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| The Sins of Men and Angels; [Utopia] | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 18 2012, 07:46 AM (3,082 Views) | |
| Werewolf | Jul 31 2012, 02:24 AM Post #61 |
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Unregistered
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Rahne was safe, and that was all that could matter to him at that moment; her well-being was the only motivation for him to keep moving, no matter how weak his knees felt. He clutched her to his chest almost desperately, afraid to let her go or even adjust her in his arms. Jack felt dazed, and the only thing he could do was keep walking. Only moments ago he had been living a perfect life in the confines his own mind. There had been a moment after learning it was all an illusion, a moment when he thought about pretending to know what his father's face looked like just so he didn't have to lose everything all over again. It made him sick inside to know that he had considered--even so briefly--to turn his back on everything to get a second chance with something that was never real. Even if he had managed to live a lifetime in his own head, there would be that moment when it would all unravel, and he would find himself holding onto things that had been gone for a long time. Gregory Russoff was matted into the ground with pitchforks. His mother was in a tomb that he had never seen. And Lissa.. It would have been easier if he didn't love them, and if they hadn't loved him either. He cared too much about things he couldn't change, and just when he thought he could move on he allowed the past to drag him back down and Jack buried himself inside it. At least then he knew how it all ended. Jack. Ye look like hell warmed over. Rahne's voice was soft next to his own thoughts, and Jack blinked, his slow shuffle across the grass shuddering to a stop. The man had only said one word since awakening, and he worked his jaw a little, as if to remember what speaking with his own mouth felt like. "As long as.. as long as I'm not in it, I guess," he said, forcing his face into something that could have been construed as a smile, though she couldn't even see his face. He swallowed thickly and gave a cautious step towards the infirmary, his legs quaking only slightly before he started to move again. He decided, then, as he felt the weight of Rahne in his arms that he should feel happy, even if he wasn't sure what to feel right now. |
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| Anole | Jul 31 2012, 03:36 PM Post #62 |
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Unregistered
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Anole, Victor, Vic, Reptile kid, whatever he had been dubbed that day, sat idly waiting for whatever progression the venom took next. If someone were able to sit down the former mutant and ask him whether or not he was happy right now, he would simply be unable to answer. Conflict met his every thought. Did he succeed? No. Did he fail? Not necessarily. But content in whatever had happened in the midst of combat was a fleeting answer that eluded his every thought pluck. It wasn’t a conscious motion, but a large sigh escaped the chest cavity of the Broodling. His breathing slowed, but this may have been because of the fact that he had been so far removed from the combat that any level of the alien equivalent of adrenaline was decreasing. He was no longer a threat to any of the members of the attacking party. Victor watched with large Brood-ish eyes as several brood infected creatures stepped over him. He was a casualty, rubble and debris from the battle. His eyes were not able to flash across the field as quickly as they had before, but he was still able to scope out the fighting still going on. Now, even though his brethren bore the yellow ‘X’ across their chitin armor, he simply saw Brood against Brood. The immobile broodling wondered what it was that had brought the species to Utopia, once the boundary between earth and whatever lie in space was broken, it was no longer clashing ideologies that pitted human against human, human against mutant, and mutant against mutant. It was beyond comprehension for the former mutant, and he thought that he didn’t need to know why to have the best intentions. That was all he had, good intentions. Victor watched as some of the weaker, damaged Broods fell for no apparent reason. Even the new Brood’s temperature receptors had been disabled by the venom, but as he watched many Broodling’s cripple beneath the chill, he slowly slipped away from the battle. The feeling was equivalent of his eyes falling back into his skull, his eyesight moving further and further away from actuality. Claws that had dug into the ground loosened, and he closed his eyes drifting away. One cough, followed quickly by a second. Victor instinctively rolled over to his side, clutching every bit of his body he could manage to as every bit seemed to ache with resonating pain. Through the pain though, he could feel the cool earth beneath him, eyes still shut there were tickles of grass on his neck and moist soil dampening something he thought he had lost long ago, his skin. A small grin broke the grimace and a conglomerate of coughing and chuckling rattled against his ribcage, but the pain was a lesser feeling compared to whatever it was radiating from within him. The former Brood couldn’t place it. It wasn’t joy. It wasn’t competence. It wasn’t any earthly feeling he had felt before. Something that was latched onto the idea that he had survived. “Vic, hey, I don’t wanna move you if you’re hurt, so wake up.” Sarah’s voice. It grated at his eardrums, but it was such a welcomed sound. Rolling over to his back, a pained groan floated out of him, and he opened his bold brown eyes meeting his friend’s. “I really hope a nurse is not on your list of potential professions,” Victor’s banter was interrupted by a spurt of coughs, “because that bedside manner was atrocious.” A wide smile broke through his formerly stoic face, and he felt more at ease now than he had since before he had fallen into a pit of sickness. “But really, I think a cot sounds much better than this ground. Could you help me up?” Confident in his ability to stand, he had overlooked his ability to keep standing. With an arm over Sarah’s robot like shoulders, he looked up to her. She was much taller in this form. “Thanks.” |
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2:21 PM Jul 11