Tenish the Mighty

The Spirits Within

Even with cutscene power to the max, Remi is still not having a very successful day. I'll leave it up to you Prisk as to how Sam handles the end of my last post. I figure he's got a counter in his bag of supercharged plot tricks.

And I do hope you don't close the RP as well. I'm still certainly enjoying it, and just the fact that it exists to come back to makes some of my bad days less bad.

The Spirits Within

---

Sound and Fury

The Messron-220 Close Kill Projectile was a curious oddity of engineering. 10cm of machined steel and molded plastic that when taken together produced a small crescent blade attached to an ergonomically designed grip that fit comfortably within the palm of the average Oakridge Guardian's hand. It was not an ideal weapon for hand-to-hand combat, nor was it particularly well designed as a utilitarian tool. The CKP was designed for one purpose and one purpose only, precise, singular deployment of the weapon by throwing to maim, distract, or, as the name suggested, kill.

Too small and slight for use by mundane soldiery, too large to be deployed in large quantity, spiritually augmented individuals were the only ones capable of using the curious device to any great effect, and even then it had never proven to be a great enough asset to achieve any sort of ubiquity. Nevertheless, there were a few amongst Oakridge's WARG operatives that found some function in the academies remaining stores of the discontinued product. Most of these were trained specialists, who valued the weapon as an easily concealed kill vehicle able to be deployed at some range. In the hands of such specialists, the CKP could be propelled with enough force to puncture all but the most dense and ungainly of personal body armor used in any of the various city-states of Cetra and beyond. as well as achieving enough accuracy as to precisely hit vital hit locations on a moving target, in some cases without line of sight. As such the weapon was occasionally perceived as a tool for assassins, having been used on more than one occasion in an attempt on the life of high-profile targets of interest.

Remiel was not a specialist in the CKP, his career track did not include courses on the proper handling and deployment of the weapon. His education in it's application had been more personally. One of the many optionally training programs he had undertaken at the academy in his off time. He had achieve a class-C proficiency classification in it's use. The highest attained by a non-specialist. He carried a single CKP on his person as part of his elective kit allotment. He continued this trend before his WARG deployment.

Nestled within his palm, the CKP had felt smooth and cold, still retaining the chill of the refrigerated erstwhile prison. His body had coiled as the muscle memory of ten thousand practice throws took sovereignty over his body. Nearly every part of his body tensing and laxing together in a synchronized, holistic union of muscle and sinew, focusing all of his bodies strength together for a single purpose, multiplied by the spirits within. It had only taken an instant, his arm flexed, his torso twisted, his legs turned and locked. The CKP had left his hand moving at 216.1 meters per second.

The CKP had moved five meters since. It had passed between the heads of Remi's teammates, mere centimeters from Maggie's jawline, mere millimeters from Roy's nose. Now only 8 centimeters from slicing into the arteries and tendons of Samuel's neck. Sam moved. The blade sailed past. It struck and ricocheted ineffectually from the displacement device with a pathetic ping. Before most anyone could rationalize the event, Remi's body coiled again. This time turning his energy into launching himself. Vaulting over the heads of the group from his place at the back, Remi rotated his body around, turning all of force again into a single point, the heel of right foot, as he brought it down in his decent in an axe kick. There was 1378 kg of force in the heel of Remi's right foot. It was 7 centimeters from the top of Sam's skull. Sam moved. Remi's heel struck the floor of the catwalk. Metal plating twisted and dent, the cat walk tremored.

Remi's body coiled. He rotated himself around the heel pressed into the floor, drawing his body into the spin, his other leg up to his chest, his back to Sam. Throwing all of his power into his other leg he lashed out at Sam's abdomen. 2408 kg of force in the blade of Remi's left foot. Sam didn't move. The force of the blow hurled Sam back several paces before his feet planted and he caught the railing. Remi's body coiled. Sam move. Remi coiled. Again and again in moments that spanned the breadth of a heartbeat. A flurry of scything limbs and blurred bodies.

Remi lashed out with greater power and speed than he had ever mustered before. His place as the second-ranked hand-to-hand combatant at Oakridge seemed inadequate. Remiel knew with crystal certainty that there was no one he'd ever known that could best him in this moment, and though he'd yet to land a blow, even mighty Samuel could do naught but flag and retire in the face of his onslaught. Each strike came closer, each step constricted Sam's area of maneuver smaller. Remi coiled. Sam moved. Remi fell.

It wasn't much, a glance of the hand against Remi's shoulder, a shift in focus. All of Remi's force turned against itself. His balance forfeit, Remi fell unceremoniously onto the catwalk, his weight and momentum focusing into his shoulder that struck the metal plating with an unpleasant pop. Remi pushed back off of the plating eyes narrowing dropping into a guarded stance. Sam didn't move. He stood mere feet away, still in the same relaxed pose. Remi glared.

It was not chance. Remi would not best this simulacrum in quartered combat. That moment had passed. But he wasn't done. He had something left. Something that he knew even Sam didn't have. Remi had the hunger. He had tried to shackle it, restrain it at ever pass; ignore it's ache, smoother it's desire. He had feed it giblets through the bars of it's cage. Hoping to sate it's hunger. He had turned all of his will into a muzzle over the maw of that hunger.

Remi took the muzzle off.

The hunger devoured everything in it's path. It devoured the sounds around them. The hum of the machines. The whispers of panted breath. It devoured the sickly lights that flickered and blinked. It devoured the air and the heat. It devoured the background radiation and electromagnetism. But even now it did not do so indiscriminately. Remi had unmuzzled the hunger. But he still held the leash, and he turned it upon Sam. The hunger devoured the space between Remiel and Sam. It devoured the heartbeat time it took to reach him. It devoured the centimeters between itself and Sam.

And with phantasmal jaws gaping wider than creation, it poised to devour the lie that called itself Samuel Valentine.

The Spirits Within

Hello beautiful and delicious friends. I will be attempting to draw up another post tomorrow. I know you said it might be better to make smaller independent posts for the time being Prisk, but my intentions would probably best be discussed/executed with your assistance.

To wit, I will be lurking about the chatbox for much of tomorrow and will hopefully see you on there. I hope to see a few of the rest of you on there as well since what I have planned would probably have some immediate consequences.

P.S. I am all for the notion of a flashback RP, but seeing as my dance card is still pretty full I couldn't promise my participation.

P.P.S. More banners forever, Rockette, you will never be done satisfying my indulgent art lust.

P.P.P.S. The Very Nearly And Possibly Actually Penultimate Edition Of The Boromir Music Minute

P.P.P.P.S. Does anyone remember what the second song I used was? It looks like the link I used is dead now and I can't for the life of me remember what the song was.

P.P.P.P.P.S. I want so badly to use Bloodbuzz Ohio instead of Exile, Vilify, but I can't bring myself to use a song with references to real world locations for this little project. I find my restrictive sense of propriety most vexing.

The Spirits Within

JJ Doe said
@Tenish the Mighty: Ten! Tell us the answer to the song quiz, before you go missing again!

I will as soon as I finish, I think I've still got a couple to go before the list is complete.

Number 7 Or Whatever, I Really Need To Go Back And Look Through To See Which Songs I Have Already Used And Remember Who They Were For, I Had A List But I Cannot Seem To Find It Now, I Do Not Know, Whatever, Boromir Music Minute Edition

The Spirits Within

The Devil and the Deep

A morning, Before the Calamity

Remi remained hunched down in his seat, clutching his bag to his chest. He didn't need to look out the window to know that they had arrived. He could feel the gravel under the tires, the shift in incline. He gripped the odd contours of the bag even tighter. He was nervous. They parked. His parents got out of the car. He heard his mother come around to open his door. He wouldn't show it.

"You ready, Rem," she said softly but firmly. He smiled at her. He pushed all of his fears away. This was his moment. No one elses. The sun was fully up now. The world was alight. The world would see.

---

Cold and Dark, Empty and Full

It was cold. But the cold was a comfort. It reminded Remiel that there was something still to feel. It was dark. But the dark was soothing. He could still differentiate it from the light. The room was small. But not so much as to disallow the distance he craved now. He pressed his back against the chilled corner of the industrial freezer. He could not see his compatriots in the absence of illumination, but senses sharped by spirits and deprivation told him they were there. But Remi paid them even less mind than his surroundings.

There was warmth. His finger idly stroked Emily's sleeping forehead. He had wrapped her in the remains of his combat gear. Most had been stripped from them, but in their rush, the Nautilus soldiers had left him his roll and weathering. Even in the chilled compartment none of them were at risk of hypothermia, but he did not want to risk a change in her equilibrium. He did not know what was wrong with Emily. He did not know.

His thoughts were not on strategems now. He had no prepared tactics for their current environment. Under normal circumstances his mind would be spinning with trained response. He would be recounting all his knowledge of POW conditioning. Escape maneuvers. Anti-interrogation techniques. Non-traditional logistics planning. But none of that seemed to matter now. His world had shrunken considerably since their foray into the deep, dank, darkness. All of his preparations, all of his planning, all of his foresight evaporated in the face of the present reality. There was only her warmth. Her silence. Each breath that came so shallow and slow. He had no response to this. It was a grim irony that even now, Remiel could form no coherency when it regarded Emily Whitehall.

...But there was something he could do, wasn't there? It gnawed at the heels of this thoughts, teething at his paralyzing melancholy. There was something he could try. A gambit he could play. A card still hidden up his neatly pressed sleeve. But he feared that choice more than his seeming helplessness. He had sensed the fragment of essence that had migrated from the caudata and into Emily. His fingers traced the line of the field dressing wrapped around her chest. He could hear it slither within her, smell it within her, and as alien as it's presence was, he had sensed something like it before. Emily had not done it on purpose. She had not asked for this invasion...but Remi had. His hunger had torn out, by spiritual violence, the essence of other creatures. He had done it to the soldiers of Nautilus. He had done it to the xeno-beasts across the sea, and, at the moment of it's demise he had done it to the sewer leviathan.

But this was different. Remi's hunger consumed all. This lingered. It festered. Perhaps it was even growing stronger. Perhaps it was even trying to consume Emily. The thoughts consumed Remi at least. He was beginning to understand now, though. He was beginning to learn how to control that hunger. To portion himself. He had only taken a...nibble...of the last soldier. Could he not do so hear. Could he not turn his teeth the scalpels to cut out the foreign illness within her? Could he not consume it before it consumed her? But what if he could not stop feeding? What if he glutted himself upon her own spirit? What if the alien sickness could not be subsumed by his own hunger and just spread the infection? Remi had no strategems now.

But perhaps it was Remi's inaction which had allowed these events to come to pass in the first place. If he had acted earlier perhaps he could have saved her from...from whatever this sickness was. Too many variables. Too many unknowns. Remi was glad that no one could see the terrible mask of his features now. His body shuddered slightly under the strain. And then he was still. There was so much that Remi did not know. An infinite amount, perhaps. But one thing he did know, with ironshod surety, was that he there was nothing he would not do for her. That he would not do for any of them really. His finger idly stroked her head again. No risk of the unknown weight more than her safety.

Remi gently lifted her head from his lap, laying her down flat on the cold floor. He had laced her hands over his stomach, realizing now how funerary it made her look. But he could not bare to move her further. He squeezed her hands in his. Her warmed was solid and real. Moving one hand to cradle her neck he pressed his lips to hers. Almost a kiss. Almost resuscitation. His grip tightened on her. He breathed in...

It was not cold. It was not warm either. There was an absence of heat, perhaps a total absence, but there was no sensation either. There was no light. But there was no dark. There was simply an emptiness, so absolute that Remi felt his thoughts reeling for purchase against the void, for something, anything to hold on to. Even his name started to crumble in face of this non-reality. Something like panic, but much more subdued began to set in. The shining, crisp gears of his thoughts wound down and rusted away. All memory of motion and action and idolatry unraveled. The threads of his...her?...whoever it had been untangled and vanished. There was nothing else to say. Nothing else to do. Nothing else to think. To experience. There was...a snag. A thread caught on something. Entangled. Her. There had been a her. That meant there had been a him. That meant there had been a distinction between the two. There had been sexes. Sex. Life. Existence. Ecologies and the environments from which they spring. Climates. Weather. Wind. Rain. Physics. Forces. Reality. He was real. His name was Remi. He had a purpose. He was only a pinprick in this infinite expanse. But he had distinction. And now, with perspective, he saw the leviathan rise out of the abyss.

It was not fair to say that it had distinction. It was distinction. It cast a shadow upon the entirety of oblivion around it. It was something alien and huge. No. A distinction of size was not appropriate. It implied that there was something to distinguish beyond it. It simply was. Ever present. This was the presence. This was the sickness. But where was she? Where was Emily? He could not distinguish her. There was nothing to distinguish. Was she gone? Was she subsumed? The presence was too opaque. The shadow it cast too black. Remi was just a dot on a page, and as he was, the page turned black. She was gone. So was he. There was no force. No light. No wind. No air. No life. No reality. No-NO!

Remi gasped and recoiled from Emily's corpse. He scrambled back in the dark. The cold of the metal blisteringly hot to the touch. He struggled for reality. Suffocating. He blinked and blinked but no vision came. He breathed fast and hard but there was no air. There was...air. There was air. There was cold against his palms. There were palms. There were fingers and arms. There were limbs and creatures that varied in number and form. There was reality. Remi drew his breathing even. He listened in the darkness. He reached for Emily's corp- for her body. He could not hear her breath. He could not feel her warmth.

Something cold and wet squeezed his hand. He snapped his head back towards her body, and heard her take a long, wretched breath. In the dimness, he could just make out he form as she sat up and coughed, hacking gobs of phlegm onto the slimy ground. After a moment, the cough resolved into shudders and wretches that at first he thought were sobs.

Only when Remi pulled Emily close and held her rapidly warming body against his did he realize she was laughing.

---

Water and Wiles

Remi cut the surface. His form was excellent now. He'd been reviewing the tapes he'd made of himself. Minimal disturbance. Minimal sound. The water was clear and warm. Almost artificial to those used to the cold, iron seas of the south. Remi would have preferred those waters actually. Closer to those he'd be likely to see in an actual combat deployment. No matter. Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. He started counting. He propelled himself beneath the waves. His eyes blinking away the bubbles of his decent, seeking, searching. There. He saw the flash of the weight. Pushing further. Deeper. He felt his head almost groan as he approached seventy feet. He still wasn't accustomed to pressure differentials. He'd need to work on that. Finally he reached the bottom.

The weight. Circular, ungainly. Two hundred and twenty pounds. Hardly the most difficult weight he might need to bear on assignment. His fingers felt around the rubber mass for purchase. His body strained as he pushed off from the bottom. The weight wasn't a problem. It was the shape. Awkward to hold. Even more difficult to push through the water. Only his legs to propel him upwards. Harder without all the air in his lungs. Needed to breath. Needed to compress his chest more. He was still counting. His limbs burned. His lungs burned. Even after all his effort, his eyes still burned in the salt water. Remi broke the surface. He started making his way towards the pier. He was still counting. He would beat his time. As he approached the ladder he tried to catch a look at his watch. The laminated face blinked brightly. Four minutes and thirty-three seconds. A foot was blocking his way up the ladder.

He looked up to see Emily sitting there, dangling her legs off the pier. She wore big, round sunglasses, a wide, straw hat and a deep purple two-piece. Her pale, freckled skin betrayed how little time she spent in this kind of warm, sunny climate, but her toned stomach and svelte figure made up for it. She tapped the top of Remi's head with her foot.

"Having a good time?" She asked.

Remi blinked up at her. Panting. Backlight by the sun, she very nearly glowed. Radiant was the word.

"Oh," pant, "...uh," pant pant, "...no." He didn't think to pretend otherwise. He tilted the weight slightly as he tread water with it.

"Why not?" Emily said. "Bored, swimming all by yourself?"

Pant, "no...just...practicing..." if he wasn't already flush he might have blushed. He always felt self conscious when she was around, like he was doing something foolish. It was vexing.
He tried to change focus.

"You look nice," he said as casually as he could manage. "What are you doing?"

"Well," she said, "I was hanging out with Kim, but he went off to be with his dearly beloved. I didn't wanna third wheel. And everyone else is being adventurous, I guess, so I thought, who's probably not doing anything vacation-y on our vacation?"

She slid lithely from the pier to splash into the water next to him. It was just shallow enough for her to stand. She grinned at Remi.

"Guess who?"

Remi smiled sheepishly, rallying.

"Freddy right? That boy doesn't know how to relax." He shifted to face her, trying desperately to ignore the growing cramping in his arms and legs. He could hang on to the ladder. But then...Why did it feel like school again?

"Nope! Even he hung up his angry soldier hat today," Emily said. "Guess again. It's someone, uh, near and dear to both of us."

"Must be Roy then...strange...never thought he had a problem finding ways to unwind." Remi's grin got a little bigger, he swam a little closer.

"I haven't even seen that kid since last night," Emily said. "I can only imagine what he's got into."

Remi chuckled. There was a silence, just long enough for him to feel even more off-balance. "Well then I have no idea who you could be talking about, Emi-bear." He notably faltered with the last word, looking around nervously. Just using her pet name in public was discomfiting.

Emily drifted a little closer, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Process of elimination," she said. "It's not Freddy, or Kim, or Roy, or Olivia, or me. Who else could it be?"

Damn she was close. That never became easier to handle. Remi dopped his eyes. That just turned his gaze down to her body. Definitely not helping. He sighed and looked back up at her, his smile dissolving.

"I never know what to do at these things, Em, you know that."

"Hey, me neither," she said. "But that's okay. Let's be clueless together."

She was very close to him now. She smelled of saltwater and sea air. He imagined he did too.

He was practically using the weight as a shield now, twisting in her grasp slightly, looking around. "Em! Not here." He hissed. Nobody was around. Why would they. There were plenty of better spots. Besides the chances of anyone they knew seeing them were even slimmer. Still...

"Fine," she said. "There's a sandbar out there."

She leaned forward, across the weight, and kissed him on the lips. Before he had a chance to react, she pulled away again, turning and kicking off the the sand, swimming freestyle towards the open water.

Remi just watched her go. It wasn't until the weight dropped on his foot that he recovered. No amount of condition ever seemed to prepare him for Emily. He sighed as he felt his blood and body betray him. He was exhausted. He had only intended to make one more dive after the last, yet somehow he suddenly found himself with plenty of energy to follow her. He left the weight and swam after her.

But maybe he'd get to have a good time on this trip after all.

The Spirits Within

Well, actually, I should qualify my return with something more than some trite verse.

I ended up disappearing because I kept putting off posting until I had good news...which never arrived. In fact, it still hasn't.

Unfortunately my schedule is such now that I haven't the free time to post as I'd want, or really as often I would need to in order to adhere to the posting guidelines.

I'll still be around, and I won't just drop off completely, but I cannot promise to post even weekly.

Instead, if at all possible, I'd like to hang around and participate as I can, while giving others more freedom to post as Remi if that is agreeable.

I'll still try to post when I can, as well as intend to return in full should my schedule allow it in the future, but that's the short and skinny of my situation.

Apologies.

The Spirits Within

The Morning Star

Before he fell into the deep,
With all the things that crawl and creep,
There was a heart which fluttered and beat,
And knew certain things to be true.

Do not sing dirge and settle the pall,
For there is fact that seems forgot by all,
That there was a time before the fall,
Remember that he also flew.

For 'tis light alongside every dark,
Though the distinction be blurred or stark,
I tell you these words are more than lark,
Please heed them, whenever you do.

The moon does wax as well as wane,
The wind ignites as well as smothers flame,
Time brings every all there and back again,
And one day return it to you.

So...what's up?

The Spirits Within

Sorry for the lack of posting on my part, I was planning on getting it up this weekend but life intervened. I hope to have it up before mid-week now, fate permitting and...hold on...

...Rockette....Rockette....the Smiths AND Edna Mothereffing St. Vincent Millay?

...you are some sort of rockstar goddess...

...anyway, I finally got the outpad to work on my silly tablet, don't know what was up there and I made a pad for Remi and Mags, link in the PMs.

That's about it for now, more forthcoming.

P.S.The Not Boromir Music Minute I Just Heard This On The Playlist I Had Going During My Long Drive And Can't Stop Listening To It Now Edition

The Spirits Within

Alright chickadee's, your prodigal son has returned.

So what did I miss...

*mumbling to himself as he reads*

...Lucy has a stupid, stupid premise...everybody loves Guardians...spirit world #4...foam party...huh...

Aw...I missed the philosophical naval gazing about the nature of sentience and the parsing of human thought?! Jip!

Ah well.

At least it looks like you've all had some fun without me anyways.

Now lets see the IC.

...not much...people being all stabby...OHGAWDDAMMITPRISK!!!

Prisk! Prisk you ruined everything! I was totally going to have Remi steal the bosses blue magics and then blue magic it before it could blue magic the team. Darn it. Was finally going to get to Blue Mage and now I can't Blue Mage. You're blue balling my blue mage Prisk. Think about what you've done.

Blue Mage.

*sigh* Ah well. C'est la vie. Now Remi will just have to stab at it, I suppose Remi will just have to try and stab at it now.

Oh, speaking of which, Rockette we should do that collab soon. Finally got to the boss fight to do it.

Hmm...what else...oh!

Ex, whenever you get around to posting, if you are going to do anything with Emily waking up back at the vanguard camp, you should have her wake up with a scratchy wool blanket on her and water canteen nearby, I was going to have Remi try to cover her and leave his canteen. I figure he knows the emotional exhaustion that comes with that kind of psychological shake up and the loss of fluids that fellows the fever dreams they bring. But I figured you'd be posting before I do so if that's all kosher I just wanted to give you a heads up.

I suppose that's about all the updating I have to do now. I'm going to go collapse for a bit. An 18 hour drive after a few days of carrying heavy furniture up and down hilariously small stairs is also exhausting.

P.S. The Boromir Music Minute Some Number, Probably Getting Close To The End. I Need To Remember Which One's I Have Posted. Oh Well, I Suppose I Will Just Have To Look Back Through The OOC. Crap. This Is Still In The Link Title. Crap. That Is Going To Be Way Too Long. Stop Typing You Idiot!

The Spirits Within

Well, while we are on the subject of cooking...

Remi Fact: Remi learned to cook working part of his childhood summers in the kitchen of his mother's restaurant. He hated missing out on some of the play during those lazy summer days, but he did gain an appreciation for the art of cooking.

Until the boat ride to Norton City, few of Remi's friends were probably aware of this talent. Like most of Remi's secrets, this is less a matter of intention and more the fact that Remiel never thought to display this fact or have any sort of pride in it.

...but now I feel like Kim should have known. He invited Remi over to his house and then Remi and Michaela got into a fierce cooking battle, forcing Kim and the rest of his siblings to eat and judge their various creations, clearing out the Appleberry/Faye pantry and nearly killing the others with burst stomachs.

Food would've been good though.

Anyway, leaving tomorrow morning on a trip, so I won't be around for a couple days, most like.

Try not to be completely lost without me.

P.S. Boromir Music Minute Number Something!