And so, this climb was added to the absurdly long list of 'things Dwyn had had enough of'. It hadn't seemed so high when she'd started, but the weight pulling her down - physical and emotional - did nothing but grow as she made her way upwards. She could feel her muscles burning from exhaustion, panting heavily as she paused in her ascent. Looking down, it appeared that she was halfway to the top, or near enough it for the description to be fitting. And yet she had a sinking feeling that this next part would be just as, if not more, difficult when compared to her climb so far.
The stranger's criticisms were met with a frustrated groan as she pulled herself up further. "I'm trying--" A pause to focus on maintaining her grip. How in the name of the gods was she expected to get up there so quickly? Flight? "Weapon's - ugh - heavier than it looks." A quick glance towards the movement, while the distraction didn't help her feel any more secure, showed her that he was working on something or other.
His murmurings weren't getting much less anxiety-inducing either. One more? One more what? Her, clearly. For there was no-one else here that he hadn't left to the wolves. Dwyn didn't know what fresh horror awaited her, but she was becoming increasingly certain of its existence. She could only hope that she'd have enough strength to fight once her climb was over.
If she made it up without falling, breaking both legs, and lying as fresh ritual-fuel at the mercy of what were no doubt more monstrous priests, perhaps she'd be able to figure out what he was doing. Though from his muttering, it seemed the effects of his actions could be seen sooner rather than later - at least where the contraption he currently worked on was concerned. Part of her wondered if that was a good thing, considering his obvious paranoia and instability.
Though he wasn't the one who'd just heard voices in his head, as far as she knew. Perhaps it had simply been the final thoughts of a trapped, tortured soul which rang through her mind. Perhaps it was simply a case of the blind leading the blind. The mad leading the mad, rather.
Still, certain as she was of her companions' demise, Dwyn couldn't help a small smile at the thought of these priests reaping what they'd sown. If only because they'd doomed her to a quest of isolation and inevitable lonely, horrifying death. Whatever this stranger had in store for her, it seemed he might well need her alive to do it - and even if it involved her eventual death, it seemed unlikely that there was much more than that in store for the deserter regardless. A lone wanderer in a blighted hellscape.
Little more than a scared, self-deceiving little girl. Despite her best efforts to remain silent, cries of exertion punctuated her movements as she continued to climb, the sweat on her palms making it even harder to maintain any sort of grip. If she were to reach the top, she hoped she'd be able to brandish her weapon for self-defence at the very least - but she suspected she wouldn't be able to do much but lie there until she regained her breath.
For now, she gritted her teeth and kept going despite her body's protests.
Stopping halfway through a hand gesture that would have answered Kyo's question, Alex stopped as soon as the briefing started. To be honest, she was slightly relieved to be interrupted before any real questions came up, sitting in characteristic silence as their missions were explained. A swarm suited her fine - the more enemies there were, the easier it would be to turn them against each other. At the very least, she'd be useful when it came to getting the civilians out of there without too much trouble.
As for her teammates, she'd just have to see how it went. She had a pretty good idea of their powers, although she didn't really know them too well. Then again, she didn't really know anyone too well, so that was nothing new. Not personally anyway, though she'd bet she knew more about them than they did her. Even if they all turned out awful, she'd cope. It was the same as every other mission, there was no choice but to just go out and try to not die.
Oh, and completing their goals would help too, but it wasn't as though she'd risk her neck too much in order to do it. Though she hoped the actual heavy hitters would take better care of that. If any of the swarm came for her, she was confident she'd be able to take care of it. It wasn't as though they were the most intelligent creatures in the world, so it was easy enough to deceive them into targeting something - or, if necessary, someone - else.
If it came to it, and her teammates were too volatile, it wasn't as if they'd be difficult to handle, but she preferred when it didn't come to that. Bodies and wounds could be easily healed after infighting, for the most part. Her methods could cause a little more difficulty, especially for those who weren't too stable in the first place. There was a reason the seemingly-innocent girl's number was as high as it was, despite her seeming lack of offensive potential.
Wounds can be healed. Minds, not so much.
But that train of thought was getting awfully morbid, and it wouldn't be ideal for anyone to catch on to it. So she smiled instead as she got up and left the room, the picture of a young woman who was determined to do her job, but ever-so-slightly clueless about the danger they faced.
Having decided not to stop and make conversation, Alex decided she didn't have much to sort out on her way. Gate 1, right? From what she could tell, she was the first one to get there, and that was okay. Slightly annoying in that it didn't let her gauge the whole situation, but it was what it was. Nodding to the guard with a small smile once she reached her destination, she figured there wasn't much to do except wait for the others to arrive. With a yawn, she turned to face the direction she'd come from, waiting for somebody else to arrive.
Not because of the luxury, or the arbiter servants that roamed around - though they were jarring to deal with, and still felt unreal, she could deal with them by now. It wasn't the knowledge that she'd done a damn good job of condemning herself in the eyes of the world, that she was widely seen as a monster that deserved to be locked up, either. Nor was it the tension in the air, the way their class seemed close to splitting at the seams. She wasn't happy about that, but it didn't unnerve her.
It was the peace that did it.
She'd walked, finding an area of the forest that was relatively secluded. She didn't want her classmates around for this, if only because properly letting loose made her a bit... unhinged, while it was happening. Easy to lose herself in the fog. Plus, all things considered, she'd probably enjoy it a little too much to want anyone else around.
And that's still really fucking weird.
There were times - most of the time, really - where she wished her Stigma would be something less creepy. But wishing didn't change anything. What changed things was strength, the strength to fight until you broke or everything else did.
But she'd hoped it would all stay intact for a while. Even if she knew she'd find her feet when it all came crashing down, she couldn't be sure of the others. Couldn't know what it meant for all of them, couldn't know who would make it out alive. There were times before when she'd been jealous of the powers Subnaturals had, when she'd thought it would let her protect everyone else. Back then, she hadn't known how much she'd need to give up.
And really, it wasn't good what she was now. Her regrets were more than she could count. The times when she should have known better, the chances she had to step away from the edge. By the time she'd realised they were there, she was already falling too far. The day they'd come for her, blood and tears staining her face, she'd already given up on the future as a lost cause.
Her future, anyway.
But not theirs. She knew how easy it would be to slip, to tear them all apart. It was a testament to her weakness that she didn't keep them all at a distance anymore, that she needed so many reminders to keep her resolve. It was funny that this broken group of teenagers were the ones to give her faith in something better. Painful that it came just too late for her to ever believe it could be hers.
All she needed to do was make it happen for them. If she could see them safe, not having to be afraid, not having to worry what the next day would bring... her life was a small price to pay. How much would have to change for that to happen? It seemed impossible, an insurmountable barrier when you considered that the whole world stood against them. They would never be able to hope for peace; even if they found their freedom now, it would be a lifetime of running.
After all, there was little acceptance to be found amongst the weak and afraid. Oh yes, she was more than familiar with how the world saw their kind.
Wait until they're sleeping. Don't give 'em a chance.Bang. Zoe smiled to herself. Bad people. But they'd been hers - and they'd done nothing more than support her actions. No-one else ever pulled the trigger. Once you'd given up on good, given up on redemption, it was the least you could do to make the most of that decision. Be strong.
She'd been angry about DC. Angry because they couldn't afford to bring the wrath of the world down on them, because the regulars still controlled their lives and, by extension, their deaths. If it hadn't been for the careful control of the footage, they could have doomed themselves. Even still, they'd taken the first step towards the same edge she fell off.
They didn't have to be like her.
But could they really be blamed?
This world held no hope for them, when you gave it enough thought. Sooner or later, their luck would run out and the public would be calling for their heads. To have them locked away and drugged-up like inhuman weapons. But they weren't strong enough to fight it, she wasn't strong enough to protect them from the might of the world's armies. The weapons that could annihilate them which they had no way to resist.
Not yet.
She extended her power, the roots of the trees around her being rotted away, the base of their trunks disintegrating until they toppled into one another. A domino effect, quickly clearing a radius around her as the forest was reduced to little more than dust. Forty-five metres in every direction was more than enough for a dramatic effect, though she'd never tried to use her power on this scale before.
Practice made perfect.
But it was surprising to see one of them reach the edge of her radius, fall outside of her control, and watch the virus spread regardless. The tree it toppled into disintegrating without her input - a quick check confirmed that she had no control over the effect, though it had slowed somewhat. Interesting.
Her power was becoming more and more like a virus with every vision, wasn't it? And yet, the knowledge brought a smile to her face. Because the effect had been maintained as the tree left her range, even if she'd lost control over it. If it worked how she thought it did, there would be no more running once someone was within her influence. No fleeing to outside of her range.
It really was a death sentence now.
And at the centre of the decimated forest, the clearing that evidenced her ever-growing power, Zoe smiled.
Because she'd given up on the world. And every step, every drop of power, brought her closer to the images of her nightmare. Death and destruction, blood and melted flesh. People she didn't know, people she didn't understand, anyone who was a threat. They'd never hurt them again, never have the chance to shackle and control them. Once she had the power to do it, Zoe had already decided what she would be. A monster, for certain, even worse than what she already was. But wasn't that what it took to change the world?
Who needed the world, if the world meant their sacrifice? Who needed the regulars, if all they did was turn and hate? Whatever she had to sacrifice of her body, of her mind, Zoe wouldn't let the world destroy her friends. Better people than her, who deserved more than this. As for the rest, well--
They'd named her Czernobog. A black god of death, an omen of bad luck. One day, sooner or later, once she had the power she needed...
Callan gently picked at the buttons on the remote, leg bouncing restlessly as she watched everyone's performances on the news. Everyone had done so well... helped so many people. And all she ever did was choke. By some stroke of luck, the footage of her beating a la Hazel never seemed to surface, though she found herself thinking less about why and more about the occurrence itself. She certainly understood now why Hazel was always sporting that strange collar, along with the weird vibes. More concerning than any of that, however, Callan had nearly lost control right along with her.
No-- Misery had almost lost control. She muted the TV and started to pace. No matter how hard she fought, Misery was always there. Waiting for her guard to drop... she couldn't go on like this. She needed more training.
Callan had nearly lost track if the days, but a quick count of the meal trays she'd attempted to stack by the door told her that it'd been at least a week. It hadn't been long before Callan eventually figured out that the chain hanging from the ceiling summoned maids and butlers. A short exchange informed her of her location and the state of her classmates. Several 2 am showers and bulky snack orders later, Callan had managed to make a perfect ghost of herself.
Her phone had supposedly been crushed in Hazel's assault, though her mind was far from sisterly duties. She should have found a way to reassure Dom that she was okay by now, but he'd probably seen the news. He'd be fine. Right now she just had to--
"Rrgh," Callan growled in aggravation and gripped the side of her head. She sat abruptly on the floor, and tried not to think about Wisford and D.C. again. All that death... all those people... people she couldn't help.
"M-mom--" the word managed to tumble out of her mouth and a fresh set of tears welled up in her eyes. The cell was cold and empty, the perfect place for a criminal such as herself to reflect on what she'd done. Her shoulders shook and she struggled to speak as her breaths turned into shuddery gasps. Her mother stood far away from the bars with her hands clutching tightly at the strap of her purse. Callan stood as the door creaked open. For an instant, she'd felt it. Those eyes that didn't recognize her. She'd overlooked it then, but now it hurt.
It hurt so much.
She'd been right. Her own mother was afraid of her. At least until she'd finally managed to stammer out an apology.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I d- I didn't m-mean to... mom." She reached her arms forward for a hug and her mother finally, after a moment's hesitation, rushed forward. Perhaps seeing, in that instance, her little girl and acting on that inherent need to comfort and love. Even if it was to be the last time.
"Th-the house," Callan hiccuped into the shoulder of her mother's crisp suit. She'd come straight from work. Though there were more pressing matters, she'd felt even more guilt because of it.
"It's okay, Cal. You're safe-- that's all that matters."
"But where are we gonna live?" she asked, pleading. The longing of home and her own bed was still fresh with hope.
"The insurance will take care of it."
Callan pulled away to sniff and wipe at her eye, "Really?"
"Yes, dear. I just got off the phone with them," she lied. The first of many.
"And that man--"
"I'm afraid you won't be returning home, Ms. Webb," the man who had escorted her mother interjected from his position amidst several armed guards, "A van will be here to pick you up in two days and you'll be taken to USARILN East."
"The school for subs..." Callan said aloud, surprise leaking into her tone as she briefly forgot about what she was going to ask. It was so much easier to forget....
She felt a rapid rubbing on her arm as her mother proceeded to comfort her, anxiety clear in her voice as she spoke, "It'll be alright, sweetheart. You'll be with kids your age. A-and with your abilities, you'll... you'll be fine."
Callan stared blankly at the floor, barely able to process her mother's discomfort as her head buzzed with thoughts. Yes, USARILN East would be best for her. She couldn't go home. Not with that monster hiding in her shadow... and if a place existed where she could learn how to control it, it was USARILN.
"Okay," Callan nodded, breaking from her train of thought. Her mother blinked down at her in surprise. "I'll go," she said confidently, though she got the distinct feeling it hadn't ever been a choice to begin with.
No, she didn't want to think about home right now. Though remembering her previous resolve and her recent reluctance to do so much as summon Misery since the incident with Sander was enough to get her sulking again. She'd been wasting so much time. He should have figured out how to control it by now... and she was entirely out of excuses as to why she hadn't.
More petty memories came to mind as her eyes fell on a full length mirror in the corner of the room.
"Girl, why don't you ever style your hair?" Gaby's fingers ran over her dark brown tresses, scrunching them up at the crown of her head as she sat in front of the mirror in her friend's bedroom. The shorter girl's body pressed up against Callan's back and she felt a small amount of heat come to her cheeks, recalling that her friend was halfway out of the dress she'd worn to school that day.
"I dunno," she laughed, brushing it off, "Seems pointless if it's all gonna come undone for practice anyway."
Gaby clicked her tongue, raising a manicured finger, "Ok, bitch, but you're missing out. You'd look cute with some curls and barrettes." Pacing over to her bed, Gaby removed the rest of her dress and pulled on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt before flopping onto the comforter and habitually scrolling through her phone.
"Hey, you already got me wearing make up," she replied with a coy smile and a shrug, eyes lingering on the mirror beside her as she stood up. A frown tugged at the corner of her mouth as she pulled at a strand of hair, temporarily straightening one of the curls.
"I thought you wanted a boyfriend," Gaby said, a bit disinterestedly.
"I never said that," Callan mumbled, crossing her arms as her cheeks tinged a barely noticeable shade of red.
Gaby looked past her phone, a mischievous glint in her hazel brown eyes, "A girlfriend?"
"No!" Callan said, immediately feeling ashamed. She quickly concluded that it had less to do with the accusation and more with her response to it. Nonetheless, she left it at that.
"I just don't have time for a relationship or anything anyway," she added- which was partially true. She'd seen first hand how time consuming it was. She thought Gaby would understand better than anyone, but a sarcastic "right" was all she got in response.
It was times like these that Callan truly felt the divide between she and the person she told most people was her closest friend. The other girls on the team were nice, sure. But despite her status as team captain, Callan always sensed the slightest inkling of animosity whenever they spent any time together that wasn't necessary.
Her dad was their team's biggest sponsor-- of both the high school and club team. Not to mention close friends with the coach-- though that bond only seemed to start developing just before her freshman year. But in spite of all the less than stellar evidence, Callan knew her stats spoke for themselves. She was good. Hours of practice had made it so. Though that didn't always convince her that something like jealously couldn't be the reason she never felt like hanging around too long after games. Maybe the fact that she and Gaby didn't play the same position was what made her feel like they got along so well. Well... that and the fact that Gaby had only transferred schools a year and a half ago. Otherwise, she seemed like the type who'd be hanging with a much different crowd.
But it was fine. Friendships were time consuming as well. She had her eyes set on the WNBA and the college that would take her there. Maybe she did have time for friends and a relationship... but she had time in more ways than one. All that could wait. That was her father's mantra anyway...
It was stupid of her to forget. She cared about all these people here at USARILN. For all intents and purposes, they were her friends. Filling the place of a shattered dream that had somehow made her feel a bit lighter once gone. More self-conscious. More outgoing. Maybe desperately so.... Hell, her constant failures were probably what was helping her make so many friends in the first place.
But every moment spent with them was a moment she should be figuring out the one thing that could end it all in the blink of an eye. The one thing holding her back.
Lawrence knew, but as she'd learned, his ability could never stop Misery. Until she was in complete control of that thing, she needed help. She needed a fail safe. Someone who could make sure Misery never got the chance to hurt anyone... someone who had proven they could kill with minimum effort and deadly precision.
Callan could feel her palms sweating at the thought. It was an extreme solution... but it was better than putting everyone else in danger. One more loose cannon was exactly what their team didn't need. This wasn't about her secret anymore. It was about doing the responsible thing. She couldn't afford not to....they couldn't afford it. No more playing around. No more drinks and parties and frivolous shopping trips.
New goals always meant new sacrifices... right?
"Meet me at the beach at midnight. Come alone please," the small note in hurried lettering read.
It had been one of the more suspicious things Zoe encountered since getting here, that was for sure. While she was half-tempted to say 'screw the letter' and bring backup anyway, but that'd require dragging someone else into whatever this was. Besides, as her classmates - even the ones she liked - went, they never did much except get in the way where fighting was concerned. Handling these situations was something it'd be best to do on her own.
Even if it did involve going to the beach. It wasn't like she had to go near the water in the first place. Besides, if the worst case scenario was right and this was some sort of trap, ignoring it would just mean someone else got targeted. Not worth the potential cost.
With that in mind, she'd decided to do what the note asked. The uncertainty was difficult to shake off, but it was a determined - if slightly paranoid - Zoe that had made her way down to the beach, note in hand.
The water was relatively calm, if a bit cold, but an hour of pacing hadn't done much for Callan's nerves. She'd hoped her first time at the beach would be under better circumstances. Pulling her hood tighter before hastily returning her hands to her pockets, she suppressed a shiver and kept walking.
A minute past midnight and Callan already felt like leaving. Midnight? What was she thinking? Who the hell wanted to do anything at midnight? Of course, that was the whole reason she'd chosen the time, but was a tired and angry Zoe better than just an angry one? It wasn't too late. She hadn't left her name on that note. She could just--
The redhead's tall figure in the distance caught her attention. Sweats rolled up and feet bare in the chill, wave soaked sand, she held her breath while her hands twisted uncomfortably in her pockets.
She was less relieved to see she'd come alone. It would have been the perfect excuse to leave. Waiting until Zoe was close enough, Callan swallowed hard when the greeting caught in her throat. "Hey Zoe," she finally forced out. She opened her mouth to say more, but immediately thought better of it. Best to see if she would even give her the time.
You're kidding.
It was more than worth a double-take on Zoe's part. Even when she'd first seen the figure waiting for her on the sand, recognition hadn't come right away, if only because it seemed so unlikely. She wasn't sure what, or who, she'd been expecting to have sought her out - but it certainly wasn't Callan. There was part of her that worried the arbiter was going to straight-up try and get rid of her, but that seemed way too ruthless. Not the other girl's style, even if she had every right to.
Besides which, Zoe was pretty sure she could handle it if Callan did try anything. So she looked at her classmate with only a hint of suspicion and, after a few seconds' silence, replied.
"Hey. Got your note." Or at least, she assumed it was Callan's - if it wasn't, something strange was going on. There was a wary edge to Zoe's voice, tempered by curiosity and confusion. "Thought I was the last person you'd wanna talk to."
"Yeah," Callan replied with a short laugh before catching herself. Don't agree with that! Her mouth twitched into a nervous smile as she cleared her throat and averted her eyes. "Thanks for meeting me," she said, pulling her hands from her pockets-- she just felt safer that way, "I actually wanted to..." A deep breath before locking eyes with Zoe again, "I owe you an apology."
Callan certainly wasn't any happier about what had happened back in Wisford, but she had at least come to terms with the fact that she was sorry for what she'd said. Besides, after everything that happened in D.C., it seemed like such a petty thing to be mad about....
...
Well, no. She DID almost die. In fact, the red haired Abe still terrified her. But she really needed Zoe's help.
"I said a lot of things that I had no right saying," she continued, "And I think... I think we've both got the same goal. Even if our methods are a bit different...."
She wasn't wrong - though it surprised Zoe to hear Callan admitting their similarities.
"You had plenty of reason to be pissed at me," Zoe shrugged, accepting the apology for what it was. No point debating whether it was needed. "But I think we both said things we didn't need to." The statement was as close as she would get to admitting her own fault in their discussion, anyway.
And on the plus side, that kind of start meant she probably wasn't getting drop-kicked into the ocean quite yet. That was good. Although it was clear that Callan was anything but comfortable - which again left Zoe wondering what this was all about. Clearly there was something, otherwise this was all pretty theatrical for an apology. Worth asking, anyway.
"Is that all? Because you could've said that during daytime, you know."
Zoe's admission was a bit unexpected, but certainly helped take some of the edge off. "First time losing an arm, but I definitely could've HANDled it better," she added jokingly.
A guilty smile wormed it's way onto her face as Zoe inquired about the real reason for their meeting. Right. Just get to point. No dancing around the issue. She had rehearsed what she was going to say several times in her head, but the words wouldn't come. Part of her had thought she wouldn't even get this far... or hoped, rather. A frigid wave ran up the beach further than the rest, drenching her ankles and pushing her through the hesitation.
Her feet sank slightly into the sand and she looked down, focusing on pulling them out as she spoke, "I have a favor to ask... but first I really need you to promise not to tell anyone."
Callan's quip was met with a bemused expression from the redhead, eyebrows raised as the corners of her mouth twitched into a small smirk. ...That was awful. But it had broken the tension slightly, and she supposed that was something to be thankful for.
At least, until Callan made her request. A favor, and a secret one at that. After kicking off with mysterious notes and secret midnight meetings, it seemed this whole thing wasn't getting much less shady.
Zoe frowned, speaking sharply almost on reflex. "Can't say I'll do it until I know what it is." Because if she did that, she'd feel obligated to stick to it. That being said... Callan had been worried enough to seek her out, so Zoe relented. "But I'm not interested in spreading secrets, so..." Absentmindedly running a hand through her hair, she sighed. "You've got my word."
"Thanks," Callan nodded with a weary smile. Natural as Zoe's wariness was, she couldn't help but worry about how she might react. Even with how unfamiliar she'd been with Lawrence the first time, she'd felt far more at ease in his company. Perhaps she should have asked him to come. Or Sander. Someone who could have at least kindly noted her last words if Zoe came to the conclusion that a problem like this was better nipped in the bud.
'Nevermind'. That's all she had to say....
Callan stepped in front of Zoe somewhat suddenly, trying to forego thinking and just move. At this rate, she was going to think herself out of it and that couldn't happen. "Stand behind me. And no matter what you do-- don't run," she said, mustering up as much courage as could before turning away to face the water. "I know how that sounds, but just trust me. You'll be fine. Alright?" she glanced expectantly up at Zoe over her shoulder.
'Don't run'? It sounded like a warning. That was ominous, no matter how you looked at it. It was starting to seem increasingly likely that whatever this was might not be exactly safe. It'd be so easy to tell Callan to handle her own problems and leave her on the beach - to turn away from this situation, away from the ocean that did nothing but unnerve her. After all, they didn't exactly like each other.
But for all their disagreements, Callan was still one of them. In Zoe's eyes, that was enough. So she nodded, taking a few steps to stand behind Cal. "Okay. I'm trusting you with this." But if this was going to be a danger to her, Zoe was more than capable of taking care of it. At least, she hoped.
Besides, Callan didn't really strike her as a liar, so she probably at least believed it'd be alright. Hey, worst case scenario, whatever the arbiter was about to do would kill her - nothing that mattered too much. Zoe nodded to herself, face set in a determined expression. "Whenever you're ready."
Callan's only response was a short nod and a deep breath before turning her attention towards the shore. It was difficult to make out in the dark, but something almost impossibly black began to stretch from Callan's feet. Even harder to see as the waves passed over it, her deformed shadow flickered wildly for a moment before becoming still. A worryingly large form was beginning to rise from the black abyss, lifting the shape of the water around it. Callan found she was strangely worried herself.
She was trying to release all of Misery. She figured it would have climbed out by now. A few tense seconds were shattered as whatever was emerging suddenly burst from its prison and took to the air, spraying the two girls with a good deal of water as it did so. Alarmed, Callan nearly tripped over herself as she threw her arms up against the splash and stepped back, crashing into Zoe.
Her jaw dropped as she watched Misery pause in the air, stretching two large wings as it set its eyes on the distant mansion. So that was what her most recent dream had been for.
Jerk. She reached her arms towards Misery, grasping the unseen reigns. She yanked once, just as Misery shoved itself higher still. For one terrifying moment, the momentum lifted her off her feet. Before she could rise any higher than a foot, however, the reigns seemed to compensate.
"Get DOWN!" she growled through clenched teeth, jerking the reigns towards the beach. The creature's limbs flailed rebelliously as its head was yanked. Using its wings to catch itself from completely plummeting into the sand, Misery reluctantly landed, shivering with rage. Jaws too large for its head snarled at the pair. Its attention quickly shifted from Callan to Zoe, but it made no move towards her aside from the occasional nip at the air.
Callan held her breath and waited.
Caught off guard, Zoe had found it pretty difficult to stay standing when Callan knocked into her, falling backwards onto the ground. The annoyance was only amplified by the spray of water that accompanied the action, leaving Zoe anything but comfortable. Brushing sand off of herself with a scowl, she practically growled at her classmate. "Watch where you're--"
But the redhead was stunned into silence as she took in the sight of the massive winged creature. Even more so as Callan started... giving it orders?
Of all the possibilities, this wasn't exactly something that had crossed Zoe's mind. It wasn't really a reassuring revelation - especially seeing as the shadow monster didn't seem too happy about any of this. It was difficult not to follow her gut instinct, which was split between the two equally suicidal options of turning tail to run or trying to tear the thing apart, consequences be damned.
She did neither, staying seated and eventually turning an unflinching glare towards the beast as it snapped at her. Defiance suited her far better than fearfulness, after all. Even while she couldn't help but wonder what this thing would be doing if Callan wasn't in control.
Judging by the size of its jaws, she didn't think she wanted to find out.
"Callan?" Despite her best efforts at sounding calm, not even Zoe could sound completely unfazed by this turn of events. Slowly moving to get back to her feet, the aberration's gaze didn't move from the creature beyond a brief glance up at the arbiter. "What the fuck is that?"
With some hesitation upon realizing Zoe had been knocked over, Callan extended a hand. Without her extra strength, pulling Zoe to her feet would probably be a bit more challenging, but she was certain Misery looked a whole lot scarier from the ground than not.
"Nevermind that right now," Callan answered, "Just tell me if you can break it down."
Giving Callan a small nod, Zoe looked the creature over more carefully. It was still intimidating, and she couldn't help but be tense, but it seemed a safe bet that it wouldn't attack her right now. Well, safe-ish.
Was it alive? That was the question, wasn't it. It certainly acted like it - but its shadowy appearance gave her doubts. While there was probably some smarter way to go about this, she had no interest in thinking about it. It would be straightforward enough to figure out.
So she moved until the shadow was at the very edge of her range, and reached out as black crossed her skin - sure enough, she felt it take hold. A brief flash of a smile crossed her face as she nodded, "Yeah-- Wait." before frowning as she looked at the spot she'd targeted. "No." The answer would have been obvious enough without her saying so, but she nodded regardless. "Whatever that thing is, it's definitely living, but my power's not doing shit." That revelation visibly unnerved Zoe. The one thing she'd been able to rely on was her offense, and she had no doubts about its strength. Hell, it had practically ignored Callan's own durability.
So what did it mean if that wasn't enough?
Callan watched the exchange fervently. Just as, if not more, unnerved to see Misery still standing in one piece, her eyes darted from the black lines on Zoe's arms to her face. "A-are you sure?" she grimaced.
"No, I thought this would be a really great time to start joking about it." Zoe's words were lined with biting sarcasm as she scowled at Callan. "Yes, I'm sure. I don't know what's happening with it, but that thing's got some crazy defence."
If Zoe's tone had bothered Callan, it didn't show. Her mind seemed elsewhere as she nodded, chewing her lip and looking at Misery. "Zoe..." she said finally, swallowing hard, "If you ever see this thing again...."
Callan fell silent, trying to move past the terrifying thought. "Uh... how fast can you kill somebody?"
Zoe initially answered the question without a second thought. "With contact, maybe a second if I hit the right place. Think how long it'd take you to push your hand through wet clay or something similar - that's how fast I go through flesh."
She didn't seem exactly proud of it, but she was anything but ashamed. It was what she could do, nothing more, nothing less. The horrific nature of it didn't change that. "Without contact, it doesn't take too much longer. Don't know if you remember, but you saw it on the gargoyle.That's about average if I'm going for a quick kill." She could take a lot longer, too, as the residents of Ground Zero had found out more than once.
But it was only once Zoe finished her explanation that she realised the implications of Callan's question. A cold dread settled in her stomach, and she wasn't quite sure why. There was every chance she was jumping to conclusions here, but... she suddenly had a sinking feeling about the nature of Callan's request.
Callan closed her eyes, recalling exactly what had happened to the gargoyle girl. She'd seen firsthand how quickly Zoe's ability worked. It was a stupid question with an answer that didn't exactly discourage her doubts. Instinctively, her hand moved towards her arm, but she caught herself. Suppressing a shudder and exhaling sharply, Callan whipped the reigns and Misery sank back into her shadow.
"To be completely honest, I'm not sure exactly what that thing is. But you probably guessed it's bad news and you'd be right." She ran her thumb over her knuckles, noting the return of her strength as the last of Misery's form disappeared. "It's a part of my ability, but I can't really control it. And when it's out, I'm no stronger than I was before I got my mark. So I never summon it."
"Right. That's... tough if you can't control it. If you could, it'd probably be stronger than you are yourself." It was an honest observation rather than any kind of slight. Callan was strong, but this thing was something else entirely. Zoe couldn't help but be a little relieved that it had returned to Callan's shadow.
Still, despite her suspicions, it wouldn't help to avoid getting to the point of all this. There were very few reasons she could think of for Callan to want her help, of all people. Reluctantly, Zoe spoke. "So... why bring me out here to see it?"
Callan nodded. There was no question in her mind that Misery was stronger than she was. It wasn't something she could explain very well, but she felt it. And now....
Her jaw clenched.
It even seemed to be evolving. As if it wasn't dangerous enough without the ability to fly.....
"It seems to have a bit of a mind of its own... I don't think it likes being cooped up. If I'm not careful, there's always a chance that it might... get loose. If I let my guard down or... you know. That sort of thing."
She stared at Zoe, expression growing more serious, "The trouble is, if I'm in a state where I can't keep this thing under control... I'm probably not in a state to stop it from hurting someone. Not before it's too late anyway. And if that ever happens... I need someone whose not gonna hesitate...."
Of course. It wasn't a surprise.
"You think I won't hesitate to hurt you. Or kill you, if it comes to it."
And it wasn't an entirely wrong assumption; justified even, but it upset Zoe for reasons she couldn't quite put words to. But how pathetically self-serving would it be to tell Callan that she was trying not to hurt their own anymore, that she was trying - failing, time and again, but trying to earn their trust. To be better. That she'd finally started to make progress, and that this could throw it all back to the rabid dog she'd been not so long ago.
She wanted to make Callan understand what she was dealing with, but she wouldn't. Because Callan was one of the others, and her needs came before Zoe's feelings. What did it matter - she'd already set herself on this path. Dragging someone like Cal down because of her own issues was more selfish than Zoe had it in her to be. Besides...
I've got no-one else to blame for this.
So the redhead nodded, her expression unreadable.
"Okay. If that thing threatens anyone else... I'll do what I have to."
Simple as that. No questions asked. The weight of their agreement felt almost tangible, catching Callan a little by surprise. But there came with it a sense of calm. She had thought it all over carefully. If Zoe couldn't kill Misery then this was the only other option. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if someone got hurt anyway.
"Thank you," Callan said, doing her best and failing to decipher the red head's expression. She didn't notice the tears forming until one of them tried to break lose. She quickly caught it with her sleeve and turned away. "I'm sure it helps that you already don't like me," she chuckled jokingly, a slight break to her voice. She wasn't quite sure what to say to someone who had just agreed to kill her.
"It doesn't."
For a moment, it seemed there was no more explanation coming. There were a thousand petty, cruel thoughts that Zoe wanted to voice. Shots that would be so easy to take, old wounds to reopen, but she wouldn't gain anything from it except to cause Callan pain. She'd done that enough, hadn't she? But it was there, the urge to snap at her. To ask why the would-be hero was too much of a coward to do it herself.
Instead, what came from Zoe's mouth was unexpected - words undercut with pain, and more than that, empathy.
"But I know what it's like to be scared of what you might do, and..." A motel room, searing agony, a scream ringing through the night. "You wouldn't be the first person I've had to try and kill for it." 'Person', like it was someone else, like she hadn't spent every fight trying to make sure she didn't come back. But Zoe had failed, time and again, when the chance came to end her own life.
She wouldn't fail Callan.
She'd expected far worse of a reaction from Zoe after disclosing everything. After all, she'd been a liability all this time. Though Callan tried not to think of it in an ill-meaning way, Zoe would be the one to relate, wouldn't she?
She looked up to the taller girl curiously, the same guilt from earlier resurfacing suddenly. She was so much more like Zoe than she could probably ever admit. How cruel of her to think the difference between arbiters and aberrations was so simple a matter....
"Well, we do our best... that's all we can do, right?" Noticing the hurt in Zoe's tone, Callan offered a reassuring smile. She wasn't in a place to provide anything more-- too many thought to unravel and not enough sleep under her belt. "Anyway, I'll stop eating up your night now."
"Yeah." Zoe nodded, finding very little desire to stick around and speak to Callan - especially not now. The smile and the attempts at reassurance had only served to help Zoe's expression darken. Sooner or later, she felt all-too-certain that she'd have to keep that promise.
They'd forgiven her so far - they wouldn't forgive this. Because Callan was one of the good ones. When Zoe fulfilled this promise there'd be no way out of it, and the story of tonight's agreement wasn't hers to tell. Execution - or was it more like euthanasia? It wouldn't make much difference at the end of the story.
"Guess I'll see you later." And with that, Zoe walked away, leaving the arbiter alone to her thoughts.
Callan merely waved, remaining on the beach as the waves brushed against her bare feet in the sand. The cold was numbing, yet an ideal distraction. She knew she'd promised to stop wasting so much time, but she suffered through the guilt to spare a long look at the stars speckling the sky above the ocean before her.
After returning from sating her stigma the forest, Zoe had felt more composed than she had in a while. She'd never really had a chance to use her power's full range to that extent, but it felt good to know exactly what she was capable of now. Slightly intimidating to think how much it had changed since the beginning, but otherwise good. Still, after thinking things over for a couple of hours, her head as clear as it would ever be, she'd realised she hadn't resolved everything she needed to. Her remorse was muted - as usual - but despite that there was a classmate she needed to speak to.
And not for the first time, either. Considering that Allison had been decent enough to give her a second chance after the flag football game, Zoe hadn't exactly repaid the other girl well. Not to mention that, much as she hated to admit it, Zoe would have been fairly screwed if she'd been trapped in the debris without her help. What was her response? Wounds that would have been agonising at best, for the sake of satisfying her own fear and paranoia. While Zoe knew it would make up for nothing, an apology was the least she owed her classmate.
Finding Allison's room wasn't too difficult thanks to the plaques, and Zoe knocked firmly on the door. "Allison, you in there? I wanted to--" Maybe not mentioning the back-melting in the corridor where everyone could hear about it would be a good idea. It wasn't exactly her proudest moment, and certainly not something she wanted to broadcast to all of her classmates. They'd be having a hard enough time when it came to trusting her already, and arguably they were right. "To talk to you. About DC."
Allison stood up from her place on the bed, and found her way to the door through the dark room. She wasn't sure if she really wanted to talk about DC, but she opened the door anyway.
"Alright then, come in." She ushered the other girl into the room. Allison had, at least, turned the lights on before letting Zoe in, at least to give the impression that she wasn't wallowing in the dark all day. Angel's things were clearly present in the room; a guitar lying on the bed, and an occupied birdcage on top of a dresser, most notably. Allison herself looked relatively normal, wearing the usual tank top and shorts.
Entering the room, Zoe seemed unsure of what to do with herself. Looking around the room for somewhere to sit, she didn't really register that any of the stuff lying around was Angel's at all - it wasn't as though Zoe had ever actually seen any of the rockstar's stuff. The birdcage did get a raised eyebrow, but it was more based on surprise that Allison would actually have something like that. Zoe certainly didn't remember seeing it in the girl's dorm the last time she'd had to apologise for snapping.
Man, this was getting to be a pattern, wasn't it?
Settling on just standing somewhere close to the door, she finally looked down at Allison, frowning as she spoke. "I'm sorry for losing it." It was easy to just say that, wasn't it? Always apologising, but never getting her shit together. "I know that doesn't really make up for anything, but..." Zoe trailed off, glancing at the floor. "Yeah. Sorry."
Allison stood there for a moment after closing the door, collecting her thoughts. Allison had rushed after Zoe in the chaos, knowing what Zoe could do to her. She had gone into the building, and tried to keep Zoe from hurting random civilians, and ended up getting her back rotted off in the battle against the slime thing. It wasn't the worst thing that Allison had happen to her, and it certainly wasn't the worst thing that Allison had forgiven. Zoe, though, seemed beat up about it.
"Apology accepted." Sure, Allison's back was annihilated, but what may have been more important was what could have happened. Innocent lives could have been lost if Zoe had made one rash decision. Certainly, Allison's temporary back injury was better than that outcome. Though, the logic that floated in Allison's head seemed to excuse a horrible outcome if it resulted from avoiding a worse outcome. The lesser of two evils. The best case scenario would have been no one getting hurt at all. "Just... no more, alright?"
Allison wrapped her arms around the dangerous girl. "You can do it. Something much worse could've happened in DC, but it didn't. Yea, it wasn't great, but it was a hell of a lot better than the alternative. One step at a time, alright Zoe?" Allison pulled back from the embrace as quickly as she had engaged it.
"That was easy."
Zoe laughed, but she looked slightly surprised by the physical contact, and relieved when it ended. She'd have expected people to be keeping their distance by now, but if anything there had been too many hugs this week as far as she was concerned. At least she hadn't straight-up pushed Allison off, but she was noticeably a little tense as the other girl backed away. She sighed. "I can't promise that I won't lose it again. No point. But I'll try not to catch any of you guys up in it next time."
The unspoken, of course, was that someone else would be instead. And Zoe didn't like having to say that, but there was no apology in her tone either. That decision was one thing she wasn't about to say sorry for.
"Alright then..." Allison's words faded into silence, which hung in the air for much too long. Any sort of small talk seemed to escape her, leaving the two standing around whilst Allison's mind fumbled. "Well, outside of all that, how have you been doing?" The words fell out of Allison's mouth, and she immediately knew it was a stupid question.
Zoe appeared to think it over for a few seconds. Well, she'd spent the last week slicing open her own skin and working herself to the bone, her powers kept getting stronger to the point she could hand out death sentences like they were nothing, and she'd attempted to kill a classmate in the mansion's basement. For a moment, she was about to say all that, because hell, Allison was pretty much asking for a snappy response. But sated as her stigma was, Zoe convinced herself to go with the lighter option.
"I'm pretty good. Not much excitement here--" Zoe paused, a look of embarrassment flashing across her face as she recalled last week's night of drinking before she grimaced. "Not that I feel like talking about, anyway. Place is way too fancy for me. How about you? Doing okay?"
"Yea, I'm doing fine," aside from keeping herself secluded in her room, and only interacting with Angel and few others. Then there was her generally disasterous conversation with Ernest, and just the shitty state of her own morals. And the stigma wasn't exactly helping. She was about as fine as someone in her situation could be. "And yea, too fancy for sure."
Zoe nodded, grinning. "I didn't think real people even had maids. How they deal with those dumbass costumes all day, I don't know. They're really uncomf--" A pause as the redhead just about kept herself from physically cringing. Nope. "I mean they look like a real pain in the ass. I don't see what's wrong with just dressing normally." The whole thing was just so surreal that it threw her off in a big way.
"I don't disagree," Allison said simply. She decided not to push the probable freudian slip, especially considering Zoe's temperment. "I think my grandfather kept maids. I only ever went to his home once or twice, and I was probably seven or eight at the most, but I distinctly remember telling a maid how stupid her clothes were..." A wide smile accompanied Allison's short story.
A quick laugh came from Zoe. "Sounds cool." Allison's granddad had maids? Man, how many people here were rich? Smirking in response to Allison's wide smile, Zoe nodded. "You weren't wrong, that's for sure." Zoe had no plans of sharing any childhood experiences of her own. In fact, something about the mundane story seemed to have gotten to her, a shadow crossing her expression as she went quiet.
There was a long moment of silence before Zoe spoke once more. "You shouldn't have followed me to that fight, you know." Raising her head, she locked eyes with Allison - for whatever reason, she seemed more confident in bringing this up than she had been around mundane family stories.
"Yea, I shouldn't have. I agree with you," Allison found herself trying to look anywhere but into Zoe's eyes, "if I didn't follow you, maybe I could have stopped certain things," like Angel screaming at civilians, "but maybe things could have been worse." She finally managed to have her eyes meet Zoe's. "I followed you, it was stupid, could have gotten myself killed. Sort of a running theme with me, I guess. Can't change the past."
"Yeah, you can't change the past, but that's not the point. I'm pretty sure I've asked you to stop being a dumbass and think things through before. In future, actually do it." And there was irritation in Zoe's tone now. "I'm not asking you this time. I'm telling you, and I expect you to fucking listen." Was she being needlessly forceful? Maybe. But this shit was life or death, not just some power-trip on the redhead's part.
"I say don't follow me, you don't follow me. I tell you to leave, you do it with a nod and a 'yes ma'am'." Figuratively, anyway. It'd be weird if Allison actually did that. There was a fire in Zoe's eyes, as if she was waiting for Allison to challenge what she had to say. "That clear enough for you?"
"Yes ma'am," Allison replied with a sarcastic nod. Allison understood what Zoe meant, in fact it was starting to seem like Allison was just really good at pissing people off just by explaining herself badly. It was the same sort of ultimatum that Allison had given Angel, except a good bit more forceful thanks to Zoe's natural charm. It was funny, though, that Zoe had come to apologize and had ended up chewing Allison out.
Zoe narrowed her eyes, unsure whether Allison was actually agreeing or just making fun of her. Did that count as backtalk? She wasn't sure. There was warning in her tone, but she seemed a little less outright aggressive as she continued. "Alright. So long's we've got that clear, any questions you wanna ask me?" Zoe assumed Allison might have stuff she wanted to clarify. Only seemed fair to check, if she was gonna try to order her classmate around.
"I don't really think so." Allison's mind searched for a question, but found only her stigma and the sorts of things she wouldn't want to ask her angry friend. "Can't think of anything right now, at least," Allison glanced back at the guitar on the bed. "Anyway, I kind of promised Angel I'd be able to play something halfway decently by tonight. You're free to stick around if you like bad guitar playing, by the way." Allison started moving back towards the bed.
"Angel? I was wondering where all this came from." Huh. Zoe shrugged, not putting any more thought into the whole thing than that. As for the guitar playing... Zoe shrugged. Not like she was busy. "I can stick around a little while. And just so you know - if you don't listen to me in future, I'm gonna have to kick your ass. Point of principle." Zoe smiled, although it wasn't quite clear whether she was joking as she gave Allison a nod.
"Go ahead and practice for now. I won't bother you."
"Alright then." Allison sat down, picked up the guitar, and started playing.
Alex was more than a little shell-shocked, her blush and flustered expression remaining firmly in place. Okay, she'd definitely agreed to something. And while she knew what Frost was feeling was, that didn't mean she knew how to deal with this situation. It only seemed fair to try and help her learn how to deal with it, maybe figure out her humanity a little, but the idea of, uh... well, she just didn't know. Considering Frost could definitely disintegrate her on a moment's notice, it occurred to Alex that she was playing a dangerous game. But you had to, didn't you? When you didn't have so much strength, you needed to use your wits instead.
And on that front, this really couldn't be better.
Nothing better than a powerful ally.
Okay, so it was a tiny bit manipulative, but hey - Puppeteer's name suited her for more reasons than one. And when somebody that powerful gave you a string to pull on, you'd have to be a real idiot not to use it. She did care about Frost's feelings, and wanted to help her through them, of course; it wasn't as if Alex was a complete sociopath at the end of the day. That didn't mean there wasn't one hell of an ulterior motive to do so. The girl didn't think she could be blamed for wanting to ensure her own survival.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when Kyo spoke to her, lost in thought as she had been. Glancing up at the lights, she nodded, shrugging, but didn't offer any further explanation. Of course she could, but that was one card she'd prefer to keep close to her chest. Besides, unlike with Alpha, if she talked to her long-haired sibling and he replied, everyone else would be able to tell she was doing it. The 'mute' card was too useful to throw it away without much benefit.
Her gaze followed his as Ansel walked in, and seeing Kyo's panic, she flipped open her notebook to a page somewhere in the middle, scribbling something quickly before closing it again and moving over to the seat next to him. Tapping the guy on his shoulder, she gave him a concerned look and placed her finger to her lips in a 'shh' gesture. If #10 freaked him out that much, it wouldn't do to attract his attention. Besides, even knowing the creepy cannibal-dude was unlikely to target her, she didn't much want him coming over here either.
After making her point clear, Alex gave Kyo a friendly nod before sitting back in her new chair - though she didn't resume her sketching, knowing he was right next to her. It wouldn't do to let anyone see what she'd been writing, after all.
Roused from her despair by the ear-piercing shriek, Dwyn retreated a few steps as the monstrosity rose, watching its convulsions with a mixture of disgust and concern. The terror was still there, but it was so constant that she'd almost grown used to the pounding of her heart and the anticipation of death in every shadow. Of course the display was sickening - the accompanying wail from the strange man only serving to increase her suspicions further.
But she felt numb as she blinked the dust out of her eyes, as distant as if this were all happening to somebody else. She'd passed the point of fear, straight into denial. A pathetic, easily-broken shell the only thing keeping her from screaming for herself. But what would it help? What would any of it help?
It was fairly monstrous, the sheer agony that the thing suffered in what she assumed were its final moments. Gods only knew what horrific magic was running through that creation, but she could do nothing but hope she'd ended its pain somehow. That the black ritual was the only thing giving it any sort of life, and it now laid in blissful sleep. A pretty idea, and one that brought with it a flash of longing. What was it keeping her from falling onto her own blade?
With a moment's thought, Dwyn came to a simple conclusion. That there was no profound reason - she just didn't want to die.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she could have sworn she heard a voice cursing her, and another raised in thanks. As if she didn't have enough on her mind, she gritted her teeth. "Shut up. Both of you." Her words were short and clipped, grimacing in equal parts fear and frustration as she realised she was addressing no-one but herself.
What a sorry little madwoman she was becoming. Though there was comfort to be found in being a little less than sane. Better to bend than to be broken, better to flee than to fight. To cast aside pride and victory, in favour of fulfilling your duty. Though she had never been strong enough to keep to her duties before her own survival, perhaps breathing for another day could count as a mission of its own. There were worse reasons to keep moving, were there not?
He was still there, and she stepped back, nodding at his frustration. "Of course. My curiosity is--" a quick look back at the splattered guts and scattered scriptures, "More than satisfied." But there was no time to dedicate to apologies. If her suspicions about their survival - or lack thereof - were correct, then it was the least she could do to make the most of whatever time her allies had bought.
With that in mind, she made her way over to the rope, finally climbing to try and reach the hooded man's position as quickly as she could.
As the monstrous sculpture that occupied the corner came into view, Dwyn clamped her hand over her mouth, retching - but there was nothing for her to throw up no matter how she tried. Once her stomach stopped turning - a state which took several seconds to achieve - she was finally able to look upon the sight. And the disgust, the sickness, the horror... it settled instead, to a heavy cold weight of fear in her stomach.
What was this place?
What was wrong with this place?
A ritual of some sort. An unholy, twisted, sickening sacrifice. The world was nothing but guts and gore and blackness and a creeping tide of horror as Dwyn realised just how real this was. Why didn't she listen to him? Why didn't she run, as any sensible person would have done? And, perhaps most importantly... Why, in the name of the Gods, did this statue, from which such a monstrous figure emerged, look like Nera?
This was all a cruel joke. For it had to be, did it not? To pluck a few helpless souls from blissful release and toss them into a hell designed to torture and kill them one by one. These priests, that roamed the halls so hungrily, could be nought but her agents. Or they thought they were, at the very least. It would serve her well to listen to the stranger, to flee before they came for her too, but she couldn't tear herself away.
Their god... in the name of their god...
The mark was the same as their stigma, the reminder of past deeds they bore with them. Perhaps that was why the priests had been so quick to attack them, though she hesitated to place the blame on anything other than Aiv's ignorant stupidity. Not that it mattered who was to blame, for the rumbling explosion from the direction she'd left behind had more than convinced Dwyn of their demise. As far as she knew, she was the only one left. They're coming for me soon.
She didn't want to know the answer, but her lips moved regardless. "Their god... which is it? That black creature," her voice shaky and hollow as she continued, "or Nera? Perhaps they are one and the same." A hint of laughter at that last part, as something in the girl shattered.
Not waiting for an answer, she turned back to the ritual. To that black, beating heart, and the grotesque scene that surrounded it. The world... was truly forsaken, wasn't it? Gone. Nothing, nothing left. Damn this place. Damn their rituals.
A black halberd lashed out, intent on the heart's destruction.
The blaring siren would have been more than enough to wake anyone up, and Alex wasn't a heavy sleeper. That being said, 'awake' wasn't the same thing as 'out of bed', and she lay there for about half an hour - after a quick glance at the board to confirm there wasn't an emergency - before even bothering to move. Not that she could get back to sleep, of course.
Her eyes narrowing as she finally sat up, the girl yawned silently, looking around a room full of posters and old comic books. Of course, she couldn't exactly complain for anyone to hear, but the filthy look she shot at the billboard was almost enough catharsis. Rolling out of bed, she threw on the first t-shirt and pair of jeans she could get her hands on, not paying much attention to the design of them.
Some of the others probably wouldn't mind this. Some of the others were, no doubt, morning people. And while normally she had no problem with that, right now Alex couldn't think of anything worse. All 'awake' and 'enthusiastic' and 'ready for the day'. Deciding that brushing her hair was a lost cause, she just frowned and tied it loosely into a ponytail in the hopes that it'd hide her bedhead a little. While it didn't really work, there wasn't much time for her to do something else.
"Auditorium, 32."
At least if the guard by her door had anything to do with it. With a soft sigh, Alex nodded snatching up her notebook from the bedside table and followed along without protest. Even if she'd had a problem with this, well... she didn't tend to talk to the staff. Firstly, because it quite suited her to have them think she couldn't, and secondly, because humans got jumpy around mind powers.
Pretty rude, really, but there you go. It wasn't worth complaining about. Easier to just go along with it, and then there wouldn't be any trouble for anyone. It was with that thought in mind that Alex - or Puppeteer, whichever you preferred - looked relatively relaxed as she entered the auditorium.
There wasn't much more than a raised eyebrow at the sheer number of seats set out, and she headed over to seat herself a few spaces away from the children already present. It wouldn't be unexpected, really. As far as most of the others knew, the golden-haired young woman just wasn't much for conversation. A few rows back, away from her more powerful - and, in some cases slightly terrifying - companions?
Whatever this was, she had a feeling it would be important. That didn't exactly reassure her about the whole thing, though - 'important' usually meant dangerous, and while she didn't see much point in complaining about it... Alex also didn't really like the possibility of having her head torn off. For now, she started absentmindedly sketching something in her notebook, occasionally raising her head to check what others were arriving.
Petition to have all future monsters drawn by Crabs
Also, considering the library full of human sacrifices, I have a feeling that Dwyn will be much less likely to run away from everyone in future. At least if she gets through whatever's happening here without being completely murdered, anyway.
Not sure how happy everyone else will be when she gets back, mind you.
What the light revealed wasn't reassuring to Dwyn, who paused, looking around the room fearfully. Those statues... what were they? They seemed sacred, but those were no gods - not even any devils she could recall. Creatures, then. Or some other false idol. They didn't frighten her as such, or seem to be much of a threat, but they were confusing. Perhaps it would be better if she stopped trying to understand this place altogether.
Nera told us the gods were dead, did she not?
And whatever these depicted, their subjects were far from human. Tentatively, she took a step closer to the nearest one, her eyes widening at the sight of the 'offerings' presented. Flesh and bone, which, as sacrifices went, wasn't particularly unexpected - but, upon looking closer, Dwyn felt doubt cross her mind. For she had seen no-one else in this chamber, no monster or man except that stranger...
Yet the familiar stench of blood and rot hung fresh in the air.
Her eyes rested on the darkened corner. Whatever was happening, whether she could trust this figure or not, he was right to say that there was not much time. But this was different from before. This room, these strange constructions, they more than shook her faith. And it was that same shaken faith that found her stepping towards that dark corner, weapon at the ready.
Whatever magic lingered there, perhaps it would provide an explanation. Or, at the very least, give her some idea of whether her newest companion could be trusted. However it would turn out, Dwyn was becoming certain she'd be damned either way. It was not courage that moved her feet, but resignation to the fact that she felt trapped either way.
"I won't keep you for long," She called up, voice shaking in fear as she responded to the words that urged her to hurry, "Should anything emerge, I won't hesitate to join you, that I can promise." That much was true. Whatever strangeness surrounded this creature, it was at least something she could see, and prepare herself for. It was better than the alternative.
Dwyn stepped towards the corner just as the sounds of the faraway eruption rumbled through the chamber.
Member
