walked through the rubble of an abandoned building, her expression impassive, her dead-nerve fingers tracing over the jagged concrete that used to be walls, searching for something to feel. She wondered if it was her aura that silenced the late summer cicada noise of the evening, or if insects could be superstitious about a place when the actions committed were suitably evil, if they could perhaps still smell the iron and rot from years before. Sometimes when she wanted to escape from the noise of it all she retreated here, where no one would go looking for her, just out of cell service and certainly out of her head. After all, why would she go to the place where she’d been unmade? Zircon herself couldn’t quite place why, but the land was broken and so was she and it inspired in her a camaraderie she couldn’t muster for people.

She didn’t have it in her to be afraid--fear was a captain’s game, and she was not the wide-eyed woman she’d been before she was captured, stupid and weak and all too eager to please. That part of her had been bled out onto the tile, snapped and ground like the rubble beneath her heel. By comparison, being a general was an empty game, an empty feeling punctuated by moments of frustration and ire. It was many things, but not the peace she felt she’d been owed. Then again, there were few generals of the Negaverse she would describe as ever having found peace. It had been long enough now that Zircon couldn’t even tell if she’d been lied to or if she’d crafted the story of her own delusions, a snake-oil salesman to herself. When had she ever been told that the path she was taking had a peaceful end?

It was with that itch in her thoughts that she felt the edges of some order power, intruding upon the profane sanctuary she had reclaimed for herself. Everything in Zircon snapped tight like a fishing line after something had taken the bait. She looked in the direction of the feeling and suddenly she was on another rooftop several blocks away, bathed in the sickly sensation of order’s nearby light but unable to pinpoint its origin.

“Leave,” she barked at the twilight air, willing her word to banish any ghost that wasn’t her own.

--

Nothing had been going his way lately.

Not for Eurydike, anyway. When it came to Hitch, things were better than they’d ever been. Husband, house, everything falling neatly into place with a ******** goldfish to top it all off. Honestly, he’d been ******** waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And it had been. Olga was gone because he hadn’t been there. He’d gotten his a** kicked again and again since he’d started going out on these patrols again, a reminder that he’d honestly never been so great at this whole senshi thing to begin with. The best thing he’d ever done was bring Rhys home, and maybe had some part in helping Fritz, but aside from that…

Think about it. Wolves always look for others.

The memory clung to him like sap, irritating and sickening.

Some part of him longed to quit. Just chuck his stupid magic stick somewhere and tell the goddamn star cats where they could shove it. But being Hitch instead of Eurydike was what had gotten Olga corrupted, and he knew he’d feel too guilty for not trying to do something even if he knew he was destined to ******** it up.

It was a lose-lose situation. Maybe it was something he should have talked to Rhys about. But he never was much good at talking.

He was clinging to the alleyways tonight, half-hoping that he’d find something, anything useful to do, half-hoping for nothing at all so he could slip home, have a drink, and get into bed with Rhys.

Then he felt a prickle of chaos at the back of his back, and immediately tensed, a pit forming in his stomach. Stronger than him. Calling out.

Just ********’ go some part of him screamed, but his feet just didn’t move.

------------

Zircon got nothing in response to her command but silence, and yet the aura never flickered or moved, as steady as it was offensive. She pursed her lips, but knew better than keep shouting at nothing. This close, it was difficult to tell if there was one Super nearby or multiple weaker senshi, and in either case it wouldn’t do to let down her guard. In the quiet of night there was little in the way of filler noise, so her footsteps echoed across the walls and alleyways as she paced slowly, looking for a little sliver of white to snuff out. With a little displacement of air, she popped into existence at street level, and when she rounded a corner she caught sight of a senshi pressed to the walls by his own fear.

It was delicious.

“I gave you the chance to leave,” Zircon said coolly, her steps slow and even on the pavement as she approached. Even with all of her attention focused on walking smoothly, there was no hiding the way she favored her right side, or the shine of metal where her left shin should have been. She got just close enough to study his face, his brooch, and then she stopped altogether, folding her hands in front of her so she wouldn’t be prone to fidget. The annoyed tilt to her brow smoothed, and her expression went flat, except for the laser focus in her eyes as she stared him down. She did not breathe. She blinked, her nose twitched.

“You should have taken it.”

She remembered him more by his sandals than his face, because that was most of what she’d been able to see when she was tied down in that dingy prison, where the hours had ticked by like years. But there was no denying it was him, that he’d been there and stood by as Thraen had been allowed to torture the weakness out of her. She didn’t know his name, but she almost preferred it that way. He deserved nothing except to die and be forgotten.

Reaching for the air behind her, she pulled her crystal weapon from subspace, a giant boomerang outlined in jagged crystal. Without much pomp, she lifted it above her head and swung, throwing it towards the senshi with one two-handed heft. In an alleyway, it was inclined to bump and scrape against walls, and wouldn’t even hit with full force, but she was planning on that. Zircon wanted him disoriented and afraid before she ripped the starseed from his chest.

-----------------------

Should’ve ********’ left - moron.

Easier said than done when his own body betrayed him. He didn’t ******** get it. Eurydike ******** knew he should have just backed away. No one was in danger here but him. There was no pretense of trying in his half assed way to save someone even knowing he was outmatched.

It wasn’t pride. That was for sure. Logan Hitchcock had a stubborn streak in him a mile wide, but he wasn’t ******** stupid. So what was it? - lingering guilt? Frustration? Fear? Was he so ******** weak that he was too ******** afraid to just turn tail and head for home? Too stupid?

He tried to focus, tried not to let himself linger on the venomous little voice that had ebbed and flowed louder in the back of his head than it should have been lately as he watched her approach.

Eurydike didn’t recognize her at a glance. It had been a long time, and she hadn’t been one of the captives he’d dealt with personally - although he’d often hung close to Thraen throughout the operation.

He did notice the sheen of metal below her knee, and tried to file the fact away as though it would do any damn good if she got her hand wrapped around his starseed.

“Yeah, “ he finally spat out gruffly with a decided hint of resignation. “I prolly should’ve.”

Then there was a huge ******** boomerang flying at him, because hey, why wouldn’t there be? Even if he’d been the moron who’d stayed out when he should have run the other way, that didn’t mean he was going to fold over without trying.

“Salt of the Earth!” he bellowed with a flourish of his hands, he hoping the magic would be enough to deflect the attack.

————-

The boomerang struck the brittle salt ring and careened further into the alleyway, scraping against brick and concrete and leaving a comet’s tail of debris in its wake. But the battery of its passage had never been the intended attack, even if it seemed more dangerous and dramatic. Clanging against the walls, it was certainly more loud.

Zircon was quiet when she approached, nothing but the click-shuffle of her heels on pavement. She was in no hurry, not when she could teleport, not when there could be an ambush to run into if she rushed. Besides, thanks in part to this senshi’s efforts, she would never be able to hurry again--each step was calculated, measured and cautious and smooth. Even if her heart rate spiked when she was close enough to see the whites of his eyes, she kept her shoulders down and her chin held high, a proud general of the Negaverse. He could not take that from her--there was nothing he could take from her that she wouldn’t be prepared to lose.

“Are you done?” Zircon asked, her expression flat when she reached for the salt ring, crumbling it to dust in her hands. She took a step closer, evaluating his tunic, his brooch, his scars. Her eyes narrowed. “Do you know who I am, senshi?” She didn’t wait for an answer, nor did she call her boomerang back to her. Instead, she shifted her weight and lifted with her prosthetic leg, looking to land a heel kick somewhere in his torso. This close, it would be easy to take his starseed and call it a day, but a quick kill would have given her no satisfaction. She needed to hear him suffer first.

-------------

Knew that wouldn’t ********’ work, like he needed to remind himself. Eurydike had known from the start that he was basically just ******** stalling for time. It didn’t stop the prickle of dread from crawling over him to watch her pace closer, crushing what defenses he had in her hands like it was nothing. Not the first time it’d failed him, but ********, when had it been so deliberate? So ******** ice cold?

When she took a step forward, Eurydike tried to assume a defensive stance as he took one back to match, teeth gritted and hands curled into fists - the scars on his knuckles were a surefire sign that it was far from his first punch. For all the good it ever ********’ does - He didn’t sense anyone close by. Right? - he’d always been such s**t at that, but -

Nobody will come this time. You’re ********, man. Great job.

“N - “ He opened his mouth to answer, the beginning of a biting syllable on his lips, when she moved to attack - and he tried to slide back, only for his back to hit wall and the blow to connect. The super senshi gasped harshly, a low expletive half-formed on his lips, but he made a scrambling move to try and grab at her leg - because what the ******** else was he supposed to do, really?

------------------

With him pressed between her foot and the wall, Zircon sneered, delighted by the feeling of her heel digging in to soft flesh. “Wrong answer,” she said through gritted teeth, watching him clamber for her leg uselessly--let him reach for cold metal, it would not stop her when she’d been balanced on one foot for years. A lone super senshi was no match for a general, especially one that was only just barely her height. She swatted his grasp away with her dead ankle, but only so she could move in closer, pin him to the wall with her outstretched hand. All it would take is her concentration and she could sink into that chest cavity and rip his starseed out, erasing him from this and every timeline. It’s what he deserved, what her blood called for.

Not yet. Not yet.

Despite her instincts, Zircon kept her hand steady, amber eyes boring into his as if she could somehow glean a suitable explanation for his existence. “Try again,” she hissed, her other hand curled around his neck but not squeezing him hard enough to restrict airflow. “I want you to think back on the things you’ve done. Who am I?” She could be a patient woman when it suited her, but it was hard to think clearly when all wanted was to hear him scream the way she had when her fingers had been broken, one by one.

--------------------

Futile. It was a wasted effort. Should’ve run, stupid. You had the chance. She told ya. You could’ve run. You could be with Rhys right ********’ now, makin’ dinner an’ - Eurydike sucked in a ragged breath, drawing up against her grip, struggling to try and see how strong it was. If there was any possibility he could worm his way out of it, anything he could do to loosen it.

Even if she had just swatted his hand away like he was a ******** kid trying to get into the goddamn cookie jar instead of fighting for his life.

His brow was creased, words spit from between clenched teeth as he snarled out, “Don’t know ya. Never met before.” Even if there was a prickle of something in the back of his head saying something different, that there was something there, some weird sense of deja vu. It was strange for him, though - he was usually so damn good at placing a face.

“I’ll leave, “ he added roughly. “If you let me go, I’ll ********’ go - you won’t ********’ see me again - no ********’ trouble lady.”

---------

Zircon’s eyes narrowed, holding him firm against his worthless struggling. He wasn’t getting it, he wasn’t looking at her, he wasn’t looking and seeing the results of his work. “I don’t care if I never see you again--I want you to look at me,” she growled, lifting him by his chin so that he would have no choice but to face her, pinned between her grasp and the scraping brick behind him. “I was a captain when your people took me and locked me in a cell for days, with just enough food and water to survive. You left me there, you walked by countless times, never looking at me, never asking my name. Like I wasn’t even a person.”

“You ignored everything when Thr--he--” Zircon shuddered, and her eyes widened, choking on that spectre of a name and the bile it evoked until she remembered what words were. Thraen could not reach her here, and this man lacked the power to harm her in any significant way. She was the one in control--of this situation, of his life, of her breathing. No one else could harm her. She refocused, squeezing his neck. “You...did...nothing, when he broke my hands and my leg and left me unchained in an unlocked room, free to go, just to watch me struggle for the door. He let me go, and none of you--none of you--did anything but watch.”

With a disgusted sneer and a flick of the wrist, she discarded him, tossing him further down the alley with little grace. In the meanwhile, she resummoned her boomerang, but not to throw--instead, she held down one edge as she stomped on the other, breaking off a jagged shard of purple crystal she could palm in one hand. “I’ll let you go,” she assured, voice soft and fingers loosely curled around the makeshift shiv as she approached him slowly once again. “You’ll be as alive and free to leave as I was.”

------------------------------------

A guttural little snarl left him as she grabbed his chin, and if he’d had enough agency for it, Eurydike probably would’ve snapped at her fingers like the half-feral thing he was. Instead, his dark eyes smouldered, trying to mask his fear with rage (this could be it, this might really ******** be it for him), wanting so badly just for once to have the strength to do something about this for himself. He wanted to get home to Rhys. He just wanted -

Then she started talking, and slowly, like water through a leaking roof, comprehension began to set in. The captives. Back then, when they’d grabbed all those officers and locked them up. When he’d done what he thought was right, when he’d supported Thraen, when he’d tried to do his part to protect Tolliver. When he’d had no ******** idea what he’d actually done. It’d been so long since he’d even thought about it, because ********, Tolliver - Rhys aside, it’d been necessary, right? The negaverse had done the same to their own.

She wasn’t wrong. Eurydike didn’t really see them as people at all. There were a few exceptions - well, only one, now. Just Still. Before, there’d been Care Bear. Then Rhys had been human once he’d figured out who he was. But that’d only been after the fact. Before Eurydike had known he’d - enemies. He saw enemies. People who kept draining him, tormenting him, murdering, violating -

He did remember her.

Eurydike couldn’t tell her that; not with her hand tight on his neck again, a strangled sound leaving him as he struggled, though not as hard as before. The weight of the realization was heavy enough that it wouldn’t have been hard for her to see it, or even feel it from him.

Then he was falling - flying? - tumbling across the concrete of the alley, hissing as he landed roughly on his hands and knees. He tried not to waste time, although it honestly felt as though he were going through slow-motion as he scrambled to his feet to run.



There it was.

Zircon recognized the change in his expression, that slow pupillary dilation, the heavy pulse. She’d lived in that state for so long that it called out to her, and she smiled with her eyes even though her lips were pursed. It was just too satisfying to drain the fight out of his scrappy little body, to watch him struggle through the miasma of his own fear just to stand. For once, she revelled in how slowly she needed to walk, because it only emphasized his slow, clumsy movements, the futility in his actions. He had to know she could teleport. This fight had been over the moment he’d decided not to run.

When she caught up to where he’d landed, she shoved him back to the ground with a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him to the cold pavement with all the power bequeathed to her by chaos and her queen. She regarded the sight of him splayed out and helpless beneath her with a fond warmth in her eyes, and then she pinned him down with one of her knees so that she had both of her hands to work with, rolling the shard of crystal in one palm.

“When you think back on today, I want you to remember that you made this all possible,” Zircon said in soft tones, leaning forward to stroke the dark hair from his face and his eyes. She longed to see that anger, that desperation, that will to live slowly stripped away for the resignation of what was to come. It was sweeter than any starseed that had ever passed between her lips. Then, she pinned his head down with her forearm, letting the shard inch closer to his scar-ridden face. Up close, they were much more alike, and Zircon felt a sort of kinship for this lonely scarred soldier who had made the simple error of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. In fact, she wanted him to feel the same way. She wanted him to understand what it was to have something taken away that he could never get back. But a leg was too easy--he could learn how to recover, how to make do with half. Instead, she looked into those frightened, angry, desperate eyes and got an idea.

She leaned in close enough to feel his shaking breath and whispered, “Try not to wince, you’ll only make it worse.” And then she sat up so she could take that jagged crystal, and she slashed across his face, eye level, left to right.
PostPosted: Sat Sep 29, 2018 4:53 pm


Eurydike knew the futility of his dash before he started - like sad, cornered prey. He couldn’t have even stood and fought until the last like he had a shred of dignity to him. Now he ran. Not when it counted. Not when it could have gotten him home to Rhys.

Rhys.

He hit the ground hard that second time, the air forced out of his lungs as the back of his skull cracked against the pavement, sending a round of pain through his head like a drumbeat. Then, with a knee pinned down onto his body with more force and weight than he’d ever have thought possible, he never did get the wind back into his lungs.

That did not mean he didn’t try to struggle. He did, for all the ******** good it didn’t do him. He had to try. He had a family now. He had a place to go. A place you don’t ********’ deserve. He had to get back to Rhys. He couldn’t ******** do this to him. This is what you deserve.

The look in her eyes somehow scared him more than anything else. Contempt, he could handle. Anger. Disgust. Hate. But her eyes were warm, like she cared. And he didn’t know why it scared him so much.

When she uttered those words, that was when the struggling stopped - like a drug before the blow. This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for something he’d done. The final domino falling into place after one of the longest comedy of errors there’d probably ever ******** been. The fight with Cinnabar. The s**t he’d done to Rhys. The fight with the lieutenant that didn’t even want to be a part of all this. The bodies of all those people he’d failed again and again to save. Everything that had happened to Olga.

I did this.

It’s my fault.

See? This is what you deserve. You know it. That’s why you didn’t ********’ run.

The stroke of her hand evoked another image in him. Something years behind him, the kinds of memories he still struggled to confide in Rhys, giving him bits and pieces of the whole - the bits he’d rather forget, lose to the sheen of nostalgia and adoration, because for years, it had been all he’d had and loved in the world. The stroke of soft fingers across a stinging face, the sigh of exasperation and the softness of her brown eyes. Why you gotta make me get like this, Logan? Y’know how much I love you.

Any rational person would’ve shut their eyes. But he couldn’t. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that either. So Eurydike stared, a tremor taking hold in his body that wouldn’t cease, as much from anger as from fear, and what disgusted him the most was some little voice in the back of his head was still pleading for someone to come and save him like he’d been a million times over. Just one more time. Emrys. Celsus. Verona. Still. Kerberos. Anyone.

The rescue never came. And that was when he found his voice again, a piercing, almost unnatural howl of agony ripping through the alleyways like the crystal across his flesh.

---------------------------------

Zircon felt the shard strike, cutting flesh and tearing across his orbit, felt it when it caught against the soft between bone, found resistance, and then popped like bubble wrap. Simple tension, then release, and under his howl his flesh squelched and oozed and bled. Could something be so repulsive and satisfying all at once? Perhaps the competing emotions were simply two sides of the same coin, or magnetic emotions drawn by their equivalent intensity.

She remembered the first time she’d drawn blood on the enemy, a scalp wound that had made her vomit after she’d teleported away from the battlefield. Zircon saw it like an overlay atop the senshi’s squirming, and yet for all that he screamed and sobbed, she couldn’t even make the bile rise in her throat. After everything that had happened to her in that cell, it simply no longer had the control over her that it used to. She supposed that she had him to thank for that as well. A shame, then, that he’d only be getting the cliffnotes of the lessons she’d learned--it could have served him, later.

While he writhed beneath her, Zircon let the crystal shard fall, reaching for his hands. “Pressure now, you’ll need to hold this,” she said, struggling to force his hands over the wound, to keep him focused on something, to keep the shock at bay. “Breathe. In and out. Breathe. Do you understand? This is--a lesson, in equivalence. You’re going to know what it is to live. It would be so easy to snuff you out. But now you know, and you’ll live, and that? That’s the hardest part.” She laughed, but it might have been a sob as well, and her face might have been wet but surely it was only the blood. “It’s harder to live. That’s--that’s what he said to me, when I thought I was going to die. But death is mercy. Surviving--that’s the real torture. You’re going to carry this for the rest of your days. It’s what you deserve.” She wiped her face on her arm, to clean it all away.

When Zircon finally stood, it was with a somber stillness, the gears behind her eyes turning while she processed what her hands had done. It was justice, wasn’t it? Would it bring her peace to think about it later? It was a thought for another time--for now, she still needed to leave him in his unlocked room. “You’re free to go,” she chirped, clapping her hands together, and then she disappeared into nothingness like she really had just been a ghost.

-------------------

Pain wasn’t something new to Eurydike - his scars were a testament to that, and even before he’d ever stumbled into any of this, the magic, the cats, any of it, it’d been part of his life. Part of the essence of who he was, what made him a man. A slap. A burn of a cigarette. A fistfight in an alleyway. Now, the jaws of a monster. The dark magic of the corrupted. The weapons of a dark army. The claws of a woman who ripped him to shreds and whose mark lingered to this day. In a way, it was almost a source of pride - because yeah, he got his a** kicked, and as shitty as he was at this, all of this, he took it.

This was different. This was a new level of agony. And worse, it felt wrong. Not wrong like the sickening sensation of hands sliding into his chest that left no mark behind, but wrong in the way that something was <********> and he was being broken. He felt the pop and his entire body lurched with raw horror as much as pain.

And for the first time since he’d been a boy, he sobbed. An shadow of his mother’s voice, a memory, faint but sharp, echoed in the back of his head quit bein’ such a ********’ pansy, Logan; you’re a man for ******** sake but it did nothing to stop it. He wretched, he screamed, and he sobbed.

Then abruptly Eurydike’s hands were being placed on his face, over the sticky, soaking mess left behind, and he felt like he was going to vomit. He nearly did, choking on the bile that rose in his throat, a low groan that ended in nearly a whimper escaping him. He was panting erratically, frantically, tasting blood and he didn’t even want to know what else on his tongue, shaking all over as the general spoke to him.

With nothing else, nothing to resist, he did as she said - he pressed down hard, trying to just breathe, her words washing over him as he stared at her, one orb of intense brown in amongst all the red and foulness. This, he would remember later in pristine detail - every line of her face, every timber of her voice, and most of all -

It’s what I deserve.

And he did, didn’t he? He did deserve this.

You’re such s**t, even death’s too ********’ kind. You’re not even good enough to ********’ die.

This was what he deserved.

And then he was alone, left with this thought and his own ‘freedom’... and the first thing he did was roll onto his side and vomit, the sickness intermingling with everything else, and his magic fell with it. Gone was the fuku and the pretense of strength, and left in its place was a man decked in flannel and denim, crying out alone just before he was sick a second time, his body shuddering with the force of it and the shock.

Slowly, Hitch eased one of his hands away from his face, trying not to look - he failed. He stared. And he felt sick all over again, sobbing harder at the sight that met him. “********, <********> - “ But he had to get help, he knew that, he knew that - and he reached for his back pocket, fumbled and struggled fruitlessly until he finally managed to pull out his phone.

He didn’t even see who he was calling - he just mashed buttons until he heard a ring, the whole surface slick with mess, curling into himself as he choked out, sobbing still, “Help, please - I need help, ********, ******** - I’m hurt, it’s - please - “

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frayedflower

Liberal Prophet

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