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| Quiet the Mind; + Baqi + | |
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| Topic Started: Aug 21 2015, 05:37 PM (218 Views) | |
| Sabellius | Aug 21 2015, 05:37 PM Post #1 |
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Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.
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White. It was all white. His vision swam as he opened his eyes, from welcome comforting darkness to a whole new hell. It wasn't the high ringing whine in his ears that had woken him but the voices, everywhere, hundreds of them, more than he'd heard in one place for a while. They crept into his quiet solitary blankness, intruded on the state of unconsciousness and dragged him forth into new light, new pain. And there was pain. Everything hurt. He couldn't have begun to say why, couldn't form his thoughts correctly, hazy, as if he'd taken too many drugs, more than even his metabolism could handle, had been hit with a brick to the face. His mouth was dry as a sponge and tasted worse, tongue jammed to the roof of his mouth, thick. His eyes rolled as he stirred, levered himself up into a sitting position, the sheets pooling around his waist. Somewhere there was an alarmed face, the slapping of soft shoes on tiles and a voice raised. He couldn't find it in him to worry about it right then, his thoughts fully occupied with the sole fact that someone undressed him, had to touch him to get him....where? Warmth was on his shoulder, bright light that spilled and made the world a sterile, unfriendly place with its brightness, the smell of soap, layers and layers of it over fear, blood, sweat, shit. He might have cursed his senses had he not been used to it. Sabe grunted, pressed the heels of his palms hard into his eyesockets, then swung his legs out of bed. Someone had bound his ribs tight enough to make breathing difficult, one of his arms stiff with the splint sandwiching his flesh. He glared at it dully, then pushed himself from the bed, heedless of modesty. Someone was shouting at him, waving their arms, trying to gently push him back to the bed, blocking his way. He couldn't make much sense over the ringing in his ears, shook his head. Female...it smelled female, the high whining voice and fluttering birdlike motions, nauseating, unable to follow them accurately. He pushed them aside, their attempt to block about as useful as a straw fire-guard. The whispers pressed on him insistently, a rushing tide that nibbled at the edges of his focus, distracting him a hundred ways with murmurs about the price of silk, why the cat hadn't come home, how father was too sick for work, the need for a new shirt... He snarled, unable to shake them off, both the whispers and the new hands holding him, guiding him firmly. Weak though he was, he was still difficult enough for them that the 'guidance' became manhandling when he resisted, his tail flicking out to hurl a pitcher of water noisily to the floor, felt cool water sloshing around his toes, the babble of speech, grunts of effort as his muscles screamed in protest, swung his splinted arm into someone's head, dropping them heavily.... Couldn't they see he was healing just fine without them? He didn't need their....fucking...charity... Music lilted somewhere behind him, lethargy twining her fingers in his hair and seducing him down, down, down... Golden hair and rose-bud lips thinning in disapproval...song spilling from them like gold....gold... +++ Whispers flooded him, bore him on a sea of sound, raised a hundred questions. Redness bled through against his eyelids, kept them closed, kept his breathing deep and even, feigning sleep. Footsteps eased past, paused somewhere beneath him, someone touching his wrist, lifting it, pressing. It was an effort to keep himself calm, and he failed miserably. Muscles tensed, eyes snapping open, lips peeling back. The sound issued forth, a violent, visceral tearing like nothing human, bubbling in the back of his throat. The girl fled shrieking, skirts hitched up almost to her waist to keep them from her feet. His lips lifted in a brutal sneer, pleasure skittering across his vague, distracted thoughts. And regret... It came crashing down on him like the entire roof had given out, breathless, melancholia crushing him to the bed. It was a bed, and he found alarm seeping in, choking. No, he wasn't supposed to sleep in beds...beds were for people and animals couldn't sleep on them...but here it was, slightly hard, thin clean sheets of faded yellow. The sun was falling through the window, bathing the bottom of the bed with a wide slash of light, clean and airy. The air was cooler, much cooler than... He couldn't remember the day before...or the one before that...or that...or the rest of the week before that... "Fuck." He hadn't been here long, couldn't have been, he could still remember dribs and drabs of the morning. The price of silk...the pitcher...naked... He was still naked. It rankled with him that someone had touched him. A new pitcher was beside the bed, and vindictively he reached for it, seized it and hurled it across the room. A cry went up as it smashed on the opposite wall, someone cowering in a bed there. And he was tired...so goddamned tired...he ached as if someone had kicked the living shit out of him. His arm twinged as he hooked claws underneath the bandages and shredded them, casting the splint onto the floor with a clatter. His knees still felt raw, and at least two of the fingers on his right hand... He turned it over, examining. Fresh, clean, compared to the filth still crusting the others under the nails, compared to the bloodied linen stiffly bound and pinned around them. They felt cramped, and he put it to his lips, using his teeth to rip them away. Regrown, if he knew anything. Nailah's left nipple they itched. So...some kind of...hospital, he guessed. The beds were all clad in faded colourful sheets, hand-me-downs probably. Some of the beds and palettes were occupied, others were vacant. His would be soon, too. Anxiety uncoiled in his chest, the Cambion feeling the first stages of panic begin to rise in him. Where was his stuff? He didn't give a shit about the clothes but his lho case...even if he didn't smoke it, he needed it. It was all he had left to remember... remember what, exactly? He had to stop, stop phasing out. Sabe blinked, turned his gaze towards the doors, a couple of...'initiates', he plucked the word from their minds, and some kind of physician overlooking them. "He's up already? It's too soon, he shouldn't be moving yet, give him another dose of poppy juice, make it a large one." "But sir couldn't that-" "Yes, but he's already exhibited signs of a tolerance, probably a drug abuser." He watched quietly as they approached, felt the panic squeeze his lungs. No...no he didn't want to be here, didn't want them testing to see just how fast he could regenerate, how many bits they could cut off before it got to be too much, not again! The physician yelped, slamming shoulders-first into the ceiling. Glass shattered as the apprentice dropped the bottle, screeched something in Sotoan, sent the other one running for help, continued to babble at him, entreating. He crouched on the bed, claws extending, oblivious to the shouts from the ceiling. The knowledge that it was Soto was only mildly comforting. He didn't think shouting Rhia's name was going to help him much in this case though. The girl reached hesitantly toward him as he began tying the sheets around his waist, brushed his forearm with her fingers, screeched as his hand closed on her wrist and lifted her, dangling, bellowed into her face. "Xun naut xta'rl uns'aa!"* *Do not touch me! |
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| Baqi | Nov 13 2015, 01:17 AM Post #2 |
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Guy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I -- Guy, Hope everything is okay in Ashoka. I'm sorry for ditching on you... Guy, Please don't hate me. I hope you don't hate me. I didn't know what else to do. Except run. Except run because that's all I'm good for, all I know what to do, and I was so sicka you getting hurt for my shit, didn't want to put you up in that mess. I'm so sorry guy. I wish I could… None of the words were comin' out right. Every night he sat down to write The Letter, the big honking one, and every night he ended up with a mountain of crumpled paper, gibbering and apologizing at Ylsa while the lady just gave a serene smile and raised her quill with all the patience in the world, waitin' for him to start over. Sorry was the hardest word, after all. Always was, always would be, and when it came down to it he just didn't know how to put it all together, hoped the guy would understand. Guy, I owe you an explanation. Big time. I fucked up real bad, guy. I shouldn'ta up and left like that. You deserve so much better than that -- worlds better, guy, better than Orion up there, better than the fuckin' Queen of Angkar. I wish I could tell you I had a real good reason. Except I don't. I was scared guy, scared, plain and simple. And I didn't want to drag you into my mess. I didn't want to hurt you no more. I didn't want you to have to get all mussed up in that when you had so much shit to deal with already, when you were hurting so bad.... I thought I wasn't anything good for you, guy. So I upped and left. I shoulda told you. I shoulda said it to your face, except I didn't have the courage, plain and simple, and now looking back I see what a dumb shit that was... you deserved better than that. I'm sorry for abandoning you, guy. I'm sorry for running away, and being so selfish. I'm in Madrid. I couldn't stand Ashoka no more. It was like a powder keg, waiting to blow up in my face. I was waiting for the day they'd up and kill me in the streets, guy. I knew if I wanted any kinda life I couldn't stay there. I'm part of the Ordos now, guy, like a hospital kinda gig. Only right now I'm not too special, just follow doctors around like, mostly cleaning poop. I don't think the staff like me too much, y'know? They think I'm some kinda dumb sandy. I stick out pretty bad cuz I don't have blonde hair and a boot up my ass. Anyway guy... sides that, I'm living with a lady, Ylsabet Troy. I mean, not like that, guy. Not like that at all -- you know what I mean?? Shit. Well guy, she's teaching me lots of stuff, lots of magic, y'know, real stuff. I wish I could show you, guy. I wish you were here right now, and I'd show you 'round the place, and show 'em how to really muss up the town, get me? I miss you, guy. Baqi That one he signed himself, with the big, clumsy letters Ylsa had taught ‘im, biting his lip as he clutched the quill. She smiled at him while he patted at a blot of ink, waiting for it to dry — and when it was done she folded up the paper and tucked it away. Can’t wait any more, he’d thought. That’s the one. *** Somewhere in Eldahar, the post guy was up to his ears in letters, probably. Practically since he'd step foot in Madrid he'd sent 'em out every other day -- then twice a week, then once a week, tellin' himself the guy would get 'im, had to write back to 'im. He told 'im about everything, explodin' for someone to talk to, rambling 'bout everything from the funny man skirts they wore to somethin' called a soufflé -- what the fuck was that? A pastry that up 'n died if you yelled at it? -- and how he'd met a Councilor and even eaten chocolate nipples with him, and how he needed fake tits to get into the Ordos, and, and... Sometimes Ylsa stopped him after her hand moved fast as a snake over the paper, never askin' about the stories when told ‘em but always after... Chocolate... nipples? With the Councilor Aniketos? Oh, my. It was pretty silly to think he'd get a response right back, when a bird could fly till it croaked and still take weeks to get to Eldahar. Least ways that didn't stop him from babbling at wizards, askin' if there was some kinda magic post, some way to shove a letter through a portal -- that got him some weird looks, all except for one guy that smiled in a way that gave him spooks, and asked a price so high he was better off sellin' his left nut. Jeez… They were probably just dickin' him around -- saw an easy target in his fumbling Common and big brown eyes, thinkin' he was some kinda illiterate dumbass... His thoughts swirled ‘round like the sick bucket he was currently lookin’ at. Nobody told him the Ordos would be so glamorous. He’d been expecting to hit the ground running, show off his magics, stitch people up — after all he already had that under his belt, was way more along than some of the apprentices around, but he was the one that got shit duty. They said it was because of his inexperience, whatever that meant — but he knew the real reason; it was right there when people gave him a look that lasted too long to be friendly, or didn’t see him at all; it was when he couldn’t fumble together southern words and people ignored his Common; it was like he was invisible all over again for a new set of reasons. Anything—anything was better’n being in Ashoka. But sometimes the silence took its toll on him, the strange language babbling at him from all sides, swallowing his pride to change linens and swap bandages when his heart ached to do somethin’ more — much more than… this shit. Baqi emptied the contents and threw it aside, pushin’ his hair outta his eyes. He hadn’t cut it much since the ship, looked half-feral with his beard on top of it too. He could only imagine what he musta looked like to the others — prim apprentices with soft white hands and soft white faces who’d never stepped foot outside of Soto; untouched by the Dark Conquest, only heard about Orion from stories, never went hungry a day in their life. What the fuck kinda fairy tale life was that? They didn’t like his bashed up nose or his calloused hands and eyes that were too wide, maybe, had seen too much. He didn’t feel like ‘em—couldn’t relate to ‘em, not at all; he didn’t have any friends yet, and even without the language barrier, he just had nothin’ to say. Opera houses… garden parties… drama with masks… they might as well have been speakin’ gibberish. The djinn took a deep breath as he stood, straightening his Ordos badge and grabbing a basket of fresh bandages. Ward two needed to be restocked, yadda yadda… He frowned as he ducked out of the room and slipped down the hall, puffing some of the hair outta his face. Outta the corner of his eye he saw a healer trailed by a group of initiates — they looked like a buncha ducklings in white, robes swirling around their feet. The djinn stared longingly at the silver badge the leader bore; couldn’t help but edge closer as they moved into the room, hanging like a ghost in the hallway. He could hear ‘em talkin’ about the patient, huddled ‘round the bedside — couldn’t get a clear look at ‘im and shuffled in, back to ‘em, pretendin’ like he was busy with the supplies at the entrance of the room. Clink, clink. He loaded some little bottles of antiseptic, arranged some bandages nice ’n neat, takin’ his sweet time as he listened. Poppy juice… probably a drug abuser… His throat tightened up a little — the tone of that, way they talked about it… Felt—with a pang—how many times he’d been there to hold smokes out for the guy, or whisky, part of the problem, yet— A scream made him jump. A crash — bang, whump — happened so fast, heart to his throat, spinning around with a vial in his hand. The healer was on the ceiling. Stuck. Just stuck. A girl screamed — people ran for help — only he couldn’t hear it, any of it— his mind was goin’ to white noise, tunnel vision. Everything else blanked out except for a familiar flash of white hair, red eyes, dark face twisted worse than a pair of panties. Xun naut xta'rl uns'aa! Horror and shock collided, sent him dropping the basket — the girl screamed as the tiefling hefted her up, eyes bulging. Without thinking the djinn sprung forward — someone tried to throw an arm out and keep him back, but he ducked, nearly eatin’ it in his robes. “Hey—! Get back, he’s dangerous—“ “Get—move—! I know him!” Probably not the best thing to admit, but he wasn’t thinkin’ straight, shoving the dandy outta the way and rushing forward, heart squeezing tight. What— how, by Nailah’s seventh tit? What were the odds? Did that mean he got the post? Course, there was no time to think about stupid letters — no time to question, just— “Sabe!” The djinn threw up his hands, rounding the bed where the guy was crouching like an animal, eyes all blazing red, lookin’ beat up as all hell. In the flesh. Was he tweaked on some shit? Was he out of it completely? Sometimes he got all on edge — had to be brought down sometimes; the djinn knew when to tiptoe ‘round the house, or step quiet when things went a bit south. Part of him flinched back, sure — but part of him had to believe there was a bit of Sabe in there, still thinking, still able to put the mad dog down. “H-h-hey! Hey— guy!” Baqi’s voice came out a squeak — his hands trembled with nerves and maybe something that woulda been excitement, if they hadn’t met like this. The djinn slowly reached out and put his hands on the tiefling’s shoulders, real easy, real calm — even though he was wound up like a spring, about to fly apart with questions. He blurted out in Ashokan, trying to steady his voice and failing. “Easy— easy… p-put her down, guy, c-come on.” His eyebrows disappeared into his hair — he forced himself to meet the Sabe’s furious stare, eyes wide an’ bugging. Despite himself a nervous smile tugged at his lips, caused a flash of teeth to spring up in his beard, and he couldn’t help cracking a joke, spluttering and disbelieving as it was. “Let her go. I promise nothing’s gonna go up your ass. No leeches, either. That shit’s freaky. I won’t let ‘em. There’s nothin’ to worry about. S-so easy, okay?” |
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| Sabellius | Dec 8 2015, 09:03 AM Post #3 |
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Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.
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Pleasure swelled in his chest as he tightened his grip, felt the bones of her wrist grind together, the pitiful croak torn from her lips, free hand scrabbling at his dirty bandages. His eyes glistened wetly, excited as he reached for her face, clasped her jaw tight and lifted her as a man might a small child, lips peeling back as the snarl gurgled forth from his teeth. "Sabe!" He paused, single ear flicking back once as he caught the sound, eyes rolling crazily in the direction, blazing with rage. He wanted to vomit, shriek his excitement and thrash with the wretchedness he felt in the pit of his stomach, the revulsion of being touched all over again in an unfamiliar setting, alien smells and the ever-present feverish ache, dying for a fix after the sedatives they'd put in his system. The Cambion froze in that moment, watched as the dark-skinned shortarse bull rushed his way through the men in dresses and scrambled to his side. Strains of Ashokan in his tongue, and though his face was different - all that hair, what was he trying to hide? - his thoughts were the same mad bumble of colliding information that he remembered. And just like that he latched onto him, the one safe unmoving thing in the center of this storm. Painfully his fingers uncurled, dropping the quivering apprentice to the floor where she crawled away as fast as she dared, back to the buzz and bustle of the attendants, like someone had kicked a nest of fire ants. Hands on his shoulders. The muscles of his back tensed all the way to his neck, hackles beginning to stand up til he touched that mind again, hesitant, half afraid he'd break it as soon as look. Wouldn't be the first time...the drugs gave him quiet, relief, damped him down for all that. Blanketed that intensity...how many times had he stopped when the Inquisition needed that kind of force with difficult victims? No, don't think about that. Don't think about the blood and the fear, the desperation, Ashoka... The monster reluctantly shuffled aside, something close to human surfacing as he caught those dark, smiling eyes, remembered all the times they'd been wide and wet with fear, or crinkled in concern, shining with laughter or scrunched in pain. His voice sounded rough to his own ears, as if he'd spent a week screeching like a banshee, or perhaps a year without it. "Baqi." Abruptly he caught the kid in a hug tight enough to crush the breath out of both of them, tail snaking out to coil around his waist almost tenderly. He ignored the shrieks and shouts of consternation, the fluttering of alarm and upset of every mind in the room. He wasn't about to question why or how the kid was here and now, it simply seemed too good to be true. Maybe he was tripping. It was only when he looked up and noticed the burly guardsman clumsily handling the pole with a noose on the end. The physician stuck to the ceiling suddenly dropped, bringing the man with the pole down into a tangled pile of limbs and noise. Wait, had they stuck something up his ass? Panic made his eyelid twitch as he shoved the Djinn behind him, teeth bared. "Watch my back kid, I'll get us out of here. You grab some forceps, I don't need no bugs in my ass!" His eyes were on the diminutive figure of a golden-haired woman delicately picking her way across the room towards them, the hostility positively radiating from him as she drew nearer. Not this time... "What are they saying?" "Pinned him to the ceiling you say? Interesting." "He has a hostage, madam!" "The Ashokan, joined up recently, just went running over there like he was crazy..." "Verily, I didst believe you spake that he was...missing limbs...." "They uh...appear to...uh...this is obviously a medical anomaly..." "Witch! She's a witch! Cover your ears kid, she'll hex ya!" Edited by Sabellius, Dec 8 2015, 09:03 AM.
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| Baqi | Dec 13 2015, 08:31 AM Post #4 |
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For a sec his heart skipped one, pounded painfully in his chest. The guy looked tweaked out pretty bad, probably comin’ off of lho, and, and— Baqi. Tears sprung up in his eyes without him sayin’ so—and next second he was bein’ crushed in a hug. The djinn flung his arms around the tiefling and practically squeezed his liver outta his mouth, clinging like a squirrel. “Guy!” A laugh of relief escaped him, made him giddy—a couple hiccups was as far as he could go, what with the air bein’ squeezed out of him, but his heart swelled up with gladness. He was okay. Well… sorta. Guy looked like he’d seen the underside of a carriage, and a couple of horse hooves. But he was okay. Solid. Real. Familiar. And he smelled almost as bad as he did after rollin’ around in the finest Eldahar’s trash had to offer. Baqi grinned against the guy’s chest, thinkin’ bout saying something— they had so much to catch up on, and so much to say, and, and— He was literally ripped back to reality when the guy shoved him — somersaulting back into the chaos and mess and people tangled up on the floor. Shit. The djinn put his knuckles to his mouth, gnawing, wonderin’ how to fix any of it — the guy wasn’t thinkin’ straight, and one person’d already been injured, and people needed to calm the hell down, they didn’t understand— didn’t understand what attacking him might do— “‘Ey! Hey! Put away that stick shit!” The boy yelled at the guard, a sudden fierce protectiveness coming to his voice. Baqi grabbed Sabe’s forearm to keep the guy grounded, scampering in front of him and splayin’ out his other arm to shield the guy from… what? A chihuahua would make a better bodyguard. His heart was pounding real bad, mind racing as he scanned the room, knowing he’d probably be in shit for this… “Leave him alone!” “Are you crazy?” The guard shouted, brandishing the stick. “He’s dangerous! Move out of the way!” The djinn ignored him, tugging on Sabe’s arm with a squeak. “Hey—hey guy—it’s okay, okay? No forceps,” he whispered desperately, known’ what the guy could do with a pair. He didn’t wanna see anyone turned inside out, or hurt, or missin’ an eye… “Nothin’ crazy with the forceps. I work here—I’ll—I’ll get us outta here, I’ll— I, uh— uh, I dunno, I—“ Yeah, real great, confidence. It practically flew out the window when he saw Galena approaching — flew out the window an’ splattered all over the rocks. Oh shit. Oh no. They got the big ones comin’ in. What if they tried to imprison him—or both of ‘em, or— “I got it under control,” the djinn yelled in a voice that implied the complete opposite. He swiped his bangs outta his face, eye careening wildly over the scene. “Alright? Hey! What’d I say about the stick?” The burly guard was ignoring him, cursing under his breath and approaching Sabe like some kinda caged animal. No. No no no nono. He saw nothin’ but disaster coming. “Out of the w—“ Without thinking, the djinn panicked, swiping his hand up. The guard’s weapon swung up, nailin’ him right in the face— with a howl the man crumpled, blood coursing outta his busted nose. “Shit.” The djinn squeaked, flinching against the tiefling. “Shit, shit — uhh….” His eyes flickered to the window. Panic sprung him into action, Eldaharian muscle memory. Old habits die hard. “Come on!” He yanked the tiefling’s arm with enough force to nearly rip it off again, clearing the bed in a single jump. The apprentices gasped and shrunk back—the guard stumbled to his feet again, face a red mess. Glass exploded out the window in a sudden telekinetic blast; Baqi scrambled out like a mad rodent, slicing his palm—wincing, the djinn ignored the blood, dropping solidly to the grass outside. He looked up desperately to see if Sabe had followed, wringing his hands — and ignoring the stunned looks from apprentices out walkin’ patients in the garden; there was blood splattered all over his robes and glass in his hair, eyes wide an’ insane. “Come on, c’mon, c’mon!” Baqi yelled at the busted window, all but jumpin’ up and down — soon as the guy came out he grabbed his arm again, flying down the garden. Patients and apprentices screamed at the sight—others called for guards. |
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| Sabellius | Dec 14 2015, 12:54 PM Post #5 |
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Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.
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He wanted to believe that everything would be alright so badly that he overlooked the fact he was struggling to believe what was real anymore for a moment, that horribly sentimental romantic chunk of him grabbing the reins for a second and tearing them away from his maniacal, slightly paranoid self. It would have been so easy to just calm down and do as he was told, to fall into that old routine, if he knew how. But without some kind of drug in his system, he just...just couldn't...his nerves were wound too tight, mind ticking and clacking away, faster and faster, tension in his chest coiling harder with every breath til he thought he'd snap and unravel, break his arms and legs in the sweet release. It was difficult to let go. He didn't want things to go back to being the way they had been, but neither did he want...this. Whatever this was now. Part of him reveled in it, gloated at the chaos he'd wrought with so little effort, the tiny tired part of him exasperated and mortified. Sweet. When the hell had the kid gotten so fierce? He watched with a faintly amused look as the waving, flapping medics backed away and closed in again, like a circle of carrion birds, just waiting for him to drop so they could savage his corpse. He started to laugh, pleasantly enough, the bass tone rumbling in his throat, gripped between his teeth, his eyes dead, flat, unfriendly. What he'd do for a pair of fucking calipers right now... All hell broke loose as the guard got up and the stick flew back, cracking him a ripe one across the face. A savage tug on his arm set it burning anew, but he got the point immediately, snatching up the bed pan from the floor and hurling it like a frisbee at the group of attendants. He missed, managed to slice off one guy's mustache on one side and embed the thing deeply in the plaster. Song poured over him, filling his limbs with lead and weighting him down as he turned for the window, made his legs clumsy and unwilling to clamber up onto the stiff mattress. A brief, insane image came to his mind of grabbing the bloody witch and shrieking, climbing the tallest building in Madrid, a black devil gone mad, swatting at birds. He shook the hallucination away, left glittering lights dancing behind his eyes. The physicians were covering their ears, and the window was beckoning, glittering shards frozen in the frame. Claws sheared the light curtain away from the wall with an ugly scraping, tearing, clumsily threw it over her head and poked it with his fingers where he thought her mouth was. Seemed to work, green eyes gone wide before she was smothered, choked as cloth filled her trap. Sabe couldn't have really said why he did what he did. Ninety-percent of his thought process was everywhere else now, and impulse had been ruling his hand since he'd stopped smoking, since he'd lost it and found himself somewhere on the plains. With Jade... Almost he dropped her then, the swell of her hip against his ear reminding him of that cursed moment, face pressed into her thighs, her hands in his hair, willing her to just tear his head off. Couldn't quite remember why he'd picked the bitch up in the first place... Couldn't remember why he threw himself out of the gods damned window, limbs flailing and self consciously holding the sheet around his waist down in case someone's delicate sensibilities were bruised by the sight of his fruits, laughed about it as he hit the grass and turned his ankle, a whooping cackle turned into a dog's yelp, guttural gasping painful laughter hiccoughing out as he hobbled along after the djinn. Half jumping half running, he managed to keep up with the kid, shoving people heedlessly out of the way where his psionic nudging wasn't quick enough to bull them down. He was hardly gentle as he pushed hard against unresisting, unshielded minds, prompting them to get out of the way, befuddling and terrorizing them before they'd even gotten within a couple of yards, sending them screaming without really knowing why. But such was the price of his talent, without the lho to dampen it. A bull in a freaking china shop couldn't have been more catastrophic, and it was only with the greatest of his efforts he kept himself in check, instead of running after the multiple feeling targets that screamed 'prey.' He probably should have stopped to ask where the hell they were going. Especially since the gates had been bolted shut, the terrified face under the steel helm of a guardsman on the other side peering worriedly through as people scattered. "Halt! Orders are nobody goes in or out til' the madman's been subdued! ...Oi, what're you wearing?" "Open up, chief's orders. Ain't that right lady?" Sabe slapped the rump on his shoulder hard enough to make the squirming woman squeal, lips peeling back in a savage grin. It was almost comical to watch the man's face drain of colour, made him leer all the more, fumbling with his spear. "Kid, cover your ears. Ain't nobody needs to hear what I'm about to say." Almost carefully he adjusted his grip, holding one arm across his hostage's bottom, the other cupping the side of her head where he thought he ear was, pressing her head against his hip to muffle the sound. If the earth had sunk claws into his guts and twisted, it might have come close to the awful sucking feeling in his midriff, building into his chest cavity and curling past his teeth in a whisper. The guard sagged against the wall, bent double and vomited. The gates buckled and tore shrieking from their hinges, a twisted mass that gouged the stone arches and dissolved into a rain of brown flakes before it hit the floor. Brickwork pitted and crumbled, shivering with obscene dizzying symbols before it was gone, eroding as the breath eased out of him. Sabe staggered, felt the backlash tear through him white-hot, left his knees shivering like a leaf in a storm. He wanted to curse but hadn't the energy, felt a thousand years old, brittle as aged glass. Blood dribbled over his chin, filmed his teeth and filled his throat with salt as he sucked air, coughed and spat a couple of teeth. "Go." He knew he could do it, same as always. You just did what you had to. Nobody got really hurt, probably. One foot in front of the other he lurched for the archway, ignoring the pins and needles in his fingers and toes, creeping pricking pain that bordered on numbness. |
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| Baqi | Dec 14 2015, 04:16 PM Post #6 |
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Everything was going to shit. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt, so he — but — Instant regret flooded him after the window broke, after his feet met ground. This wasn’t Ashoka. What was he thinking? He didn’t know where he was goin’ — the place was probably bolted up, and there we guards, and — Baqi yelped when the tiefling busted through with a hostage, a — Councillor? “What’re you doing?” The djinn whipped his head back to stare at Sabe as he ran. Sweat broke out on his forehead, heart flying up to his throat—dread crashed in his guts, hurtled up like a wall. No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were just supposed to get outta there—and he was gonna calm Sabe down outside the room, and explain the whole thing to the medics, but now, but now— Things spiraled outta control. All the sudden they were wanted criminals, kidnappers. Full circle, back to Ashoka again. Baqi scrambled to a stop, gibbering in front of the guard — had half a mind to just stop right there, go back before it could escalate worse. His throat closed up, voice higher ’n a kite. “Guy? Please! P-put her d—!“ But the situation was outta his hands. Lucky he’d clapped them just in time against his ears, because otherwise he woulda gone deaf — the blast crunched through his bones, slammed his teeth together, sent a ringing in his skull like a struck bell; metal twisted and flew, crashed to the ground like a broken beast. A helpless moan left him — all he could do, really, reality movin’ way too fast, collision course to disaster. Go. Go where? Where could they possibly go? All of Madrid would come after ‘em! Already people were screaming, raising the alarm across the garden. “He’s got Councillor Galena! I repeat, he has a hostage—” “Fuck!” The djinn nearly ripped out his own hair, teeth nearly cracking against each other. “Fucking— fuck!” He didn’t know where his legs were taking him. Only that they were flyin’ out of the garden — away from the guards streaming out of the building and raising their spears, away from the people on the ground and the broken gate, away from the hospital. Instinct told him to run to Ylsa’s — but he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t get her in trouble with the law like that, draw her into all this shit. But there was no way they’d make it a second into the city — wasn’t like Eldahar— some of the guards knew magic, and— and— “Guy, you gotta put her down!” he cried desperate over his shoulder, plunging and ducking and goin’ weird ways — eventually the streets would trickle down into forest. They just had to get there. “You gotta— come on, this isn’t a game, guy, she didn’t do a-anything—“ He was fucked. Good ’n fucked. He knew his life’d be over now: he was an accomplice to a councillor kidnapping. No way he was setting foot in that hospital again. No way he’d be able to walk two feet before getting arrested — and he was Ashokan, they didn’t care what happened to Ashokans— Tears sprung up in his eyes, angry, burning — the djinn ducked into a shady alley that sloped down dramatically, the kind that led down the hill. The djinn braced himself against the wall, catching his breath in big gulps of air. He needed just a second. One second. One… “Sabe?” He was scared of what he’d find when he looked up — what face would be lookin’ back on him this time. Something was terribly, terribly wrong— unhinged, like the guy had been before he fled Eldahar, but even worse… the alley, the bloody faces, the way he promised to tear everyone limb-from-limb… It’s like he didn’t even recognize him anymore. The djinn’s eyes flickered to the struggling woman, the bag over her face… if anything happened to Galena, they were done for. “Easy. Shit, there’s blood e-everywhere—“ they’d practically left a trail; the guy was missin’ teeth, blood slicking down his chin and dripping onto his chest, splattering onto the stone. Cautiously the djinn reached out, fingers trembling as he tried to rest ‘em on the guy’s arm. His palm dribbled blood, stung, but he hardly felt it with the adrenaline pumping in his veins and head, heart going a thousand miles per hour. “Everything’s gonna be okay,” he squeaked, more to Galena and himself. He just had to concentrate, had to… “Guy, I need you to just… be still, one second…” Muffled shouting sounded from somewhere—Baqi winced, trying to calm himself enough to use magic. Same kind when he helped Ylsa with her exorcisms, when the people lashed an’ screamed and spat. Same kind. He’d done it then, yeah? He could do it now. Come on, come on… Baqi whispered to himself — sounded like a breath of wind, slipping past and then forgotten. “Just… focus on me, okay?” The djinn tried to visualize the guy’s anger — the spirit coursing in his veins, kicking up his limbs, workin’ him into a frenzy. And he tried to coax it out, plead with it — let the magic hum through his fingertips, flowing over the guy’s mind like cleansing water. (abilities used: ameliorate) Edited by Baqi, Dec 14 2015, 04:18 PM.
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| Sabellius | Dec 15 2015, 03:46 PM Post #7 |
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Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.
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What was he doing? He didn't need a hostage but here they were, running for their lives again with an armful of insurance and he had no idea where they were, how he'd gotten there, or what state he'd needed to be in in the first place, though he had a fairly good idea. And then the kid told him to jump out the window and...what? Running was the natural option. Right? You ran because you survived, just like you fought to survive. But he knew that he wasn't in a decent enough state to stand up to too many of 'em and that only left getting out in more-or-less one piece. He'd hoped the kid knew what he was doing, had less concerns about privacy as he skimmed over the surface of his mind, riding his panic along and gleaning information from whichever bright, frantic thought happened to smash into his path. Pushing them away from Baqi and himself wasn't difficult, but the repeated necessity of it was trying, making his head thump, felt too tight behind his eyes, like they were gonna be pushed out of his skull. And speaking the Word didn't help either, left him ragged on the inside, rust flakes digging into the soles of his bare feet as he thumped over the mess he'd made, the weight of the councillor pushing into his shoulder, leaden. He couldn't offer any coherent words when the Djinn started spazzing out in fear again, pulling at his hair and blurting Ashokan obscenities. Only a smile, far from reassuring, lips lifting just enough, a hint of sharp red teeth, dead predatory eyes urging him to just leave. Wasn't that how it always went? They ran away when the problems presented themselves. It was easier to run than he remembered. Hard to start, sure, a slow lumbering step that set his legs to screaming, muscles quivering like jelly, then another, another, and he was steaming along easily enough, air hissing through his teeth, tongue probing the bloody gaps, sore, already feeling the prick of new growth through the gum. He sucked air, feet slapping on stone, on grass, the laugh welling up like blood in a wound, soft exhalations with each panting breath. Put her down...put her down...just like an animal... He'd barely noticed that they'd stopped, walking into Baqi's back, then taking a hasty step back, ear flicking at every slight sound, every disturbance int he air, his eyes elsewhere, jumping from one end of the alley to the other, never still. His hostage squirmed, lashed out and kneed him in the hip, drawing a grunt from him, disrupting the steady rise and fall of his chest as a flutter of pain worked its way through his side. Bloody footprints led right to them, and unthinkingly he raised a hand, cupped his face and drew it away again, flicking blood clear of his hand and halting the stream from his torn lips. Sabe jerked suddenly as the kid touched his arm, nostrils flaring and eyes rolling down to watch him from his peripheral, mad, baleful red. "Don't." He tensed, lips slowly peeling back to bare bloody filmed teeth, the snarl building in his throat. He raged at himself, shrieked within the prison of his own mind, but what could he do? This tiny, calm center, so gods damned tired, the melancholia buried under the tide of red. Wild... His hair bristled and rose stiffly on his neck not unlike a cat's mane, one shoulder rising as he turned, claws coming up, snicking from the sheathes- He dropped the councillor, pupils dilating to something close to normal, relaxing and easing back. A puzzled expression filtered onto his face, examined his hand, flexing the fingers until the claws eased back in. Just let himself breathe a moment, then took an unsteady step back and slid down the wall, rough brick grazing his back as he folded up, head in his hands. "Sorry...I'm sorry." He croaked it out, knowing it wasn't enough. He might've disemboweled the kid given another half a second. He just couldn't be trusted anymore...better caged and restrained all over again. But there was relief, the beast in him had subsided, slinking back just enough to allow him to breathe. Or had it? He didn't know which was the real him anymore, too choked up on drugs to know whether it was right or wrong. But if it felt good, it was probably wrong. Not because it pleased him, but because he couldn't tell anymore. "By the dead, what is wrong with the pair of you?" Sabe didn't move, didn't bother to look at the ball of frustration and fear having just pulled the fabric off of her face, filth staining the front of her stola where he'd dropped her, hair in disarray and falling down from its pins. A moment ago he would have killed them both, and now he was drowning in however many weeks, months even, of melancholia. Mania unending, and everywhere he looked, enemies. "Master...Baqi, is it?" Her eyes darted between the djinn and the devil, checked her shattered spectacles and clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Perhaps...thou ought to explain thyself." |
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| Baqi | Dec 15 2015, 04:58 PM Post #8 |
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For a sec there was no guy. Just red — red, eyes red as blood moons, all beast, no Sabe. He was gone. Didn’t even recognize him — growl building low, becoming the rumbling of a demon. Sabe? Tried to reach out desperately with his mind—desperate, desperate. Sabe? Nothing. Static. White noise. The claws came out. The djinn almost reeled back— almost flinched away, severed the connection, but it woulda been curtains for him if he did; didn’t know why he clung on tighter instead, nails digging into the guy’s forearm. Instinct? Disbelief? I’m sorry. Reality slid back together again. He was graspin’ nothing — air. The Councillor was on the floor, the guy reeling back, but the red eyes were still seared into his mind, hanging like lanterns, wouldn’t leave for a long time—the chilling horror of the moment, the impossible realization. He coulda killed me. He never believed the guy was capable of it — never, no matter how bad he got back in Eldahar, there was always sense… he could always bring him back with a simple touch, a word, like jostling a sleepwalker. There was always a Sabe. Always a Sabe down in there, one that could snap him back. But this? The djinn shrunk back into himself, grasping his shaking hand — felt like he was gonna fly apart at the joints, numb, replaying what’d happened over and over. What coulda happened. Suddenly the familiar ground between ‘em crumbled — mooring ‘em both, leaving ‘em both on their own islands, unable to cross the void. When the Councillor spoke, Baqi jumped and flinched, head snapping in her direction. She coulda been killed, too. Looked half like it, all covered in blood, her palla filthy, glasses cracked. “Shit.” What was there to say to that? The djinn put his hands to his face, pressed his knuckles to his eyes— bared his teeth somewhere halfway between a cracked laugh and a twist of pain, not knowing where to even begin. He might have better odds just turning and breaking into a run, scaling over the tops of buildings, but — but where would that leave them? “I’m sorry,” he choked, unable to look at her. His shoulders trembled bad — tried to hide it the best he could, but his guts still twisted, blood still soaring, heart flying against his chest. She had no idea what coulda happened… no idea… “This wasn’t… this wasn’t…” Supposed to happen? What I wanted? There was no way to finish that sentence. Get a grip. The djinn took a deep breath — filled his lungs till it felt like they might explode, dragging his hands down his face. His skin snapped back, just barely — old, by Nailah’s teats, he felt so old sometimes — settling into its old twist of fear, his eyes wide and shining under a tangle of hair. “Lady? Sorry, no offense. But believe me when I say this: it woulda ended way worse if I didn’t… do… what I did. They wanted to pin him down and stuff him full of drugs like some kinda dog, and—well, I could go hoarse tellin’ you why that won’t work.” His voice crumbled apart, went hoarse. It was hard to talk about with the guy right there — talking about him like he was some kinda filthy, unhinged animal; he didn’t deserve that. He wasn’t like that… “We go back,” he mumbled, jerking a thumb at Sabe, lips barely moving off his teeth. “I know him. He knows me. I was gonna—gonna help back there, in the room… but—the guard came after, wouldn’t listen—I panicked—I just—needed to get him outta there, okay?” Before anyone got hurt. The djinn wrung his hands, twisted up his fingers, jaw ironed together. Not a convincing case. “Ahhh… shit.” His fingers went back to his nose, pinching it— he had a throbbing headache, wanted to cry and run at once, feelin’ like a thousand neuroses collided together. “Sorry ‘bout your glasses,” Baqi said numbly, not sure where else to go from there. It was probably curtains for him. Handcuffs, soon as the guards came round the corner. No sense in sucking up or… or… The djinn hung his head as he padded past Galena, stopping hesitantly before Sabe. He didn’t wanna touch him right away — figured the guy needed space, took a deep breath. Baqi squatted next to the hunched tiefling, fingernails digging into his knees. The djinn bit his lip, pushing away a greasy tangle of hair from his eye. “Hey,” he whispered in Ashokan, rocking back nervously on his heels. “Hey. It’s okay.” It really wasn’t, but the guy didn’t need to feel any worse — the djinn’s fingers splayed in the air, hovered hesitantly by Sabe’s shoulder. His heart thudded uncontrollably. “T-talk to me, guy. What happened back there?” |
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| Sabellius | Jan 1 2016, 05:21 PM Post #9 |
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Fléctere si néqueo súperos, Acheronta movebo.
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Too close. It had been far too close that time. It wasn't like when Jade had refused to let go, had kicked down the fragile walls he'd built and left him unhinged. She had something equally bloodthirsty in her, something that defended her against the terror of being beaten and raped, shredded mercilessly and left as little more than another corpse in the grass with nobody to mourn... Nobody but him, anyway. He'd have remembered afterwards, in flashes in starts, at least for a little while. How many times had that happened? And since then it had only been getting worse again. Blank spaces that occurred more and more often, with nothing to fill them. Little to say for himself except 'I exist.' An animal didn't need a past, could learn from similar experiences, but remember? It was like trying to lasso the moon... Fingers raked at his choppy hair, scoring his scalp lightly, then harder as he deliberately pushed his claws against his skin, trying to ground himself with the pain against the throbbing pulse in the back of his skull, knocking against the back of his eyes. He couldn't do it anymore, this...limbo, this tandem, like two people inside his head, vying for control over himself, giving himself reasons why this or that was wrong, or why it mattered. Couldn't keep questioning himself, over and over, like he'd get a different answer at all, when more often than not there was no answer at all. But he kept doing it, like pissing into the wind and expecting a different outcome. Like a man who instead of learning to duck below the low lintel of the slightly-too-short door, just walks into it, every miserable damned day of his life. He just kept doing it, and expecting it to be somehow different, knowing the reality wasn't. And now he'd just walked the fine line between gutting his only friend in the whole damned world. Little he could do about it now...it was done...didn't make it any less horrifying though, still wanted to press the back of his hand hard to his mouth and retch, sick to his stomach. Losing his humanity. That was what it was. Would he still have kept fighting if he'd not met Baqi now? Or would there be a ward full of dead and dying people, and him wandering confused and volatile in the streets, naked as a babe? His flesh quivered of its own accord, a subtle numbness working its way through his limbs. Shock, maybe. Cold? Tension, there was plenty of, for sure. He wasn't really paying attention, couldn't understand their words anyway, not without listening with all ears. Never had been too good with Sotoan. No, let 'em have their privacy, he was too scattered to try to be delicate right now anyway. No, he watched them a moment instead through the crack of space between bicep and forearm, the kid gesticulating, the anger dissipating from the tiny woman. Eventually the light was too much, and he squeezed his aching eyes shut. Galena shifted her weight from one foot to the other, sighed and removed her spectacles. They were pretty much done. From what she'd understood, the black devil had come in missing pieces and had left again with them. It had indeed piqued her curiosity, but such experiments as might be performed would have been much frowned upon. She would have had to suffice with questions until he agreed to several..tests at least. Imagine what they could have done if they could bestow such a thing onto critically injured patients! It was almost touching that the Ashokan was obviously so...attached; if she might say so in a purely clinical observation; to the patient, but that aside...physical wounds were one thing to be treated, mental was something else entirely different, and quite the delicate matter. Without him having been awake long enough to exchange a word before violence erupted, they weren't to know, she supposed. "None taken. Verily he was brought to us two nights ago, and didst exhibit signs of violence on regaining his consciousness. Without physically restraining him...I had him tranquilized to keep the peace. As of now, we had little idea..." She peered down the length of her nose at the devil, head almost between his knees, and frowned. "At ease, initiate...thou art not in trouble. I do believe however, once all is resolved, thou may needeth a re-evaluation of thine skills. Whilst I am no longer in charge of the Ordos, mine word carries some weight...and I am sure that I can find room for a fresh apprentice..." She smiled lightly, settled her fingertips briefly on his shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture, half expecting him to take flight all over again and leave her standing here with this brute. Stupid to ask if it was 'safe' when it blatantly wasn't. But this foreigner had courage, she had to give him that. All she could do was give them space and observe, her grasp of broken Ashokan helping little to distinguish the tremulous murmurs and bass grumbling as actual words. She stepped away, instead politely attempting to disengage herself and clean herself up a little. No, no it's not. Everything is wrong. He wanted to speak in some form of coherence, but all that came loose was a strangled grunt, the barest sign that he acknowledged the kid's presence at all. What could he say that would make any of it right now? It wasn't like when he'd cracked the lid on that rage in Ashoka, had let it go a little too far and peeled that guy's face off. He still had some measure of control then, had been trying to protect the kid. Or at least dismember everyone except Baqi. "I..." No words, he had no words. Words were important, but he just couldn't find them, didn't dare to make that connection with the kid. Understanding would have been....a miracle. But how could he convey that when he didn't understand it himself? Not really... "I almost...you..." Sabe hitched a breath, pushed the heels of his palms hard into his throbbing eye sockets. Focus. Calm. Control. "I'm falling apart, kid. Can't remember how I got here...last week...just now I switched off...I'm losing it...dunno what's real and what's in my head...am I awake? Are you real?" He dropped his hands, turned his eyes on the djinn, wet with unshed tears, rife with shame, broken with fear of himself. Of what he might do. He felt lucid enough but that was the problem, wasn't it? Things felt so real in dreaming, things could hurt in dreaming. How was there any way to know? How had he ever known? Maybe everything was a lie... He wanted so badly to know, yet flinched away from the answer, one hand lifting as if to touch Baqi's face, then drawing back sharply without contact, not trusting himself not to do something stupid. Though he'd done plenty already, too excited, too emotional. How did one know who they were when they were calmly splitting themselves apart? The decision was weighed before him, he knew as much as anyone. Take the lho and go back, refuse it and go forward. Or possibly back. Had he been like this before he started smoking it? He couldn't remember...unsurprising, and intensely frustrating. Perhaps it had been stunting a natural process and he was supposed to be this way...but there had to be a better option. He had to believe that. There had to be some sort of middle ground... Shame that optimism had never been his strong suit. "I've probably ruined your new secret career. I could fix it, erase her memory, fill her head with how good you are and...and..." He trailed off, averting his eyes. It didn't change the gulf between them, and he'd never be able to bring himself to do something like that to the kid. It breached every kind of trust they'd built between them. The fact he'd even thought about it... |
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