Location: Ünterland
Human #5.090 Faintly, I'll Go
Interaction(s): N/A
The wailing did not stop for some time.
At first, Gil panicked; he had seen plenty, but knew there was far worse skulking in the darkness. It seemed obvious to him that some unseen horror had struck Hornet while both were distracted - the anguish in Hornet's lamentation was rooted in a deep, mortal pain, and he was sure he would witness her death right in front of him. There was a moment of selfishness; what would he do, left alone with another corpse in this place of the dead, vulnerable and uncertain and ill-equipped? But this was discarded swiftly for the ugly and disreputable feeling that it was, and consciously replaced with one of altruistic concern.
He rushed to her, prepared to defend Hornet's cacophonous figure from whatever wickedness had befallen her. There was nothing to be found. Despite her screams, the forest around them was eerily still, no snakes in the grass (or anything else besides). Still, with every passing second the dead branches seemed to vibrate against her keening, the forest bending to her echoes. Gil was filled with a sense of dark portent. The longer Hornet wailed, the further her woes reverberated, and it wouldn't be long until Ünterland sent something in answer. He had to get them out from the open. He had to get them hidden.
Her carapace was tough and her limbs were stiff but she was still pliant and Gil hooked his arms beneath hers and pulled; Hornet didn't resist but she didn't follow either, just curling into her despair. Gil awkwardly arranged himself around her wings and the spikier parts of her chitin as he dragged and cajoled and coaxed - hyper-aware of his surroundings now as the screams still echoed, he spotted the entrance to a burrow beneath the dead trees, and this was the best he could do under the circumstances. Steadily but with no small amount of difficulty he hauled himself and his charge toward it, first guiding Hornet down before following her below the earth.
The burrow was abandoned but oddly welcoming, not big enough to avoid stooping but the smell of soil was strangely comforting and the earth kept heat in; Gil expected it to be colder, wetter, but instead it was mildly comfortable and the floor had been dug into a dry, sandy layer that felt like...felt like the Bristol coast. Gil was perturbed to be reminded of something so homely and nostalgic in this nightmare realm.
Hornet's wailing had descended into wracking sobs and she was curled into herself in the corner, knees brought to her chest and arms wrapped and locked around her legs. Even her wings seems to curl around her waist, translucent and iridescent still, despite the muted light of the burrow. She seemed rooted to the dirt, and as Gil shuffled forward to sit beside her and laid his hand on hers in condolence, her sobs became quiet weeping, became still-faced and silent catatonia, before she finally seemed to slip into unconsciousness. With his hand resting atop hers, Gil slowly but surely followed her to slumber.
When he woke, Hornet was no longer curled in the corner, but up and pacing. Her soft footsteps thudded gently in the sandy earth beneath them and her arms were crossed; every so often she'd push a hand in front of her and flex the fingers, turning it over in the air, studying it. Maybe her neck would reflexively twitch to look behind her as a wing quivered, and she'd bring a hand to smooth it, gentle curiosity guiding her to run her palm along the length of the opalescent webbing. Maybe an antenna would tremble, and she'd bring a hand to touch where it sprouted from her forehead before following the appendage up, deftly held between two fingers. Each time, she'd pause to examine herself, before shivering and her arms once again tucked beneath themselves as she resumed pacing. There was something different about her; the mannerisms had changed, the gait wasn't quite the same. Gil rubbed his eyes and sat up straight.
"Hornet?"
She froze mid-step once again and Gil braced for the wailing to resume; there were a few long seconds and then she turned her head toward him, regarding him with eyes that registered him simultaneously as both cautious companion and utter stranger. Finally, she parted her lips and spoke.
“Abelle. Not Hornet. My name is Abelle.”
Gil didn't say anything.
"I'm sorry. This must be confusing. Trust me, I'm..." she paused, trailing off as she looked at her own hands again, tracing a single finger over the ridged chitin that coated her hand. "I'm confused as well. I feel as if I've woken from a long sleep; but I don't appear to have escaped my nightmare. At least not...unscathed."
She looked back to Gil, who had only raised an eyebrow in response to the shift in Hornet's - Abelle's - demeanor. Her mandibles clicked quietly and her mouth curled into an approximation of a sympathetic smile.
"I suppose we should start with the basics. What year is it?"
It took Gil a moment to respond; Abelle waited patiently as he cleared his throat and took a breath to answer.
"20...2028."
Abelle's eyes widened, and her wings fluttered, and her antenna twitched; but they were the only indicators of surprise.
"Nearly 50 years. So much must have changed; yet PRCU still stands? Yakob and Jonas really did it..."
She trailed off, lost in now-returned memories. Gil frowned.
"PRCU's dead in the water. Attacked and mis-managed into oblivion. And Kowalski and Lehrer? A dead terrorist and just plain dead, respectively. You missed it. Sorry."
Abelle drew a long breath, standing still and looking Gil hard in the eye. It was an unusual display of vitriol from him, and he considered for a moment he might have some unresolved feelings about the academy.
"A lot happens in 50 years. But I am here; I am alive; I am awake. That has to count for something."
"Where has this come from? Where have you come from?" Gil asked, and then realized he sounded accusatory. He backtracked. "I mean...you froze up, had a breakdown, and now you're...you're someone else. You don't move the same, you don't talk the same. Is this- is this you, before all of..." he gestured with his hand up and down Abelle's figure. "Before all that happened to you?"
Abelle paused, letting Gil sweat a bit as she waited to answer his indelicately-phrased question.
"In a word; yes. A long, long time ago, I was...'normal'. As normal as any of our kind are, anyway. It's all...bits and pieces, even now. But I changed. Gradually, gradually, then all at once. The more I changed, the less of me there was, until I went to sleep and only the insect was left. All those decades...flashes, at best. Trying to remember is like trying to hold on to a dream. Slipping through my fingers..." she faded out, succumbing to melancholy in her reminiscence. She looked from her hands to Gil. "But since being here, in this place - the fog began to lift. I can't explain it."
"I can." Gil said, his face hardening as he connected the dots. "Ellara - our guide - she made it clear we couldn't rely on our abilities here like we do back home. Something about this place - this realm - blocks them. Switches off the biology responsible." He met her eyes, and watched with sadness the spark of realization cross her expression.
"So I'm reverting because I'm here - and if I leave..."
"You- you go back to sleep, and the insect wakes back up."
"I...I'm not even Hornet on Earth. I'm just...insect and instinct. Dangerous. Mindless.." Her voice was small and despondent. Gil interjected, holding out his hand to comfort her.
"Technology - it's come a long way. A long way. HELP never stopped researching, innovating. There are inhibitors now - personal, wearable ones. Hell, they're probably hiding some genetic engineering, even an outright cure. Ways you could come back and stay you-"
"No." Abelle said, taking Gil's hand in both of her own as she smiled sadly at him. "Thank you, and I understand the impulse, but no. Jonas was right; being Hyperhuman isn't something to be inhibited, isn't something that needs curing. If HELP do develop a cure, I'd hope they'd have the good sense - the decency - to destroy it, rather than let something so ghastly see the light of day. Self-destructive it may be, but I believed in Jonas, believed in his cause and his vision; I can't betray his memory like that. I don't need curing. This is just the way I am; the beautiful and the terrible. All of it."
"Then what will you do?"
Abelle sighed.
"I don't know." She said, matter-of-factly. Gil almost laughed but stopped himself, and they shared a smile instead. "But it doesn't matter. I will decide when I need to."
At first, Gil panicked; he had seen plenty, but knew there was far worse skulking in the darkness. It seemed obvious to him that some unseen horror had struck Hornet while both were distracted - the anguish in Hornet's lamentation was rooted in a deep, mortal pain, and he was sure he would witness her death right in front of him. There was a moment of selfishness; what would he do, left alone with another corpse in this place of the dead, vulnerable and uncertain and ill-equipped? But this was discarded swiftly for the ugly and disreputable feeling that it was, and consciously replaced with one of altruistic concern.
He rushed to her, prepared to defend Hornet's cacophonous figure from whatever wickedness had befallen her. There was nothing to be found. Despite her screams, the forest around them was eerily still, no snakes in the grass (or anything else besides). Still, with every passing second the dead branches seemed to vibrate against her keening, the forest bending to her echoes. Gil was filled with a sense of dark portent. The longer Hornet wailed, the further her woes reverberated, and it wouldn't be long until Ünterland sent something in answer. He had to get them out from the open. He had to get them hidden.
Her carapace was tough and her limbs were stiff but she was still pliant and Gil hooked his arms beneath hers and pulled; Hornet didn't resist but she didn't follow either, just curling into her despair. Gil awkwardly arranged himself around her wings and the spikier parts of her chitin as he dragged and cajoled and coaxed - hyper-aware of his surroundings now as the screams still echoed, he spotted the entrance to a burrow beneath the dead trees, and this was the best he could do under the circumstances. Steadily but with no small amount of difficulty he hauled himself and his charge toward it, first guiding Hornet down before following her below the earth.
The burrow was abandoned but oddly welcoming, not big enough to avoid stooping but the smell of soil was strangely comforting and the earth kept heat in; Gil expected it to be colder, wetter, but instead it was mildly comfortable and the floor had been dug into a dry, sandy layer that felt like...felt like the Bristol coast. Gil was perturbed to be reminded of something so homely and nostalgic in this nightmare realm.
Hornet's wailing had descended into wracking sobs and she was curled into herself in the corner, knees brought to her chest and arms wrapped and locked around her legs. Even her wings seems to curl around her waist, translucent and iridescent still, despite the muted light of the burrow. She seemed rooted to the dirt, and as Gil shuffled forward to sit beside her and laid his hand on hers in condolence, her sobs became quiet weeping, became still-faced and silent catatonia, before she finally seemed to slip into unconsciousness. With his hand resting atop hers, Gil slowly but surely followed her to slumber.
- - -
When he woke, Hornet was no longer curled in the corner, but up and pacing. Her soft footsteps thudded gently in the sandy earth beneath them and her arms were crossed; every so often she'd push a hand in front of her and flex the fingers, turning it over in the air, studying it. Maybe her neck would reflexively twitch to look behind her as a wing quivered, and she'd bring a hand to smooth it, gentle curiosity guiding her to run her palm along the length of the opalescent webbing. Maybe an antenna would tremble, and she'd bring a hand to touch where it sprouted from her forehead before following the appendage up, deftly held between two fingers. Each time, she'd pause to examine herself, before shivering and her arms once again tucked beneath themselves as she resumed pacing. There was something different about her; the mannerisms had changed, the gait wasn't quite the same. Gil rubbed his eyes and sat up straight.
"Hornet?"
She froze mid-step once again and Gil braced for the wailing to resume; there were a few long seconds and then she turned her head toward him, regarding him with eyes that registered him simultaneously as both cautious companion and utter stranger. Finally, she parted her lips and spoke.
“Abelle. Not Hornet. My name is Abelle.”
Gil didn't say anything.
"I'm sorry. This must be confusing. Trust me, I'm..." she paused, trailing off as she looked at her own hands again, tracing a single finger over the ridged chitin that coated her hand. "I'm confused as well. I feel as if I've woken from a long sleep; but I don't appear to have escaped my nightmare. At least not...unscathed."
She looked back to Gil, who had only raised an eyebrow in response to the shift in Hornet's - Abelle's - demeanor. Her mandibles clicked quietly and her mouth curled into an approximation of a sympathetic smile.
"I suppose we should start with the basics. What year is it?"
It took Gil a moment to respond; Abelle waited patiently as he cleared his throat and took a breath to answer.
"20...2028."
Abelle's eyes widened, and her wings fluttered, and her antenna twitched; but they were the only indicators of surprise.
"Nearly 50 years. So much must have changed; yet PRCU still stands? Yakob and Jonas really did it..."
She trailed off, lost in now-returned memories. Gil frowned.
"PRCU's dead in the water. Attacked and mis-managed into oblivion. And Kowalski and Lehrer? A dead terrorist and just plain dead, respectively. You missed it. Sorry."
Abelle drew a long breath, standing still and looking Gil hard in the eye. It was an unusual display of vitriol from him, and he considered for a moment he might have some unresolved feelings about the academy.
"A lot happens in 50 years. But I am here; I am alive; I am awake. That has to count for something."
"Where has this come from? Where have you come from?" Gil asked, and then realized he sounded accusatory. He backtracked. "I mean...you froze up, had a breakdown, and now you're...you're someone else. You don't move the same, you don't talk the same. Is this- is this you, before all of..." he gestured with his hand up and down Abelle's figure. "Before all that happened to you?"
Abelle paused, letting Gil sweat a bit as she waited to answer his indelicately-phrased question.
"In a word; yes. A long, long time ago, I was...'normal'. As normal as any of our kind are, anyway. It's all...bits and pieces, even now. But I changed. Gradually, gradually, then all at once. The more I changed, the less of me there was, until I went to sleep and only the insect was left. All those decades...flashes, at best. Trying to remember is like trying to hold on to a dream. Slipping through my fingers..." she faded out, succumbing to melancholy in her reminiscence. She looked from her hands to Gil. "But since being here, in this place - the fog began to lift. I can't explain it."
"I can." Gil said, his face hardening as he connected the dots. "Ellara - our guide - she made it clear we couldn't rely on our abilities here like we do back home. Something about this place - this realm - blocks them. Switches off the biology responsible." He met her eyes, and watched with sadness the spark of realization cross her expression.
"So I'm reverting because I'm here - and if I leave..."
"You- you go back to sleep, and the insect wakes back up."
"I...I'm not even Hornet on Earth. I'm just...insect and instinct. Dangerous. Mindless.." Her voice was small and despondent. Gil interjected, holding out his hand to comfort her.
"Technology - it's come a long way. A long way. HELP never stopped researching, innovating. There are inhibitors now - personal, wearable ones. Hell, they're probably hiding some genetic engineering, even an outright cure. Ways you could come back and stay you-"
"No." Abelle said, taking Gil's hand in both of her own as she smiled sadly at him. "Thank you, and I understand the impulse, but no. Jonas was right; being Hyperhuman isn't something to be inhibited, isn't something that needs curing. If HELP do develop a cure, I'd hope they'd have the good sense - the decency - to destroy it, rather than let something so ghastly see the light of day. Self-destructive it may be, but I believed in Jonas, believed in his cause and his vision; I can't betray his memory like that. I don't need curing. This is just the way I am; the beautiful and the terrible. All of it."
"Then what will you do?"
Abelle sighed.
"I don't know." She said, matter-of-factly. Gil almost laughed but stopped himself, and they shared a smile instead. "But it doesn't matter. I will decide when I need to."