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 Posted: Mon May 31, 2021 8:58 am
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He couldn't guess how long he was out. He remembered being picked up, being carried, by a handsome General he hadn't met before. He remembered wishing he could flirt with that one. He remembered the pain that stopped him. He remembered Puck stepping over him. He remembered being too paralyzed to even grab the senshi's ankle and trip him as he left. But he couldn't remember the point when he felt his consciousness slip.
It hadn't mattered; he didn't die while unconscious. But as he roused, bones weak with an illness he couldn't place, starseed plagued with a sore, steadfast, and stubborn pain, he wished he was still out.
This area — he recognized it as a medical center. As he shifted, he felt the needle in his hand, saw the tape over it wasn't yet melted. Past that, a standing privacy screen for his metal gurney. It granted him a measure of morbid entertainment that it was the same metal gurney used for transporting the dead. Wouldn't catch fire like the ones for the living, at least.
Not that there was much fire left to him, now. The guttering General spent most of his energy struggling to a seated position, which awakened the furtive pain in head and chest. Slowly he drew his legs to his torso, and his hands framed his temples. He didn't care if the IV line caught. Wouldn't matter, anyway; medical treatment was for people. Schörl would laugh if she saw him, if she saw the lengths the Negaverse went to treat him. What a hilarious waste, what a wad of money spent on something that could only amount to cannon fodder. His youma proved more useful than him in that operation.
But he couldn't think about that now. The Negaverse ever marched forward.
He reached blindly for a bedside table, expecting a phone or a note or even a youma, but his hand only grazed a communicator. It wasn't his, it lacked the melted corners, and he knew this one would melt if he held it long enough. But he wasn't planning on a conversation — not like this. Pen clicked, he spoke into it.
"Kamacite. Come to the infirmary." Another click, and he retired the yet-unburnt pen to the table.
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Posted: Mon May 31, 2021 11:14 am
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When Faustite spoke, his voice echoed near the end of the bed. Kamacite popped up from where he’d been sleeping. Or attempting to sleep. He hadn’t wanted to crowd Faustite on the bed, nor had he wanted to sleep on one of the cots or gurneys in case they were needed, but he also hadn’t wanted to leave his friend after he’d been found losing consciousness by General Jet.
“‘M here,” he mumbled, blinking blearily around as though needing to re-familiarize himself with where they were.
He’d powered down and powered back up at some point, so both his hair and robes were back. His nose was bruised but was told it was unbroken. His ribs were probably fractured but without an actual x-ray there wasn’t certain. Besides, the friendly doctor, who almost killed him by accident when he thought he would take an easy starseed, said he should heal on his own in a few weeks to a month, thanks to the increased healing speed.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, voice still rough from his throat being dry, and a wince from the pain in his side. He’d pushed himself up probably faster than he should have, but if Faustite needed something, he wanted to be there for him. He also needed to pick the hair that was stuck to his face. He had no idea there were sleep lines on his face from his robe either.
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Posted: Mon May 31, 2021 2:08 pm
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He glanced forward, and there Kamacite was, the picture of beauty and grace with hair stuck to his face. Had his head not been busy splitting open, Faustite would've smiled. Instead, he forced himself to quit putting his pain on display and uncurl. "Feels like someone shot me," again his hands searched his chest for holes, "but that doesn't matter." He had to think through the pain, push through it, for there was just as much to do after an operation as there was during one. Faustite slid his legs off the edge of the gurney, made to stand,
and dry heaved into his uninjured hand. Nothing came but a strand of thin, black spittle that he promptly wiped on the side of his hip.
His voice dropped to a quieter volume, though he was more difficult to hear through the occasional yelps and moans of pain from the other injured officers. "Tell me what happened after we split." The rest of the day was clouded with rage, and Puck's stupid face, and more rage, and setting cubicles on fire because ******** Puck.
He felt ill, and he didn't want to think about why. |
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Posted: Wed Jun 02, 2021 6:02 pm
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While it was useful to have his hair pulled around him for warmth, it was a pain when it got tangled up and everywhere. He couldn’t tell where the single piece of hair was that kept tickling his cheek, so he simply rubbed at his face until the feeling went away. Even then it still felt like he had hair everywhere. Because he kind of did.
He watched Faustite with concern, wanting to get up and offer... what...? What could he possibly do to help him? Even being there seemed pointless, other than keeping Faustite company. He didn't know how to help when Faustite wasn't exactly built the same as everyone else. Silently, he cursed Faustite's youma half, if only because it put more distance between Faustite and everyone else than he should have to deal with.
“I went after a Senshi that was having trouble with a youma,” he explained as asked, because he had no reason to withhold information from Faustite. “Their friends showed up. Your youma helped distract them and we got away.” The use of his magic was irrelevant. Although it was the reason he’d decided to move closer to the Princess -- there were more Negaverse officers in that area. If he got surrounded again then he and Squiddy would have more back up.
“Princess Ganymede used her magic. She…” he started and paused, frowning as he recalled how Squiddy attacked her and the others, only to be turned into dust and sent back to the Rift. “How long does it take for youma to regenerate…?” Surely it shouldn’t take too long. Weeks maybe? He only knew so much about youma.
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Posted: Thu Jun 03, 2021 4:33 pm
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Faustite gave his friend another look askance. "You going to fix that?" He made hooked claws out of his hands and staged them by his head to clarify what he meant. Kamacite looked like one of those brooms with feet, but made of hair instead. How long had he been there, and how hadn't he accidentally restrained himself with his own unmanageable hair?
He stared at his friend for another minute, then made a quick call to the agent in charge of the infirmary. In minutes, a stranger dropped by, drew up a vial he couldn't read, took the needle off, and injected it into his IV line. Relief was a minute's delay.
While he was being tended to, he listened to Kamacite's recollection. It was a personal account, but he could extrapolate more from it. He gathered that Order continued to influx, and that agents squared off against the greater source of power. Kamacite was one soldier among many, did what he could, and took his errant squid under his purview. It was more than he could have asked, he supposed. Faustite gripped the edge of the gurney, fingers tightening until they went ash grey from tension. He nodded, then, and allowed his muteness to bely his pontification.
Faustite waited until he could say the words. Seconds grew by the handful, became a minute. "That explains it." His attention was focused on the IV pole, on the LED display on the strange box that he assumed was a pump.
"It's gone."
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Posted: Fri Jun 04, 2021 7:18 pm
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Kamacite continued to quietly tug his fingers through his hair, frowning a little as Faustite pointed out his physical state. His hair had been bound up in a ponytail, but before laying down to rest he let it all down. The braid was undone for something to do, and he pulled the waves of black over him, as if it could keep him warm. His robes only did so much, and Negaspace tended to be cold.
And then Faustite confirmed what Kamacite had feared. His breath caught in his throat and his fingers stopped tugging through the silky strands so they could lower into his lap.
There was something finite about the way the Princess’s magic seemed to work. He hadn’t wanted it to be true, not when he’d been helped by the little squid, and he knew how close it was to Faustite.
His eyes felt hot as he stared down at his hands in his lap, which he twisted one in the other, as though the pressure would somehow keep his emotions from rising.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, holding his breath as he held back tears.
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Posted: Sun Jun 06, 2021 6:25 pm
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From horizontal, it was easier to peel his legs off the gurney. He hoped to slip off the side, rather than sit up and try to get to his feet and send the gurney reeling backwards. It wasn't easy, however — the thing lacked wheel stops — and he had to rely on Kamacite's assistance to balance himself. Instinct told him to take the robed wrist, not the exposed hand.
He released his friend as soon as he was standing. He hadn't smelled any burnt cotton or silk. Looking Kamacite over, his disheveled outfit looked unburnt. Whatever he felt through those robes couldn't have been more than normal human temperature. He didn't want to think about that, or its implications, or how his stupid squid was ******** gone because some s**t-sniffing Senshi Princess used her magic on it.
He didn't want to think about how, if he wasn't so easily distracted, he would've been with Kamacite and his youma, and whatever magic Ganymede used could've snuffed out his youma half instead of his misadventuring youma, so he ripped off his IV overwrap and started picking at the needle in his vein.
Faustite sucked in a breath when he pulled it loose, then let the black-flecked thing hang loose and exposed. His bitten hand covered the wound; a cotton ball and tape was out of the question.
"Take us up," he instructed. "Anywhere there's people." He needed the energy. Needed the witnesses, too, so he didn't throttle his ******** friend for teleporting his stupid youma right near the damn —
Lips drawn into a line, Faustite squeezed his hand as hard as he could.
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Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2021 4:51 pm
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Kamacite kept his eyes lowered, ashamed of what happened. Why the youma ended up following him and not Faustite, he didn’t know. But it had, and he tried to keep it out of trouble, only to lead it straight to its demise.
He nodded in silent understanding as Faustite made his demands, trying not to wince at the sight of the black blood, or the needle itself, or his wound bandaged hand. His own wounds, aside from the bruise over his nose, were hidden beneath his many layers.
The heat from Faustite’s hand didn’t singe his clothing, so he reached out to offer his hand once more, waiting for his friend to take it or his arm, before teleporting them back to the city.
They appeared on the top of a building near a shopping district. There were plenty of people milling about, doing some late evening shopping or going to restaurants. Kamacite had obviously been there before, and took a few steps away from the edge of the building to make sure they were out of view.
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Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2021 5:40 pm
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Strange to teleport and not know where he was going, and to miss the ready tiredness that came afterward. It hadn't been that long since he was teleported by someone else, either, though he was worse off to start, and the pain had overcome him at some point. Now he was left with those thoughts, and the surreal 'catch up' effects as he acclimated to a new setting.
It was evening — something he couldn't know in Negaspace. The setting sun cut dramatic swaths across Kamacite's face and robe, catching the decorative stars on his uniform and limning them liquid gold. Violence left an ugly stain on his face, but frustratingly, Kamacite looked prettier for it. He looked past his friend to the dingy rooftop, with dirt caked into the corners and thrown bottles and cans collected wherever the wind had blown them. Everything looked and felt too bright; the way the dying sun knifed into his skull, he thought it an act of revenge at first.
The cindered General was quick to shut his eyes once the ache took hold. It was easy to suck down energy from everything in their vicinity — a quick kneel, some concentration, and he spun together threads of energy from everyone immediately below them. It should've been enough to revive him, Faustite figured, and he crunched into the orb.
It was enough to let him feel. His fire still guttered and flagged.
"Tell me again," he started as he stood, "why you took my youma to the ******** Princess." Despite the sun, he looked to his friend, watched the way the sun burned stray hairs into a blazing halo about his head.
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Posted: Mon Jun 07, 2021 6:10 pm
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He waited patiently as Faustite did whatever it was he wanted to do. Drawing energy from that location was easy, and once he was convinced that Faustite had settled enough, Kamacite started drawing energy for himself. He didn’t consume it like Faustite did. He didn’t need it. He hadn’t lost something so closely bound to himself that it seemed to tear a hole right through his very being.
At least, that was how Faustite held himself. There were no visible wounds, but the dimmed blaze was enough to confirm there was something wrong. Something that splintered and fractured, more than his ribs had been.
Kamacite lifted his eyes then, feeling the heat of the accusation and accepting it. He’d been the one with the youma last. He made the decision to try and escape more White Moon by positioning himself near allies.
“I… Faustite,” he tried. He opened his mouth, tried to say more and couldn’t. His face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. Faustite had every reason to be angry with him. The least he could do was explain what he was thinking.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, instead, unable to process the words.
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Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2021 1:15 pm
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Faustite had always been rather volatile, but this was the first time in quite some time that Kamacite felt himself shrinking away from him. He took a step backwards when Faustite demanded an answer, and winced as he stupidly stepped on his own hair, jerking his head back. Luckily it wasn’t enough to pull him down, but it stung.
His face was flushed with embarrassment, flustered by the demands for an answer. While still trying to form an answer, Kamacite gingerly collected the hair from behind him, pulling what he could over his shoulder to hold, to grasp tightly for his own comfort.
“I don’t--...” he tried again, but the words caught. His heart was racing, and he placed his hand against his chest as though to try and slow it down. His breathing was already uneven, and each time he inhaled, a sharp stab reminded him of his injuries.
Faustite had every reason to be angry. Kamacite didn’t blame him. If he could have gone back in time and done something differently… Maybe if he ended up getting killed instead, it would have been better than poor Squiddy. Faustite would at least not have to suffer as he was.
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Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2021 5:49 pm
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weren't thinking, were you? And you can't have the ******** decency to admit it. What ******** good are you, Yuuri?"
He scoffed, smiled all teeth and anger. Looked down at the great, dark hole and its haughty, displayed treasure. "Tell you this: My first General, Umber, wanted me addicted to starseeds. Did everything he could to get me hooked. Thought it would make a great ******** soldier who depended on the Negaverse for everything. Broke my bones then pushed strangers' souls down my throat like it was a ******** miracle cure. He got what he wanted — some stupid ******** Lieutenant part youmafied because of starseed consumption. Never told me his plainclothes name, so I never got to enjoy eating his ******** starseed when it happened."
His hands began to tremble. Faustite shifted, straightened, forced eye contact on his friend. "Do you understand how ******** hard it is to look at your friend and see his starseed on display? Knowing that you can just reach in and rip it out when his guard's down? Do you know how many times I had to justify to myself that you deserved life, that you weren't cheap ******** eats?
"Give me one damn reason to leave this thing in your chest. Answer. My. ********. Question." He snarled at his friend, lips peeled back from his teeth.
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