Eva: Greater Berlin - Mini 5/11/11

<Darkling> The ground sways under your feet Corrin, a bit of an odd sensation, or maybe you're just imagining things. Looking down you can see the dirt beneath your feet is a muddy brown mixed with wet snow. It's the same all around you in fact, mud, wet snow, a ramshackle of huts and miserable people.
Corrin shuffles from foot to foot uneasily, gaze constantly skittering around
<Darkling> The mud squishes under your NERV issue militia boots ruining their pristine black shine. A cat screeches off in the distance and some ratty looking kids run between some of the huts.
Corrin doesn't seem to notice that his fingers are digging into his palms.
<Darkling> This place seems awfully familiar.
Corrin has stopped looking around, and has his head bowed, staring at the mud at his feet, his boots, anything but up. He doesn't want to look. He doesn't want to see. It's cold.
<Darkling> A kid bumps into you roughly as he runs past, and then keeps running. Your pockets seem lighter.
Corrin looks up on reflex, hand shooting for his pocket as he does so.
<Darkling> It's quite empty, but you remember it being full. The kid darts around a corner up ahead.
Corrin takes a half-step forwards, then freezes, undecided.
<Darkling> The grounds sways again, seeming to mimic your hesitation, deciding whether it wants to be solid or not.
Corrin finally shakes his head, mutters something under his breath, and breaks into a run.
<Darkling> You hear a warning call up above, somewhere on the roofs of crappy little huts. Another kid, calling a warning to his buddy.
Corrin ignores it, sprinting across the muck with speed born from familiarity. His reason for running seems to have blurred and faded: he's not pursuing so much as just running now. From what...
<Darkling> In between the shanty town you go. Speeding down alleys and over people laying in the streets. You can see the little catpurse up ahead of you.
Corrin has his eyes squeezed almost shut as he runs, refusing to look too closely at the figures. He won't look at them, he won't, he won't.
<Darkling> Just as you're gaining on him, the ground sways again, there's a loud booming sound that echos through the air, almost like a thunderclap, and several of the huts and shanties collapse upon themselves. The kid is getting away again.
<Corrin> "Stop!"
<Darkling> Obviously, the kid pays no attention.
<Corrin> "Stop!"
Corrin calls again, his voice ragged, as he stumbles forwards a half-step and starts to give chase.
<Darkling> The ground sways again, this time it seems to tip you sideways, slamming into a hut that crumbles under the blow.
Corrin scrabbles blindly, spitting out mud and snarling wordlessly as he tries to pull himself out of the muck.
<Darkling> You find yourself clawing at not only muck, but a shirt, and a neck. Seems you managed to catch that little prick!
Corrin snarls victoriously and tightens his grip.
<Darkling> The kid seems to grab you back, shaking you violently in return.
Corrin clings on grimly, breath hissing out from between his clenched teeth. He won't lose. He won't. He won't.
Corrin is spluttering meaningless fragments, what might have been words, a chant, an order? Whatever it is, it comes out as just noise.
<Darkling> Another thunderclap, more shanties crumble, and the ground upturns on you, throwing both you and your victim around until you can't see straight.
Corrin clutches on, hands tightening and tightening. The world's narrowed to the cold and the muck and the feel of the throat and the ragged pulsing...
<Darkling> Finally the world comes to.. and clutching in your grasp is a pretty, albeit muddy face. Green eyes bulge and black hair flies about as you continue to strangle the life out of them.
Corrin freezes.
<Darkling> The face lolls to the side, limp and lifeless.
Corrin dully lets go, his arms dropping into the muck he's lying in. It's everywhere, it's all over and inside him and the only thing that isn't is...
<Darkling> The body falls back, the face no longer recognizable, and hits the ground with a thud as the mud sucks to pull it down into nothingness.
Corrin starts to shake, just a spasm at first.
<Darkling> The mud sucks gently at your body too, pulling, slowly.
Corrin feels the tugging and struggles desperately.
Corrin is covered in it, it's everywhere and all over him, and it's wet and cold and if he was clean maybe it would be better
Corrin clutches his face with both hands and starts to tear. Scrape the mud off, scrape himself clean, and then it'll be alright, it won't be cold, and it wouldn't have happened
Corrin tears and scrapes and claws and doesn't stop.
<Darkling> The mud doesn't come off though, it just continues to suck and pull, and you sink further into it. A hand is all that remains of the lifeless body now, it's fingers slowly disappearing into the ground.
<Darkling> It's not going so slowly now, your clawing seems to just infuriate it, if it could do such a thing. It pulls harder, quicker, bubbling up over your arms and shoulders and grasping at your neck.
Corrin screams, now just flailing in blind animal panic. There is a familiar smell in the air, raw and with the faint scent of blood. The bubbling rings in his ears, and he didn't know and he was so hungry and it was so cold
<Darkling> Another shudder, and a wave of mud crashes over your head, submerging you completely. Down, down, down you float through the silence that's only interrupted by the occasional bubble.
Corrin can still smell it and hear it, even with the mud in his ears and mouth and surging down. And the only thing worse than the cold is how warm it is as it seeps into his lungs and chokes him.
<Darkling> And yet, it doesn't. You're oddly at peace here, and the pain is gone. You just float down and down some more amid the shadows.
<Darkling> Amidst the shadows, something else moves. That familiar face again, floating towards him, still lifeless. Black hair streaking upwards in the sea of mud, bright green eyes staring into nothing, a permanent grin, as if it's laughing at him, and a feint red glow around the body.
<Darkling> The bodies arms wrap around itself as it floats closer, hugging to it's chest, the rod glow growing larger, bursting from between the fingers.
Corrin raises a shaking hand, as though to ward it off. The fingers are flailing as though they have a life of their own.
Corrin wants to look away, but can't. All he sees are those thin, crossed arms, and that rictus grin.
<Darkling> The red light grows larger, and the body can't contain it. A giant bright orb flares to life, boiling away the mud, burning you away, and just when you think you can't stand anymore, something jerks you from behind, a hand grasping onto your body and wrapping it safely way, pulling you back up into the light.
<Darkling> "Boy!" the Captain shouts. "Wake up now aye!" He gives you another shake.
Corrin gasps, flailing wildly. Where? Who? What?
<Corrin> Is it still there? Her that was him that was it?
<Darkling> The captain holds you tight, keeping you from hurting him or yourself. You're back on the ship it would seem, below decks, drenched in sweat.
<Darkling> The mud, your thief turned victim, all of it, gone.
Corrin is shaking uncontrollably, eyes squeezed shut. He doesn't want to look. It'll be there.
<Darkling> "It's alright lad. Just a dream. The seas'll play tricks on ya." He holds you tight, like a father would, and pats your back.
<Darkling> The shipdeck sways underneath you both and a thunderclap booms outside. Just another few days on this ship, and it'll all be a distant memory.
Corrin slowly remembers. Who he is. What his duty is. His breathing slowly returns to normal and the shaking stops. Eventually, he's perfectly still, controlled.
<Corrin> "I'm...sorry, sir." Corrin says, voice almost but not quite steady.
<Corrin> "It won't happen again."
<Darkling> "No worries lad. Come up on deck and watch the storm with me. It's a spectacle you won't want to miss."
Corrin nods, automatically.
<Darkling> He guides him up to the deck and into the night.
<Darkling> -------------------------------------------------
<Darkling> There's birds chirping, amid the lush green trees and underbrush. Small animals rustle and skitter away in a panic at the sight of you Rasia.
<Mr_Rage> Her head twitches, eyes and ears swivelling to zero in on one in particular. Limbs that are only semi human pound the soft, fertile topsoil beneath her, body becoming a blur of efficient motion through the humid, aromatic rainforest. It always started as a run.
<Darkling> Branches and bush whip by in a green blur as she rushes down the ever turning yet never ending path.
<Mr_Rage> Claws tear up roots and trunks on hairpin zigs, heart pounding in her ears, mouth open to let her lungs heave. The blur shot up a tree trunk, and she was quick to follow, running on all fours along branches, leaping from tree to tree. Closer, closer!
<Darkling> And gone! Wait, no, it's behind you now. Damn thing is getting away.
<Mr_Rage> A tree groans as Rasia seizes a trunk in both hands, lurching back into shape and giving her an about-face throw, feet snapping through two weaker limbs before one finally catches her, stomach breaking her fall. Where is it?!
<Darkling> Dashing along the ground now, off the path and into a bush.
<Mr_Rage> And she's back on the ground, pulse racing, claws swatting leaves aside as she dives into the shrubbery, letting out a roar.
<Darkling> The blur is just up ahead, darting back and forth, weaving through roots and scrubs.
<Darkling> There's a break up in the foliage ahead, and it's almost within your grasp.
<Mr_Rage> She's nearly scraping the ground, limbs pulled in close to coil and build up for each dart and swerve the little creature makes, every sense rock-solid on the prey. A pause! Leap!
<Darkling> You break through the wall of green and burst into blinding white, tumbling about in the frozen wastes.
<Mr_Rage> Stunned, the predator stumbles to all fours, wind whipping even her short hair wildly and snowflakes coming to land on bare skin only for a moment before being whisked away or melting. Aching eyes strained against the brightness, ears trying desperately to filter through the howling, breath freezing with every pant.
<Darkling> Your prey bounces a few paces away from you coming to a stop. A red ball shaped creature the size of a melon, with a warm glow, comes to rest in the snow, little legs on it's underside flailing in the air as it lays on it's back.
<Mr_Rage> Fearless and unassuming, she prowls closer. Her hands were already going numb, but they'd never suffer frostbite. Reaching to lay a clawed hand on it, she pushes down, since that seems the most obvious way to kill it in the absence of, uh, a head.
<Darkling> It sinks into the snow, but it's harder than it appears and doesn't squish under her might.
<Mr_Rage> She curls around it, both to syphon any warmth, and to scratch and bite with impunity, holding it tight to her stomach, a frustrated growl joining the sounds of fimbulvintr.
<Darkling> And warm it is, clung tight to her chest. So warm it feels like it's inside almost.
<Mr_Rage> Inside...? Her teeth and nails scrape against it, undeterred, even as snow builds up around the pair.
<Darkling> Something gives, and you can feel it's juices flowing. It flows with power, strength.
<Mr_Rage> Wedging her nails into the crack, she laps it up, throat rumbling with contentment and self-satisfaction at the hunt. Some of it spills onto the snow and her skin, but a wasteful eater she isn't.
<Darkling> It's hard to put a flavor to it, it's more a surge in her mouth and throat than anything else as its energy pours into her.
<Mr_Rage> Her eyes close, and she tries to get at more, tongue worming and claws pulling, even squeezing the...fruit? animal? between her thighs.
<Darkling> A shadow falls over her.
<Mr_Rage> They snap back open, grabbing at the fruit possessively and snarling in the direction of whatever dared threaten her meal.
<Darkling> It looms over her, but the figure it belongs to is lost in the bright white snow.
<Mr_Rage> Forced to choose between running away with the food she has or risk injury on acquiring more, the beast leaps to her feet, lips peeling back and teeth on display. Pouncing at the shadow, her claws look for flesh.
<Darkling> She falls short, landing in the snow again, the shadow still looms.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> "...must you be so noisy?"
<Mr_Rage> Another snarl, though she backs up, to stand over her kill. This one wasn't prey, not quite.
<Darkling> The shadow continues to loom, never letting her back out of it.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> "...I'm trying to sleep, not that you make it easy. ...look at the mess you've made, tsk."
<Mr_Rage> She sprints, running blindly until she meets his legs. This one wasn't at all agile, she could surely get him on the ground.
<Darkling> Thump!
<Darkling> You sure can get him down... and right through the doorway too. You've Wil pinned to the ground now.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> "Get off me!" He whispers harshly.
<Mr_Rage> Rasia growls, pinning his hands before taking stock of the scenario--where's her prey?
<Darkling> A flurry of tiny white feathers settle down amongst the two on the floor.
<Mr_Rage> "...?"
<Wilhelm_Faustus> "...I'm not here to steal your kill. The pillow is all yours. Just be more quiet about it." Hes still whispering, an edge to his tone.
<Mr_Rage> With an almost disappointed look, she moves to sit back, looking around at her room. She wrinkles her nose, detecting another scent.
<Darkling> The room is in utter disarray, pillow torn open, feather stuff everywhere..
<Mr_Rage> A glance downward, and her gaze fixes on him again. She signs, a bit sloppily, 'time'
<Wilhelm_Faustus> He gets to his feet, dusting himself off. After a moment he signs back. 'Late.'
<Mr_Rage> She growls, getting to her feet after him. 'You can talk' Her nose scrunches again. What was that smell...
<Wilhelm_Faustus> "I'm going back to bed." He lingers for a moment, eyeing her, then leaves for his own room.
<Mr_Rage> He gets one last look at her nightgown before she closes the door after him. One last snort, and she crawls into bed, sweeping away the ruined remnants of her pillow. The whole mattress is damp from sweat, but her nose scrunches one last time before she curls up to slumber again.
<Darkling> --------------------------------------------
<Darkling> You settle back down into bed Wil, and drift off into a dark void.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> Comforting already.
<Darkling> The ceiling of the apartment, and the dome itself seem to separate and twist out of view, leaving only the black night sky and the speckled dotting of stars.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> He stares up, going so far as to stretch out a hand and reach for the night sky.
<Darkling> You can almost touch them as walls of your room fade and  you're alone, laying on a cold hard rock in the night sky.
<Darkling> The rock stretches away in all directions, you recognize this place, it used to be home didn't it? But where's all the buildings that are so familiar..
<Wilhelm_Faustus> He stands up, casting his gaze this way and that as he runs a hand through his hair. He's comfortable here, even with nothing. There was something stirring inside him, deep down, disturbed by the sheer loneliness of it. But he smothered the growing voice.
<Darkling> The voice was squelched with ease as a wave of comfort washed over it. Null Drei knelt near him, inviting.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> Ah, of course. He's never really alone, is he? The lack of air around him wasn't a concern to dream logic. He made his was the the familiar, massive form, eyes draw away only briefly by a form he though he was in the distance, a girl with white hair. But...there was only Null Drei and himself.
<Darkling> A voice pricked into your mind, gibberish and random symbols you couldn't possibly understand, yet it felt right somehow.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> In the back of his mind he was picking apart that gibberish and the symbols. But mostly he was content, words of comfort he couldn't begin to understand.
<Darkling> Null Drei lowers a hand to him, the voice continues, toneless and and metallic, but not at all hostile.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> He moves forward without hesitation, a hand resting against one of those massive fingers for balance as he steps up and into its palm.
<Darkling> The hand lifts him up, his view reaching much farther distances at the full height, that white haired form wisps into view again for a moment.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> Fingers twitch. No one else should be here. The Old Man, Freyja, all of them gone. Is this what he wanted, maybe? Just him and Null Drei, returned home.
<Darkling> But there is someone else here, invading your private space. A large form crests over the horizon.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> His brow furrows in irritation as his eyes lock on the form.
<Mr_Rage> Null Drei's comforting droning disappears as it rises up on its hind legs, and utters a hideous, metallic roar that by all rights should have shaken the dust of the lunar surface. As it lands on all fours, it begins to bound closer, long bars of blue light hinting at who it might be...
<Wilhelm_Faustus> "...no. No! It's only supposed to be us here!" He bristles, angry.
<Darkling> Null Drei takes on a similar stance, bristling with energy as the air before it shimmers briefly.
<Mr_Rage> It zeroes in on Null Drei with a few leaping paces, rearing up to bare its claws.
<Darkling> Null Drei lifts it's hand protectively, challenging it to try and break it's defences.
<Mr_Rage> The AT Field does its job marvelously, meeting Unit 01's charge with such force that its nails visibly crack and splinter against it, bleeding out onto the hexagonal shield and leaving long streaks in the air as they scrape down. Undeterred, it howls again and raises its arms to strike again. And again. Unrelenting force, even as its hands break and fingers bend backwards from the power.
<Mr_Rage> From the bleeding, broken stumps, claws and talons grow anew, until the Field begins to...bend. And tear. And crack. Unit 01's talons grow ever-closer, unable to completely shatter the field, but fighting with a berserk mindlessness that made its futility into possibility.
<Darkling> Null Drei stands rigid against it all, never flinching, never turning it's hand away, but was losing this on it's own.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> "...know when you've been bested." His head tilts back some, eyes flashing with power. The air crackles with energy collecting, igniting under Unit 01 and lifting high into the lunar night, a luminous cross.
<Mr_Rage> The blast is brilliant, hurling the Aesir high into the air, and bringing it down with a tremendous crash, lunar dust flying through the airless void in perfect parabolic arcs. Most of its torso has been blown away, flesh sizzling and popping, armor peeled away or even melted by the force of the blast. What remains of its head bleeds onto the luminous soil.
<Darkling> The air feels warmer now around you Wil. Steam rises in fits off your arms from blue lines and scratches.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> He looks down, holding out his arms for examination. What is this? He looks up to Null Drei for an explanation.
<Darkling> The same marks echo in his eyes and at the back of his mind, but still were meaningless.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> That's not good enough! He always had the answers. If he didn't, then damn it, Null Drei should!
<Wilhelm_Faustus> His fingers dig into one arm, trying to get at whatever made them glow.
<Darkling> As if in response, they fade deeper into his skin and he only draws his own blood.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> He grits his teeth. The other one, maybe it knows. Holding a hand over his fresh wound he marches to the end of Null Drei's hand, looking down. Where is it?
<Darkling> The smoldering wreckage of Unit 01 lays still, a body slumped over part of it, white hair rustling a non-existent wind.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> He drops from the EVA's hand, falling lazily to the surface. Not a speck of dust out of place as his feet touch down then carry him forward toward the body.
<Darkling> The body lays lifeless upon approach.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> He approaches, ready to demand answers, but something wasn't right. No, he recognizes the machine. The form, the colors, those eyes. "...Rasia." Why was she here?
<Mr_Rage> In the span between blinks, Wilhelm's arm burns anew. Exposed bone on one of the corpse's hands traces the marks in its deathgrip, drawing more blood and widening the wounds until they burn.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> He bites back a cry and tries to free himself, planting a foot against the corpses chest for leverage.
<Darkling> And as you do so, you tumble from bed, the corpse clinging on tight, and thumping you to the ground hard again. Those mismatched eyes staring you down.
<Mr_Rage> Rasia's gaze is ever intense, her nails still leaving four ruby red marks in Wilhelm's arm, her weight bearing down on him, sheets tangled and twisted.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> "...what are you doing?"
<Mr_Rage> "...Loud." Her voice croaks, though very gradually she gives his arm back.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> He snorts, then silently laughs. What the hell kind of game was this? He reaches up to touch her cheek. "...did I wake you up, then?"
<Mr_Rage> A nod. She already had to deal with a weird smell, now Aryans were making noise in the dead of the night.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> "...forgive my hypocrisy, then." He sighs.
<Mr_Rage> She snorts, and worms her way out from the bundle of sheets, not the least bit shameless about putting a foot on Wilhelm's face to help free herself.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> Right, should have expected that, really. He stands and collects the sheets, bundled in his arms as he watches her, waiting for her to leave.
<Wilhelm_Faustus> "... ... ...good night."
<Darkling> ----------------------------------------------