|
Post by Guinevere on Jan 24, 2012 4:56:20 GMT -5
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0vlwHoHHfasYou seem to be avoiding the point Oliver, and I kan understand why. It is a painful realization, and it would not help to diskuss it with someone you hate. But our regrettable past has made you forget that I understand your pain better than anyone here. I know what it's like when the one you love has feelings for another. ::Her fingers itched for the phoenix pendant around her neck that hung from its silver chain as garish as an ugly scar, but she kept her hands trained at her side:: And I know what it's like to know in your heart of hearts that perhaps they're better off that way.
|
|
|
Post by Oliver on Jan 24, 2012 5:10:52 GMT -5
“Ye don’t know me, don’t make me spit bi’e in my t’roat t’inking ye do.” His shoulder’s were trembling slightly, the cold in the air begun to sting through his clothes and fur as shivers trickled down his spine. “W’at ever I may ‘ave saw down t’ere doesn’t concern ye, or anyone ‘cause it was just s’adows. Figments in t’e mist playin’ trick on t’e eyes. Twisted ‘ittle tricks, a ‘ittle like ye, I reckon. Bet if I cou’d get a snaps’ot of ya ‘eart, probab’y look much ‘ike t’is land. Dark, cold, an’ twisted.”
Nearby, a flurry of heckling erupts from a pack of Blight Hides, left over from the Order’s operations and weren’t unfortunate enough to be caught up in the Sanctuary’s collapse. They now roam the countryside as feral hunters, preying upon the lesser creatures that inhabit this land. They were a little ways off, likely just finding some game to hunt.
“T’e local’s are gettin’ restless, Witch. Don’t ye ‘ave somet’ing to do back at t’e ship or did ye just find time to come out h’ere to tell me 'ow I’m 'feel’in'?”
|
|
|
Post by Guinevere on Jan 24, 2012 5:32:30 GMT -5
And the way she looks at him, and how she's been having dreams about him since before they met, are those just "figments" as well? Tell me, has she aged at all since the day she found you in Lindblum? You've known one another for over ten years now. She's even borne a child in that time, yet she still looks like she's seventeen. You in the meantime are aging as you should. Or is that just another shadow to you?
::It was enough to make anyone's blood boil the way she was so calm, so superior in all of this in the way she spoke and held herself, the way she seemed to stare down her nose at him. Another reason for him to hate her; she was blue blooded through and through::
I have tried to be delikate Oliver, but you are making this very hard on yourself and her so I'll say it straight-forward. You don't belong in her world. Never mind that she is a princess, raised by a woman of high birth and well edukated, and you're... well, not. Put all of that aside and konsider this. What kind of future would she have with you? The Internal Affairs of Lindblum, and Trikeutikal are after the both of you bekause of a fight she never would have taken part in had it not been for you. Always running and hiding, partly bekause you lakk the sense to keep your head down and have to go looking for a fight. You're a fighter Oliver, you'll always be one, but she is a pacifist. And even without that, you'd be kondeming her to a life of watching you grow old and die while she remained young. And what would she do then?
::She unfolded her arms and stepped around him, her gaze reminding him of a tigress leering at prey, considering it::
Not enough? Alright then konsider this. Did you know that certain species have defense mekhanisms to protekt them from extinktion? The frog for example; when it bekomes impossible to find a mate, the frog kan reproduce a-sexually. And it's no sekret the Dragons have been skarce in Gaia for some time now. It's why they are in one another's dreams. They are being pulled together. He feels it, she feels it, but she's fighting it for your sake. Rejekting a future with him where she would be safe and sekure with someone like her. Someone who kan understand her in a way that you will never be able to. And bekause of that, she will always feel that longing for him, never fulfilled. She will always feel like a piece of herself is missing. Now I kannot deny that what she feels for you is real.
::There was a way she said that last about his feelings for Iole that made him trust her at least that far. This was probably the most honest he had ever seen her, or likely would again. There was no mask, no fancy dance of painted up words, no holding back. She was doing something very out of character for her; she was talking to him in the most straightforward language she could summon::
But neither kan you deny what she feels for him. It's only bekome stronger since they met.
|
|
|
Post by Oliver on Jan 25, 2012 3:20:27 GMT -5
“Ye ‘ave it all figured out, doncha?” Oliver gave a sigh, glanced up to the bleak sky, then turned to face Gwen. He flicked the bits of mist from his hair and wiped his eyes clear. “I’m a fig’ter, ye said so yeself. So I’ll fig’t for her an a life toget’er.” He folded his arms, “I risked it a’l against t’is sea to have a better life wit’ her, she’s my treasure an I’ll be damn if I won’t fig’t for her.” He looked away, gazing off at the landscape. “I know w’at s’e is an w’at Stefan’s appearance is doin’ to her. It’s instinct, somet’ing I’m very familiar wit’,”He slide his hand up his chest to clasp the little vial on a string that had just a splash of Iole’s blood – the thing that drove him into a protective rage. “But I overcame it, s’e can too. S’e’s strong and I know s’e loves me, but t’is has got her all mixed up in t’e head. I realized t’is down in t’e canyon – tis w’y I’m not a’l t’at mad. Hurt, yes, but… not mad.” He sighed and gingerly stepped back towards Gwen.
Scuttling sounds scampers near, passing beyond the mist’s veil as Oliver retrieves the rope he threw to Gwen. “Oh, an ya, I’m well aware I’ll die long before s’e will, but t’at doesn’t bot’er me as much as ye may t’ink it does. It’s comforting to know t’at, least w’en I die, I’ll be surrounded by family an’ friends and most important’y I won’t live long enoug’ to s’e Iole pass. Way it s’ould be.” He turned and walked towards Gwen, little satisfied smile upon his lips. “Unlike some peop’e I know.” He chuckled, then continued past Gwen, giving her a dismissive wave. “Oh!” Calling back, “An w’en I’m dead an’ gone, s’e has my permission to find anot’er, hell even Stefan, long as I know s’e’ll be happy.”
|
|
|
Post by Guinevere on Jan 25, 2012 3:41:44 GMT -5
::At this Gwen narrowed her eyes::
So you're kontent to force her to watch you dekay into nothing, letting a piece of her heart krumble away with you bekause you know that you won't be left alone. You won't be around to feel the heartakhe, the loss, the empty years stretching forever and beyond in front of you. No that would be fine. Especially since she has... how did you put it again? Your permission to find another, as though you were handing off a dinner plate of sloppy sekonds that you were finished with.
::She drew her face very close to his, close enough so that he could not only feel her breath in his ear as she whispered dangerously, but count every long curled eyelash she had::
You're more of a monster than I thought. And you've made it very klear I'm the authority here on monsters. And you know what else? I wonder if, when your father left your mother with a squalling baby to struggle in that gutter while he left to die his miserable death in this god forsaken wasteland, if he komforted himself in a similar way.
::She backed away and started heading back to the crash site. As she left, she reached into the folds of her skirt and pulled a long black article out of nowhere, letting the wind catch it and wave it like the veil of a dancer before casually tossing it to the ground::
A skarf for you darling. It would seem I'm not the only one made of ice.
|
|
|
Post by Oliver on Jan 25, 2012 4:00:05 GMT -5
Oliver returned a narrow eye to Gwen's accusations. "Evert’ing passes, it’s w’at we make of it in the mean time t’at matters. I can’t give ‘er suns’ine an’ rainbows all t’e time – t’at’s life, plain an’ simp’e. Doubt Stafan cou’d do any better eit’er. W’at’s t’at sayin’, ‘better to ‘ave love an’ lost then to never ‘ave loved at a’l’. Oh let me rephrase w’at I said before, I hope s’e will find anot’er w’en I’m gone. ‘Permission’ was a strong word.”
The Gwen hit the magic cord inside Oliver, brought up phantoms of the past. Those things which any amount of strength he couldn’t hold the tide back from. The burning inside him sparked and he struck out at Gwen, lunging at her from behind. His arm hooking around her neck and slammed her down into one of the polluted puddles of mud. He went and snapped up the scarf she had threw to him and returned back to the muddy woman.
“Ye never speak of me mum or dad, never. I don't care w'at ye say to or ca'l me, but never let any reference of them pass ye lips again. Now clean yeself up.” He threw the scarf down atop Gwen.
|
|
|
Post by Guinevere on Jan 25, 2012 4:22:53 GMT -5
::The witch laughed as Oliver stalked away from her. It was low at first, but before he could wonder what a woman who had just been knocked face first into the mud had to laugh about he noticed that his steps were not as resolute as he'd wanted them to be. His knees began to tremble and then lose their feeling altogether. They fell out from under him, letting him tumble to the ground as though they were stuffed with sand. With a dizzying sensation swimming through his head he was vaguely aware of her standing over him. He'd forgotten what physical contact with the sorceress, even a brush could do to a person. Was he imagining it, or were her predatory eyes glowing like a wolf's eyes did when they caught the light. She stooped down and pressed her fingertip under his chin to tilt his gaze up to her. The way the dirt covered her face and flaked into her long serpentine hair made her look wild and feral, a side of her that was new and frightening. She flourished her fingers in front of him where razor sharp hooked claws had sprouted. Feeling one breaking the skin under his chin made him sure he wasn't imagining that. But despite her smile, her hand was trembling::
You know what the hardest part of this is? Now that I kan smell your blood, it's taking all my restraint not to klaw you to pieces. Your energy is one of the most volatile I have ever tasted. Your bloodlust is a bakklash I kould do without. You're to be kommended for keeping it kontained as well as you do. I'm trying to ignore the fakt that I kould do it. Tear you apart and blame it on some kind of beast. You and I know good and well you would do the same to me if given your chance. We know that both our lives would be far less... komplikated without the other.
::She dug the claw under his chin deeper into his flesh. He knew that simple touch was keeping him drained, because he could barely feel the pain, and any kind of movement was like trying to make a firm grip with frostbitten fingers::
I hold your life in my hands right now Son of the Betrayer. You're just like me you know. You poison and damage everything you touch, especially when it is out of love.
::She leered at him a moment longer before letting his head fall back down. His teeth banged together when his chin hit the ground. He could hear her footsteps as she left him lying there, hear the rustle of fabric as she used the scarf to wipe the mud away::
The next time you feel the urge to take your problems out on me, I want you to remember this night that I kould have killed you. Kould have, even wanted to, but I gave it bakk to you. Me who you deem a monster spared your life when you kould not truthfully say you would do the same.
::Then she was gone. When he could no longer hear or see her, he felt strong enough to get back up. No doubt she'd done that on purpose. She wasn't foolish enough to risk a second round with him::
|
|
|
Post by Iole on Jan 25, 2012 5:28:17 GMT -5
::Iole pulled away from Stefan, her eyes wide and her breathing short::
Wait, we can't be doing this. Oh Gods what's wrong with us. What's wrong with you!
::She slugged him in the shoulder. He rubbed it resentfully::
Stefan: To be fair, you kissed me first.
No I didn't!
::He raised an eyebrow at her::
Oh Gods I did. We cannot tell Oliver about this. He cannot find out.
Stefan: Iole, it was only a kiss. There is only damage if you felt the same way I did... Do you?
No. Absolutely not.
::But her words were just that. Empty words. She could not force the weight she wanted into that declaration no matter how many times she said it. And for some reason she couldn't fathom she found she didn't want to say it again::
Stefan: You're lying.
::She cupped her hands over her mouth trying to collect her thoughts. It took a few deep breaths but she was finally able to look at him again::
Look Stefan, I don't know what this is,
::She pointed with her finger to herself and him::
But until I figure it out--
Stefan: I think you know exactly what it is. You feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Look me in the eye and tell me it's a lie.
::It should have been so easy to tell him it was. To rid herself once and for all of the advances of this dark prince whose existence seemed bent on destroying every good thing she had. He was insufferable, the refined way he talked, the confidence with which he carried himself, and most of all that mild mannered way he had about it all so as to make it impossible to despise him outright. So why was she just staring back into his glistening yellow eyes::
Stefan: Iole listen. This may be my only chance to tell you how I feel. You've already given me so much and you don't even realize it. This is the first time I've ever been outside Doma without my father or any attendants. Before you came along I was fine with being "the back-up system". My father would tell me that things were a certain way and that was the end of it. I never questioned anything. Never challenged it. Hell I welcomed it. It was easy, manageable. Then you came along and you... I don't know you force me to think. To feel. Things are so much harder now, but you know what? I love you for it. You've given me freedom. When I'm with you I feel real. You make me sure that I am who I am. That I'm not just his son or his clone. I am my own man because of you.
::He placed a hand carefully on her. It was gentle, like he held his heart in her hand instead of her shoulder::
Stefan: Iole, I love you. And because I love you I will not force you to answer right now. But I do want you to at least consider it. I can't promise you much that you don't already have. But I can promise to love, honor, and cherish you like a queen. And if I can't be you King right now, I'm content for the moment to simply be your Knight.
::She looked away again. She was grateful he was giving her time, but she wondered just how much she needed. A year might not be enough. A hundred years might not be enough. And Stefan was likely to wait those hundred years. But for now all she could say was::
Don't tell Oliver about what happened tonight.
Stefan: Oliver is a man I respect greatly. I don't think this is something I can--
What's more important to you? Your respect for Oliver or your love for me?
::He frowned at her::
Stefan: That's hardly fair.
Deal with it. You know how much I hate to lose.
|
|
|
Post by Oliver on Jan 28, 2012 21:28:45 GMT -5
Oliver clawed at the dirt as tried to stand, gasping for air, the feeling as if his very soul had been thrown into a blender, tossed around then spit back into his chest. It was intense and terrible all the same. How foolish, he thought, he should of known better then to touch her. He let his anger get the better of him once again and he paid the price for it – least Iole and the others weren’t here to see it. He scrambled back to his feet, still reeling from the experience.
Once on his feet, wiping the mud from his clothes and collecting his things, he begun a slow walk back to the ship. An orchestra of creature sounds accompany him along the way, as if mocking him. The slow walk was sullen, his tail held close like a scolded dog and ears flat. He’d be fuming if his pride wasn’t shattered. So much weight laid upon his shoulders now, he felt crushed. First Iole and Stefan (which now begun to hit him harder since his run in with Gwen), and of course Gwen’s threats. The more he walked, each step, he got angrier and angrier at her. What right does she have to hold his fate in her hand – worthless witch. There, she shown her true colors, she was dangerous. She had baited him, taunted him and when he lost control she put his throat on the chopping block to garner a position of power against him. He spat with venom. He’ll find a way to get back her and keep her vileness and influence away from Iole. He didn’t need to see it to know she has been playing a role in putting her and Stefan closer and closer.
After a few hundred meters, the heckling of the Blight Hides and whatever lay in the mist suddenly went dead silent. Oliver stopped, something was amiss. Then came the rattling of rifle fire and Oliver hit the mud quick and flat. Several quick bursts, the yelping of creatures and the padding of paws scattering in mud. Chatter – people, piercing the fog. He slowly rose, combs at the ready, watching where the voices came from. He could hear their boots sloshing in the mud, getting closer. He remained low, though no cover, he blended well into the mist and dirt. There, several dark shadows emerge, clearly people by the profiles. He readied his weapon, waiting to strike them first if they appeared to be threats. A few more meters and it became clear who they were – patches on their arms were from ISRA. There were six of them, five appeared to be soldiers wearing heavy protective gear and carrying assault rifles, they looked almost robotic with their masks and protective suits. The sixth was unarmed and wearing a yellow environmental suit, his head was completely visible, likely a scientist or researcher. Oliver called to them, asking them to identify themselves before they could clearly see him. They identified themselves, as to what Oliver had expected, then the one in yellow spoke.
“I’m Doctor Asimov, we’re from the Cleyra station. Are you from the vessel we picked up before the Emission? We’re here to get you out.”
Oliver emerged from the fog, hands open to show no ill-intent (though he kept the combs flat in his palm. “Ya, s’ip is up a’ead. But we’re fine, don’t need any ‘elp.”
“Sorry but under article 153.b of the ISRA code of Health and Safety, you, your crew and your ship are to detained for decontamination. Please, don’t resist.”
The soldiers readied their weapons; Oliver sighed, not wanting to cause any further incidents and gestured that they should follow.
|
|
|
Post by Guinevere on Jan 30, 2012 3:10:14 GMT -5
::Guinevere wound her way through the rocky path as she had before back to their campground, pulling the remaining bits of dried clay from her hair. She stared down at her pale hand which still twitched eagerly for action tipped with claws that had not been there before. This rebound was one she was not comfortable with, and yet she relished in it. Such had been the way of using her powers ever since the night on the Variola. They still had the desired effect, but there was always a rebound. Something negative within the individual she touched would always resonate with her for a time. With Gideon it had been his unusual stamina that had sent her body into convulsions. With Oliver it had been that instinctual craving for blood. But she couldn't blame all of her actions on others. She suppressed a lump forming in her throat at the thought of Oliver face down in the dirt forced to the lowliest state she had ever seen him. That look in his eyes; the look of someone who was losing what they loved most burned her more than anything else. She knew that look because it had once filled her eyes, and she had lost everything because of it. And now she was forcing that pain onto another::
I will burn in hell for this.
::She thought. The deepest of Shin's fiery pits would not suffice as punishment for the things she had done::
But I've known that already. This is going to kost me everything, but I will do what has to be done. This is the only hope Gaia has.
::She straightened her features and returned to camp. By the time she made her way back, the effects of the spell she had used on Oliver had worn off, and she was once again able to conceal everything she felt and had done behind her porcelain white mask. She was able to look the others in the eye and not feel a thing::
|
|
|
Post by Oliver on Feb 10, 2012 3:55:16 GMT -5
Oliver would have to hand it to Gwen, despite his seething hate for the woman, she – at times, did prove useful. As Oliver and his impromptu companions returned to the site of the crash, it was eerily quiet. The fog was still and there was absolutely no sign of life anywhere near or from inside the Black Jack. For all intensive purposes, the crash site appeared deserted. Two of the scientist’s guards went patrolling the perimeter while Doctor Asimov and another guard stayed with Oliver.
“Your crew, where are they?” Asimov demanded as he begun a scan with a complex looking handheld device that made an annoying clicking sound as it moved around. Oliver feigned concern, “I… I dunno. Some were going into the city looking for help. But… the rest should be here.” He lied, and forced a frantically concerned tone.
“The city? Dear gods – Simo, radio the Bravo squad, tell them to break from their normal patrol and scout the city. We have a containment breach. Notify Clerya next, have them monitor for GL activity. We could have a class 3 event starting.”
The soldier beside the doctor acknowledges and turns as he begins a transmission into a radio headpiece. One less problem to worry about, Oliver thought, now to get rid of this lot – though the doctor’s concern was rather unsettling. His words were Greek but any layman could tell that, whatever he was saying, he was nervous.
“Class… 3? GL?” Oliver curiously asked, trying to wrap his head around what that could possibly mean. Asimov explained, “The ‘Genius Loci’, unknown phenomenon that we believed to be the heart of the Creep. Class 3 – direct contact with the Genius. Put simply, we don’t know what could happen but past close encounters have never ended well.”
Oliver swallowed hard, whatever reason Ren wanted to go into Burmecia, it was now beginning to sound like a terrible, terrible trap. This, he smugly mused to himself, is why people need to listen to him once and a while.
|
|
|
Post by Kerion on Feb 10, 2012 13:46:34 GMT -5
::Inside the ship.::
::Anya looks up as the intruder indicator goes off. She switches one of the monitors to the outside feed, seeing Oliver and a group fallowing him.::
Anya: HAL, prepare the autoguns. Don't fire unless they don't listen.
HAL: Acknowledged.
::As they got closer to the ship, panels on the hull opened as auto guns came out. A robotic voice is then heard as a wave of red light passes them.::
Scanning... Scanning... One identified as designation Oliver. Others unknown, but scan indicates weapons present. Identify and drop your weapons or I will open fire. You have until the count of 3. 1.
::The guns take aim.::
2.
|
|
|
Post by Guinevere on Feb 10, 2012 19:56:38 GMT -5
::Anya felt a cold hand clap over her mouth::
They kan't see us.
::She hissed, reaching for the switch that powered down HAL's weapon system::
Or hear us. And as long as you don't do anything stupid like fire automatik weaponry at them, that won't change. This requires a little more precision.
::She pointed with a pale finger at Asimov::
That one radioed another squadron in the city. At this point it would be very dangerous to go looking for The others in the city on our own. But if we kould trakk their associate's movements we kould head them off and reach Kerion before they do and be long gone. If we were to get their leader's radio, kould you akkomplish something like that?
|
|
|
Post by Kerion on Feb 11, 2012 0:29:09 GMT -5
Anya: Before trying that, I could try and hack their radio's. ::After she types in a few commands, an error message is shown:: Rats. System's encrypted, it would take forever to crack even by my standards. Looks like we need to go with your plan and get that guy's radio. But it's odd, I can't raise Kerion on his PHS. The communications are back online, but he hasn't answered any replies.
|
|
|
Post by Guinevere on Feb 12, 2012 2:33:54 GMT -5
Then we have to move quikkly.
::Outside the glamored campground one of Asimov's subordinates ran his scanner over what was the very edge of Gwen's spell. His sensor began to click when suddenly a pale hand shot out of thin air. It pulled him through forcefully before he even had a chance to shout his surprise. On the other side of the glamor he fell fast asleep::
|
|
|
Post by Kerion on Feb 12, 2012 4:20:45 GMT -5
::After making sure their captive was knocked out, Anya took the radio he had. She pulled out a small wrist-size compact computer she brought and placed on and attached a cord from it to the radio. The screen kicked on with a grey tinted overhead view of Burmecia. A group of red dots on the screen, not only infront of the Blackjack, but in the city as well.::
Anya: Tapped in. We now know their locations.
|
|