exsiliumlogs | throws monster hat down in disgust

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throws monster hat down in disgust

Date & Time: 8/3-4, throughout the night
Location: VARIOUS
Characters: Artemis Ratcliff, Kate Kane, Collette, Koltira, the Nightcap, Regina Darkov?
Summary: Exterminating a hat
Warnings: Suffering and gross and all that monster hat jazz

Blind.

Am I...blind? Girl. Is this blind?

Girl.

It received no reply but resentment, and even in that there was no true answer to satisfy.

Blind, then.

Fumbling in what was there decided as a blind fashion, the Nightcap crawled out of a second-story window and clutched at the frames, fidgeting to perch securely and breathe in as deep as it could. No more flinching away from the pain the body shuddered with; sacrificing those sensory connections meant risking greater harm to the whole thing. It was learning a little too late, but better late than never seemed about right.

How still it had stayed for such a time! It felt like an eternity, that short span of days after the blazing sun and blazing fire. Its eyebrows were still singed, clothes tattered and tossed away in favor of stolen goods. The texture was hard to enjoy now that Regina Darkov's skin had hardened over with scabs and calluses from the conjuring scourge – it was all up her arms and neck and face. Ugly, ugly skin. If the fit wasn't quite right, the color too off, it wouldn't know. Blurry, not truly blind, her eyes wouldn't find details in much of anything, let alone that.

The Nightcap had to think very hard about its priorities. Life, above anything, mattered most. The pride it had in simply being was made bitter by the colossal threats it had collided with, each leaving it with less a capable host than before. Where would it leave the monster, should its little Darkov die? Ambling truly blind to find the nearest brain to latch to: That was hardly desirable. And if it were to simply abandon the girl for a healthy host, there went all hopes for access to the door and the world beyond.

Unless...that...yellow girl. Yellow hair.

She had called Skigaa, Regina's serpent. Impossible, but true. So, perhaps...

Key.

Took a key. Where is it?

Something so crucial had been so quickly forgotten in blazing sun, blazing heat, and oppressive nights in the dark. Now remembered, it grew frantic.

It leaped from its perch, scrambling up the wall opposite, and set to seeking it out. First thing's first.

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It wasn't unlike a dog in both enthusiasm and train of thought: The Nightcap was furiously digging through the brush and dirt in places here and there amid the green, seeking out its buried treasure. It found many others – trinkets, jewelry, fingers – but no gleaming keys. And when it did, emitting a strangled squeal, it soon trembled with rage, finding it some useless house key instead. It was thrown away deeper into the shrubs, furiously forgotten.

Where. Where. WHERE.

Edited 2013-07-28 03:28 (UTC)

He often forgot that this used to be London. The streets were alien, practically a different world, until jarring reminders of the past were found scattered about the city: aged remnants of statues, the foundations of landmarks, streets that had woven the same path since the Romans had made their way to the isle of Britain. And just when he had finally mapped out the new landscape of the city during his last stay, it had gone and changed again while he was gone.

Artemis had no intention of sitting around twirling his thumbs while he awaited the next mission-- or even further, waiting for the next disaster to befall the city. It was a combination of practicality and curiosity that spurred him onward through the streets, mentally taking inventory of his surroundings for future reference.

The noise was what drew his attention, his ears perking from several blocks away. It was easy to dismiss the sound of digging as some stray dog, up until that squeal resounded through the air. His eyebrows furrowed when he found himself close enough to take in the sight of the figure -- the woman? -- hunched over in the dirt.

It was extremely self-absorbed; the rest of the world was only a factor in so much as it affected it. The sounds that mattered were the dirt, the leaves, the sounds of fingernails hitting more than soil. Smells, touch, even taste was all for the key.

Except when it wasn't.

The Nightcap froze, suddenly overtaken by the feeling of being observed. It cut the girl's breath short, ignoring the ache in her bones as she remained crouched so.

Slowly, it breathed in a ragged breath.

Who. Is. It. Now?

Artemis' expression turned to a frown as he watched. There was something about the girl's movements that seemed unnatural. At the very least, she was obviously unstable, had the digging in the dirt not been enough indication of this.

He took several steps closer slowly, though maintained distance. He had no reason to reach for the sword holstered at his hip. Not yet.

Clumps of dirt slowly tilted and fell free from the Nightcap's loosely curled fingers – a sensation it would've like to enjoy if it weren't for the rapidly rising paranoia gripping it utterly. It couldn't afford anymore interruptions or do-gooders or sad-eyed pretender children or...or anything! When holding a breath was a chore, when aches persisted in and out of motion, and when foreign little girls could knock open doors to beings bound to another...

No, certainly no time for more.

In seeing nothing in its foggy gaze, in smelling nothing in a nose clotted with something certainly not natural, and in hearing nothing but leaves amid a windy sigh, it hunched back over and renewed its search.

It gave a strange, jubilant sound upon hearing a jingle, which sharply changed to outrage and frustration. The foliage hovering around the Nightcap was tossed, shredded, and accosted by flailing arms and a body twisting itself up and away from its excavation.

"NOT THAT," it shouted into the air, completing a full turn before throwing its miserable loot away. Coins tinkled and smacked limb and leaf, lost and forgotten immediately out of spite.

"Stupid! Stupid, stupid!"

He did not flinch, though his stance shifted somewhat, prepared to react to the creature's erratic behaviour at any moment. His eyebrows furrowed, and a memory seemed to click into place. He remembered Kirian's description of the woman who had attacked him. The resemblance could be a coincidence, but he doubted it.

That brought him to the question of what he should actually do, should this be the woman in question. There was a part of him that wanted to remain indifferent; he was hardly invested in Kirian's well-being, so he felt no personal slight over her actions. Of course, there was also a part of him that would gladly take the excuse to justify bloodshed in reprisal. But he wasn't so ready to throw away the promises he had made. For all he knew, this was just a particularly unstable human.

Artemis had to stop and ask himself what would be the "right" thing to do; what would Shea want him to do. The answer, of course, would be try to apprehend the girl without harming her.

He took a deep breath, and the wind shifted.

The smell...

It wasn't immediate, given how absorbed it was in its task, how absorbed it was in berating itself and making needless noise (it may as well enjoy something while toiling). It came like a passing cloud: A lit world gently dimmed, damp, moldy air suddenly thick with something new.

The Nightcap, fingers buried in the dirt, froze and held that latest breath, waiting for warning beyond the paranoid shudder of the girl's skin.

What IS it? It dared to begin to turn its head, painfully slow, lips curled back and baring teeth as breath was drawn between them. The distance was well enough to keep a refined shape far from sight, but the dreadful feeling of presence was escalated in the Nightcap's mind.

It shuddered.

"Oh..." No, no doubt in its mind on being watched. But by what? What role was right? What was safe?

The breath was let out, punctuated by a gentle whimper, involuntary. But, perhaps, useful.

Climbing had become quite an ordeal. Ruined shoulder or not, however, the Nightcap pushed its body to climb, to lift itself up off the streets and onto those vacant rooftops. That, it felt sure, would buy it some semblance of time. Time to...what? Recover? How poorly it had done so in its hideaway days. The hope for the key, the door, the medal...that was fairly well gone. All that mattered, though, was life.

It needed a better host. It had to choose well, not foolishly. And from up there, it could consider, wait, and close in, unseen.

Given the girl stopped coughing and rasping and spitting up all over the place. That had become quite an inconvenience, too.

She had been a couple of rooftops away and had almost turned her back when she spotted something crawling its way onto the rooftop. A figure she couldn't make out details for, but one she recognized once she grabbed her binoculars and zoomed in on it.

Tucking the binoculars away into her belt, she burst into a sprint across the building, concealed in the rain and shadows. Despite her speed, she was quiet, careful not to apply too much weight in her legs.

As she made her way closer, she aimed the blade from her gauntlet toward the creature's face. It was her way of saying hello.

Cradling the damaged shoulder had been where the Nightcap's attention was before it realized danger was coming quickly. Slowly, its head had begun to lift before the impact blackened all sight and red, hot pain flooded its sensory intake.

Regina shrieked, recoiling and staggering backward, nearly off the roof – but not quite. Instead, she and her monster landed hard on her back, clutching now her face instead of the shoulder, a fresher pain overtaking the old.

"Hello again."

It was all she said as she barreled forward, a hand outstretched for the monster's neck. She moved with a renewed determination tonight; she wasn't allowing Nightcap to get away again.

It coughed, spitting up black and red as hands scrambled from its sliced cheek to the hand at its neck. Fingers clawed at the glove, trying to pry at fingers and fabric, gurgling and hacking. It pulled its mouth in a snarling smile, contrary to the wild-eyed panic painted plainly across its face.

She was lucky enough that her gloves were sturdy enough to take the damage and maintain functionality. The palms were ribbed to allow for excellent grip, something that allowed for her to grab a fistful of the fabric around Nightcap's collar.

"We've got unfinished business," she spoke in an eerie, false sense of calm.

Already she had taken note of Nightcap's injuries. But where she had attained them and who else was after her possibly, that wasn't too important to her just yet.

"Kuh–"

The smile twitched again and again as it clawed at the hand.

"Ffffinished," it sputtered, peeling into choking laughter. Fingers drummed across the bat's wrist and closed around it, extra leverage to force needles out of its knuckles.

"You– are–"

She was ready this time, though it had been another close call. She pulled back, barely dodging those needles, the needles scraping against the edge of her gauntlet. Her leg swept out underneath, hooking around the back of Nightcap's knee to throw her down.

"No, you're finished."

Legs buckled, and the Nightcap dropped; weight fell heavy and hard on its elbow and elicited a sharp cry as pain radiated twofold, shoulder and elbow. It made the rest of the arm feel numb, more unresponsive to the monster's whims than before.

It was rather infuriating, to say the least.

Snarling unintelligible sounds, it scrambled, rolling on its belly, legs kicking over the empty air at the edge of the roof as it scraped and scratched for Batwoman's ankles. There was no plan or half-formed idea of what to do if it grabbed hold, just to do it: act, maybe think, act some more. Kill her.

"Hnn."

Down she went, but not without a fight -- and she had plenty of it in her.

As her body dropped, she quickly regained her balance and her free leg swerved toward Nightcap's face. She shifted her heel and aimed specifically for the jaw. Trigeminal nerve, even monsters like her -- it -- had to have them.

Besides, all that incomprehensible noise was growing on her own nerves.

Edited 2013-08-14 08:14 (UTC)

Did the monster have the nerve? No. The girl, though – the girl certainly did. And through her, so did it, and both were flooded with excruciating pain, recoiling and twisting away in a blind panic of pain. And in rolling, drawing too close to the edge, gravity grew claws and raked at the Nightcap's legs and flailing arm.

Rasping, groaning, it scrambled to twist onto its belly as it slid, further and further to an edge already unforgiving in its texture, but bloody, sweaty hands were of no use. Fingers pinched against the edge, holding all that dangling weight, numb and ignorant to the popping joints giving way.

As it fell, it barely made a sound louder than that popping, choking on the breath Batwoman's boot had stifled in one blow.

She was swift to rise to her two feet, albeit shakily. Adrenaline coursed throughout her body despite shifted into auto-pilot. This thing didn't have much energy left in it -- dispatching it once and for all was on an horizon she could almost reach.

Slowly, she stalked after Nightcap, like a wild cat after prey. She was poised and when the timing was right, she struck forward fast, grabbing a fistful of hair.

"You've taken up a lot of my time."

The monster rippled and bulged in odd places, trying to will the body to do its bidding quickly, smoothly, but a battered thing could only do so much, even with the will to back it. The Nightcap's eyes rolled up, trying to find and follow the shapes of red and black in the dark and all the sound that came with i–

Pain from the scalp was instantaneous and near unbearable, eliciting a wild and unchecked scream. It certainly caused more motion than the monster itself could, giving it the means to scramble and catch hold of chunks of wall enough to keep gravity from making the pain worse. As the monster worked, the girl wailed, and everything was a swirl of pain and noise and hatred so vast as to swallow everything.

It may as well have just broken, taking a fall like that. Part of the Nightcap had hoped for it; at least that would have drawn someone – something close enough to latch onto and be rid of this Darkov business. Enough with needles and doors and wailing, two-minded women.

Maybe if it was pathetic enough to draw some bleeding-heart mouthbreather close, have them bend low and peer and wonder...maybe. Maybe even the one who cast it down! There would be an interesting turn.

Regina's mouth twitched, and then her head was turned, granting her safer means to hack. Don't die YET.

Don't die yet, Regina. Collette has a bone to pick with your parasite.

It's not something friendly that emerges from the darkness of the alley. Collette, friendly and bright as she is, is better described as pointedly enthusiastic when participating in battle. She's her own kind of go to girl, darting in and getting into the thick of things because it needs doing, and because the thrill is addictive in a way the pain will never be.

There are no words when she steps forward. Not at first, and not at Nightcap. If it hears because it controls everything of Regina, then it hears her words like this:

< I'm sorry, Regina, but I really hate your taste in hats. I think it's time for a wardrobe makeover! >

But this mouth breather who came close came close with her mouth and tried to bite down and into the create that controlled another person's everything with the most care she can afford.

Enjoy, Nightcap. Time to deal with the real croc, the one who isn't fever confused and sick on the rooftop of the hospital.

There was little time to be outraged by the sound of the girl's name, driven directly into her mind as it was. It was troublesome enough how so many seemed to seek to wake Regina out of her despairing stupor, even if it were to only give her the hope she would finally be good and dead and, ultimately, free of the Nightcap's exploits. It was hardly inclined to comply, ravenous for life and bitter for its defeats as it was.

And though the girl did stir at the sound of her own name, the real reaction came from the monster itself as jaws closed over much of its body. It, not she, screamed and reacted, bulging and splitting in places to frantically push, wriggle, or tear its way free. It had no blades for its own defense, however, instead seeking out eyes or ears or nodes farther up in that mouth to tap into a brain and impress its outrage on a vastly rattling level.

As the girl's back arched and fingers began to stiffen in the Nightcap's faint effort to conjure, a monster's shrieking, slurring, inhuman will imposed itself upon the girl in reptilian skin:

RELEASE ME.

The proposition appears to be denied. The harder it writhed and fought for some hold on the vulnerable parts of Collette's reptilian face (try harder, she thought to herself, you jerk), the more violently she tugged, until Collette sent herself into a death roll and kept up her incessant mental chatter.

< You gotta try better than that! If you're going to wrestle the big guys, you better bring in your big guns. No offense to the lovely lady, but you definitely didn't pick the muscled one of the bunch! >

She had no idea if there was any muscled one in the bunch to have been chosen. It doesn't matter. < Regina, your brother's been here for a year. He's got good friends! I think they make him happy, even when he's awkward and shy and blushes at fat babies with wings. > Cherubs. Who knew what was up with those things. < It's not all bad here. It's not all darkness or -- whatever. Okay, you know what parasite, you taste grosser than gross, and crocodiles don't even have great tastebuds! >

Edited 2013-08-05 01:20 (UTC)

Tendrils searched and found nothing but the crocodile's unyielding armored skin and more to be furious about as the thoughts poured in, unchecked, impossible to guard against. It was littered with nonsense and it was quick to assert the notion unto itself, unto the girl who wondered in the ebbs and flows of pain that came with even the slightest motion.

What does it mean?

The Nightcap withdrew its efforts to controlling the croc by force and reasserted its control on its host, sending arms and needles over to seek out weak flesh and pierce it as before. Only this time, said croc was far too lucid and the Darkov far too battered; one arm couldn't even lift higher than her chin, and those needles crumbled to dust without ever finding a target.

Still, it struggled, twisting and twitching to snatch, swipe, stab, or scratch anything it could in its blind, face-up search.

More than the fighting, she keeps up the mental dialog. Fighting is easy in this form. Clamp down, hold on, roll, don't back down. The crocodile had been her choice for reasons of tenacity as well as strength, surprising speed, and an exciting background as a professional wrestler.

Crocodiles could drown elephants. And while no drowning was going down here, it was that sort of potential that let her ignore the flailing attempts at dislodging.

So she talked, moving backward, shaking her mouth like a careful dog aware of her potential of snapping Regina's neck if she's too rough.

And she keeps talking.

< You're not alone, Regina! No matter what it tells you or how it says you'll probably never get away or be free, that's not true, it's just telling you that. It wants to be in control because it needs you to do anything. Do you feel this now? It can't get away from me or people like me on its own. It's a jerk! A jerk that can't save itself. We'll make it stop, one way or another! >

They might be hollow promises, because some endings might not be the happy ones, but Collette kept on, mental tone almost jovial, friendly, talking to the woman she presumes is in there, and not the creature manipulating her body, overriding and controlling her mind.

< Martin's a good guy. He's done well for himself! Kind of has his own group of really close friends, all people who care about him. We're looking for him now. We'll find him! And I know it gets grey and rainy and dreary here, it's like that so much of the time, but we also get sunshine and we have good moments and bad moments and it's nice more than it's bad and it's not living in the darkness at all anymore! >

She wasn't sure if that meant anything, a half remembered comment in earlier conversations with Martin in his fumbling, startled way.

< I'm sorry that this hurt, but we can't let it get away. >

She could really, really use back up about now.

... She could have also planned this out better. (Like, at all!)

Regina's latest breath was cut off with a sharp rasp as the entire body stiffened. The Nightcap bubbled and bulged itself into one, clumping mass between the crocodile's jaws, bigger and bigger, as big as it could, like some kind of grotesque balloon. It quivered greatly with the effort, those vice-like jaws not yielding any inch easily, and then quickly collapsed, pulling in on itself and retreating to the girl's scalp.

GO. NOW.

It rolled her, forcing her to raise herself up. Amid groaning, the Nightcap lifted up and reeled backward, wasting no time on grace or sense to get itself away from that mouth and those teeth. Falling over itself, it kicked and dragged itself by knees and elbows, masses of formless black draping over useless, crying eyes.

"Achh– gnuh, hruh–!"

Koltira had been looking for Regina. He'd seen the increasing reports of her--the Nightcap's--exploits over the network, and he knew that matters could not go on indefinitely. No matter how much he wanted to preserve the girl, the monster had to be addressed. It was not dissimilar from Martin's own situation last year, and he felt just as much sorrow over what had to be done.

He was out on his patrol when he heard the unusual noises of the crocodile-parasite skirmish. Byfrost drawn, Koltira raced towards the unique gurgling and whimpering he'd heard from the Nightcap before, and he was fast enough to cut off its escape.

Koltira had seen too many horrors to be disquieted by Regina's deterioration, but it made him soul-sick nevertheless. This poor child. The thought echoed in his mind, and was itself an echo--for Martin, back then.

"Regina," he said. "This must stop."

He advanced, his long ears perked forward and alert, his eyes scanning for the Nightcap's most recent opponent. Here he was, Collette. The backup.

< Koltira! >

Collette's Thought Speak was a mixture of relieved and sad, in a way feeling like they were moving toward inevitability.

< I'm sorry, > she repeated to Regina, allowing Koltira to hear at the same time. She thought she'd heard what he said: she hated to agree. < But he's right. >

She was a darker shadow among the rest, on Regina's trail. It was like a cold promise of what was there from a person usually so warm. None of this is kind, not even nice.

< But I mean it, Regina. You're not alone. >

"Sshhhh–SHHHUT UP!"

The Nightcap pried the girl's mouth opened and screamed, head craned back and tilted, catching glimpse of the sharp glare Byfrost cast its way. The whole body shuddered knowingly, aware of great threat.

Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut"–up shut up SHUT UP!" Hands reached up, clawing at the sides of its face, peeling at the black mass building up all around.

"That! Isn't my name! Shut up! Stop it! How d-dare you! Dis...ss...gusting creatures! You have no RIGHT!" It spat, coughed and quivered, straightening up out of the slump its sputtering caused. Where the mass atop the head moved, so the rest of the body sluggishly twisted or leaned toward, lifting accusing fingers in the spaces it perceived its enemies.

"Yhh-youuu...gh! You!"

"Enough," Koltira said. Regina's unnatural movements infuriated him; this parasite was literally using the girl's body as a puppet, jerking her this way and that and likely causing her immense pain. It was intolerable to witness.

Rime encrusted Byfrost's blade as Koltira's eyes narrowed in concentration, and the accumulated ice suddenly burst forth, racing along the ground beneath their feet at a whip-crack pace. The ice exploded upwards once it reached the Nightcap's shoes, forming into thick, metal chains meant to hold the body in place. Once secure, the frost that coated the chains continued to creep upward, out over Regina's neck, her chin, beneath her ears. Soon it would overtake the site of infection entirely.

Words became senseless shrills and screams, arms windmilling as control of its feet was taken from the Nightcap. It clawed at its face, clawed at the thin ice creeping, trying to rip it away faster than it was growing, but for every small chunk ripped free, more came, and seemed to never stop.

Fear was not a foreign concept, but it was rawest then, completely undeniable and overpowering. What countermeasures could it possibly think of? The girl was reeling, useless, and hardly the world-traveled Darkov she needed to be to give the Nightcap all the knowledge it could possibly get to think its way through the situation.

The ice thickened with each passing second, layering itself several times over on top of Regina's face and clothing -- including, and most especially, her hat. Its production did not stop until nearly half of Regina's body was completely encased, and then shimmered, becoming translucent and diamond-hard.

Koltira took Regina by her free arm and set his other hand, palm open and flat, against the ice that coated her cheek. The right strike in the right place, and the entire thing would shatter.

"I am so sorry that I could not do more, Regina," he murmured. "I had wanted to free you, and I will, but I fear the consequences will be too much for your body to bear."

His fingers curled into a fist. With careful, precise force, he slammed his spiked gauntlet into the ice.

Regina's head was filled with the rattle and roar of the monster, as all-encompassing and horrible as the very moment it first made contact. Ear-rattling – a sound so intense it made her eyes ache, her jaw clench tight...yet pain was so much of a part of every breath and blink that all that registered was the wild roar of a breaking beast.

It didn't want to die. It never wanted to die. All it wanted – ever truly desired – was life. Of all creatures, it was convinced it alone scraped and clawed its way into being; where others were born, it made itself. The girl was the means to its realization, pulling from her experiences to fill out the world around it, give it words and sense...but everything it wanted, everything it chose to do, was a choice it made for the thrill of making it, for the chance for more.

How dare any deny it, tell it no. Make it suppress its cravings and pursuits for the sake of others...what did it owe anyone? Aside from the girl, of course. And even she was ungrateful for how it tended to her needs...back before. There was no delight in compromise. No delight in policing itself for the sake of evading punishment.

And then Exsilium. Horrible monsters and powers far beyond its own. The lesson of crossing superior forces was learned so painfully, yet even still the Nightcap stubbornly believed itself right in its pursuits.

Still it believed. Still it was certain it was being wronged.

How dare they.

Connection to the eyes was gone, for all the good that was: Regina was practically blind. The absence of sight was the worst, for how unpleasant pain had become, intermingled with pain.

How dare they.

No more pain, then. It wasn't a relief, though; it was one less connection, made it terribly clear there would be no more touch. Soft fur, rough concrete...

HOW DARE THEY.

The girl was gone absolutely. No whimpering echoes of a girl trapped in the back of her mind, made spectator of her own body. The Nightcap's home.

HOW D–

Broken, ripped from each tendril of awareness, the core of the parasite list touch with will.

As the ice cracked apart, Koltira grasped what he could of the parasite in his hands. He tore away whatever solid pieces he could grasp of the hat and dashed them on the cement. But he could see, also, that Regina was falling. He kept his grip tight on her arm, keeping her upright, even as he brought his boot down on the parasite's remains.

"Regina," he said. "Can you still hear me?"

Regina, like the monster, couldn't register the pain. It was as much to do with the cold as it was simply the body losing touch with her senses. How long had those warning signs blared with nothing done to alleviate the stress? It only became worse over time.

She sagged, knees buckling, and let out an involuntary wheeze.

Koltira cinched his arms around her waist and bent down, slowly, until he was kneeling with her on the pavement.

"Regina," he tried again. "Please."

He pressed his ear against her chest; listened for any semblance of a heartbeat.

It was there and it was her own, as her breath was, and all the little twitches and uncoiling muscles in her body. All hers, for all the good it did.

But it was remarkable, opening and closing her own eyes, making the faint glimmer of Koltira's hair vanish and reappear at will. Anything else was too distant to see, and that was well enough; she still wondered on all the things said amid and above the screeching monster in her head.

Martin?

"Mar..."

Koltira cradled Regina's body, exhaling. She was alive, but only just.

"Martin," he supplied. "No, I am not he. But I knew him. He was well-loved here. Remains well-loved."

Collette held her own peace, watching with reptilian eyes as ice did the impossible (but so believeably so!) under Koltira's direction. Freeze it out. They did the same thing with warts, she recalls: cold so intense it burns out the virus.

It's a freedom, bought at a price Collette doesn't think Regina can survive. She won't pretend to understand -- bodies weren't meant to handle cold like that, not if the ice had been doing what she suspected -- but what can a girl in the body of a crocodile do except believe and offer the words she did before?

Build on what Koltira's offered. Give Regina something before whatever else wins; wonder if the Initiative will bring her back, or if that will include the detestable thing that had taken such liberties with her, body, spirit, soul.

< He has good friends. He can be funny without trying, and he always means well. He's a good guy. Koltira's got it right, 'Gina. There's a lot of people here who love him, and make sure they do what they can so he's never alone. >

Though she can't say they've found him for the months since that thing had appeared; the various sly threats and lack of proper clues to track down his where-abouts, the Initiative's list still claiming him to belong.

She doesn't voice those misgivings. She just enfolds Regina's mind with warm regard, a fondness and happiness with an underlying touch of knowing sadness she can't entirely make disappear.

< Just like you're not alone even now. In the good sense, not the um, in your head sense, though that's where you're hearing me 'cause it's how I have to talk. >

Edited (wow homophone strike I REVOKE MY OWN BA IN ENGLISH) 2013-08-15 20:18 (UTC)

There it was again – that sweet and earnest voice. It had pulled Regina out of a deep well of darkness, drawing her up into a waking world of a continuous, but fading agony. It made the faint light bouncing off Koltira's hair an outline to a shape – a moving shape, looming over her. If it were something to fear, she had no sense to; it didn't match the kindnesses pressed to her ears and her mind. All about Martin.

Slowly, her face contorted into one ready to burst into tears, but she had none. She could feel the pull of her mouth in that grimace, realizing it was hers to move. Freedom, her brother...It was a lot of information to take in, to piece together coherently, and keep the horrible echoes of the Nightcap's whole being out of them, muddling them up.

Aside from small fidgets and whimpers, Regina was still and silent, listening and wondering. Was any of it real? She could almost believe the voice was Danielle's, and perhaps the armor her knuckles twitched against was something of home. Everything in her head was steering her that way already.

"Hh–ss..." He's safe, then? Was that real?

She breathed out one more time, and the strain in her features left with it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

throws monster hat down in disgust

ARTEMIS.

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KATE.

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what do you mean i edited this years later...

what do you mean i tag a week later

kisses u

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COLLETTE, KOLTIRA.

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