Fallenreaper
Ti
Jumbus
Silly
Echotech71
Astro
Kuro
Chronic
Lildear18
pantothenicJ O C A S T A R E
Jocasta had let herself slip. She'd said too much. Being here - in this place - was not good for her, even if it did afford her the opportunity to dispense some cold, hard justice. Briefly, she went so far as to consider leaving the others to their fates, but there was the chance that one would live and know her for what she was.
The tethered girl had been about to grudgingly suggest lifting them all with kinetic magic, but then Slut came up with a sudden idea that was just needlessly complex. She began shouting instructions with such purpose and vigour that... It wants to live, Jocasta thought mockingly, but then she softened, unable to begrudge Ayla that most basic of ambitions. She actually had a life to look forward to and, for a moment, the floating blonde girl felt a spike of jealousy.
"R-Right!" Jocasta shouted, remembering to keep the tremor in her voice. "I think I-I know her plan! Do it!" This could work out well. They'd either live and grow to trust her more or they'd die by their own actions and she'd carry a bit less guilt into her dreams tonight. The binders started binding then. Jocasta could've helped them, but she'd only signed up for one part in this production and she'd let the chips fall where they would.
Then, as a colossal tuning fork began to take shape, Bitch leaned in towards her amid the scramble. "If it turns sour,” she began, and it was an effort not to flinch from her foul coffee breath (Jocasta turned it into a nervous start of surprise). "Think you can get Ayla and Yalen to safety? I can throw my sister and Kaspar far enough for them to get away. Should be able to land and handle minor injuries. Worst case, I keep it busy.”
Jocasta nodded. "I-I can do that." Fuck you and your quick thinking. In truth, she did not want to actually picture leaving those two idiots to die, loath as she was to admit it to herself. She exhaled. "Don't w-worry about a thing, Zamira!"
Yalen began heating the tuning fork while Sucker and Creep nearly collapsed. The tethered girl let herself sink back onto the ground right beside the latter, setting her wheeled-chair nearby. "Lean on me," she whispered. Her head was at about the perfect level. As Ayla reached out and set the tuning fork humming, Jocasta could feel a massive heart quicken under the sands. "Just aim it properly..." It was Bitch again. "and–”
Jocasta didn't wait. She could feel her partner's kinetic kick and it wouldn't have been enough. She gripped the tuning fork midair and hammered it towards the dead halassa and the dozen other scavengers that had gathered since her departure. Every bit of energy, she bled from herself... save a tiny bit: just enough to escape without having to fully draw should this fail and she needed to.
Then, there was only silence - eerie silence in the desert night - and the feeling of her entire world subtly shaking. Eyes darted between the members of the group. Pulses quickened. Jocasta tried to hold herself aloof from their panic - amateurs - but her racing heart put the lie to it. The rumbling grew. The Wyrm was no longer on a course to intercept them by the Refuge gate. It was heading towards them. In the near distance, bells began ringing at the Refuge and torches flickered to life. She could head the shouts but not understand what was being said. The three pieces of shit had made it safely, though, and they scrambled inside. She could see their silhouettes glancing back at the group of teens. The faint energy signature of the dead one lay in the desert until the Sand Wyrm passed right beneath it. It was subsumed and torn to shreds, inconsequential. That beasts of this nature exist... It would be humbling if it wasn't so wondrous. That Wyrm was probably hundreds of years old. It had been here when the Torraro were still the Torraure, perhaps before them, when this land had belonged to its original inhabitants. It was -
One hundred yards. It closed in. The ground shook. The sand shifted.
Eighty yards. The bells were clanging. Jocasta remembered those bells.
Sixty yards. She could see figured climbing up on the Refuge's parapets: caretakers and guards, the children who were still On Four. She had done the same as a child, scanning the dune sea for the trails of the great Wyrms, terrified yet intrigued behind great walls that she prayed were safe enough.
Forty. Her heart accelerated behind her ribcage, clawing to free itself and escape. She could see it! She could see the waves of sand, the dust sparkling under Qamar Aħmar: the red moon.
Twenty. Yalen was silently praying. She could tell. The Wyrm slowed and started to turn.
Ten. Jocasta opened her arms, ready to suck in every ounce of energy that she could and hurl herself from here. The sand close to them began to sink. Her wheeled-chair shifted. Fuck it! enough of -
T H E R E F F U G E
The gates shuddered open only after another two minutes. The people inside - at least the ones in charge - were evidently in no hurry to let anyone in. As the colossal wood and iron-strip doors parted, they could already see a sizable crowd gathered. Most were children and teens and some leaned on canes or crutches. Others were older and in wheeled-chairs not unlike Jocasta's. They were held back by a handful of adults: ones who evidently had no trouble with their mobility, and some of whom appeared armed.
One little girl with wavy black hair, dimples, and buckteeth managed to slip through and make it to Yalen, beaming. "We don't geh visidors verrey offen!" she said with a thick Segonese accent. "Only waan in de whole time I'm heer!" She blinked and regarded his cane for a moment. "Whehr you froam?" she asked.
A second one, a few years older, slipped past, leaning on a crutch. She was tall for her age, with braces over her feet and ankles, auburn hair, and a light dusting of freckles. "You know the Wyrm Dance?" she demanded of Ayla, her eyes wide with excitement. She sounded... Perrench, perhaps, or maybe Miattan. "I used Sonic Magic to hear you." She grinned with self-satisfaction. "I can tell you're a sonic mage too. That was a neat trick."
A boy with a nervous face approached Kaspar. "Are you guys like..." He glanced down, trying to hide his hope, "Here to pick up anyone... or something?" He mumbled a couple more words beneath his breath, but they were impossible to make out in all of the clamour.
Another boy, this one a preteen, slipped through right near the outer wall and made it to Zarina. "You're from Virang, aren't you?" He asked in her native tongue. He reached into a little satchel and pulled out a medallion. It was a family seal of some sort. "You don't recognize this, do you?" His eyes darted about and he glanced at her with hopeful uncertainly.
A small dark girl mirrored him from the other side, nearly tripping over her feet. "Your hat is really cool," she said to Ysilla. "You know I have a pretty neat hat too. So, what are you doing here?" It all tumbled out as if she was afraid she wouldn't have time to finish.
The ones who weren't ambulant generally seemed to hold back, less able to dart or slip by, but enough of a gap in the perimeter opened itself up when a couple of guards had to deal with two preteens fighting that a girl perhaps just a couple of years younger than most of the students was able to wheel herself through. She had long, straight black hair and dusky bluish eyes. Something about her looked... vaguely familiar, perhaps. "You're one of us," she said to Jocasta, stopping herself and looking at the older girl unflinchingly. "They're gonna send everyone back now. We'll talk later." With some effort, she started to turn, but nearly ended up running over a lanky boy with a mop of unruly blonde hair. She paused and simply backed up. "It's Marceline," she said quietly and then, more loudly and with some snark and weariness in her tone after a caretaker snapped at her to back up some more, "And they're firing the gun in three... two..."
The crowd in the entrance plaza cleared quickly and all that was left before long were a handful of guards, a caretaker or two bustling about, the Head Caretaker, and Marceline. It was the second last of these who addressed the six students. "Ahh, visitors!" He spread his arms in front of him in a welcoming gesture. "My name is Tavio Ortega, and I'm the Warden here. I welcome you and I would like to apologize for the somewhat... chaotic introduction." His voice was a rich Torragonese lilt, possessed of a natural friendliness that was disarming. When one or two members of the party seemed about to dispute that, they found themselves pierced by Jocasta's warning glare. "Sadly," the Warden continued, "we don't have many... experiences with non-residents out here." He frowned, glancing back at some of the dormitory areas, and his voice turned regretful. "Poor kids get too excited and then I need to be an ogre, I fear: threatening punishment." Then he clapped, suddenly businesslike, and pivoted on a heel. "But you'll have the chance to see them at a more appropriate hour tomorrow." He was smiling now and he began walking. "After we discuss your mission, of course. I received notice that you'd be coming to help us deal with our... problem." He furrowed his brow.
Marceline took a moment to release the small pegs that acted as her wheeled-chair's brakes. Similar to Jocasta's, it was a light wicker and rattan construction, with a low back, bluish cushion, and slim wooden spoked wheels. Her feet sat on a simple footrest flanked by large casters to either side. With a couple of big pushes, she caught up to the others. "Not to be rude," she butted in, "but it's going to be a really big problem if that Sand Wyrm finds the aberration. It was impressive how you six distracted it -" she twisted awkwardly to regard them "- but if it gets to there..." She trailed off for a moment as the seven figures followed the warden and he clasped his hands indulgently behind his back. "A few halassa is one matter," she concluded, "even a froabas or a rino blindado, but that thing..."
"Ah yes," the warden acknowledged, "this is Marcelina. She has been with us for... four years now, is it, dear child?"
"Yes, four," she said, businesslike, and there may have been a hint of Kerreman in her accent. "Warden Ortega, we need to get out there and do something about that aberration as soon as possible. If the Wyrm reaches it -"
He held up a hand for silence as they headed up a ramp. People cleared the way for her and Jocasta. "Keep your voice down, dear. You know we don't want to alarm the others. They have such stress as it is."
"Sorry..." she grated, reaching the top with far less grace than Jocasta. "It is not a problem," replied the Warden. "Now, as for our guests, can't you see that they are exhausted?" He glanced at them and then, admonishingly, at Marceline. "I can tell that they are brave and capable people, but even such individuals need a nice warm bath, a good night's sleep, and some new clothes and supplies before setting out in the morning." He addressed the six with a clapped clasp of his hands. "I am having rooms made up for you now. I am sure you are eager to get on with it. We will have a briefing at 3:00 HS in the morning and I will tell you everything that I know about the situation." He paused and turned to face them. Marceline came to a clumsy stop and turned as well. "Marci, you're still on four. Why are you in a chair?"
"Apologies, Warden Ortega. My knees are getting worse and I thought I should practice. Plus, I wanted to hurry out and didn't have time to put on my braces."
He nodded. "Marcelina will show you to your rooms." He rested a couple of fingers on the younger teen's shoulder for a second, a fatherly smile peeking out from beneath the bristles of his great mustache. "You're in a row beside each other. I'm having baths filled for you all." He fished a loop of keys from his belt and tossed them gently to his assistant. "On behalf of all of us here, I cannot thank you enough for coming and agreeing to help us. We are... not so well-equipped to deal with threats of this nature and they've been becoming... more common as of late." He smiled tightly, clasped his hands once more in thanks, and bowed slightly at the waist before making his exit. The six found themselves within a ground floor colonnade, the upper floor's own covered balcony and colonnade making up the roof above their heads. Crickets chirped, the moons shone, and the plaza's central fountain splashed somewhere off behind them. In the near distance were six flickering oil lanterns, one by each doorway. Marceline glanced down at the keys in her lap and then, excusing herself, pushed her way to the front of the group. "I suppose you can guess where it is," she said wryly. "If you'll follow me..."
