Jago
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Post by Jago on May 14, 2013 9:14:36 GMT -8
Inside The Turbolift ~ " I hate when it's something more," Jago sighed.
This was supposed to be just another walk in the park. In fact, less than that: Master Pulastra was merely making rounds to worlds both in and out of The Republic in order to bring information to the Jedi Order, as well as help send the right message about what Jedi were and what they did. He supposed he should be grateful that he now had a perfect opportunity to complete the latter part of his goals, but just once, just once, he would have enjoyed relaxing for a bit.
Then again, downtime was often quite boring.
" This Teuthus's Vengeance, the Quarren movement ... I'm still waiting to hear back from my astro on what he's gathered from them, but I figure you might be the authority here."
The lift finally reached their destination, a bell announcing that the short journey was over before the doors slid open with the hush of a well-maintained facility. Jago stepped out quickly, knowing Will would be right beside him as they tried to make haste towards the escaped patient and get to the bottom of what the Hell was going on, both locally and on Dac proper.
" Any heads-up you can give me before we jump right into the gundark den?" he asked as they hustled as fast as a hospital would allow.~
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Will Sontir
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Post by Will Sontir on May 15, 2013 19:29:41 GMT -8
Master Son'tir followed the High Councilor straight out of the turbolift and marched in step on the ground level as the fingers of the security guards, both webbed or otherwise, pointed them both up the stairway that will take them up to where Syren is surrendering. As the two masters walk in step with haste, Will explains what he can.
"It is a newly formed 'liberation organization' named after a martyr whom died for the cause, Teuthus. Intelligence has gathered that high ranking members of this liberation movement are some of the captains from a terrorist cell who had the same ideals, one system year ago: the Red Eclipse. The Eclipse was headed up by a dark sith pulling the strings of Quarren patriots who believed themselves doing what is best for their brethren, only to be currupted. My Apprentice at the time, Zane Shadolen, and I dispatched justice to the Sith and other top generals in the Red Eclipse. Other core members retreated into the depths, into the doomed city of Aquarius where we believed the movement dies. It may seem that the movement did not die, but perhaps reincarnated through the ashed of Teuthus' death." A comlink chime from Will's belt. "Looks like the PF is detaining the patient just a few floors up these stairs here. I think I will let you talk to her; you did visit her when she was calm, yes?" a cock of his eyebrow towards the High Councilor Pulastra looking for an answer, regardless-- Will would differ to him when the time came to speak to the force-using patient.
Upstairs . . .
The Nautolan looked at the patient a bit perplexed at her quick surrender, his crimson eyes spot hospital security dashing up the opposite end of the hallway and pondered for a moment whether or not they were the reason for the patient's ease of surrender. The Nautolan waves off the security guards approaching off and returns to the apprehension. "Please peacefully place your arms behind your back." The Nautolan produces a shock collar and prepares them to be fitted on the patient; he looks back to the Mon Calamari following him. "We will wait for the Masters Jedi to arrive, secure this hallway and make sure they" points to the hospital security "politely keep there distance." The Mon Calamari both give their own acknowledgment and move to either side of the Nautolan and the patient as she is being taken into their custody. . . .
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Syren
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Post by Syren on May 16, 2013 4:58:49 GMT -8
*Syren looked at the nautolan and simply said,* "No," *in reply to his question. Her hands were far safer to everyone in the air, and much more useful since the hospital security were intent on getting their patient back into their custody.
She rested her hands on the top of her head, letting the nautolan glimpse the fins along her arms.* "You don't want to use shock cuffs. For one, they will kill me, and another, you might kill yourself trying to get them on." *One of the hospital security tried to reach for Syren's upper arm, safely away from the fin bone jutting out of her wrist and tapered to deadly point just past her elbow. The whole bone was razor sharp and coated with a deadly poison to most living things.
She grumbled at them* "Isn't that right, boys? Accidentally nicked one of the nurses when I had that violent reaction to the bacta patches you lot tried to put on me. It took her a while to die, painfully. Even though I have been very cooperative, this facility can't seem to make a stable antivenin to counteract it."
*The head security guard, a Mon Calamari whose badge read "Officer Teleo," looked up at the men with guns with a questioning glance.* "I don't know how you were able to be admitted in here with those guns. We have strict regulations about weapons in this facility, even for the defense force." *He grummbled in a gravelly Mon Calamari voice,* "Now I may just be a peon, but your being here in force seems like an important thing to be given notice about. And all I know is that we have a psychiatric patient out of her room..." *The two other guards holding Syren by the arms grunted at their commander.
A slight pink blush flooded the officer's face then since the defense force had played a heavy hand in stopping the patient's escape.* "This patient needs to get back to her room, possibly sedated, and definitely bound since she is dangerous." *One of his big round eyes rolled towards her, sizing up just how they might get her back to the psyche ward. "Since you are here and helped to detain her, you are welcome to help us return her, but we cannot leave her in your custody. She is still a patient and we have our regulations."
*Syren snorted out a puff of air, annoyed at the blustering guard trying to save his dignity as well as keep his job.* "I was supposed to be released today, about an hour ago actually. How about all of you gents just escort me down to the check-out desk and then I can answer all the questions these lovely people with the guns have, and then I can be rid of you hospital folk for," *she tilted her head back and forth for comic effect,* "let's say the rest of my life." *She gave them all a big smile, wide and as scary looking as it might be.
The security guards tightened their grip on her arms.* "So that's a no then?"
*Syren had found that she had become much more calm. She could not remember exactly how that switch had been made.* <<Maybe this kind of thing used to happen to me a lot,>>*she mused. Then she shuddered.* <<How unpleasant life must have been. I mean this should cause mental trauma to normal people...>> *Syren stopped letting thoughts run through her head. This whole ordeal was bad enough, there was no use dredging up memories her mind did not even want her to remember.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 17, 2013 20:21:28 GMT -8
. . .Meanwhile, in a dirtier part of a city. . .Near the wharfs, the ocean-spewed traveler, or drunk, it seemed, wandered in aimless circles around similar looking streets, stinking like seaweed and the hull of a sea vessel, her boots making obnoxious squishing noises that reminded one of jungle rot. The girl's body would list and lean off center as she strolled, and occasionally she would crash into a wall, stumble over sidewalks and manholes, and collapse into both trash receptacle and errant doorway alike. But then she saw him, a lone civilian cleaning his speeder. Her bright blue eyes lit up with a fiery passion that resembled twin supernovas, and with a grin, she reaches from an unknown, unseen pocket, and pulls out a huge handgun, her handgun, her precious instrument, initialed Desert Eagle .50. That wretched expression spreads and spreads -now the gun is leveled for the unaware man's head. Diva pulls the trigger. . .. . .A stream of water pours out from the tip of the pistol. It has been completely water logged.". . . WOT?"Always the little trooper, she pulls on the trigger again and again, which only results in happy clicking noises. Crestfallen. The embodiment of all that is evil then hits the magazine release, which leads to more water pour out from the bottom of the feed."$@#&. Bloody gun is still good for smac... smack.... Smack *cough cough* ughh.. umm... UGH.. UGHH! GULP!"She doubles over, pale white hands pressed on stomach, and much like the Deagle before, she also begins to vomit up seawater with quite the gusto. Now the man fixing his speeder is aware of her presence, due her loud gags and retching - to which he thinks, "Freaking teenagers with their underage drinking", before then proceeding inside, disgusted with the amount of vomit this girl can spew. Another lean with another spray of puke, and yes, her boot connects with the pile of her own discharge, and can't you guess, she trips, dropping her pistol, slipping backwards into a ground level window, crashing through it, and falling down into an empty basement. She probably would've cursed, except she landed head first on the bottom with a nice, audible, CRACK! Right before nap time, the girl manages to raise up an arm feebly, just in time to miss blocking the heavy, empty pistol, which thudded against her forehead, knocking her out cold. It takes a lot to get Eralam's attention when he's wandering about. The ancient Shard was never terribly altruistic, and certainly not inclined to investigate what sounded to be a rather clumsily drunk individual on the way home from a bar. The breaking of glass, the spattering sound of fluid hitting a hard surface, the involuntary groans of a retching humanoid; none of these were important enough to break him out of his mental haze as he wandered aimlessly though the floating city.
There was another sound, however, one that signaled the potential for danger. Buried under the layers of biological function was a much colder, much more mechanical sound. The rasp of metal on metal and the clatter of a magazine hitting the ground. The distinctive sound of heavy steel impacting a skull. Yup, there was danger afoot, if not for him then for the dumb sonofabitch that decided to pistol whip someone with the Robot Space Ninja still in earshot.
Eralam drew his LeMat revolver, a relic from the past that rivaled most civilizations in age. As he strode towards the scene of the commotion, he called upon the Force to pick up an impression of the area. Killing intent, darkness, these were here in abundance. Also surprise and the misery associated with illness. Both of these were pretty much standard for a mugging. Upon arrival, he was somewhat surprised to see an empty street. No body, no assailant. No fun.
Purely for shits and giggles, he started looking around. It didn't take him long to find the broken window. He peered inside, revolver ready."What in the hell..." There at the bottom, soaking wet and thoroughly unconscious, lay what appeared to be a teenage humanoid. Probably female, definitely concussed, judging by the head trauma. He hopped down to see if she was alive and nearly joined her on the floor as his foot hit something...metallic. If only he had a face, his eyes would have widened in surprise. The RoboNinja had damn near busted his ass on a Desert Eagle, .50 from the looks of it."Ok, this is just getting weird." He tucked the weapon into his gun belt and bent down to check on the female. He wasn't exactly equipped to check for a pulse, but he had learned a few tricks on the battlefield. Keeping the LeMat readied with the right hand, Eralam reached out with the left, grabbed the female's earlobe hard enough to bruise it, and shouted."HEY! GIRLIE! YOU ALIVE?"
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Jago
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Post by Jago on May 18, 2013 13:20:51 GMT -8
Inside The Hospital ~ " Red Eclipse, eh? You know some of the younger ones on Yavin Four are still talking about you and Zane on that one," Jago recounted to Will as the two men moved swiftly towards Syren and her current detainers, moving up the stairs and down the halls until they could finally see Syren and the security team.
As to Will's question about the patient, Jago could only shrug.
" I hadn't had a chance to speak to her at all: first time I saw her was right before you arrived. But, I suppose we'll see what all the fuss is about shortly."
The small detachment from Dac Defense came to attention at first sight of the Jedi Masters, making Jago flinch and immediately wave them off in a state that could only be described as embarrassment.
" Please, please, as you were," Jago asked of them. Military formality tended to chaff on him quickly: a strange thing, considering he himself was quite heavily involved in the Eastern Rim branch of the Republic-sanctioned Jedi Peacekeeping Taskforce. He politely addressed the men to release Syren to his and Will's custody, though they refused to leave the area entirely. Protocol, Jago assumed. He relented and allowed them to remain in the name of giving space to the Jedi so they could get to the bottom of this odd and unique development in the Foamwander Medical Center. A few of the hospital security staff took one look at the lightsabers on the Jedi's person and figured that their time could be spent better elsewhere. Jago thought he heard a few mumble something about "Jedi favoritism" and "abuse of power", but he let the comments go. This time. He frankly did not have the time or the patience at the moment to speak to an entire facility about the position of the Jedi Order when it came to Force Potentials, and how they should almost exclusively be dealt with by certified Knights and Masters, considering the inherent dangers.
" We meet again," Jago chuckled once Syren had been properly released, letting his back rest against the wall opposite from her, his arms folded behind him.
" I was hoping this time you might stick around for a chat with me and my friend Will, here. I figure it might be a more hospitable setting rather than dealing with folks carrying blasters, neh?"
He smiled warmly, ever the courteous and polite type when it came to meeting someone new for the first time.
" My name's Jago. I said so upstairs, but considering you were in quite a dash, I wasn't sure if you caught it. What're you called, hm?"~
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Syren
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Post by Syren on May 19, 2013 11:43:27 GMT -8
<<Ah, the white haired one and the other human.>> *Syren had caught sight of them and raised an eyebrow at the one speaking.* <<Jago...>> *she mused. She jangled her wrist, still bound in the psyche ward orange band. It had her most recent medical history printed in brief on a data chip and her name printed in bold, blocky Aurebesh.* "My name sounds a little clunky in Basic, but if you insist on proper ones: ÆrÃel Taurädùn Süläñên. The nurses have been taking to calling me Syren however." *She left out the reason why the nurses had nicknamed her as such. For the most part, it was easier to pronounce.
Syren blinked her piercing green eyes, reflecting on the other reason for the nickname. Then spoke carefully,* "Jago, if you and yours would not mind, could we consider moving onto another floor to continue our conversation?" *The hospital security looked ready to object, but she halted them.* "We don't have to leave the hospital, since they are adamant about keeping me. Just move a floor or two away from here." *She looked pointedly at the door just down the hall.* "Get away from all the 'wailing' and 'crying' that is about to split my head open..." *No physical sound was coming from there, but if the Jedi were to stretch out with their feelings, they might be able to note the grief coming from the room.*
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 19, 2013 17:31:51 GMT -8
*Kilometers away from Foamwander Medical center, far enough away not to cause cracks and spasms, but close enough to cause cosmic annoyance if one could sense the obtuse chords that the Force thundered along with, cluttering lives, history, and potential -there was a basement.
There was sleep. The sleep was beautiful and the sleep was peace and everyone joined in hands, the spirits, the ancients, gods, and prostitutes, and they had a loud cheer and it was heaven complete with verdant knolls, crop circles, and the collective sense of entitlement -but something was wrong and the blue haven stunk because they let the wrong one in without knowing it and then true beauty began with smiling eyes and grinding, sharp teeth, and then heaven was revealed to be Hell, with God being the ultimate dictator, smashing the universe into compliance and melting of self, and then everyone was gray like an angel, but as boring as adobe brick replacing brick endlessly until the end of time, and it was the true death of the history, for nobody was anybody to remember anything of importance with nothing spared: no fish lady, no star struck lover, no serial homicidal maniacs killing children.*
"! Who?! What?! Wuh!"
*The victim of Eralam's robotic finger pinches flinches, and then those eyes shoot open, darting like a thousand miles per hour was not an exaggeration. They are a cool blue, invoking thoughts of gentle ocean waves, free of seaweeds and seagulls, nicely overlapping and overtaking each other. The waterlogged body trembled, and the delicate looking hands pushed and slid against the Robot's chest, and what can only be described as quiet panic settles in.*
"Air! I can smell air! All around me!"
*"What?" Thought the narrator, beginning to become confused by the rather nefarious looking girl who continued to flap her mouth soundlessly, as if excited, as if working for the first time.*
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2013 17:55:58 GMT -8
First and foremost, the Shard kept perfectly still as the human hands touched his chest armor. Someone flailing around could easily lose a finger by poking the wrong spot, and that was not the sort of thing that Eralam wanted to explain to the authorities. Or her parents. The human looked young, that was certain. He was no expert on the age of organics, but he wasn't about to cause further trauma if he could help it. Murder an adult in cold blood with a shiv in broad daylight and you'd be free in a matter of hours with a bribe. Hurt a kid, even unintentionally, and it would be centuries before he could set foot on the planet again.
"Erm, it's ok," he said in what he fervently hoped were soothing tones. "You're safe now, there's plenty of air for your lungs to consume or whatever the hell you organics do with it."
All the evidence suggested that the female was the recent victim of a near drowning experience. She was soaking wet, far more grateful for something like air than someone who had been around it all their life should have been. As this was Mon Cal, a notoriously wet place, it was a pretty safe assumption that she had, at some point in the recent past, been in the water. There were a few things that didn't add up in his mind, though. He had felt a clear killing intent, and had found the pistol. It was odd that a pistol like that would have been left behind, however. Desert Eagles are bloody expensive. It was in here, in the basement, with the female. Was it hers? It seemed unlikely that a small female humanoid could handle the damn thing, but it was every bit as waterlogged as she was. This was...odd. Bizarre. Nucking futs.
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 19, 2013 18:18:02 GMT -8
There was blinking, the kind humans liked to fancy as innocent, but wouldn't be that stupid? Nothing was innocent, except for bunnies. A smile touches the corners of the girl's mouth. It was honest, tender, and the there is no doubt from the body language that there is a rather novice like form of trust that the girl already harbours for the machine, as if he was kind of long time long life friend. Our bizarre, bat looking wanna-be pushes herself away from the robot, to give herself space in order to sit up.
"Who are you?" Now those hands are raised to eye level, and those eyes stare with wonder. "Who am I?" A look of supreme surprise explodes upon the pale sinews, and fear could be traced on those worried shapes. "Did you make me?" But her head recoils now, and what appears to be thousands of explanations now tear across her battered psyche, trying to justify and make sense of all this. There was intelligence, there was memory, memory of great time spans, happiness, but violence. None of it made sense.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2013 18:36:57 GMT -8
The chaos in the female's mind was considerable, even Eralam could sense that. Though he usually found organic minds utterly indecipherable, save for a few things like fear or hatred that are kinda obvious on a battlefield, this one was setting all kinds of records. He put his mechanical mind through the wringer trying to figure out what he could do to help. Immediately, an image of a boat in a storm came to mind. Maybe what she needed was an anchor, something solid and tangible to tie her to the here and now. Buggered if he knew how this image came about; such flashes of insight were rare.
He reached for the pistol, drew it from his gunbelt, and offered it to the girl.
"I think this might be yours."
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 19, 2013 18:49:27 GMT -8
"No, no, no, nononononono-hehahohehehe!"
And then her raven slicked head violently shakes away from the pretty weapon. She is fighting it, trying to submerge and deny.
"Please, Mr. Robot, it makes me feel horrendous when I look it. It causes pain in my head? Why would you make me to hurt me? Or did you?"
Diva, that old sprite, tormenting life, and troubling all those neat equations. How could one fight such massive energy? She looks into the robots optic receptors, begging for the questions and feelings to stop. It made her sick, it made the air all around her feel diseased.
"!Help me make the most -of freedom- and of pleasure- nothing ever lasts forever!"
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2013 19:03:10 GMT -8
Well that worked like a charm. Eralam tucked the pistol back into his belt, and put his old back into the ornate leather holster while he was at it.
"You know, there's a thought experiment that seems oddly appropriate," he said out loud, for lack of anything better to do. "Let's say you have a box. Inside the box, you've got a nexu and a blaster. The blaster is hooked up to a Geiger counter, which is hooked up to a radioactive isotope."
He wasn't quite sure where he was going with this. He had been an Iron Knight for so long that the random, chaotic nature of a mind not codependent on a processor was alien to him. This was his id at work.
"The isotope has a 50% chance of throwing out radiation over a given period of time. If the detector picks up radiation, the blaster fires and the nexu dies. If it doesn't, the wretched thing lives. There's no way to tell unless you open the box to look. Physics tells us until we look, the nexu exists in both states, that it is both alive and dead at the same time. Looking collapses the waveform. Why does this remind me of you?"
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 19, 2013 19:39:34 GMT -8
"Schroedinger's Nexus. But that theory was only used to point out the flaws in quantum mechanics. I'm not a mechan-- !"
There it was, her thoughts beginning to form into a coherence. The girl realized she never cared for sciences, but there was one- the woman, the one who found her. Her mother? No, there were many who stumbled upon her in such a broken state. They were all memorable, and why the Hell did they make her smile so much? Why did she want to laugh? The "mother," with her pearly white teeth, she remembered the mother smiling, and that smile was like horror and super sanity. Super-sanity? That was a term the scientist mother had used. There it was, the one with no name but nicknames, with men and woman of guttural tongue clamoring over her edicts, and there were red flags with black spiders, and there were trumpets, and war. A god of war led them, and the god of war was called Major. Or Bane?
Those eyes now narrow on the robot, and now, distrust touches them, and anger bubbles in the organic's skin, and the girl's body tenses, and foul machinations formulate, and every once and again, those cool eyes would dart at the weapons the robot wore.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2013 19:46:32 GMT -8
"No you're not, hence the drowning bit."
It would be hard to notice the attention his sidearm was getting, just as it would be hard to miss the anger that percolated through the room. Something was wrong, something he had said. Like a passenger on a crashing train, Eralam was helpless to stop what was coming. He only hoped that he wouldn't be forced to kill this being. That was an odd notion, as the old Iron Knight rarely concerned himself with the lives of organic. But then again, this was an odd sort of evening.
"I'm referring to your mind. It's like someone or something tried to drown you, just to see what happens when they open the box."
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 19, 2013 20:06:43 GMT -8
"I am aware that you are robotic. What I ask may escape you, and it may sound rude, and I don't like being rude. It's.... confusing."
She shrugged, obviously ignoring the thousands of pins in needles in her mind telling her to embrace terrible things. It was ice, and madness, and blackness. Why would anyone want such chaos? Why would anyone advocate such... freedom of expression?
"Are you cruel? Do you relish in suffering? Is death considered a solution in your vernacular?"
It was monumental, really. Mental, definitely, but impressive, as well. Maybe the universe would look kindly upon her on moments like this. On the moments she actually used so much power to try and contain what was fate. Truly, who wants to be a monster? Slave to impulse -slave to slaying and crushing hope- ending potential? Diva didn't want this, she really didn't want to snuff out existence with the palms of her hands, and enjoy chocking it all to death, but, she remembers her name is Diva, and that has already shown us that all was lost.
"Because if it isn't, we can escape what's about to come. I know this sounds fragmented, but if we walk away, we can break the circle, once and for all. Heh... Cliché, isn't it? Breaking the circle? Hope. It'shilarious"
Ah... Hope. The first candle the Countess of the Blue Roses extinguished was her own.
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Chloro
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Post by Chloro on May 19, 2013 20:13:44 GMT -8
Chloro was rifling through her pockets, desperately now. The cravings to smoke were becoming unbearable. She had given up her vigil over Eralam and wandered the dark streets looking for a concierge to get her fix. She finally found one and got the prerequisite materials and got no further than striking the lighter. They told her this would happen. Old habits don't fade. If anything else, they got new tricks when you weren't looking. For one thing, she never truly had appreciated fire, big or small, as she did now. It was beautiful in a way that she could not begin to describe. It was so beautiful, it hurt. And the pain didn't stop. Amber dripped from her fingertips. She blew out the flame quickly. She didn't want her hands on fire - not yet at least.
Feeling strangely relieved, he consulted her Eralam-tracker and found that he had truly wandered off. Walking quickly, she made her way to his location, thinking what he might be up to. It was never dull around him. But there was nothing that prepared her for seeing Eralam with another girl. She wasn't even pretty!
She felt so very hollow again. Eralam had taken away the emptiness. And she wouldn't let anything take him from her.
Entering the warehouse, listened to Eralam and Diva from around the corner. Eralam would never betray her. In fact, it looked like Eralam was about to deliver the coup de grace to the soaked girl. This she wanted to watch. Joining Eralam, she hugged him from behind, wordlessly announcing herself and getting her POV from Eralam's perpective...
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2013 20:42:04 GMT -8
A few days ago, Eralam would have been as startled as his electronic nerves would allow at Kuroro's sudden approach. It didn't take long to get used to it, however. How she had managed not to get shredded to ribbons was beyond his comprehension. He turned his head over his shoulder briefly.
"You were there?"
And now back to the female in front of him.
"I take no great pleasure in cruelty, nor do I inflict unnecessary suffering."
He had explained this many times over the centuries, to Jedi and Sith and everything in between. Very few had actually understood his true meaning. Most heard what they wanted to hear and reacted accordingly.
"I will kill if necessary. I have before, and I will again. And if I have to inflict pain to accomplish the mission, then so be it. There is a time and a place for everything, including death and destruction."
The Shard shrugged his shoulders.
"I'm not sure if that's the answer you're looking for, but that's the only answer I can give. I take it that this is a matter of some importance for you."
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Diva, from Aeons Torn
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Post by Diva, from Aeons Torn on May 19, 2013 21:22:54 GMT -8
"Quite. . . You can say it's what I expected."
The girl lays back down with a grand sigh, cold front smacking on reality. Then the chill comes pressing against the skin, wrapping itself like frozen logic, making all clear as ice. With a sudden gust, enough to throughly shake whatever clothes the occupants were wearing, the pale little witch breaks the law of gravity and flows upward into a standing position. It was as if she were nothing but a plank, and some outside viewer had tied a string to her forehead, then pulled her up to attention. There is tranquility, then a touch on the corners. Dimples begin to leave their shadow on her cheeks.
"Ya know, they say the hottest places in hell are reserved for those who, in times of great moral crisis, maintain their neutrality.""
Diva opens up, her eyes now glaring with focus, glaring now with more than enough justify sudden defensive posture. They burn up like stars, gouging out twin bulbs of electric blue against the metal shell of Mr. Robot.
"Apathy. Math. It's all hilarious. Who uses math when they burn?"
A smirk.
"Well, heh, besides a calculator?"
Teeth are now bared, a full smile, but the glare in those eyes remain untouched by anything resembling joy.
"You were fair, Mister Calculator. So I'll return the favor to you and your fatter half right there."
Those stab at the mink attached, then return to the prize.
"Run!"
How quickly something awkward and hostile had turned even more awkward and hostile. And this was close range, in a basement with not much space. Either party could potentially reach out with a arm and touch the other.
"Or?"
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Post by Deleted on May 19, 2013 21:45:44 GMT -8
Eralam does not have a face, not exactly. The head possesses some of the common features found on the more humanoid droids, such as eyes and a fixed hole for the voicebox, but the expression was immobile. And yet, somehow, when Eralam flipped that switch, people always got the impression that he was grinning. Despite his rather calculated approach to causing harm, he absolutely loved to fight.
As the mood became increasingly hostile, Eralam began to call on the Force. This was not a trickle, not a stream, but a Force-damned torrent of power, and it was being summoned by the Robot Space Ninja. His presence immediately exploded into the room, his spark, his soul, his very being not something that could be contained by something so small and insignificant as a body. Here was the power to move mountains and Mandos, the power to-
"Hang on, did you just call Kuroro fat?"
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Chloro
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Sparkle and glitter, gleam, glow - SHINE!
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Post by Chloro on May 20, 2013 3:13:03 GMT -8
There were no words. Or at least none that would do her feelings justice. Her death-grip around Eralam tightened with a jealousy born of desperation. And she glowered back at Diva's icy glare, daring her to try. Her blood boiled with the pent-up desire to incinerate the glowing blue-eyed girl. Her careless confidence sweetened the deal. She was managing to step on every major psychosis she had. The complicated universe distilled into three people in her mind. And it all became all very clear what she had to do.
Take those two glowing eyes. And burn them.
Effortlessly scaling Eralam's robot bulk, she leapt off him, throwing herself at Diva's airborne frame. As she did, her arms ignited the Sithspawn sap within. Kuroro would toast Diva on contact with the alchemical napalm that she secreted. It would be the warmest bearhug that Diva would ever get.
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