driftfleet | mingle post? mingle post. MINGLE POST!!

[ She doesn't let him go far. As soon as he tries to get up again, she pounces on him quickly, pinning him under her by kneeling on his chest, and immediately she starts pummeling him with punches, still using Darkness to hit him harder than she should physically be able to.. ]

[so much for his perfectly-painted face. he doesn't give up, not for a second--still trying to land a hit or wriggle away at every open opportunity--but his determination only gets him so far before things start cracking. he could stay dogged and angry forever, but his human parts can't keep up forever.

so he'll pretty much be there until he literally can't move anymore.]

[ He definitely lands a few blows that she feels bruises and soreness setting in, but she doesn't quite stop until he stops moving. Then she deactivates Darkness and panting to catch her breath, finally gets off of him to let him up. ]

[he hasn't been beat up this bad since he was little. ah, well--maybe that time he fell off a roof. it was ten stories up, or something. he had a concussion. that wasn't all that long ago. doesn't make him feel any better as he tries to sit up, kind of numb to his surroundings and in seven different kinds of agony.

mostly he's just trying not to really obviously wheeze when he breathes.]

[ Cecil staggers back, feeling a little achey and bleeding at least in a few places, but as far as she can tell, nothing is fractured. One look at him though is really all it takes for her to know that he definitely isn't as durable as she is and she immediately drops to her knees a few feet away from him, taking a deep breath to slow her pounding heart rate. She settles back on her heels and rests her hands on her lap, palms down, and concentrates on calming the storm of volatile energy she's giving off.

Eventually, everything smoothes out and relative peace is restored. She's still upset about a multitude of things, but the strength of those emotions has receded, her mind more concerned with the pain in her body and the effort she must exert to recover equilibrium. The black aura that was surrounding her moments ago is all gone now, replaced with only quiet and stillness. ]

If you move too quickly, you'll only make it worse.

[he either doesn't listen or doesn't care. Coil's always getting on his case for doing this kind of thing too, but he seems doggedly determined to stand up and lean on something.

because he has to keep moving. it's not her, it's him. he just... can't stay prone like that, in case something happens. it could be anything. doesn't matter.]

[ When he predictably ignores her advice, she sighs with mild irritation, but doesn't bother wasting her breath on scolding him. She continues to watch him for a few more fleeting moments, meditating quietly, then forms a fist with one hand, holding it against her chest. Green light glows around her hand and once it's bright and steady, she flings the pooling light at him. It splashes against him in the form of water, but it isn't water; it's magic— healing magic. The green light sinks into him as though it were never even there, and if it works the way it should, it'll be warm and soothing, taking away his aches and pains, the magic fixing his broken bones and smoothinv over his bruises and open wounds. If it works correctly, he should feel exceptionally good for at least a few hours. ]

[he immediately puts an arm up to block it, cover his face--like that'd stop it from splashing all over him anyway. like he expects it to hurt.

it must be so satisfying, when he looks, confused, down at his own arm only to see this green energy disappearing past his clothes, into his own skin. he can feel it, and that scares him. it's the first real expression he's shown since that Halloween--eyes wide, scrabbling at his shirt sleeve out of instinct before he realizes that it's everywhere and it's already well out of his reach.

he continues to look startled at his own limbs as they heal, feeling with his hand as the cracks in his chest knit up and the agonizing pain in his limbs subsides.

what did she do to him?]

[ It's almost laughable, the way he reacts. Or, at least, it would be funny if it didn't say so much about him. ]

For someone who tries so hard to be impressive and tough-looking, you're awfully skittish yourself.

It's called magic. It's just a healing spell. It won't save you from future injuries and it doesn't make you any less human or anything like that. You don't have anything to be afraid of.

[don't baby him, he thinks--but he simmers down and sets his jaw and looks over at her, still upset, even though he's quickly losing the urge to claw the foreign aura out of his bones.

there's no... good magic where he comes from. he's got to reassess now. he grips his arm while the gears turn. she's not a vampire. she's not his enemy? but she's not some bystander, either. what else is there?

frustrating. he suddenly stops looking at her to duck his head, fun his fingers around his face. he knows where she hit him. he knows how the lines should be. he's putting himself back together--don't mind him.]

[ At this point, she sighs and finally rises to her feet. She casts the magic again, this time on herself, wincing a little as moving so much causes her minor injuries to ache a little more. When she's healed up, she starts to leave the docking bay, but she moves much more slowly now, actually looking rather tired. The truth is, she's drained quite a bit of her energy, using both her Dark Knight technique and her white magic. She needs to rest in order to recover her lost mana and life force. ]

[smearing his face around, however stupid, makes him feel better. he wishes he had a mirror, but it seems like things are wrapping up. there's an absence, a good feeling where his aches should be. he swears he can even breathe better. he's not sure how he feels about it--about any of it.

but before she goes, there's something he wanted to ask her anyway, so he picks his head back up before she can disappear through the door.]

Why were you upset.

[ She stops at that, wavering a little on the spot. She's genuinely shocked by the question and it shows in how she looks back at him, her blue eyes wide and perplexed, her mouth turned down in a bit of a frown. Her tone is one obviously of confusion and uncertainty when all she can get out is: ]

...What?

[his gaze is steady. she might be confused, but whatever governs his sense of self-doubt isn't pinged at all by the awkward pause in conversation. he tries again, still in that gritty monotone of his.]

Halloween... You were yelling.

Hallo—?

[ It takes her a moment to realize what he's talking about. She, after all, has never heard the word "Halloween" before.

After a moment, she sighs and shakes her head, then leans against the wall. It's another long moment before she says anything. ]

...I don't think you'd understand.

[and it's a long moment before he says anything, either. does he really want to ask? maybe he just wants to know that it's something stupid, that he doesn't have to ponder it any further. maybe he just wants the mystery solved so that he won't find himself thinking, "what was wrong with her?" every time her ID number pops up on the network.

but not understanding and not caring are two very different things, and he's a little insulted that she assumes he doesn't have the capacity to comprehend her reasons. she thinks she has him all figured out already--she underestimates him.]

Try me.

[ Well, the fact that he still has to ask at all what upset her says right there that he won't understand that portion of it, so she decides to relent a little and tell him the part that he at least has a small chance of understanding. ]

A few others I met in another place where people were brought to against their will, like this, are here. One of them-- He's disappeared. He was... well, extremely important to me. I loved him. He was part of my family, in the other place.

[ She quiets for a moment and swallows hard, turning her head away a bit in an effort to keep control of her emotions, even as her eyes sting with unshed tears thinking about Barakiel. ]

I suppose... it's my own fault... It's what I deserve. For leaving him in that other place, alone. I hurt him, so this is only fair.

But it's still devastating.

[to say he quietly considers what she has to say isn't very telling--he's always silently churning his way through things like this. it seems to be his default speed in conversation. still, his eyes aren't on her. he's considering anyway.

what did she say? 'we're all in this together?' he looks up, suddenly, when something rattles up in the vents--barely a noise, probably just one of those rodents.

he tracks the motion anyway, watching something he can't see scurry down the small passages above them.]

My friend is here. I left for a month. Says he's been gone for a year. He's taller now, thinner. Doesn't move like he used to. Smells wrong, cut his hair. New scars...

[a part of him seems to return to the present as he squints where the sounds stop.]

He went somewhere I can't follow, don't understand it. Bothers me.

[ Him? He has a friend? She's not sure she wants to imagine that. What must a person be like to be called a friend by Zhas? ]

That is common in places like that. It's been a year for me since I've seen... Barakiel and everyone else. For them, though, it was barely a few days.

I've... changed a lot since they last saw me.

[ She hesitates for a moment, then takes a few steps back towards him. ]

I would like to say that you get used to this sort of thing... but, ah... people like you and I cannot ever quite accept being so powerless. Isn't that right?

[that's the missing piece. 'you and I'. his attention finally makes it back down to their conversation, eyes glowing dimly. his expression is hard to read, even more so now that his face is smudged.]

You think my behavior is childish. You've known others who chosen a life away from normal people. You find me unnecessarily violent and distant, believe I am holding on to old ways that are no longer relevant.

[ Ahh... so he is able to step outside himself for a moment long enough to consider how others think and feel. She's a little impressed, but not sure it's going to get her anywhere with him. Or get him anywhere with anyone else. ]

Yes. I've known many people like you. I used to be you. And all of us killed or did worse to people who didn't deserve it because of the way we were. I don't know if you think you don't deserve a life of your own or perhaps you have simply told yourself for a very long time that you don't need anyone else because admitting to yourself that you wanted someone when you couldn't have anyone was too painful. But I know you aren't doing yourself any favors.

[ She hesitates again, lowering her gaze to the floor, just near her feet. She frowns deeply again, brow furrowing. She doesn't really want to tell him the rest, but... well, perhaps she owes him this much. ]

And there's something else... My memory has been tampered with here. You remind me much of someone I believe meant a lot to me, but I can't remember who this person was. There are just... holes and black, empty spaces in my memory in some places, and an unsettling, haunting feeling that I've forgotten something very important.

[wrong. he thinks that her entire analysis is wrong. his enemies deserve it. he has a life of his own. he knows who he wants, and he wants them to stay safe and well and happy more than he can even contain, sometimes.

but he sets his jaw and keeps quiet. he isn't going to argue her on this. she has more to say, and it's something that strikes a chord in that wound-up knot that's been growing in his chest. that is something he's compelled to speak about--a disgusting secret he's wanted to get out of his head since he realized it was there.]

Mine too. Parts of my master are gone, her face, her name... Something important...

[that is where his shame settles and it gets through his stony looks and the face paint for just a second--he glances away, at the floor, and grinds the palm of his hand into the side of his head, against his hair. safely away from his face.]

You kind of... look like her...

[ That admission grabs her attention by the horns and instantly she snaps her head up to look back at him again. Seeing his body language change so drastically, if even for a fleeting moment, completely shocks her. She laughs shortly in disbelief as he continues, floored by this revelation. ]

...I suppose I just have that sort of look to me. And, here, when I was a child, I used to think I was a freak for being the only person who looked like I did in my entire country...

[ She shakes her head bitterly and, in spite of herself, she walks back over to him and sits down on the floor next to him. She laughs again, but she's clearly not amused and there's no real mirth in the hollow sound at all. She's thinking about Damarhis and how he was attracted to her so much at first because she looked like his princess, the one he was in love with at home. ]

Needless to say, I am not her. Don't forget that.

I'm not sure if the memory-tampering is intentional on Atroma's part or an accidental side effect of the brain chips. Either way, I don't know how to fix it. I can't decide if I want it fixed.

[this again. he's got a strong urge to kick her, just like the first time, for sitting so close to his feet like that--but now that he understands her motivations better, he can at least figure she's doing it to appear friendly and non-confrontational, rather than intentionally submissive.

so he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, but never raises it. he looks down at her instead while he tries to decide how to say what's rattling around in his brain.]

Don't make assumptions about me. [then, awkwardly, almost like it only just occurred to him--] Please.

[ Another hollow little laugh, but at least this time when she looks over at him, there's a hint of a smile on her lips. ]

Then don't make them about me.

And I wouldn't have to fill in the blanks myself if you did it for me.

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