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[IC] Paradigm Shift: Agents of Fate [Currently Accepting!] Page 3

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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Lady Selune
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Lady Selune Lamia Queen, Young and Sweet.

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Mirrors.

Oh God so many mirrors.

Siobhan looked around, looked at herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself "and herself and myself and myself and myself and myself" somwhere she had begun to speak, repeating the words over and over again. She turned around, looking at the walls, looking at herself and herself and herself, and herself and... She felt it. Her mind. The migrane, the infernal creaking curse that had set itself up in her cranium. It clawed, it screeched, and the more she looked at herself at herself at herself at herself the less she felt as if she was looking at herself at herself at herself at herself.

These hers were not hers were not hers they were others they were wrong "THEY ARE WRONG!" She shouted, unaware that the words were coming out of her mouth. The reflections mocked her by opening their mouths and screaming along with her, but why were they so different and yet so alike and yet... She raised her hands to her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she did so. It didn't help. She could feel the eyes, a million of her own eyes, pairs of eyes from across and beyond and throughout staring down at her, from all around her, all down upon her.

Her skin crawled at their looks. Her hairs stood on end. She was standing, but only barely, her head clutched in her hands. She would turn, shaking, a wreck in every way, to Niko, her eyes opening bloodshot. "No. No. No. No mirrors! NO FUCKING MIRRORS." She didn't know how long she could cope with this. How long she could stare at herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself.

and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself and herself


Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Bazmund
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Siobhan




"What the fuck?!" Ana yelled reflexively in her native Polish.

"Christ!" Niko winced as Siobhan started to go off like an unstable siren. "What the fuck is it? They're just-" He started to snap at her as the wreck of the woman started rambling at him, before looking around at the mirrors and cutting himself off.

His gaze unfocused, his eyes looked at things unseen, and then his body tensed.

Every hair on end, like needles, or knifepoint.

"We... need to go." Niko blinked, faltering, as he took a weak backwards step towards the window.

"What is going on? Siobhan, what is the matter?" Ana reached out to touch Siobhan, before thinking better of it and settling for moving into Siobhan's line of sight. "What's wrong with the mirrors?"

And then the light flickered.

Not like a lamp. Not like a bulb receiving a spotty current. Not like a candle.

Like something had, for a split-hair fraction of a second, stepped in front of the only light source in the attic - the window itself, their route to safety - and then leapt out of the way.

For Siobhan, the mirrors were beginning to move, her self and her self and her self and her self rolling and rolling and rolling and spinning over and over, things becoming visible behind her behind her behind her behind her, blood and blood or blood if blood in her mouth - the taste and the smell and the fear of it...

But the pain lifted. A little. And something disappeared from the mirrors.

She wasn't sure what. But something.

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Lady Selune
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Siobhan spat.

The glob of saliva glistened on the ground, a crimson stain spreading through it. Reaching up slowly to her nose, the woman would wipe away the wine-dark colours that had begun to spill out, her mind still screaming at her. "I need to go. We need to go. I can't fucking STAND these mirrors any longer." She was speaking, but her voice was croaky and breaking, high then low then high. Relucantly, she would begin to talk.

"What the matter is that I spent five fucking years with shit in my head that doesn't stay in my fucking head! Why do you think I cover the mirrors in every hostel and hotel room I've ever fucking stayed in? Your organisation was clearly watching me!" She wiped her nose again, smearing the red across her top lip. "Let's just Go."

"Now."
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Bazmund
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Siobhan


Niko swallowed hard, glancing around as if he were tracking movement.

"We haven't been watching you that closely, you know. Had no idea about the mirrors. No idea at all." He picked up the pace and started speed walking to the window. When he got to it, he ran his hand along the window lintel, tracing the spots where glass had once known a home - and his eyes lost their focus.

"Siobhan, what are you seeing in the mirrors? I can't see anything in them, I can't even see myself." Ana murmured, distracted by the space beyond the silver. "Can't even... I can't..."

Niko was mumbling to himself too, though with more purpose, more confidence, and with his eyes closed.

His eyes opened, his face shocked.

"I don't believe it."

He shook his head, and pressed his hand again the windowframe once more - to no avail.

He turned and shouted.

"There's no more fucking ma-" He was cut off abruptly by silence. His mouth kept moving, but the air between them blurred suddenly, and the noise simply stopped. In the mirrors, there was movement - movement not traceable to the physical world.

Movement in the shape of a man, stuck forever at the edge of your vision, almost as though they were avoiding it.

These presences, these additional things occupying the blackened space of the attic, living behind mirrors and behind Siobhan's mind - they could not speak. At least not with language.

But Siobhan felt her name being called. She could feel the weight of it on her mind - like a spring held down, like a mattress weighed upon, like paper folding.

Behind them, Niko was banging his fists against the barrier of nothing, that thick wall of thin air, screaming bloody murder.

"Siobhan! We have to get to the window!" Ana finally said, holding down her own eyes with her hands, shaking.

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Lady Selune
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"I'm see-" She looked at the mirrors. She wasn't seeing anything. "Fuck what I was seeing, because I'm not seeing shit right now." Her nose let out another long trickle, the blood pooling on her lips. She could suddenly feel it. It had gotten out of the mirror. They had gotten out of the mirror. Well, whatever 'it,' and 'they' were in this situation; she wasn't sure that they were, in fact, the same theys that had fucking plagued her for years.

Nonetheless, she had been hounded by theys and herselfs and herselfs for far too long for her liking, so she didn't feel like ducking and weaving away. With a scream that could have shattered glass, she felt half a decade's worth of frustration pour through her and out into whatever barrier was seperating her from America. She didn't know what it would do or how it would happen, but she wanted it gone and she didn't care how dangerous it was.
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Bazmund
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Siobhan




The space between the two women and Niko shuddered for a moment, and Siobhan felt something push materially back against her - before something else pulled that force away, and the barrier collapsed, falling in on itself like so much fine purple sand and gradually fading away completely.

Niko flinched and covered his eyes as a tangible-intangible force started to flow around them again - something they'd not had the chance to notice before it had been snatched away, but something that felt normal and right nonetheless.

"That solves our other problem, then!" He growled through clenched teeth, slamming his palm against the window frame as he slumped down against the wall. The pull in the world around Siobhan equalised as he did so, and the wood underneath his hand rippled faintly. "Fucking go! I have to stay here, there are more people coming!"

Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Lady Selune
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It was time to leave. She would cast her gaze once around the room, the mirrors, reflecting her and her and her, the pressure in her skull building back up again... And then she would go through, one moment in France, the next in America, a continent and an ocean away. The last mote of her presence in the old world remained- a single bleached white hair that had fallen loose from her scalp and settled there on the ground.
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Bazmund
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Goodnight


Somewhere unremarkable in the

Heart of America




From there, for them all, came another day’s worth or travel. For Matthew, Zephyr, and Angeline, it was by car, over hundreds of miles. For Abigail it was a hike, long and arduous in the company of men who were not as fit as her, but who had the proper shoes for it - which quickly showed. Siobhan too found herself hiking - though there was a certain amount of illegal train hopping between the legs of the journey by foot which made things easier, and perhaps more familiar.

All of them, with all their different treks, with the different company they kept along them, had one element in common.

The destination.

Through another of the Violet Underground’s blue tunnels - sometimes called the subway, sometimes called the gates, sometimes called nothing in particular at all - they would all find themselves in one of an undisclosed (and potentially unknown) number of refugee hubs.

In particular, it was a place called Goodnight.

What the mages had found themselves in was dubbed ‘Goodnight’ only by its current inhabitants. To the uninitiated, it was an abandoned shopping mall; a large, overgrown complex tucked some respectable distance away from a sleepy midwestern town called Woolbridge. The mall itself was close enough to the town to be convenient, but far away enough to make the visiting of it an event in and of itself, one where you bring your friends and family into the car and intentionally make the trip there.

It had been repurposed by the Violet Underground now, and those who lurked in its shops and stalls were either lost and confused, or busy with the influx of new arrivals. Even with all the people in it there was some reverent air about the place that was usually reserved for churches and libraries. Whilst some dilapidated maps still stood to cheerily tell you the way, power was reserved for the most essential lighting needed. It gave a vastness in the night-time gloom that made Goodnight seem to be a labyrinth of consumerism.

It was littered - swollen - with memories.

The remnants of a bustling, lively hangout spot hung from the arches and sat dusty and silent in innumerable corners. Down the darkened corridors, your footsteps reverberated so one man became a crowd all by himself. Every so often an old claw machine would croak out the death throes of its cheery jingle; the arcade was laden with dusty boxes of flickering lights and tinny, electrical tunes that sang out hauntingly across the sprawl. It felt like your mind, so attenuated to such places being full of life, filled in the gaps and made the draft whistling through the automatic doors sound like the whisper of distant conversation. The whiff of fry oil persisted still in the food court - and from the right angles, the escalators looked like they were moving.

At the very front, with its beige pillars and shattered glass facade and faint smell of ancient ambition, there was a sign above the entryway. Once upon a time, it must have said something painfully cliche - but now all the words had fallen down and broken, save for two.

“Good-“

“... night-“

Like half heard murmurs spoken by nearly dying men; fading, quiet, easy to overlook; solemn, living, and in their own way, proud.

Such was the nature of Goodnight, and the organisation invading its halls were acutely aware of the weight of intrusion into this time capsule from the eighties. In a way, it was a little bit alive - but to most, to those who didn’t know where to look, to the uninitiated, it was just dead and still and forgotten.



The main hall of the centre was packed with people, gathered around in little circles, clinging to whoever they recognised - or, failing that, whoever seemed safest. The air was almost alive with an invisible electricity, the spark of fear generated by maybe a hundred terrified magicians electrifying the air in a probably-mostly-metaphorical sense, dominated only just by the noise of fearful murmuring and anxious chatter. It was a refugee camp, and there was no hiding it.

Around the edges of the crowd men and women were patrolling, handing out food and drink, keeping an eye on the survivors of the January purges. Another patrol line beyond them was moving in and out of the abandoned stores, keeping an eye on other things entirely, setting up camping beds and makeshift cots, and preparing for whatever was to come next. Every now and again the scene was punctuated with the arrival of another group, or an individual. Sometimes the Bootleggers bringing the refugees in were sent back out after giving their reports - sometimes, they weren’t.

Things went on, a chaotic nonroutine supported only by the apparent experience of the people directing it, until a man in a waterproof jacket hopped onto a box and raised his voice about the din.

“Everyone, can I get your attention, please! My name is Rory, and I am the guy representing the people who brought you here!” His face was hard, and stubbled - much like his head, which had been shaved not long ago from the looks of it. A ripple of murmurs spread through the people, like a pond struck by rain.

“We are the Violet Underground, an organisation dedicated to detecting and saving magically active people from the Federal Occult Enforcement agency and their partners worldwide, and you are safe with us! Many of us are mages ourselves, and we don’t want to be dragged off by the government any more than you do. You’re going to be safe with us, no matter who you are!”

As he rounded off the speech - short a speech as it was - somebody in the back whooped, and the people handing out food started to clap and cheer. The applause spread through the crowd in that way that applause does, even when you’re not sure why you’re clapping, until eventually another man stepped up and held his hand up for silence. This man was shorter, with more hair, and a softer face than Rory’s.

“Alright. We’re going to be assigning beds in the next couple hours, just for the time being until we can get something more permanent sorted for you all - but in the meantime I want all the Bootleggers to come give me their reports, I want any medical issues reported to Dr Loukanikos over there, and I want everyone to try and get some rest. There are toilets available all over, most of which have been restored to working order, and I’m pleased to announce that one of our guys has managed to rig up a shower block in the west wing!”

A more genuine cheer and applause went up at that.

The speeches ended unceremoniously, conversation fading back in to replace them as naturally as anything.

From your vantage point at the back of the hall, nearest to the empty clothing store whose dressing rooms you’d appeared in after the most recent jump, the whole scene was as visible as a landscape painting - and, in its own way, just as picturesque.

Around you were the most recent arrivals, and the Bootleggers who’d brought them all - yours included.

A gangly hillbilly kid in running shoes, a boy racer decked out in colourful stringy bracelets, a taekwondo bus driver in a hoodie, a ballerina who could turn peoples hands into moss, and an ethnically ambiguous drifter-grifter, all being looked after by a vet with a bad knee - at least until he had to go with the other ‘leggers to submit a report.

If you hadn’t come within smiling distance of death a day or so ago, it would seem like a creative set up for a hilarious punchline.

Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Gentlemanvaultboy
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Matthew in all honesty wasn't entirely sure how long they'd been rolling on account of how he was able to disassociate behind the wheel, only rising up out of the vault of his own thoughts when he got his directions from Mira, stopped at an out of the way gas station when food or a bathroom break was demanded, and swapping out his drivers position whenever the need for sleep or the biting nausea of a headache became too much for him and he laid across the back seat letting the rumble of the engine carry him away to dreamland.

As for what he spent most of his time thinking about, it was a mix. Sometimes it was FOE, a slow burning fear that he felt blossoming into full blown paranoia with every car he stared down in the rear view mirror. As the full implications of his new life as a fugitive began to bear down on him he felt himself tense up every time he saw a car coming toward them in the other lane or heard one speeding up behind him, his foot jittering on the gas pedal in case he had to counter a pit maneuver or suddenly deal with a tire being shot out from under him. He was a wanted man. He was hunted. Maybe if they were just looking for him as a mage he'd be able to deal with it better.

But he was also a murderer.

He tried to keep his mind from going there but wherever his eyes wandered to the red and blue bands of string coiled around his wright wrist, so close together, he flashed back to the red spots blooming in the uniform of that cop. It was clear, too. His recollection was perfect, and though he'd spun away before he could see the end of it his imagination threw up helpful little suggestions for how the rest of that scene had played out. Of the guy flopping over, of a few wet coughs, of red soaking into the morning snow. One particularly frightful tableau even feature the centipede crawling over, fangs dripping, giving him a mercy that was anything but. After he'd thought up that one he'd had to pull over on the side of the road and spill his meager lunch onto the shoulder. Mira had taken over for the rest of that day.

By far the worst, though, was when his mind drifted back to his sister and whether this was just...life, now. Whether she lived like this every day.

Their journey had ended at a portal of swirling blue that made him sick just to look at. As he'd climbed out of the car looking a little worse than he had when he'd first entered he shouldered his bag, shielded his eyes from the light, and stepped through when instructed.



As the applause washed over the room Matthew felt himself get swept up in the collective relief of the room, clapping it up with the rest of them from his position in the back before letting out a sigh and rubbing his head with his palm. "Hahaha, seems like we were right on time. Look's like my delivery streak ain't broken yet." He smiled at Jan and Mira. It was the most jovial he'd seemed since they'd started their journey. It was amazing what a promise of safety and showers could do for a mans mood, but more than that he now had something else to think about.

The Violet Underground. A safe haven for mages of all shapes and sizes. He'd read rumors on the in internet about stuff like this, but whenever he'd imagine it it had always been people huddling in basements or meeting in the smokey backroom of a KFC. He didn't think they would be able to occupy a building like this, much less under the FOEs nose. Either these guys were much better at hiding mages than he'd imagined or the FOE wasn't nearly as omnipresent as he'd feared. Either gave him hope/

"Pretty niffy set up, don't you think?" he said to no one in particular. "I mean, when you're talking about places to hide out during a crisis the mall's a classic for a reason." He scowled slightly. "Oh please, god, don't let there be any graffiti."
Hidden 5 yrs ago → 5 yrs ago Post by Stitches
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Abigail (and Brooks)


It was the burning that worried her.

To Brooks and Billy's knowledge, magic wasn't meant to work that way. It was meant to be taxing and tricky to use, not the opposite. But for Abigail it felt like a second bladder; she kept building up some sort of uncomfortable pressure that had to get released in jets of violet flame or it started to hurt. She didn't want to know what would happen if she didn't. But the scorch marks might've left a trail here and there which terrified the girl into learning quickly and efficiently, so as to avoid leaving any traces of their path for anyone who'd be looking. She needed to burn two, three times a day if she held it in. And she hated every minute of it. It was fetid, satanistic, it was unholy fire and a definitive answer to the question that had been rolling around her head ever since she got a chance to think.

Brooks was the only witness to her unanswered prayers at night. It was the elephant in the room, the slow-bubbling cauldron of existential dread that Abigail was doing a remarkably job at keeping a lid on until she knew she was in a safe enough location to disentangle her beliefs and come to terms with her new life. She was already at the end of her tether as is, periodically alternating between cheery, lost, despairing and pissed off at any given moment. Her teenage hormones didn't help much either, but being outside helped. Being able to walk and run around helped. Blisters be damned; she's run on them before for the hell of it. This was no exception and the stinging felt familiar, especially now that her hands kept cracking and blistering with the heat of her ungodly flames. And during those brief moments when they could catch a rest Abigail stuck to Brooks like glue because she was usually upset and sought after the comforting presence of an adult who pretended to know what they were doing. Billy had the right mindset but alien concepts such as ‘a friendly and open demeanour' weirded Abigail out. Luckily for her, Brooks was far better at reminding her of home; he avoided any sensitive subjects at all costs, never once offered to talk about feelings and when the subject inevitably reared its ugly head he was utterly incapable of resolving it. It was like she never left the campervan at all. All Brooks really had to do right now to help Abigail deal with the complex trauma she underwent was to be an adult and pretend to know what he was doing. It was a lucrative pairing of mutual interests. They barely shared a handful of words between them, though Abigail talked to herself often and kept up meaningless conversation with Billy during the walks as Brooks was too busy grunting and wheezing to be inclined to respond.

By the time they got to Goodnight there was nothing harmless left to talk about and Abigail was staunchly avoiding the obvious. Brooks’ knee was still giving him grief but he stood stoically in the open hall and started taking note of familiar faces that also survived the purges. As the speeches were read out and the responders worked through the crowd, Abigail had her forehead pressed against Brooks' arm. The cumulative sleep debt and fatigue from a few days of hiking was hitting her hard, especially now that she realised her journey was temporarily over. A lady in a parka offered her a small bottle of water and Abigail made a noise and shook her head. Brooks took it from her. Another lady offered her a trail mix bar and Abigail didn't even respond so Brooks held his hand out and took the bar as well, stuffing them into the pockets of his hoodie.

Shortly before speeches were done Abigail muttered something about a bathroom and peeled away from Brooks and the crowd, wandering down unlit corridors on her own. Brooks watched in which direction she was headed, waited until all the speeches were done, stood still for a second or two and then resignatedly plodded after her. As expected, Abigail had inadvertently chosen one of the most out of the way bathrooms lit by only half of its fluorescent bulbs. Brooks lingered outside the ladies' room for a few minutes to help her find her way back, only for a few minutes to turn into a handful more and he looked up and down the corridor and went inside. He could hear sniffling from one of the stalls.

"Girl, are you crying?" he voiced out, internally praying it was enough to snap her out of it.

"N-nuh!" Abigail sobbed.

Brooks let out a deep sigh. "You gotta get yourself together. You can't keep crying." He offered, leaving her the dignity of being unseen while she wept.

"S'just--...it's just-...horseshit!" Abigail kicked the door of the stall a few times, the WHBAMWHBAMWHBAMWHBAM rattling through the bathroom. "Why'd this happen to me?! Why now! I ain't done nothin' wrong! I listened, I followed the Bible! What's Jesus got out on me?!" She tried to compose herself and defaulted into a snotty, snivelling wreck again.

“There’s toilet paper in there, use that to wipe your face.” he interjected amongst her audible woes.

"Wiping my face doesn't fix shit!" Abigail yelled back. "What do I do?!"

“What do you do about what?”

"About-...the thing! The magic! The being hunted! All of it! And-...aaargh!" Abigail stamped some more and yanked on the toilet roll in the dispenser furiously.

“It’s why you’re here, so you don’t do it alone. No one will.”

Abigail fell quiet for a while, aside from some self pitying whimpers now and then. After a very long pause she mustered up enough courage to finally, awkwardly ask "can you…? Get me a lady? With-...a bag? Tell'er I'm in the bathroom and I-...need something she's probably carrying."
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by duskshine749
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The driving wasn't too bad, Zephyr had always enjoyed long car rides. Really the annoying part was digging the car out of the wreckage of what used to be a shed. At least, he was pretty sure it used to be a shed, the car really did a number on it. After that little hiccup though it was mostly smooth sailing. Zephyr offered to drive when Sam was looking a little groggy, not like the guy could handle driving the whole way to wherever it was they were going. There wasn't a whole lot of chit chat, it gave Zephyr a lot of time to think. Think about these abilities he had been gifted with and what his new role in the world would be. This wasn't like a movie, people weren't thrilled that people with supernatural abilities existed. People like him were hunted, he'd be a wanted man probably for the rest of his life. But the gods had blessed him with this power for a reason, and he'd have to figure out what that reason was. Maybe the people he would meet at their rendezvous would shed some light on the situation, even incidentally.

When he wasn't driving he meditated on what all his new abilities might be. During his meditations he found he felt very connected to the earth, and also to his own body. It seemed his talents lied in his ability to alter his physical abilities. At one point he looked out the window and sharpened his senses to an incredible degree, noticing tons of small animals in the grass and weaknesses in the road. At which point Zephyr nearly passed out from exhaustion. Mental note, don't use the Eyes of Horus for long or often.

Eventually the group made their way through another portal and had found themselves in a run down shopping mall. It wasn't much, but it seemed secure at the very least. Zephyr listened to the speeches and gave some mild applause when it seemed appropriate. Afterwards one of the guys around him made a comment about where they were, and how the mall was a classic hideout in an apocalypse scenario.

"Pretty sure that's when the mall still has food and stuff," Zephyr pointed out, "but I will agree it's a very defensible position. Kind of like a castle in that regard." The guy seemed worried about graffiti for some reason, "do I want to know about your deal with graffiti? Also, I'm Zephyr by the way." Looking at the others around they all seemed to have been picked up recently. One person caught his eye, they seemed to have a hand made out of moss and tree bark. He didn't want to go over and ask for fear of being rude but whoever did that had an incredible power, a blessing from one of the many nature deities.
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Gentlemanvaultboy
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"Oh, uh...." Matthew rubbed the back of his head. He hadn't thought anybody would actually respond when he said that. He put his hand out to the dude. "Hey Zephyr, very wizard name. Mine's just plain old Matthew. We almost got eaten by some wall art very recently." He gestured to Mira and Jan. At any other time, in any other place, he would probably feel insane for talking about this. Now, though? It just felt like backroom talk, swapping stories about weird deliveries. "Big centipede, gnashing fangs filled with poison. It would have bitten my head off if I hadn't blown it up a little." Good lord, it sounded like he was describing a cartoon. Unreal, far away, so removed from the human experience as to be fanciful.

He felt good talking about it. It was much better thinking about his wrestling match with a fantasy creature than what had happened to the humans there that day.

"I don't know if it was another wizard or some kind of violet radiation doing weird things." he said. "You get any weird complications like that? Like, you know, weirder than what you expected?"
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Jessikka
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Angeline was lucky to have been paired with two people as they could cycle their long hours of driving while she had pretty much slept her life away in the back seat. Still, she was strangely wrapped up in seatbelts but with a jacket over her and a duffel bag for a pillow she had managed to look almost comfortable sprawled out in the back seat. Though her sleep was fitful and falling asleep was a struggle as her mind replayed the traumatic events prior but eventually she had fallen asleep. When she woke they were but hours away from the destination, of which she still didn’t know much about. She laid her head against the window so the loud rattling of the car would distract her from the violence as she pulled the jacket close around her, already feeling the chill.

As they did their final jump she found herself uncomfortably cramped into a changing room of some derelict clothing store. Nonetheless, she followed Mike and Mark inside and slipped into the throng of the strange crowd that surrounded her and watched the speech in her jammies. She vaguely took in the presence of what looked to be a young boy. She squinted a bit and clocked that actually it was probably a girl. The other eclectic group of people around her, she supposed, were all as unlucky as herself.

As she sort of zoned out for a moment, she could vaguely hear talking and it shook her into focus again and noticed the young person had disappeared. She felt a little bad, it must be an overwhelming situation for someone so young. She supposed it was an overwhelming situation for everyone but it’s unlikely she had any parents to accompany her or anything. She could hear, sharply among the throng of bustling and conversation the clanging of a door slamming. As Angie turned to the source she looked to her hands and noticed that she had somehow, absent-mindedly, accepted some water and snacks which were still in her hands. Despite being distracted by the disappearance of the child, she did hear the people around her introducing themselves. It would be rude of her to just disappear. She turned to face the two and overheard one of their experiences getting picked up and was sharply reminded of her own experience. It was not nearly as fanciful as the one described by the man before her and it caused tears to swell up and roll down her face rather unexpectedly. She tried to open her mouth to either apologise or introduce herself or to say… Anything! But her throat was tightened up and tense and it felt like she couldn’t talk.

“Excuse me..” She eventually managed and turned away to the bathrooms to collect some tissue and to compose herself. As she went in she pushed past a man hovering around the door Creep she thought, grimly, and stood before the mirror, wiping her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. She walked into a stall and grabbed a tissue and overheard the last of what the young girl was saying. She blew her nose and then knocked on the only other locked stall in the room. “Uh, I’m a lady with a bag do you need something?” She asked while washing her hands.
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Stitches
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Abigail squirmed and remained quiet for a moment or two before managing to work up the courage. "D'ya have a towel? And is that old guy still outside? Also, do you work here?" she blurted out. There was another pause. "I'm sorry, just the towel will do. I'm having a real bad day and God decided to punish me again."
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Jessikka
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Angeline fished around in her bags, she only brought what was left in her supply, it would be enough to last a few more months perhaps. “Yeah - here.” She crouched to the floor and held the towel under the door of the stall. “Old guy is still outside, do you know him or..?” She didn’t really want to offer to ‘get rid of him’ for her since she wasn’t sure how threatening she could look. “Uh, no I don’t work here. I just… Teleported here I guess. Through some changing rooms.” She turned to the mirror and started fixing up her makeup and letting down her hair. The bun was messy and it was pulling on her scalp anyways.

“I think I was herded into the crowd next to you, and some others… If it’s any consolation I’m having a pretty… Cruddy day too.” She wasn’t sure how young the girl was so she should watch her mouth “I think I still remember where everyone else is. The guys who brought me here are pretty-” She thought to the violence earlier, but it was to protect her, she supposed. “- Pretty nice, I think… And they’re easy to spot, they’re often together and one of them has plants for hands.” That last part she was still trying to properly wrap her head around. Sounded like a kinda crappy power to her. “And there are lots of other adults, I’m sure they can help look after you.” She offered meekly and zipped her bag shut.
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Lady Selune
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Lady Selune Lamia Queen, Young and Sweet.

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Siobahn sat down next to her suitcase, holding a can of AriZona ice tea in her hand. She had zoned out a little bit, lost in her own world of herself (and herself a-,) still thinking about the mirror, the barrier, the way she had popped it with a scream, and how afterwards she had felt like someone had punched her in the gut. It was only when she went to take another sip from the pink-and-green aluminium in her hand and found it empty that she would slowly tune herself back into the situation.

And to an urgent need to go to he bathroom. She held the can loosely and wheeled her suitcase with her, following the signs for the bathroom. A strange man hanging around outside... But she supposed she'd have to get used to strange men and women since, realistically, she was and always had been one of them. It was difficult to remember that most people didn't have a childhood that took them through eighty different countries before they were ten.

As she exited, having taken care of business, she couldn't hel but overhear a discussion going on from a stall. Cruddy days. "Don't mean to be that lady, but if we're talking about bad experiences I guess I could throw my own into the ring." She would chuckle, running a still-damp hand through her hair as she did so. "Nah, I won't do so. It's uh..." She would sigh. "It's nice to meet you ladies. I suppose it's a good idea to get to know some folks around these parts, huh?"
Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Stitches
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Stitches

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“Y-yeah...I know him. He’s alright.” Abigail reached out for the little plastic wrapper, sorting herself out. There was something a bit grounding about listening to someone else talk about their experiences and realising she wasn’t alone in all of this. Strange, she thought, recalling Brooks saying that exact sort of thing a few minutes ago when she was showing off her teenage angst by kicking the crap out the stall door. She was offered help, offered protection, offered a man with plants for hands- “Wait. What kinda plant? Very important.”

Deciding that she couldn’t mope in a bathroom stall forever (though acknowledging that it was hands down the safest and most private place she’s been in for the last 72hrs), Abigail pulled up her pants and flushed the toilet. Then a gypsy walked in. She looked like what Abigail assumed gypsies looked like and sounded foreign. Scrunching her nose in distaste, Abigail went to wash her hands as the foreigner tried to make contact. She felt uncomfortable and wasn't quite sure how to behave around her so she quickly used some toilet paper to dry her hands. “Ye-ah, but I gotta get back with the others,” Abigail replied quickly and dismissively. She was glad to get out of there and away from the situation and felt a bit of relief when Brooks fell into step beside her as usual; a quiet, sad, lumbering presence in her periphery.

“Hey, uh, Brooks?” Abigail asked, far away enough from the bathroom, but not too close to the throng of disorientated new arrivals. “Are there a lot of immigrants with magic? Like...is it common with coloured folk?”

“What?” Brooks hadn’t been properly listening to whatever it was Abigail was rambling on about, only catching the back end of it. “What? No. I mean yes, coloured folk can be afflicted too.”

"Yeah but are there more of them than normal people?" Abigail asked again, peering sceptically into the crowd.

“Jesus Christ, girl. Who gives a shit?! You’re not normal no more either! You’ll be lynched and hung no matter!”

Abigail went quiet for a moment as she mulled over it. "...Huh. I mean I guess," she decided with some uncertainty. "I was just curious, that's all. 'Cause some black folk don't even believe in God."

“Don’t get mouthy.” he shook a finger at her. He went silent, not in the mood for further lectures. “Go make some friends. I need to talk to my boss.”

"Wuh-you're leaving?" The thought never occurred to Abigail that he'd actually have other things to do. "I-I mean, sure, but what do I do? Is there anything I gotta do?"

“No, not until I’m back. Just make sure you don’t have anyone in -here- try to kill you too.”

Abigail slowed to a halt, watching him leave. She folded her arms and huffed. She kicked around a little piece of broken tile, indignant after her scolding and indulging in some more self-pity as she reflected upon the grand injustices that were committed against her these past few days. Still, it just wasn't quite as gratifying as it was before she realised that she wasn't the only one going through hell right now…

"...Big centipede, gnashing fangs filled with poison. It would have bitten my head off if I hadn't blown it up a little…"

All predominant thoughts about her current situation took a back seat as Abi immediately looked up and started squirming through the crowd. Big centipedes? Explosions? Now that was the kind of guy she could reasonably see herself being friends with. She didn't want to come off as too excited though so she lingered somewhere close by, munching on her cereal bar, taking stock of the conversation and becoming painfully aware of how young she was compared to everybody else. But it was like Brooks said: in some fucked up way everyone was on equal footing. More-or-less.

"I don't know if it was another wizard or some kind of violet radiation doing weird things." The cool guy said. He looked way older up close. Abigail was intimidated. "You get any weird complications like that? Like, you know, weirder than what you expected?" Since the vast majority of her grand escape from the FOE involved eating candy and being locked in a trunk, Abigail had nothing that was sufficiently cool enough to outdo a massive centipede and tried to maintain her quiet, demure and stoic demeanor. In reality, she came off as a very nervous, too-shy-to-talk spotty teenager in sweaty gym clothes and a muddy baseball cap.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by duskshine749
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duskshine749

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Zephyr shook Matthews hand and listened to what weirdness he had gone through. Honestly it sounded like his night was much more eventful, although Zephyr was sure everyone had strange stories now that all of their lives had been flipped upside down. "Well I didn't have anything like that happen, although I suppose I did have someone unintentionally buy me enough time to escape." Thinking back to that night felt so long ago now, how long had it really been? A day or two? Zephyr had lost track, everything had become a blur.

"In the lobby of my building, agents had already entered and some guy was completely on fire, keeping their attention off of me. I don't even know his name, we lived in the same building so I probably knew him. I'll always remember him though." Why was Zephyr the one chosen by the Violet Underground but not this other person. The likely answer is one Zephyr didn't like; that he was just lucky and was chosen randomly. He broke free from his thoughts and told Matthew a bit more about his night.

"Anyways, before we escaped from the city there was some rubble in the way. I made my skin hard as rock and moved it out of the way. So there's that, although with everything that happened that's probably pretty standard fare with people here."
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Jessikka
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Jessikka

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Angie blinked in bewilderment as the girl hurried out. Bit rude, she was just trying to help. She moved her blank, rather surprised stare to the woman who walked in and spoke. She looked her over, a very slim figure, for a moment she looked a little jealous, she looked beautiful, if not a little shaken up. She immediately felt a little nervous, fiddling with her bag strap. “Not sure what’s up with the girl, it’s a lot to take in for such a young person, though.” She eyed her up “But needless to say, I think we’ve all had a pretty unfortunate couple of days.” She sighed and sheepishly fixed up her hair.

“Oh - silly me.” She giggled as an afterthought as if laughing at herself “You’re absolutely right, looks like we’re going to be here a while so better make some friends. I’m Angeline. Uh- Harrison, if you needed the last name too.” She gave this sugar-sweet smile that almost looked practised. Stage habit, probably. “And you-..?” She extended a hand out in a manner of greeting. “It’s a pretty sticky situation we got ourselves into, hm?” She nodded to the door. Frankly, she was glad to have escaped for a little bit, she could hear the bustle of the conversation of the massive crowd outside and it was all a bit overwhelming for her. After such a rough start as well it was nice to get a moment to talk somewhere a bit quieter.
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Hidden 5 yrs ago Post by Bazmund
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Bazmund Not a Doctor

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The Meet Up


Goodnight




Zack gave a massive grin and slapped Zephyr on the back as he finished his sentence, the studs on his ratty fake leather jacket practically jingling with the movement.

"Yeah you fuckin' did, big guy! That was totally wicked! My man Zeph, with the fuckin' volcanic biceps over here! We got all sorts of tricks, don't we bud? Fuckin', rock skin, 'n' shit!"

Sam was a little more demure.

"If I'm right, that guy on fire was meant to be here with us too right now. We were planning on using all four seats, I guess he just... chose the wrong exit." He swallowed, hard, and for an exceptionally brief moment his gaze drifted, focusing on something far off in the distance. "Poor guy." He said, finally, after a moment had passed.

Jan shivered visibly, eyes widening, as Matthew mentioned the centipede again. Míra clearly noticed, and gave Matthew a little glare, before leaning down a little to talk to Jan.

"Hey, Jan, could you maybe do me a favour and go grab some water for-" she paused, mouth still open, as she noticed Mike's mossy hands, "- uh... for later? You can tell that lady over there that Míra sent you, she knows me."

Jan nodded dumbly as she too noticed Mikey Mossboy, before gradually wandering off in the vague direction of one of the Violet Underground staff.

"Mike."

"Uh, yes Mira?" He rubbed his wrist, dropping little bits of moss on the floor in front of him as he met her gaze.

"What happened to your hands."

"Lost em." He said. "I had one too many with the ol' magic, and they all but dropped right off. Our party guest turned out to have some neat tricks though, and..." He held up his hands - one formed of soft, damp moss, the other a woven tissue of root and vine. Mike gave a confused, lopsided smile, and shrugged emphatically with his not-hands.

"Right." Míra replied, eventually. "Where is she?"

"She's takin' a piss." Mark added bluntly.

"Thanks, wasn't askin' you though, Zuckowitz."

"Hey, no problem Lieutenant." Mark threw his hands up in mock surrender, and gave her a grin that didn't reach his cheeks - let alone his eyes. "Yo, Mike, I'm gonna grab some coffee. You want any?" He continued, turning and walking away from the conversation.

"Naw, I don't go for instant, thanks though." Mike replied, before shrugging at Míra. "That centipede shit though, that sounds pretty wild."

For a little while, general conversation resumed. People said things, they listened to eachother, and interrupted eachother.

Only the perceptive would have noticed that Anastasia kept silent, staring at the floor, eyes wide whenever they were open and clenched whenever they were shut - until she eventually left, as silently as she'd stayed.

"The hands are impressive, Mike. I don't think I've ever seen anyone get anything, uh, replaced." Míra eventually commented.



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