Ice Cream Will Fix It
The new generation of Chosen began appearing and Mercedes did her best not to be angry that she was the one left there to greet them. Saints had many important jobs and, while it could be argued that informing the Chosen of their news lives was the most important, it was also the least challenging.
Doubts tickled the back of her mind once again. She knew most of the newcomers that she welcomed would not survive. One way or another they would fall to Evil. Her brow furrowed. There was nothing to be done about it of course. Evil would not stop gathering soldier and so neither could Good. With the fate of reality hanging in the balance Mercedes was forced to help these children along to their deaths.
She glanced around the White Room, another piece of the puzzle she could not quite understand, everything was one shade of white. With light coming from all directions at once the tables and chairs blended in with the floors and ceilings. She shook her head. Some thing weren't worth questioning she supposed.
As the last of the Chosen began to materialize she wondered at what to say. Would she be optimistic? Brutally honest? Her mind raced as faces turned to her. They had no idea where or what they were. She would be gentle. Above all else she would gentle.
Ra'an had fallen asleep on the stone and dirt of his homeworld and woken on an alien and smooth surface. His muscles ached from the past day's good work, but then they always did. Ra'an believed in pushing himself, if he didn't wake up sore he made DAMN sure that he did the next day.
He opened his eyes. Ow. He closed them again quickly. Something was wrong, he thought, doing his best to appear at rest. Had he been captured in the night? Ra'an supposed it was possible. He'd trained against such things specifically but he would be the first to admit he wasn't perfect, it had been a hard day of battle. Perhaps he just slept more deeply than was safe. Ra'an vowed to be more careful in the future, assuming he survived of
course. Heretics like himself were executed on the best of days. If they knew who he was it wasn't going to be long before they put him before the Headsman.
He opened his eyes again, straining against the overwhelming brightness. It was not like any cell he had seen from his studies of Altear. Altearan prisons were grim affairs. This seemed almost...reverent. There were others, getting their bearings. Strang people in strange clothes who held themselves strangely. Ra'an stood. Things were not as they seemed.
The sun was ridiculously bright that day, and the winds unusually high. Kaja sighed and stepped out her crude dwelling, rolling her eyes at the sleeping form of her lover still snoring deeply on the pallet behind her. It was early, but the young woman had work to get done before it became too hot to do much of anything. She tugged at the long end hanging off of the wrap around her head and pulled it tight across her mouth and nose - the morning winds were kicking up plenty of dust that would be uncomfortable to inhale.
As she passed the others stirring from their makeshift homes on her way to check on the moisture collection machines, many of them shook their heads in disapproval. It was unusual for the eclectic band of nomads to do that - most everyone there had some physical shortcoming that made life difficult, but they all worked around them to pull their own weight. There was no coddling among the nomads of Alim'ka. Except, apparently, when someone was pregnant. But Kaja went off to get her job done in spite of their attempts to make her spend the few months relaxing. Relaxation was boring. Besides, someone else might do it wrong.
Dust - always the dust. But this time was worse than most, one of the machine's barely functioning because of how clogged up it had become. Kaja sighed and bent down to place her pack of makeshift tools, and nearly fell over in surprise at what she saw when she straightened back up. The first thing Kaja noticed was the utter lack of dirt. The dry dust and grit of Alim'ka's desert environment had been a constant and invasive part of her everyday life for the past eleven years, and its sudden absence was uncomfortable. There were others around her in a dizzying array of dress, and in this situation Kaja was relieved that her face was mostly hidden from sight. Her only thought was that she had been somehow brought back to the Hive. That they had seen the surface dwellers as a threat and acted against them. But no one else there was from her tribe, so that couldn't be the answer. At least that meant they were safe, then. Kaja's eyes flicked uncertainly towards a young man getting to his feet.
Last edited by Doctor Dischord; 10-15-2013 at 05:19 PM.
Pain. It was something Icarus knew throughout the years; his life wasn't some sob story, some 'I-got-fired-from-my-job-my-girl-cheated-and-my-dog-died' B-list country song, yet he had known pain. The pain currently wracking his being was a specific pain, one that comes with a drop and ends in a torrential sacrifice to the porcelain gods. This pain was that of a hangover. Minutes passed as his head lay still on the cool marble-like floor. With a deep breath, Icarus tried opening his eyes, "Shi-" he mumbled as he squeezed them shut, a hand now covering his face. His heart seemed to be doing its best imitation of a rave and each bass hit made him feel like puking. More minutes passed until he heard the sounds of movement. With another deep breath, he tried to take in his surroundings, "What time is it?" he mumbled again as he slowly sat up.
He now was awake enough to attempt squinting, and while his head incessantly reminded him of his previous night, he could make out a few others. Alright, so I passed out last night. He let a moment pass before speaking up, "Excuse me," his manner was fairly polite, his tone calm, "But I'm not sure where I am." He said to no one in particular.
Lance was just falling to sleep when he faded to, well wherever he was now. He had just finished a long day of scribing books and organizing texts. With all this in his head he was not exactly alert when he faded in. He woke up, if a bit slowly, and looked around. The sight cleared his head quickly. He was surrounded by people in a plethora of dress, and of varying ages. They all appeared to be in a similar state to him, except for one girl who was standing, a man who had started to stand up, and another who looked like he was about to throw up.
Then he realized was laying on his stomach, and he had a burning pain on his back. He reached his hand back and felt feathers. He sighed. He wasn't going to get any sleep for awhile now.
Leo was sore as he started getting ready to sleep. It had been a hard day at the forge, but him and his father had gotten their latest commission from the kingdom finished and the army would pick it up in the morning. Leo went over to the wash basin and splashed some water on his face; it was cool, but refreshing after the day in front of the hot fire. He took off his shirt and hung it on the hammer which sat propped next to the bed. Getting under the blankets he wondered what the next day had in store from him other than loading wagons...the thoughts quickly faded as he fell asleep.
Before even opening his eyes, he knew something was off...for starters, he seemed to be on the ground. Opening his eyes, he expected that he had rolled off his bed and was just too exhausted to have noticed or cared. But the lighting definitely didn't feel right either, it was much brighter than his room would have been, even at the brink of dawn with the sun shining through the windows facing the east side. Leo opened his eyes and was slightly dazed. It was much brighter than it should have been. He noticed three things right away. First, he was not alone; there were many eclectic sorts of people around him, some asleep like he had been, others starting to rouse, and this one Lady (for her composure suggested such to him), standing looking over them all. Second, he was still in only his breeches and his face grew red noticing he was in this state in front of others. And lastly, that his shirt and hammer were next to him. Leo scrambled up, grabbing his shirt and throwing it on. After getting dressed he looked around, whiteness as far as he could see. He wondered if the enemy had invaded his city and slayed him before the town-criers could rose the populace. "I never expected Valhalla to look like this. Nor for death to look as serene as you, my fair Lady." he stated as he studied the woman standing.
Mage of Void
The first thing Felicia noticed upon waking was a throbbing ache in her head. This was normal following her day off. The alcohol and what little drugs she could afford were working their way out of her system. The next thing she noticed was the blinding white light, turning her otherwise manageable headache into a cascade of pain. “Gods, kill me now.” Death seemed preferable to attempting to work in her condition. The day after her binges never seemed worth it, but as the week went on, she craved a release more and more, until she forgot the consequences.
Sitting up, she forced herself to open her eyes and face the day, gasping audibly upon seeing her new surroundings. The air rushing past her dry throat triggered a coughing fit. As she struggled to regain her composure, she pulled a metal flask out of a pocket of her tattered jacked. While the liquid inside was bitter and lukewarm, it soothed her throat and her breathing returned to normal. “Where the hell did I go last night?” she whispered, restoring her small friend to its proper place by her side. This room did not look like anything she had ever seen in her hometown, although she’d never seen the inside of the rich folks’ houses. It seemed to stretch on endlessly, or maybe her head was playing tricks on her. Nothing she took should have lasted until morning.
The floor held an assortment of foreign looking people, with foreign looking clothes. Most of them seemed to be unconscious, but several were awake and standing, and Felicia struggled to do the same, supporting herself on a chair that she didn't remember being there a moment earlier. Getting back to the factory and keeping her job was the priority, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't make sense of the walls, much less find a door. She shook her head, immediately regretting the decision, as her equilibrium threw her down into the chair she had been leaning on. Gripping the arms, waiting for the spinning room to lose momentum, she asked aloud, “Can someone show me the way out? I really need to get to work.”
Ice Cream Will Fix It
"Everyone please remain calm, your questions will be answered in time." She spared a smile for the Chosen that had called her beautiful and raised a hand to them as she spoke, lulling their firing emotions. Her gift had never been the most useful in combat. But in a situation like this it was priceless. She was able to calm or agitate emotions in others and even herself. In the end it didn't amount to mind control, especially for those who were aware of what she was doing, still it was probably for the best if she dampened the general confusion caused by emotional reactions to change. "Please wait for just a few moments longer and we will begin." She pushed another wave of calming over the room just to be safe, though not too large of one. The last thing she wanted was for them to fall asleep, or worse, understand that their emotions were being manipulated.
Something very odd was happening, Ra'an was sure of it. The prison was alien to him, and many of the cellmates even moreso. It seemed unlikely that this was the work of the Altearan, but perhaps this was the work of their god? Finally taking a personal hand in his bloody vengeance. Very well. He didn't know if he was ready to kill a god but he was certainly willing. Something held him back, he attributed it to his better judgement. While this could be the work of the vengeful Altearan god it might also have been the work of one of his. He ran his hand down the tattoos on one arm. Though he killed for his right to worship them he wasn't sure he even remembered their names. So much is lost in war.
"Where are we?" Ra'an finally raised his own voice. It struck out into the room like the ring of an anvil. He'd practically forgotten the sound. He rarely had cause to speak. Looking around the room Ra'an noticed that several of the other prisoners were women. It made him feel odd. While there had been women in his own army, though most chose to raise their children, there had been none in the Altearan. He'd been seeking lone vengeance for so long that he'd not seen his own people in ages. How long had it been since he'd seen a woman. A year? Two? He decided to steer clear of them. Though he was well past puberty, it was not a puberty well spent and he had no intention to suddenly act like a bull in heat.
Cracked and Burnt
Albarn rose groggily to his feet. He was unsteady, though that was never a surprise. Even when he hadn't been drinking he felt like a man on a ledge. There was a desperation to each moment of insanity that kept him on edge at most times, another good reason to blast his mind into oblivion with whatever chemicals he could fit in his mouth or past his skin. He looked around the room, there was a bevy of odd folk around him, all completely alien. He traced the lines of each form with his artist's eyes. This would end up as one of his more tame pieces. But perhaps the overwhelming whiteness and the oddness of the characters would assign it meaning in the eyes of a wealthy patron.
The woman spoke clearly and his head swiveled. She seemed ready to explain things, not something his delusions usually got up to but he wasn't going to complain. He still didn't step forward. He found that his best pieces had very little to with him personally. Self portrait were tacky anyhow.
Pyrotechnics and Catering
Ferris opened his aperture eyes and was thrown completely by what he saw. Had the last blow from the thug's pipe damaged his vision? That couldn't be it. He could see his own body, and as his eyes focused, he made out other people around him. There didn't seem to be any backdrop to these people though; just white. There was a clicking coming from his left shoulder, and he couldn't move the arm extending from it. A gear was catching, he discovered after removing his shirt and the plate covering it. It was a quick fix. After buttoning his shirt and waistcoat again, he examined his surroundings. People of unusual look and dress surrounded him. There didn't seem to be any pattern to their appearances either. A woman in white, who very much seemed to be a leader here was speaking to the people. Others were asking questions, which the woman assured would be answered. Their questions were congruent with his thoughts, so there was no need to voice them, assuming they would indeed be answered. Ferris chose to observe those around him until those answers arrived.
More strangers were slowly coming to around Kaja, and her eyes narrowed in the direction of the woman who spoke. They had all been asked to remain calm, to be patient and wait. Those words did not sound like something someone from the Hive would say, but then again it had been years since she had been inside. And the woman did look kind. Kaja felt the tenseness in her stance relaxing almost imperceptibly. She stood up straighter and gave a small nod, her eyes still on the woman. "I would prefer not to wait very long for these answers, if it's all the same - I have a job to do." Though calmer, Kaja still hugged her prosthetic arm closer to her body in a protective gesture.