Voices from Heaven (
thespaceopera) wrote in
driftfleet2015-11-19 09:56 pm
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Calibrations Spill-Over Post
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That was Cole's family. He didn't mean to hurt Bunny. I just needed her to be quiet, like Mama said.
But she died. And Mama died. Maybe it wasn't the same day. I don't know anymore.
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he probably shouldn't pry. it isn't the decent thing to do, digging around like this, but it's hard to stop his fascination once it's hooked on something.]
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It's different this time. There's a solidness to it that it didn't have just seconds ago.
It's the next chapter. If Tek wants it.]
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lifting his chin in either acknowledgement or light thanks, he accepts the knife from him.]
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It's the same house, probably. Cole looks like he might be older, or maybe he just felt older.
He's bloodied and battered and pushing himself backwards into a corner while a man looms over him, fist red with Cole's blood. "Fucking monster, go on, do it again!"
The boy shrieks and flinches as the man jerks as if to hit him and he throws up his hands, fire dancing from his fingertips.
The man kicks him. "Fucking demon, I will beat the evil out of you if I have to. Like your whore of a mother, spreading her legs and wilin' minds with her demon powers!"
A hand grabs Cole by the throat and holds him off the ground. He kicks feebly, tries to claw at the hand holding him, the man seems impossibly big and there's slight smoke from Cole's clawing fingers but no more fire.
"I should've drowned you at birth and left you for the dogs to eat." A second hand joins the first and Cole is going the wrong colour, looking weaker and weaker.
His hand drops to grasp at the cabinet and comes up with a knife. A small, sharp knife, hand made and well cared for.
Cole grabs it and stabs. Straight through his father's wrist and pulling it out as he's dropped, the man howling with rage and pain. He doesn't stop, lunging forward and driving the blade into his face and throat, stabbing wildly, tears cleaning tracks through the blood on his face until his father stops moving, stops screaming and Cole drops the knife and drags himself away from his father's corpse.
[The vision folds away, back into the bloodied knife.]
no subject
...What sad moments to have defined you.
And this was all before you somehow became what you are now, mm?
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[Cole holds out his hand and the knife flashes back to it in a puff of thick black green smoke.]
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[--just in case he feels like continuing to help along with the progression of the story.]
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In the cell. You need to go into the cell. There's an exit there, as well, if you want to go after.
... you really want to know more?
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...Of course. Why wouldn't I?
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Still. Death is you. Cole's story ends in there. Mine starts.
again, no obligations to reply here!
so, after giving the spirit a small nod, he heads to the cell with only cursory hesitation.]
*clings to rp*
Cole lies on the cell floor. It must be Cole, it looks like him, though where he's scrappy and thin, this Cole is painfully underweight, ribs protruding, lips split and swollen. He's in the corner of the cell, where water trickles down the cracks, making the cell cold and damp but clearly providing the only source of water.
This Cole's hair is falling out, thinned and filthy. He has probably been crying a lot, but he seems too exhausted to cry any more and just lies where he is, breathing ragged and labored.
He reaches out a hand and a spark of magic lights him up briefly, a tiny flame reaching across his fingertip. There is no light in here, and yet somehow, the scene is clear.
The fire splutters out and there is a surge of something. Anger? Hate? Despair? Desperation?
There are no words, but it is clear. He is dying and he is scared and he hasn't seen anyone in so painfully long.
And then, finally, the air cracks and something slips out, reaching towards Cole. It's a spirit, not quite the spirit back in the other room, this one is brighter, but less human formed. It slides into the room and comes to sit by the dying boy, hesitating and then stroking an appendage over his hair.
Too weak to open his eyes, the boy makes a noise and the spirit nods, slowly taking a shape. Something human, but undefined, the spirit in the other room. It reaches a hand to the boy's and takes it, holding it and stroking his hair.
"You're not alone. I'm here. I haven't forgotten you, Cole. It's all right, you're not alone."
Its voice is something not quite human, felt as much as heard, but Cole smiles slightly and sighs, relaxing. Sinking into death.
Something rushes from his body, something invisible and real and it tears through the spirit. The spirit screams and as it does so, it gains body, form, it becomes Cole and then hurls itself into the corner of the room, away from the dead body. It's terrified and confused.
The body, Cole, starts to rot away. Far too quickly to be anything but the passage of time that the spirit was trapped in there with it, with walls that screamed suffering and pain and anguish.
When the cell door opens, the body is a week or two rotted and the Templar looks shocked, but gains his composure quickly. "You bloody idiot! He would've made a useful Tranquil! Clean this up, we'll burn the paperwork. No one has to know."
The spirit flees through the door when the two men come in to move the body.
[The memory ends. The cell has nothing but a lifeless corpse in the corner and a rend in space that promises the lights of the Marsiva beyond.]