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ximilialog2022-02-02 06:57 pm
- ! event log,
- ! open,
- altered carbon: takeshi kovacs,
- critical role: percy de rolo,
- doctor who: clara oswald,
- doctor who: river song,
- doctor who: the doctor (11),
- fear street: ziggy berman,
- grishaverse: alina starkov,
- grishaverse: the darkling,
- gundam seed/destiny: yzak jule,
- knives out: marta cabrera,
- marvel comics: gwen stacy,
- mass effect: kaidan alenko,
- mcu: daisy johnson,
- mcu: shang-chi,
- pacific rim: newton geiszler,
- pacific rim: raleigh becket,
- star trek aos: james t. kirk,
- star trek aos: leonard mccoy,
- star wars: finn,
- star wars: luke skywalker,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- the old guard: andromache,
- towards the terra: soldier blue,
- transformers: drift,
- transformers: megatron,
- twisted wonderland: deuce spade,
- yakuza 0: goro majima,
- yakuza: zhao tianyou
MISSION: BAD COMPANY, PART 2
● ● ● M I S S I O N 4 . 2
It is barely past twilight in Scorpion’s Bend, the twin suns having just set, taking their light with them — but the moons delay, and so darkness lingers over the town as Lan Xichen’s conversation with one Welford Branson comes to an abrupt end. At the same time, all around the town, the team will notice the town natives around them stilling — some freezing in the middle of a sentence, a man with a fork in the air, a woman mid-step on the street, some youngsters with their mouths open in laughter. All of them become statues in less than a heartbeat; still, eyes vacant, like everything that made them seem alive has been taken away.
And then — a reverberating sigh, echoing heavily in the ears of all the Orbers. What follows are words, spoken by a chorusing voice now familiar to most of the team —
The orb’s echoing sound is filled with disappointment, even annoyance.
Some may see that amidst all the frozen townspeople, an old man runs, clawing at his thinning hair. Some of you may hear his words, muttered, desperate:
The disbelieving mumbles trail at his wake, making it clear he does not know what is going on at all — in fact, you may have a better idea as to what has happened than he does. But as you turn to follow him, open your mouth to yell at him to stop... everything around you shatters.
The lights in the buildings grow dim and break; the smell of food disappears; the horses in the stables simply fade away. You notice that if you were wearing or carrying something you bought while here, it too disappears, your clothes turning to those you had on upon arrival, all equipment shimmering away slowly.
But perhaps most importantly… the frozen statues of people crumble into ash right in front of you. It may fill the floors of the now-silent, dusty and worn-down houses, or it may blow away with the harsh desert wind — whichever it is, sans the team, the town of Scorpion’s Bend is now devoid of people.
The town that now surrounds the team is very different from the one it used to be — the houses are quiet, filled with sand and dust; doors broken, tables turned over, drawers open and mostly empty, aside from anything not valuable. The beds in Thornbush Inn are ragged, insects of various sizes skittering along the floors. The Saloon is dusty, furniture broken, and a lone piano stands in the corner, half its keys having crumbled away. The door to the Mayor’s office is ajar, a banging sound repeating as it hits the wall in time with the wind.
1.0 In the corners of the Sheriff’s office, the school and the church, the embera slither along, searching for food; owl-shrews hide from the Orbers on the streets, while feathered coyotes howl at the five moons now lending their light to see the town’s destruction better. The team may be the only living humanoids, but they are not the only living beings in the town anymore; in the absence of people, animals have made the town their home. And coexist they must, now, to survive the rapidly dropping temperature of the night that has fallen upon them.
2.0 The next morning, as the moons disappear underneath the horizon and let the two suns bring out their scorching rays once more, the team wakes up to the reality of having to survive Scorpion’s Bend… with very little supplies. So search the empty houses, for they still stand; the fire that has burned away the people has not touched the buildings… but they have not been immune to the passing of time, or the harsh weather in the desert. You may find clothing, basic equipment, pots and pans left on a now-cold stove; but no valuables, no money, no gems, no jewelry, no weapons.
But amidst your search through the town, remember that what you need, first and foremost, is to find water and something to eat — it will not be long until the suns are high in the sky, and some of you are already in desperate need of proper nourishment, without being left to endure the scorching temperatures the days on the planet of Badrock bring.
3.0 But should you want to brave the heat, you’ll find it is now possible to leave the town and venture out into the desert. Out there, the rock dragons search for prey, while bald vultures circle above your head in groups of three or four, their shrieks growing in volume the farther you walk. If you show weakness, any weakness, they strike — and the dragons, sensing their chance, are not far behind.
And when you least expect it, the ground underneath you trembles, like a small earthquake is approaching you… and then you see it: from the sand, a whale surges up, then another, and another, arcing through the air like suspended there, before the sand swallows them once more. Should you get too close, you too may be swallowed underneath the sand; unless you’re very, very careful, or have in your arsenal something else that may help you to deal with these near-immortal giants that have swam across the deserts for hundreds of thousands of years.
Time passes at a snail’s pace without the comforts of the town you were used to. Scorpion’s Bend is now a wasteland you must survive, and it clearly isn’t easy. Some of you might question whether retrieving the orb is still an endeavour worth pursuing after all of this, but the rest of you know that it is. That you’ve come this far and you’re nearly there; you just need to band together and form a gameplan.
As the suns begin to set over the horizon on yet another grueling day of scorching heat and rough, dry sand in the ghost town of Scorpion’s Bend, you might begin to hear a distant thunder that has nothing to do with an oncoming desert storm or otherwise. It rattles at the already weakened structures of the old Saloon and the General Store, bits of broken glass and debris vibrating with the raucous sound of clattering hooves, feet, and paws. And as the sound of the invasion grows louder – you’ll hear the unmistakable manic howling and bellowing in accompaniment: these are the Bouldersnakes that some of you have already heard much of.
4.0 The Bouldersnakes are not a group to be taken lightly, and have garnered the fearsome reputation that they now hold for a reason. Kicking up dust, they arrive like a cloud of chaos in different sizes, shapes, and forms. Some have the ability to shrink and grow in size to match their opponents in physical size and weight. Other Bouldersnakes are agile and quick; and others yet are superhumanly strong and robust – either way, they make for formidable opponents when you, yourself, have been weakened from weeks of a lack of proper nutrition and sleep. The individual members of the Bouldersnakes are like a band of bloodthirsty brothers: from all walks of life and all colours and creeds, with a severe and mean streak to them, who will stop at nothing to achieve their goals.
What goals, you ask? Should you listen carefully, their leader, riding a winged lizard-like creature, shouts to their underlings:
As it so happens, you are not the only crew in search of that elusive orb; the Bouldersnakes have been tracking down the whereabouts of this mysterious and all-powerful object themselves, burning through towns – quite literally – to get it. News that Scorpion’s Bend has seen a resurgence of life and might still be the resting place of the orb has the bandits seeking out the town again. Their first round through Scorpion's Bend about a year ago had them coming up empty-handed (save for a few bits and baubles), but this time they are determined to find what they've come here to find. Though if there’s anything left here to salvage... they’ll ransack as they please.
Whether you confront them head-on or they catch you in hiding, they won’t easily back down from a fight. It will be best to keep your distance if you can manage it, and hope that they’ll pass you by. But the Bouldersnakes have their weaknesses too: once maimed, they still bleed, and none of them are immortal, though they are notoriously difficult to kill based on their talents alone... and when they carry weapons, too, well — those not accustomed to battles may find it best to hide. And even for those with fighting experience under your belt, teaming up with your fellow Orbers and combining your shared skills will be your best chance at survival.
5.0 By the time the suns have disappeared and the moons have risen, the Bouldersnakes invasion will make the bandit attack from the other night seem like a childish tussle. The Bouldersnakes don’t play nice and have adapted to the harsh lands as ruthless survivors. They arrive like a wave, many equipped with weapons: guns, sabers, pistols and small knives. A few others have engineered their own specially crafted weapons made of metal and magic (in the shape of guns, blow-torches, and blades) that wield a special element harnessed from mined ore called ‘pulsefire’. It is this pulsefire, glowing a deep blue (like the hottest colour of flame), that has the capability to destroy all living beings and allows the bandits to systematically ravage unsuspecting towns down to ash, reap its benefits (either for the town’s riches and wealth, or and especially: for any supply of ore), and then leave without a trace.
The best way to fight against pulsefire is to acquire weapons of pulsefire of your own and best a Bouldersnake before they best you. (Think high stakes, noon-time duels of the pistol.) Of course, this is a very risky and very dangerous affair as one shot by pulsefire could mean your untimely demise and the element itself isn't easy to put out either, so it might be best to work in teams to strategically disarm and swipe a pulsefire weapon to use before they manage to overwhelm you.
All through this, you must still remember your goal — it is not to stay in Scorpion's Bend, or even fight the Bouldersnakes, but to find the orb... and that means finding Welford Branson. How will you convince him to give you the orb, when all signs point to him not even knowing what it is, or what it has done? That is what you must decide... if you survive the Bouldersnakes in one piece, of course.
F Y I
• The voting for how to get the orb is now open! Please head HERE to submit your idea for how the team should proceed to get the orb, or +1 others’ ideas.
• The conclusion of the mission and the return to the station will be posted on February 13.
• If you have questions about anything in this log, please direct them HERE.
• And finally, your soundtrack for this log: ♪ ♪ ♪
drift — cars
( open )
1.0 + 2.0
4.0
5.0
wildcard
4.0
Too many and he had been stupid, careless even, in searching through the chaos of the town and the clouds of dust kicked up by the bandits and the horses they rode in on and now he was staring down the barrel of some type of rifle, not loaded with iron bullets but something that burned with a blue flame.
The Darkling knows he can take down at least one with a slash of his arm- prideful and competent, too used to being at the receiving end of an execution. Even one fueled by fire, but there's still a tingle of fear shooting down his spine as his dark eyes dart from each of the men walking closer.
Come on, man, you have to know we'd come back
Cornered, and his hands come up, the shadows slithering across the hot sand to gather at his feet when something very loud roars behind him and the Snakes are distracted.
Something gigantic and shiny steps out in front of him and the Darkling throws himself to the side as the battle starts in earnest. Shots fired and the smaller one grins, all brown teeth as cold as a sharks, at him, stepping up with his sword raised.]
Just take the big one!
[Hoping against hope that this... whatever it is, is friendly as he throws himself against the other, hand clenched around the handle of his own knife and shadows swallow them all.]
no subject
— One has to wonder what this was like for the guy whose whole 'bit' was shadows. ]
What does it look like I'm doing?! I forgot what a — [ Drift grunts through clenched teeth as the larger of the Snakes redoubles their efforts and throws all their weight into the next blow. Drift feints to one side and before the 'Snake could take another swing Drift slams the hilt of his sword into their gut. Winded, they stumble back and nearly stepped on the Darkling before Drift shoved them in the opposite direction. ] — backseat driver you are.
[ The sounds of pistol fire cracked in the dead, dry air like approaching thunder. ] I think they're bringing friends!
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Only because-
[The acrid smell of gun powder and the loud yells, of hoof beats against the hard ground and it all reaches him just as he lets the Cut fly - it hits the Bouldersnake across the chest, raising a fine line and the blue blood wells to the wound, dripping down the dusty chest of the man as he laughs, heads rolled back to howl it at the sky before they fall back down, two pairs of purple eyes trained on the Darkling as he grins through clenched teeth.]
I'm better than you-
[Hissed out as he gathers the shadows again, the darkness rushes up around them-] Retreat!
cw violence specifically mouth trauma
— The Darkling's heckling and hand-flailing magic show added both a hindrance and help to the situation.
The largest 'Snake gaped at their companion's torso, being divorced from the rest of them. Taking full advantage of their momentary distraction, Drift lept backward and twists between the blades like a dance partner with an arcing swing of his leg. Catching the creature by the jaw where his treads met his heel. Before they could retaliate, Drift pirouetted back after revving his treads. Head caught between the treads, the 'Snake's jaw broke apart. Teeth burst out in a red flecked spray with the white fragments glinting across the shadows like morbid little stars.
Then the Darkling called for a retreat as the shadows gathered. Drift muttered something over the din that could have just as easily been his assent or an insult against the man's intelligence proportionate to the size of his ego. ]
Fine
[ Without another word, several things all happened at once. Cordoned off in the darkness, there was briefly only sound to go by. A sudden rush of noise like metal plates sliding over hydraulics with a sharp hiss. Like before, the roar of an erupts only closer now and booming hard as cannon fire.
Something grabs the Darkling — a phantom set of hands belonging to something the Darkling's size and drags him into an unfamiliar dark. The slam of a door follows as tiny pinpricks of green and blue lights flicker on in the cramped cabin of the driver's seat. Whoever or whatever pulled the Darkling in was nowhere to be seen. Then all at once, the blinding high noon sun bursts through the windshield as the doors locked as Drift rides out. Wheels kick up gravel and sand as the full-throttle speed launches them out, hanging in their air for only a moment before crashing back down and driving off with a force that rattles his frame — and anyone inside. ]
no subject
Strange lights flash as the whole metal cabin moves forward and he's slammed back in to the seat, head smacking in to the headrest with a muffled thump.
Fast, so fast, everything is a blur but as Drift tears off, full speed, the Darkling grabs on to whatever protruding knob is the nearest -and lets out a little scream.]
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The tiny, albeit petty victory, was short-lived, however. No sooner had Drift caught the dent in the Darkling's equanimity had the formed grabbed his gear shift in a blind panic. Yanking it into park and painfully grinding the transmission and Drift himself to a stuttering stall that sends him fish-tailing.
Good old 'Borislav' abruptly makes an appearance, suddenly leaning between the front seats from the back. Grabbing the Darkling's shoulders and trying to pry him off from whatever he might have latched onto now. ]
Did you seriously grab my gear shift?! Let go, or you're going to make us crash!
no subject
But, very slowly, he released his white-knuckled grip on the - gear shift and blinks.]
I will give you three seconds to explain before I put an end to this.
[The scream that ripped out of his throat almost forgotten as he speaks, the timber of his voice betraying none of the terror that beats in his heart at this sudden development but he does bring his hands together, the darkness undulating between his palms.]
no subject
We're moving at 120 kilometers per hour, [ Drift intones, ] The only thing you'll put an end to is the connection between your neck and spin.
[ 'Drift' the human settled back into the seat and the gear shift moves back into position on its own accord. ]
You're inside me. Buy me dinner next time.
no subject
That wasn't an issue.
The second sentence is, though.]
What?
[That was a strangely intimate way of putting what ever the hell this was, and he looks around, eyes narrowed and hands fisting in to the fabric of his own trousers.]
Inside- [The blinking lights, the desert flying past the window, the thrum of something powerful and almost humming underneath him.] Can you feel it?
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4.0
Getting cornered wasn’t part of the plan, though. She's considering her options when she hears the engine and the shadow appears. And suddenly she understands why boys think Transformers are so cool.
Because that’s honestly pretty fucking cool.
She already has her gun trained on the other, blessedly smaller Bouldersnake when he shouts for her to watch it.]
I guess you weren’t lying about your carrot!
[Look, she couldn’t resist making that comment, okay. She’s still not letting the little guy out of her sight, though. If he makes a move he’s getting shot. Probably multiple times.]
no subject
If you thought that was big, you should see my — WHOA! [ The swift rush of air as a machete blade swings down and narrowly misses his neck brings Drift back into the fight. It's just his luck that when some of these Bouldersnakes change, their weapons follow suit. Hopping out of the way, Drift lands a roundhouse in the center of his attack's mass. ]
I'll push them back, and you pick them off at a safe distance, sound good?
no subject
I can try, but bullets don’t work on all of them.
[Or at the very least not all of them have weaknesses that are easy to strike with a bullet.
Still, when the little guy tries to rush her while she’s speaking she doesn’t hesitate to take the shot. She follows up with three more shots, after that too.
Normally she might go more easy on them, but with a weapon like pulsefire she doesn’t want to take any chances.]
no subject
Alright — [ With a grunt, Drift sidesteps to catch the Bouldersnake's blade with his own before delivering a solid kick to their midsection. With the rigidity and heft of a redwood going down, the Bouldersnake topples over with their arms outstretched.
On reflex, Drift grabs what was in the path of the downed Bouldersnake. That would be Yelena — whom Drift scoops up single-handedly, bringing her up to about shoulder height. ]
( closed )
— megatron
[ Great. Drift had been wondering when the Bouldersnakes would take the most obvious approach in these types of situations. Warzone logic 101 was first to isolate the heaviest hitter and remove them from the equation. A move like this is what he had anticipated and, as a result, had tried to keep most of the fighting centered on him. Reckless, certainly, but it gave the others time to regroup after this surprise attack had caught them all off guard.
— What hadn't crossed his mind was the significant challenge the bandits would pose. There was strength in numbers, but what started off with Drift transforming to corral the Snakes into manageable groups to pick off backfired once they got wise to his tactics. No sooner had he managed to push four of them to the edges of town had half a dozen more joined the fray. A few more enterprising bandits boxed him in and made it nearly impossible to get the space to transform.
Things went sideways when one managed to slice right through the tendon cables at his left ankle. Drift yelped more in shock than pain as he was suddenly unbalanced and forced to shift most of his weight on his right side. This was the opening the others had been waiting for and before Drift knew it he was being swarmed.
Two Bouldersnakes that matched him in size — one with four arms, the other with skin hard as stone — pinned him between their combined weight and brought him down. Drift hissed and struggled, managing to swing his head back and dig his finials deep into the cheek and jaw of one of them. the 'Snake wailedand pain but their only response was to pummel Drift harder back onto the ground. Drift was suddenly aware the smaller members of the group had managed to get a rope around his legs — rope that actually held firm no matter how hard he fought. Another plunged some sort of branding iron or heated rod into his flank to control his struggling. Drift smelled burning protoform flesh and metal before the pain registered and he howled. Starting to fight back with jerking movements, trying to bite and claw where he could now that he was rendered prone and injured. ]
Hold that fucking thing down.
[ A terrible, ice-cold feeling gripped Drift's spark as he heard the rising hum of something being charged. Drift's eyes go wide as he sees the barrel of a pulse fire weapon trained squarely at the center of his chest. ]
queues up instruments of destruction; cw violence, blood, that kinda thing
He had been foolish not to think of it, with all of his experience. When he saw them corralling Drift he had moved before he knew what was really happening. He could see it as clear as day in his mind's eye. His comm crackled--or at least, the mental message blasted towards Drift. ]
Get out of there. Now.
[ It didn't do any good, of course. He could see it now, the same way he had seen what was about to happen to Ravage, too late to stop it. Something akin to panic gripped him as he plunged free of his impromptu command center and thundered towards the edge of town, the earth shaking with the hurried footfalls of a multi-ton Cybertronian that nearly touched forty feet in height. He wasn't going to let this happen, not again.
Yes, he had disappointed both of them in similar ways. Failed to live up to the ideology he had once been so proud of, lead the movement into pitfalls and then left them to decide for themselves, his once supreme confidence unable to give direction. But he could still save Drift.
Could still save one of the ones left still worth saving. ]
DRIFT!
[ It's a roar, a thunderous wave of anger mingled with hurt and grief and guilt and the crushing weight of failure. He bursts into the open, moving faster than anything that size really should be able to. He has nothing, of course, on Drift in that department but it's still a shock to the poor, unexpecting organics who thought they had the worst of their prey penned. A pall of dust hangs about Megatron as he lunges. He has no weapons, no fusion cannon or other trick to use here, only raw, brute force the likes of which had saved his life so many times. The thing that had earned him a reputation in the fighting pits.
Carried forward by impetuosity, his weight crashes into one of the creatures pinning Drift to the ground. The thing might be Drift's size, but he doesn't match Megatron. Four-arms half-turns in time to almost grapple with Megatron, but caught off-guard there's not much to be done. MEgatron snarls, voice cracking across the field like it had on a hundred worlds and a million battlefields. ]
NO!
[ He locks a hand around one of the Bouldersnake's wrists and squeezes, feels the fragile organic tendons and muscle give and pop beneath beneath mechanical hydraulic force and for an instant, revels in the shocked, pained cry that comes from the thing's lips. Then he wrenches and a spurt of alien blood pours from the ruins of the thing's arm socket as the arm is simply dragged free in a single sharp jerk. It's a hideous amount based on the creature's size alone, splattering into the dust to create great, damp puddles of horrid mud.
Around him, the smaller 'Snakes are starting to scatter in horror, shocked by the sudden arrival of another metallic giant. It won't last forever, but it might be enough to give Drift a chance get free. ]
no subject
It was an overworked phrase to say everything happened so quickly. Still, there was no better apothegm than Megatron blindsiding the Bouldersnakes with all the polite introduction of a freak hurricane.
Drift barely had time to register how he had been a hairsbreadth from being shot like a dog when Megatron entered the fray. Struggling as the stone-flesh Bouldersnake continued to pin him down with their whole body weight, Drift only caught the fight in flashes. It wasn't until he repeatedly slammed the back of his helm — finials were drawn back to terrible points — that Drift maimed his primary attack enough for them to let go. By that point, there was enough blood saturated into the dirt for that 'Snake and several of their compatriots to lose their footing and trip over themselves in the mad scramble to get out of range. The Bouldersnake that Megatron had dispatched had shifted back to their original size. They were falling back into a gulley of congealing blood, drowning in the death throes of their own gore.
Line of sight clear, Drift looked up in time to see Megatron as he knew him. The Megatron that held the lives of thousands of planets crushed between his heel with that whimpering ember of fury now swept back up into a forest fire. For him. Megatron had gone back on his promise — had given up that oath of pacifism they had so bitterly argued over before. For him.
— It was then Drift saw the Bouldersnake who had nearly been his executioner, make one last stand. Putting Megatron in their crosshairs. ]
Watch out!
[ Arching his bound legs up, flailing on his side, Drift used the bindings like a whip. It was inelegant, and pain sang with sharp notes throughout his legs as the rope cut deeper into his severed tendon cables. The pain was nearly blinding, but Drift struck true. The rope, nearly thick as a log, crashed into the Bouldersnake with enough force he could hear the crunching of ribs and solid thunk as their skull cracked against the sun-baked earth. ]
Get. BACK! [ Twisting his upper body around, Drift continued to thrash and try to fight the interlopers still convinced they had a chance. Resorting to snapping and erratic movements — anything, to get the last Bouldersnakes in range to rip them to shreds or crush them like insects. If Megatron was prepared to sacrifice his fragile peace for him, then Drift could only pay in full. ]
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He is older though, perhaps wiser. And he can take that joy and set it aside. It will be something to process later. Now, there is battle. True, it's been centuries since he truly fought but there is a reason Megatron was feared across the surface of Cybertron and by all the enemies of the Decepticons. He had become the ultimate warlord not merely through words alone, but through horrid deeds. Megatron makes no sound as he raises a foot and almost casually crushes the dying, four-armed boulder snake into the mud created by his own gore, accenting the movement with a twist, as if he were stepping on an insect.
Pathetic, some part of him wants to sneer. Can you do no better?
That thought is jolted free of him as he hears Drift's voice and he side-steps on instinct, his sensors blaring alerts about the remaining organics identified as potential threats. He stares down at the Bouldersnake who has Megatron in his sights, only to watch him be smashed aside by the whipping cable that had bound Drift a moment ago. There was still work to be done.
Megatron doesn't bother with a weapon. He shouldn't need one as he plans not to sully his hands further past this horrid moment. He simply bat aside the remaining bandits like insects, drives a foot into the face of the stone-skinned bandit to ensure that he shows no signs of stirring from where he's been left, clutching the bloody remains of his own face.
Then Megatron reaches down to bodily grab Drift by a spoiler fin and begins to drag him back from the fleeing bandits, not bothering to ask permission. ]
Can you walk?
[ His voice is sharp, all business. The old commander, asking after the state of one of his soldiers. He can be emotional about this later. ]
— dean winchester
— lan xichen
— alina starkov
— It was why he was quietly glad they were no longer a factor. The thought of bringing horses out here when the decision was made to venture into the desert was distressing. Alina and a few others had told him what happens when a horse injures its leg on longer rides. Hopefully, no one would 'put him down if he got a flat tire out here. The journey was just on the side of too uneventful the first couple of days in. Still, it wasn't exactly boring either. It was incredible what a couple of nights out in the desert did to disabuse a few orbers of their mistrust of vehicles. Drift saw a sudden upswing in his popularity when he became a convenient pack mule and shelter from the elements. Funny, that.
They had made a sort of base camp in the narrow passage between two towering mesas. In the cradle of red clay, they were cool during the day and sheltered from the winds. Enough that when it was warm that some elected to sleep outside by the fire one night. Alina had been one, and it was why Drift wasn't there when she was awake.
— Well, not physically. His human guise was crouched down by her bedroll next to the dying firepit. A courtesy because he was otherwise preoccupied, and because he didn't want to be yelled at if she woke to the sight of a thirty-foot terror looming over her.]
Alina — [ A nudge on her shoulder. ] — Alina, wake up you need to see this.
[ His voice isn't urgent, just gently insistent. In clear view just outside the shelter of the twin mesas, Drift's physical body is visible. Standing alert and fixated on something just out of view with the intensity of a gun dog catching sight of waterfowl. ]
no subject
for as eager as she had been to escape it, she drifts off into sleep with nostalgia blanketing her, a pang of homesickness that aches inside of her like an illness. at least, her sleep-fogged mind supplies, the desert winds are gentler than the frigid bite of tsibeya's plummeting temperatures — but some habits never fade. her unconscious form is a coiled rope of limbs, chin nearly knocking into her knees. compact. shielded, like all of her vulnerable organs need to be armored.
when she stirs, her limbs take a moment to unlatch from where they've locked into a stiff rigor. an mmph rumbles in her throat — uncharacteristically grouchy, at having been returned to the plane of existence too early, whisked away from the peace she never quite finds outside the boundaries of dreams. ( and maybe, if she's being honest, too used to pampering herself by sleeping in not to protest even the most courteous awakening. )
blearily, she blinks through a crack in the dark canopy of her hair, a one-eyed squint at drift's holoform. a bright blip, in the curtaining darkness.
groggily, ] Don't say you woke me up to tell me more bad news.
no subject
— uncharacteristically, grouchy is not how Drift would describe her, but when she finds every direction in stretching out her limbs, he knows to give her space and wait it out. ]
No, [ Drift presses a hand gently under the arm she shielded against the sunrise. As if he meant to hoist her up the moment she would let him. ]
You have to see this for yourself. Come on.
[ The sand shifted, and tiny pebbles rattled on the stone and dirt floor of the cavern in the echo of a distant, mournful sound like true sea whalesong. ]