driftfleet | the white noise is deafening silence

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the white noise is deafening silence

[In the very early hours of January 20th, as the Marsiva and her captives drift nonchalantly through the depths of the universe, there is a call. Every single personal communicator and console springs to life, spitting out a stream of indecipherable static and showing only gray snow on screen. It continues like this for a few seconds longer, going black and then going staticky, and then the signal switches to the encrypted channel generally used for speaking to the Interceptors when something big goes down.

This is a little more successful. The voice may be familiar to some, at least through the static.]

Zhade here! I trust I ███ your attention? I'm having some ██▓▓ble ██tting through. Some of the ░▓██▓█ are missing. I can't ░▓▓▓ read on their loc█████ns. [A particularly long burst of static.] ███stening. I'll s█▓▓█ more inf██▓▓▓▓▓█ I get it.

Stay sharp! [There's the sound of someone actually doing the fingerguns wink noise, and then static.

Any messages sent back won't get through, and Zhade isn't there to answer.]

[ A blip of lost time passes right after those words, before every passenger mysteriously wakes alone in their own unfamiliar room. The style of decor resembles that of the Marsiva's Hospitality Deck, if any passengers should remember what that's like. It sounds and smells the same as the host ship as well, all clean and chrome.

Welcome back to the Marsiva, dear passengers. It's time for round three of calibrations. ]

[ This mingle will cover all non-calibration room interactions. Please continue to come back to it for the duration of the plot! You are, of course, free to post any other mingles/posts/etc. that you'd like. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Lup bites back a snarky reply and just... pauses. Breathes. Bows her head and focuses on those words. Much like Taako her first instinct is to shrug it off and fake it, or simply compartmentalize those fears, but allowing herself to feel is what powers her in this form. Liches are fueled by raw emotion; they draw strength upon it, they intertwine their very existence with the memories that caused those feelings to manifest. Back when she was fighting the Hunger, she pulled upon her wrath, her rage, her hatred and grief over everything they'd lost and all the worlds they'd failed to save, her frustration of the endless cycle that had become their lives, and how their journey had changed all of them irrevocably.

But... her lich soul was more than that. It was compassion, loyalty, love.

Taako's voice as he woke her that morning, the taste of his food, his intimate knowledge of all her favourite things as he guided her step by step through her best day ever. The calming strength of his smile as he accepted her decision without argument, trusting her to find him again on the other side.

Barry's reassurance, his careful research, his brilliant, logical mind that acted as such perfect foil for her own thoughts and theories. His hands, wrapped tightly around her own, his lips against hers. His eyes soft and warm and determined, focused only on her.

"I got this."

You're not here. The others aren't here. Not Lucy, or Merle, or the captain. Seven birds, down to two and a half.

We were always better as a team, but just because it isn't you doesn't mean that we had to go it alone. After everything... I learned my lesson.

Finally she looks up again, determined now, and nods her head.]

I'm ready.

[I got this. We got this.]

[She waits patiently for Lup to deliberate her readiness.

It was interesting, in a way, just how different their states were. Everything about Lup's form was intense; the energy, the emotions, the fact that she could hold on to memory in such a way. To be able to aid her at all in such a way felt compelling, when Haggar had gone for so long not realizing that there was a part of her that could still feel such things.

Whether she chose to go through it or change her mind, she would still respect either answer. This was a choice. Haggar... did not often give choices to people. At least not before the fleet. Being able to do so, and to take so much caution, so much care for the other person... if she thought too much about the ramifications of that, it might be overwhelming.

But there's not much longer to think, once Lup looks up and responds and -- importantly, seems to carry that renewed certainty in her.

Haggar bows her head, and stoops to the floor.]

... Good. Then let us begin.

[And hold on tight.

She closes her eyes, breathes in deeply, and begins setting up her wardings, the first set of patterns and glyphs set crawling across the walls and floor.

Then, a new set of patterns emerges, blossoming out like identical flowers beneath where Haggar kneels and where Lup is chained. They are not yet activated; she has to apply her energy to it, but it's still a complex process, checking everything to make certain it's in place correctly, that it feels right.]

[The anticipation and uncertainty of it might just be the worst part- for days, she's waited and worried and wondered (which is probably why the room looks as bad as it does, in truth), and now here she is again waiting for the real moment to come, as Haggar preps and establishes her spell points. But there is one benefit to this stage of waiting: she can watch, now, and Lup, being the arcanist, wizard, and lover of all things magic that she is, can't help but feel fascinated. Every new glyph that appears is scrutinized and carefully examined, glowing eyes dancing from left to right and back again within the shadow of her hood. She searches for any sign of familiarity in the symbols, to try and better understand what is being done here, and while she finds little that would help with that, she can't not appreciate the artistry of it. She's very careful to sit still and silent, knowing how critical it is for a magic user to be able to concentrate, but if the situation were different she'd absolutely whip out a book and start sketching those glyphs out for future reference.

So cool. It almost makes it less scary to wait for whatever happens next.]

[Hopefully it helps, because what happens next...

Haggar breathes in deeply, and then exhales heavily as she rises to her feet, energy suddenly crackling around her in pale violet sparks, her clothes already stirred by the power she was gathering within.

It's a smooth, graceful movement, as her arms slowly rise on either side of her, and once they are even with her shoulders, she brings her hands forward, and then slowly back toward her, the energy coalescing into a dense, spinning, dark purple orb in front of her.

Breathes again, heavily.

The lines in the room begin to take on a glow, gently humming as they come to life.

And that's when Lup will begin to feel it. The sensation of... being connected to--well. Something. A power like hers but different. The spinning orb seems to grasp for her energy, drawing it forward, but before it can be drawn far enough to be absorbed, something in the energy untwists, separates from it, and is sent back on a separate loop.]

[It doesn't feel bad, at first. Weird, mostly, and somewhat familiar at the same time, like how it feels when arcane energy leaves her body as she casts spells. It starts out slowly, giving her a chance to watch how the energy shifts and moves, weaving through Haggar's glyphs, practically dancing around the room. It's funny- she'd expected a lot more resistance from her own spectral body, but as she focuses on allowing that energy to move away from herself, there's something calming about the sensation, like she'd been an over-inflated balloon and the tension is beginning to ease. She takes that as a good sign and relaxes her posture.

And then.

It starts with a twinge, like feeling a papercut slice across skin that she no longer has. It's soft and barely noticeable, but when the sensation comes again her eyes narrow. It's more than casting spells, more than a tickle. Carefully she searches herself, scanning through a mental catalogue of important memories, but she still feels intact... must just be a side effect.

She allows it to continue without resistance or complaint, but she's more vigilant now, more on edge as she watches the ritual progress. The gradual drip-feed of lost arcane energy is starting to weigh on her, like using up all of her spell slots one by one. Liches don't need to sleep - and elves only need to trance - but she feels, impossibly, kind of tired.]

[On Haggar's side, she seems tireless as the ritual progresses, the arcane energy of course only fueling her intensely focused state with its potency. It feels good--almost too good, as to be expected with such raw power.

The glyphs continue to glow, and she maintains her sphere, her poise, continuing to siphon the energy away and allowing it to transform and flow through the weaves. There was still too much excess energy present for there to be any considerable balance reached, yet. More time was required.

Something seemed off with Lup, and there was the constant reminder that anything could change at any moment, with this energy. With Lup's mental state. Risks. But they had their precautions, and she was still confident that they could deal with any surprise side effects they hadn't calculated. But hopefully there wouldn't be. It seemed too early to question, and the less risk to her concentration the better.]

[Things progress like that for some time without incident, those little pinpricks an aggravation and a growing concern at the back of her mind, but nothing too alarming yet. Five minutes... twenty minutes... she quickly loses count. It's slow and almost monotonous, a gradual drip-feed that over time she simply grows used to, zoning out a little, since her role is just to sit there and endure it.

...a spark jolts off of her body, scarring itself across the wall adjacent to where she sits. Then another, on the opposite side. Arcane energy attempting to escape against her will, like a snarling wild animal thrashing against bonds trying to tame it. She grimaces, murmuring an apology, and tries to rein it in. It resists, of course, which is precisely what it's been doing since this whole mess started, but she can still push back against it, she's had plenty of practice with-

snap

She feels it then, before she can fully build up her confidence, her ability to stamp down the wrestling arcane energy. Something tearing out of her, coiling and thrashing around the glyphs that Haggar's set up around them, and her form hunches over as if her spine had been torn from the skeletal body beneath her robe. Bony hands brace herself upright against the floor, and a low moan escapes chattering teeth. The sparks intensify, looming closer to where Haggar is still working.

Her spell slots are spent, the extra batteries drained, and all that's left is her. But they're not done yet- she's not safe yet.]

...I think I... see what you meant. Before.

[Oh fuck, but this one hurts.]

Edited 2019-03-20 04:20 (UTC)

[There it was.

Haggar could have gone faster with the ritual, but it might have caused something like this to occur sooner, and it might have been more intense. Energy that wouldn't remain tamed, energy that wanted to break free--but Haggar could feel it in the room, in the air, see those steadily approaching sparks, the increased danger, the challenge.

Lup's state.

Above all it was still-- energy, she needed to draw it in, make certain it hadn't dragged anything of Lup with it when it escaped, and redirect it with the rest. It was too soon to waver, but they were close.

So close. She does not speak, though she sends a mental whisper to Lup instead.]

I will handle it. Remember yourself. We are close.

[Haggar still sounds confident enough that Lup tries to draw upon that, metaphorically leaning against her, trusting that she'll know when enough is enough. It hurts, yes, but she's endured a lot over the centuries that she's been alive, and this isn't the worst she's ever had to suffer. It just usually isn't quite so... prolonged.

But fine. Fine, it's for the greater good. Or at least her greater good, which is pretty damn great and good in her mind. She can do this. She will.

By hour two, though, it gets... very hard. She's panting for breath she doesn't need, she's growing unfocused, and arcs of lightning have charred the walls around her a pure black, weak flames licking around the edges of her form. Those outbursts are growing weaker the more of her energy is drawn out of her, but stubbornly they keep fighting against her, as if the very idea of behaving is contrary to her very nature. Which is... fair enough. And accurate. But sucks, because it makes this a lot harder over time.

A lich's energy is the essence of their soul, and a lich's soul is pure, unbridled emotion. And in this moment her channeled energy is frustrated, angry, distressed. Fear licks at the edges of all of that, beginning to weave more prominently into the energy ebbing away from her, eating away the other emotions until it rises above them, sitting heavy at the forefront of her arcana.

Suddenly, without warning, the ritual digs too deeply. Whether Haggar meant it or not (she wouldn't, she wouldn't, Lup knows but she feels it and shit, no) it pulls upon a particular strand of her soul that twists up within her and rejects everything about this feeling. The experience of being pulled apart like this is-

-is-

no

NO!

She screams then, a truly wretched noise that she tries to strangle in a fleshless throat but can't, there's nothing to stifle it with. It's not a sound of pain so much as terror, shrinking away from the awful sensation their combined magic is dragging through her soul. It's carried in her energy, it's torn out of her heart, it's spun into the very essence of what Haggar is pulling out of her and she can't, she can't, she's being ripped apart piece by piece and woven back together inside that fucking orb and it's dark and it's cold and it's

familiar

not this

please don't

nails dragging through the dirt

she fights but

it pulls, and pulls, and pulls

not this

legs gone arms gone voice gone body gone

a scream in the dark that no one hears

find me find me find me find me

a corpse rots in the corner flesh peeling off in layers worms crawling

it's hers it's hers it's hers

don't look at it

curtains rustle and never part

there's no way out she can't go back

LET

ME

GO

With another unholy scream she jerks upright and raises a hand, powerful energy crackling around trembling skeletal fingers, upright palm faced directly at Haggar- or rather, at the sphere that lies between them. An unhealthy dark mist ebbs away from her body as she channels what's left of her power (too much, not enough, it hurts) but that doesn't stop her; she keeps going until it comes to a head and she utters a single, unintelligible word, releasing it, lashing out instinctively at the thing hurting her and dragging her torment to the forefront of her mind. Their magics clash in the center and twist together, fighting for dominance: Haggar's ritual, and the most powerful Counterspell that Lup can muster.

Though left unspoken, her intent is clear.

STOP.]

[This entanglement of spirit, of energy--it was hard to deny even now, that pull, that fascination...

As time had gone on, Haggar had streamlined the process. It was taking long--much longer than it might have taken otherwise, had she not had to be so precise with the delicate balance of soul and energy. She retained her caution, but she could sense, when and where she could draw the energy in quicker, where to maintain the separating, thread by thread, seeing only the energy and soul and less of -- well, the state of the room itself around them. The time for Haggar passes differently than it does for Lup. She can sense Lup's holding on, that inner turmoil--but she must remain focused, logic over emotion.

The goal in mind was to help preserve--to help maintain the person on the other end of it, which differed so much from how she would usually handle such a task. Understanding and consistently recalling that there was more than just an artful array of energy here. It was more than doing what needed to be done for the sake of being true to her role in maintaining an empire. This was -- an individual, who had already gone through so much.

Individuals had not ever really stood out before, if not for their strength or their uses, and previously, only one had been elevated to any height of importance. But this was different. So very different. She maintains. It's close, now, and yet--

It happens, then, that swirl of something buried deep, and that backlash of pure--raw emotion and words that ripple back upon on her like a sudden wave and all she can do is brace through it as the counterspell clashes through the orb, threatening to break apart the process. It barely holds long enough for her to release the energy safely, and finally Haggar lets out a scream of her own as the sphere dissipates and she crumples to her knees, breathing hard.

The wards remain intact, the lingering energy still powering them from the ritual, but Lup's intent was crystal--and she’d certainly promised to stop, at that.

Finished then, for now--but was it enough?]

[For a while, Lup does nothing but stand there, hand still outstretched, her form visibly trembling from the effort and energy expelled over the course of the ritual. More of that ugly black mist ebbs away from her body in wisps and curls, dissipating into nothingness. It stops after a few moments, but evidently the damage has been done. The wraith twitches, flinching back as if stung by something, and finally drops to the ground and collapses in a heap of robes and chains, face down and unmoving. Her form still ethereal, she actually sinks into the floor somewhat, but the chains holding her in place prevent her from going too far.

There's still some energy radiating from her corner, indicating that she's- well, not alive, because that's not how undead creatures work, but existing at the very least. The level of power she possesses has been severely weakened, her form damaged, and too exhausted to move for the moment.]

[Haggar watches Lup, sensing for her energy levels to make certain she's still--present, but that had been... rough, to say the least. That emotional backlash had been something she could not prepare for, despite everything else.

Reality was so much different when you could feel what was in it. And that pain and desperation, that utter sense of despair leaking from Lup had been... awful.

Either way it was a learning experience--there was some threshold there to not cross. Should not have been crossed. She had learned so much about--regret, here.]

... Lup. I am sorry.

[There's another lengthy silence, until finally the heap on the ground stirs very slightly. She doesn't get up, content to just lie there and rest, but very quietly she speaks up.]

...no... don't be. I should've... seen that coming.

[She doesn't know how either of them could have anticipated that, but in retrospect, this is a predictable conclusion. Ever since the tree she's been unraveling, so of course those memories would be at the forefront of her mind when she's already in such a poor state- and in her lich body, trapped and powerless to escape? Yeah, she definitely should have known.]

[Haggar slowly shifts her position, drawing her knees up and draping her arms over them, leaning forward. She was physically energetic but the emotions were heavy. A combination that just felt like everything around her was buzzing.]

We had much to prepare for.

[And it went without saying that Lup was already overwhelmed with all of it.]

More importantly, you are still here.

[There's a huff of weak laughter in response.]

Against all fuckin' odds. Might have, uh. Pushed a little too hard, there. [She hesitates, taking stock of her condition, and then adds,] I don't feel like I'm gonna blow a hole in the wall anymore. Actually, I don't think I can cast any spells, period. So... mission accomplished, I guess. For now.

... For now.

[She agrees, cautiously, reassessing what had happened. Sitting the way she is to try and contain that jittery sensation, from all the energy, the hijacking of emotion resulting in longer pauses between her words, while she catches her breath, from the sensation of her heart wanting to leap from her chest.]

At some point, we must account for what this means for the future. We can adjust... this method, now that we are aware of what the threshold is, to not--push so far. If you still accept this as an avenue, with what has happened.

[We she says, because when she commits herself to a purpose she doesn't do it lightly. Still, it was Lup's choice and she had bought her some time.]

... however, keeping your energy stabilized is one matter. Your... tether is another.

[Another long silence on Lup's part, broken only by the strange, ethereal noise that is her breathing in this form. She has no lungs or lips, but her soul remembers.

Her tether... Taako. It's true: Haggar can absorb all the excess energy that she likes, but it won't solve the bigger problem causing this.]

...Yeah. But my tether can also wait until this whole situation has been dealt with before I start worrying about that full time. I can't do anything about it when I'm... like this.

[If she tried to face him in this form, without him knowing, without him being okay with it? Either she'd get blasted or he'd Blink his way out of it, make himself scarce. He knows what liches can do, and any trust he has in her is tentative at best. Still far too easy to break, and she's already pushed him enough.

More than anything else, though, she just isn't safe.]

Once we get off this ship... I'll do something about it. For now I'll just use all this spare time to come up with something.

Yes... that can come later. For now, you require rest... perhaps even a distraction.

[As long as Lup was prepared to deal with the future down the line, she need not do it right away, especially not while in her current state, where she was too vulnerable, still.

And looking out for someone else's interests... well. That was something Haggar really needed to do, right now.]

Nnngh... maybe just a good thunk to the head until this headache goes away.

[Not that it works that way- she barely has a head to be aching, and any attempted thwacking would phase right through her.

Reluctantly, though, she finally shifts and floats herself up a little, until she's at least out of the floor and halfway sitting up. She gives herself a once-over, and... yep, all parts still accounted for, ghostly though they may be. Whatever just happened, it probably won't have lasting damage.]

Um... seriously, though... thanks. Even if it's temporary, I feel a little better about being stuck here.

[She manages a soft sound of amusement, at that first part. Her too, honestly--between the rush of energy and the emotion and the unpleasant persistent thrum of backlash from the augment's interference she did not feel inclined to move from her current position. She lifts her gaze slightly as Lup shifts to assess herself, but--only slightly.

... And then that gratitude follows, and it gives her a brief moment of pause before she replies, as she's surprised, in spite of it all.]

... you are welcome.

[It was still unusual to be thanked for the use of her magic, even if she had been the one to offer in the first place. It was never something to be thanked for, as much as she had serviced the empire as an instrument, to refine, stabilize or to destroy, but... not ordinarily to be used to aid another like this.

And with Lup, she had not hesitated to offer--let alone give thought to warn for the suffering it might have caused. And did, no less--but Lup had taken the offer, and so here they were.

Still strange. But it was important to -- be able to feel that, too.]

... it was... difficult for you. I am glad that it was able to help.

...Nah, just...

[She shifts uncomfortably, tucking her hands in her lap; the chains rattle as they drag against the floor. She's not even sure how to address what just happened, so after a long silence she falls back on her default: shrug it off.]

Dragged up some stuff, you know? Not fun in the moment, but I can deal.

... you deal with quite a lot.

[She had known many resilient people, but her job either had been to push them or to break them, not... relate. Not sympathize. She was still wrapping her head around the emotion that had settled into her. The terror of that power. Her power.

The terror of something that was--far less careful than Haggar had been, for all her intentions and preparation, but Haggar well knew she could have done the same, were Lup a resource and not--important, and it was an unpleasant sort of reminder all around, as important as reminders were, to -- resist such impulses, to stop classifying people the way the witch might.]

... you should know that while we were 'in the moment', as you say... I saw what happened to you. I can feel it.

[Granted, she didn't have all the pieces assembled, but something of a guess.]

[...Ah.

Lup is quiet again, for a long moment, then exhales a false breath and presses two skeletal hands against whatever passes for a face within her hood, a tremor passing through her form.]

Fuuuuuuuuck. Seriously, you saw that? All of it?

[Worse- she felt it? Because she felt it too, and it hadn't felt nice. About as un-nice as it'd felt back when it actually happened.

Seriously, fuuuuuck.]

Yes, all of it.

[She's quiet for a long moment, allowing Lup the time to process-- well, that. After all it was Lup's experience, and it wasn't as if they were in the Atroma-induced mindspace, either.

Her words carried a slightly less measured cadence than usual. There was never any--sitting around talking after a ritual. Especially invasive ones. Accidental as this result was, it was still an overstep, which -- had prompted that apology, earlier, as unaware as Lup had been at the time. So she scrapes for the words. It feels strange to explain this. She had forgotten to mention the possibility of it before, with all else there was to safeguard against. Flashes could often be disregarded easily, unless the goal was to search for them, which was an entirely different process. An entirely different ritual.

And yet what had occurred here was--not a flash. It was more akin to being engulfed by a wave, but she did not exactly have the language to describe that, either. Even when Allura had countered her magic, it was different, from this.]

... When it comes to... handling souls, encountering flashes of memory through a process is... sometimes to be expected. This was different. It was... as if your entire experience was fighting back at me. It must have felt... similar what you had gone through before.

[Welp. So much for keeping that little nugget to herself.

She huffs and leans back until her cloak touches the wall, sitting quietly as Haggar speaks. At the last part, she just nods and weighs her options... but there really isn't much else she can do. She can't just pretend it was nothing. And she's been on Haggar's case about honesty, and... ugh.

Times like this she wishes she was more of a hypocrite.]

You remember... that time, at the tree? When it gave me that umbrella?

[It's a rhetorical question; perhaps it's a little egotistical, but she has no doubt that Haggar remembers. That day had been stressful for both of them, and she'd put on one hell of a show before she bailed. They'd talked about what happened after, but she never truly explained herself. Hadn't wanted to, or needed to.]

I made it, years ago- it was my spell focus. It's called an Umbra Staff, and it's speciality is absorbing the power of defeated magic users... it swallows their spell focus, their wands, and adds that power to itself.

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