Marx — Roleplayer Guild

Slate was laid out on his bed, a leg handing off of the sad boxspring that should have been thrown out months ago. His eyes were closed and his hands rested on his gut, cradling the now stitched, bandaged, and mostly cleaned wound from Phi. Physically Slate was alone in the dark corner of a dark room, though the conscious existence of Slate spread far beyond the confines of his sealed off room. He had reached out to the entirety of the base, fragments of his being in every dark corner and every shadow cast. If someone were to look through his minds eye, it would appear along the realms of a insect's compound eyes. Hundreds of images flashing past, coupled with disjointed sounds, touch, smells, a sensory overload that nearly made Slate lose his mind when he first reached out like this years ago. It took patience and calm to take in the waterfall of information and sensation and be able to extrapolate anything with meaning. But even the hundreds of wildly fluctuating bits of information was not enough to distract him from the spring that was currently digging into his back. Not even the conversations between the metas that Delta and Epsilon had taken under their wing.

Of course, the mentioning of Phi did make him want to step in. Slate groggily opened his eyes, rubbing them and letting out a heavy sigh before rolling off of his bed onto the cool concrete floor. Something... wet was beneath him, soaking his chest and shoulders. "Shit," he hissed remembering that he spilled a cup of water when he dropped down onto the mattress. It was supposed to be a problem for later. Well, later or until it evaporated. "Stupid kids."

Slate stumbled to the nearest table, a zip-up sweatjacket hanging on the back of the chair. It'd have to do. He slipped it on and put off zipping it up until the water evaporated off of him and paused only for a moment to fully tune back into the conversation in the mess hall, catching another meta chiming in about Phi. "Stupid, stupid kids."

He fell into a black mass that formed at his feet, swallowing him whole and pulling him through space that would make theoretical physicists contemplate suicide. He materialized at the entryway for the mess-hall, drenched in the inky substance that was the very core of his power, looking like a living silhouette. A black mass pulsated at his feet, hiding his feet as he walked. From the mass reached out probing tendrils that immediately homed in on the girl encouraging a fight with Phi. They wrapped around her ankles, locking her to the ground like concrete shoes. "Delta," The shade known as Epsilon to the room as a whole, bar one individual, said with a dragging sigh, acknowledging his equal. He glided into the room, his arms hanging limply at the sides, his form continually quivering as the shadows the drenched him flowed across him like waves, rising and falling, like a living entity. "I'm glad you're all getting acquainted," Epsilon said, twisting to look across the room at everyone in the room, "Though it appears we're missing one. Nevertheless, it appears that something needs to be made abundantly clear."

"Matell. Cruz. If you feel so strongly about fighting Phi right now, then I'll allow you two to take as many people as you want to fight him, right now. No doubt he's still haunting Pavar. Probably finishing off any loose ends as quickly as possible, so time's off the essence." Epsilon moved toward Kana, looking from her to Delta and offering him a small wave to back off for the moment. "If a fight is what you two want so badly, then fight Delta or I. Kill one of us and you'll have our permission to go fight Phi." Epsilon twisted once more, looking toward Danny. "Even with blood I've lost today, I doubt the whole lot of you could even do me in, but by all means if fighting with your fledgling powers is so exciting be my guest and make your move."

As if turning from solid to liquid, Epsilon collapsed and pooled at the ground only to already be rising across the room at the fridge hardly a second later. He swung it open and pulled out one of Sayuri's beloved strawberry sodas, popping it up and craning his neck back to begin downing the whole thing in one uncomfortably long swig, dropping the container the moment he finished. He wiped his lips on his wrist and returned to looking at the crowd of metas. He hoped this would be over soon. His wound felt like it was about to rip open again and beneath his shadowy cloak he was drenched in sweat.
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