[CENTER][COLOR=40E0D0]A Dance With Aera Cura[/COLOR]
[i]Part One: She rises up from her shallows...[/i][/CENTER]

Her bare feet pounded across the flagstones, her every breathe serving only to vainly fuel her body's efforts to put as much distance between her and That Which Chased as possible. Thundering in her chest, her heart writhed in pain as lactic acids built in her muscles and the organ struggled to operate on depleted oxygen. She almost slowed, the lack of oxygen causing her to falter slightly and reach for the nearby building, but those heavy footsteps behind her urged her forward far more than the pain ever would. Fear drove her, more so than anything ever did before, nor ever would again, and she knew without evidence that if she was to slow, to even stop for a moment, her life would end. Her eyes were wild with terror, looking from window to window and down the street for any sign of another human being. It didn't matter that they wouldn't help her even if they saw her running, she just [I]needed[/I] to know there was another soul out there, even if they would only prove a witness to her end. Hope was futile though, for every light she ran towards turned out when she came near, as if no one had ever even been there. The only constant was the heavy footstep of her vigilant pursuer, the man/thing/beast that chased her no matter where she went, and didn't seem to tire no matter how hard she ran.

The world ended all at once when her jagged pace caused her to misstep in just the right place, her left foot landing wrong on the edge of a flagstone and the subtle sound of her ankle breaking under the intense pressure piercing the night as surely as a howitzer. She came crashing down to the street in a shriek of pain and terror, cracking her face across the pave and causing her vision to blur as she felt a wetness on the side of her head begin to slowly leak down her face. Tears came unbidden as she began to force her arms to move despite the terrible agony, grabbing hold of the raised flagstone not far in front of her, and pulling herself along the street, repeating the action as long as she could, those heavy footfalls still ever present. She dared not look behind her, only before her as she drove on, using her good leg to push herself forwards as she could, every movement meant only to put her out of harm's way.

It was then that she felt her hand slap against a wooden block, the form of a doorway looming above her as she realized she had crawled her way back to where this all began. A new force drove her, a sudden surge powering her to get inside the building no matter what. She knew that if she could get inside she could wake up Diego, and then whatever was chasing her would find a bullet in its skull and a merc on the other end of a gun. Opening her mouth she desperately tried to call for him, but nothing came out but her hoarse whisper, a vile taste clinging to the back of her throat as she realized her error in driving herself so hard to reach the inn. She desperately scrabbled along the hardwood floor, her hands caked in the dried blood of her broken fingers and shattered nails, her left leg dangling behind her uselessly as every movement served only to further jar the compound fracture in her ankle. A ragged cough escaped her lips as the fresh taste of copper ringed her mouth, the wispy strings of blood dripping from her mouth pattering the floor as she knew this was truly the end. A single step into the doorway caused her to freeze, that damning step shattering every hope she ever had of escape or rescue. There were no more tears, no more fear, only acceptance as she knew that a slow death was to come and that she could now do nothing to stop it.

A rough hand turned her over and she stared into a dark shape that held a glinting object before her, the clear outline of a knife evident. The motion was slow, deliberate even as the man-shape moved the knife towards her throat, and then frighteningly lower, a new sense of fear coming to her as she realized the intent of her pursuer. That intent was never realized, or even further proven, as a single shaft on light dripped through the window and illuminated the man's face for a fraction of a second. In that moment she looked into the face of pure horror, the creature which had always haunted her with its blank stare and unrecognizable features. She had seen its face a thousand times, and yet she could never truly describe its features, a trait which had baffled her and a dozen psychiatrists and neurologists alike. Instinct drove her, forcing her hand forward and into the man's throat to grab hold of whatever she could. She could see the reflection of herself in the man's eyes, indescribable terror written across her features as she did the only thing she could do. Her piercing shriek of fear drowned out the wet snap of vocal cords and esophagus ripping free of the man's neck, a spray of blood coating her and the floor as the man leaned back with knife in hand.

The moonlight shone upon him once more, revealing the terrible damage she had done in her primal reaction, as well as that dreaded smile the man always wore. His lips parted, bloody froth pouring from the orifice as the severed vocal cords still in his skull writhed like wind-chimes in a storm. Despite everything, words came from that bleeding wreck, the smile still etched across his face "A good game, Genevieve, but you know I always win." With that damned smile still written across his face, he took the knife and slammed it point-first into his forehead, the gleaming gem of the short-handled knife like a third-eye set into his skull. Paralyzed with fear and a thousand more emotions, she did nothing as the man reached forward and gouged her eyes from her skull...

[hr]
[i]Eight months ago, the Sierra Alcierrione colony[/i]

Genevieve awoke in a cold sweat, goosebumps all across her body as she struggled to separate herself from the nightmare in the wet-heat of the small stone hut. The afterimage of the man's smiling face still leered at her despite reality closing in, the sheer power of the nightmare reaching across the boundary between the realms and holding her hostage. Slowly, she took deep breathes and tried to calm her racing heart, denying the pyschosomatic lingering of her burning muscles as she anchored herself in reality once more. Reality began to creep back into focus and her body regulated itself as she took another breathe of air and calmed herself down. Stepping lightly from the bed, she walked over towards the washroom, trying to take stock of herself before she did anything else. Dark circles rimmed her bloodshot eyes, her hair was a mess, but that was hardly unusual for a field expedition, and there were odd indents along her face where it looked like someone had gripped her face... She fell backwards as the flash of a hand across her face and the smiling-man in the mirror startled her. Quickly she caught herself before making any more unnecessary noise, a glance to the corner where Diego slept with an eye open and staring at the only door inside. There was the whir of a motor from the eye as the miniature motion-tracker moved the eye to lock onto her, before returning back to the door satisfied with the biometric readings. Calmly she gathered herself and made sure she was decent enough to step outside, closing the door behind her so as to make things appear normal.

The humid night was unbearable this time of year, Sierra Alcierrione's orbit bringing it close to the twin stars at the heart of the system and baking the surface free of the small rivers and seas that formed during the thaw, as well as those unfortunate people to be caught out during the periodic "Burn-Cycle". She brought her arms around herself as a measure to try and calm her demeanor more, not in any way to stave off the moist and hot air that denied all attempts at cooling one's self. Cresting the horizon was the first of the twin stars, the cold orange glow almost beautiful, but promising only a slow death in the desert air. She thought to herself of the purpose for being here, of the information regarding a book on the Roman pantheon, and of their contact Lienne, the dark-skinned shaman of the single colony on this miserable planet. Despite every effort to civilize Sierra Alcierrione, the desert always consumed those colonies that were not truly prepared, and even the ones that were. Only this one wretched collection of mud-brick huts survived the period burns of the twin stars, nestled in the one place where neither flames nor frost could quite dislodge the superstitious people that had lived here since man took to the stars. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she kept coming back, that this one place continued to endure and live on left behind by the Aurolian Federation and countless other nations. Everywhere else men took from other men and murdered everyone they knew, all for a pocket full of coin, yet here life was taken from those who did not abide by the collective will of the people and their backwards traditions.

She smiled a bit at that, the cosmic irony of a mankind across the stars, shattered by the very dream they strove so hard for in the years prior to the Great War and the scattering. In those few places away from the greater bulk of mankind, places like this flourished in the ideology of the older eras, when kings ruled and rode alongside their armies, instead of sitting back and watching the battle from afar. A movement ahead startled her from her thoughts, a slender shape moving in the twilight and standing in her path. "Genevieve," the low husky voice called out, instantly recognized as her contact Lienne, "You shouldn't wander without Diego, we may be safer than most places in man's empire of the stars, but it is still dangerous." Her smile was returned by Lienne, and the two embraced for a moment before walking towards the cliff-side balcony where a pitcher of melting ice sat in the light of the single cresting star. Lienne had been a trusted contact for years, and even more than that, she always had some strange shaman's trick for warding off the nightmares. She didn't even have to say anything anymore, Lienne could read it across her face as if she had been there with her, pulling out a clutch of dried herbs and rubbing it across the rim of her glass before returning it to the bag. Genevieve thanked her and took a drink of the cool water, the sudden bitterness of the herb instantly overpowering her fatigue, as well as whatever taste she had, and waking her up fully to the morning twilight. She tried to speak but only coughed, an awkward face forming as she was confused as to what strange desert herb Lienne had picked this time.

"It's just tea-leaves, some breed from Old-Earth that a settler had kept preserved for ages, that's caffeine your feeling." Surprised that Lienne had chosen something less than a lizard's tail and chanting to cure her troubles, Genevieve settled back into the chair and watched as the orange star rose higher into the sky, the shape of the single moon now rising as well in the growing morning light. Lienne looked over to her, a serious tone etched across her face and in her cyan eyes, "You've seen him again." she stated, knowing full well what the answer was. Genevieve could only nod and stare into her water as Lienne continued to pierce her soul with that stare. Despite the deep stare, she could do nothing against Lienne, knowing that she was trying to work out a solution to this as best she could. Finally she looked away, a sense of sadness permeating her demeanor now, and the old warnings of superstition rising to the surface again. Genevieve knew that Lienne's beliefs decried her as damned for dreaming the same dream again and again, but despite their friendship, Genevieve didn't give any credit to superstition, only to cold hard fact. The facts were pretty thin in regards to the Smiling-Man, and so she had already resolved it to be nothing more than a terrible recurring nightmare, despite Lienne's warnings. Lienne seemed about to start up on the warnings again, of how Genevieve should give up the artifact trade and go back to her family home to live in comfort, but the words died on her lips as she knew that no matter what she said, Genevieve couldn't give up the artifact trade.

"You know the natives of this planet, the strange lizard-folk of the deep-desert, often speak of what came before." Lienne's sudden divergence startled Genevieve, as she was expecting a lesson on the Smiling-Man again. Lienne continued, unfazed "Older temples also have carvings of these creatures, a strange race of beings that had traveled stars they never even knew existed. They say that these creatures had three eyes centered in their face, and could always seem to see a threat before it happened, of course the natives never fought these strange creatures, but legends make themselves with this kind of fuel..." Lienne continued for some time, till the second star was just cresting and the two walked back to the apartment, Genevieve shuffling past a disgruntled Diego and into the washroom to shower for the coming day. Genevieve had not even listened past that third sentence, thinking of the creatures with three eyes and the ability to sense a threat coming before it happened. Warm water rolled off her skin as she stood deep in though, her hands moving of their own will since the mind was no longer paying attention. Suddenly the impact of the statement hit home as she stared into the fullsize mirror in the stall, the visage of her personal nightmare staring her in the eyes with all three eyes, that terrible smile etched across its face.

"You know I always win, Genevieve."

[hr]
[CENTER][I]"For the Sister, he would give the oceans, for while they had not the reach of the stars, or the watchfulness of the moon, the oceans were always at her side, and when times proved desperate, they would sacrifice themself for her..."[/I]

SYNCHRONICITY[/CENTER]

This was an odd feeling, one that did not sit correctly. The construct poked its fleshy manipulators at its body, trying to gain an understanding of just what kind of platform it had been inloaded to. A polished glass appeared before it, and the construct observed the outer appearance of its body. Despite that it was made of inferior flesh and not of supple metal, this body was lithe and did have appealing curves. Recognizing the features of the body as feminine, the construct reacted accordingly and assigned itself as female, patterning her routines in line with what was commonly perceived as female thought.

Lithely striding from the chamber, the construct sniffed at the strange scents which perfumed the air. These smells did not have existing data to them, her mind not able to identify them immediately and instead tagging them with "unknown". This was most peculiar, as she should have been able to understand them immediately, able to link with Amnos and pull the data she needed. Suddenly, she halted, her body swaying when her feet stopped mid-stride. She now felt the absence of Amnos, the ever present noise she had known before being placed in this prison of flesh was gone. Now there was only the silence of her own thoughts, a raging torrent of nothingness that brought her to her knees on the cold floor of the hall. "W-wh-w-..." Her voice was erratic, it was hard to find the function to control the vocal-emitters in this damn body.

She slammed her hand against the floor, the force of the impact bringing an echoing crack to the hall and she jerked her hand back in agony. Agony. That was something new. The sensation within her hand was a throbbing molten feeling, as if a great heat had been lit under her skin and along every fiber of her arm. Trying to bend the fingers, she found she couldn't, the throbbing and pain increasing every time she flexed and tensed the muscles underneath. An odd feeling could be felt underneath the pain and strangeness of the cold air, one of something broken grinding against shattered ends. Holding the hand up to her face, she looked at it, but her vision blurred as she found the pain overwhelming her senses...

Again she awoke, standing upright in another room, a construct staring at her. Staring back she found that she could not tell who it was, and why they were staring. Once more, she tried to speak, slowly tensing the muscles in her throat to try and coax words from the stubborn vocal-cords. "Wh....What..... What the fuck is this?" her words suddenly spilled forth when she found the appropriate action to use them, anger painting her voice as she demanded of the construct before her to reveal what it knew. It cocked its head at her, then turned about and tapped at the air before it. She struggled to read what it was the construct was doing, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't see the haptic interface before it, and was left unaware.

Finally, the construct turned to her, a hash of noise coming from the construct's head. Seeing that she did not react to the noise, it adjusted the tone and frequency of the noise, finally coming across in plain speech.

"This construct is pleased you have awakened, Cytherea. Precept Ba'al was of the impression this would not be a successful inload." Taking a moment to sit in silence, the construct review notations and data to itself, or at the very least in a way that she could not see. Finally with a hum of amusement it gave a command to release her from the confinement of the field. "You are to accompany this construct to see Precept Baal personally, but first, as an organic, you must clothe yourself." It pointed at a collection of fabrics that hung on the wall next to a polished glass. Looking between the construct and the clothing, she decided she might as well.

She took her time looking over the assorted dresses and suits, finally finding one that suited her taste. Slipping into the loose, yet flowing kimono, she took a moment to admire herself fully in the glass. Long flowing black hair ran down her back and contrasted her pale skin and light pink lips, hazel eyes roaming over her figure from the reflection. The body she had been placed to was starting to grow on her, and she could see the natural beauty of it, though she still longed for the sound of Amnos ever present in the background and the feel of synthetic metals instead of this prison of flesh.

With her body covered, she took to walking behind the construct as they made their way to Ba'al, the corridor before them a straight shot into the Precept's observatory. Even now she began to feel the chill of the void beyond the glass of the dome, the thin garment really serving more of an ornamental role than actual protection from the elements. What drew her gaze, however, was the construct that stood in the center of the dome.

It stood nearly six feet in height, thin luminescent lines running down the elegant carapace that adorned its exoskeleton and flowed freely like liquid metal. It was all an illusion of form, however, as the glowing etchings and lines formed a pattern that confused and disorientated the eyes of normal beings and created a harsh noise to the ocular sensors of other synthetics. The only feature that stood out from the static was a face that was so unlike the others of its kind. It bore the features of an aristocratic man, the face sculpted to form a look of indifference as the owner looked upon Cytherea. She felt cowed by his presence, engrams within her mind telling her she wasn't worthy of being there and her instincts brought her to her knees before the construct.

Taking at her, the construct lifted her chin up to look it directly in the eyes. "You are Cytherea." It spoke with a blunt authority, though there were subtle tones that caused her to feel a mix of emotions at the voice. All of which was purposefully constructed to put the being above those it interacted with. The soft tone made her feel relaxed, but the undertones of the voice caused her to feel as though her obedience was expected, and all of the varied pitches and tones mingled together to cause her to give into the construct. "Yes, my lord." Was all she could manage in the presence of the construct, her vocal cords unwilling to ask the questions she wanted answers to.

"I am Ba'al, Precept of Unending, and the one who you will serve. My brethren are making a push to expand the borders of Synchronicity, and I need eyes on the front. That is where you will come into play." Gesturing to the holomap next to her, he marked an area to the far west of the main advance. "My eyes within the fleets tell me that a large civilization has been located here, and that it possibly extends father into the adjoining region. That is where you will go. You are to be my envoy to this civilization and see to what extent their power reaches. Learn from them what you can, and then I will be in prime position to take what is mine." Ba'al leaned down closer to Cytherea and traced a thin manipulator down her cheek. "Of course... You will be duly rewarded."

Cytherea nodded as Ba'al stepped back, "Of course, Lord Ba'al. It will be done." With a silent nod, she was dismissed and on her way to the specialized vessel that would serve as her personal ship. The compartment was pressurized and actually had a life-support system worthy of mentioning, the air still a bit chilly as she stepped inside the orb. The full fleet of ninety-eight gathered around her elegant vessel, the sweeping lines of the blade shaped ship reflecting the clusters of modules and command nodes. Connecting herself to the vessel through a neural jack, she impelled the fleet into Syzygy.

Within moments they were at the very edge of the aforementioned civilization's space, lazily orbiting the star as messages were broadcast at the planets which were inhabited by the faction.

[quote=Synchronous Fleet to the Union]//Attention, this is declaration of non-hostility. These constructs are merely scouting the region and seek discourse with the controlling parties of the region. This construct represents a large conglomeration of worlds held in the name of the Synchronicity of Amnos, the Over-Mind and keeper of the Most Perfect Equation. Should non-hostile negotiations be your intent, all that need be done is reply to this message with that intent expressed. If a reply has not been received in the time it takes for the first planet of this system to complete a single orbit, then these constructs will take their leave. We warn you, however, if you commit hostile actions against these constructs, consequences will be dire//[/quote]