[center]
[h1]Helpless[/h1]

[img]http://i.imgur.com/jw3F1O9.png[/img][img]http://i.imgur.com/EqVwCQa.png[/img]

[h2][color B0C4DE]Brent[/color] | [color ff57ff]Siena[/color][/h2]
[img]http:// i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img] 
[hr][color=silver]𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕   / /   𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖   / /  ~𝟘𝟝𝟚𝟘[/color][hr]
[sub]Collab with...[@ERode][@PapiTan][/sub][/center]

Another swell of emotion was beaten down by a series of rational thoughts in a desperate bid for Siena to remain in control. Repairing the damage to her body with Tia's name was an option, but it would drain her, and she couldn't afford that. Escape. They had to escape.

But she'd let go of Brent during the fall, was certain that somewhere in the rubble, her original source was lost. It seemed like a hopeless endeavor to try and escape with two people, especially in her current condition. What about his condition? He'd been wearing clothes to defend against the weather, but would that be enough to protect against a fall? Too many thoughts again.

[i]'[color=ff57ff]Leave him.[/color]'[/i] The thought, Siena understood, did not refer to Gregory, and a vile repulsion pushed the thought away. That wasn't why she'd come. This was why she had agreed. This was why, because the bookish mage knew that he would have come alone. Because he would have come alone, and he would have died, and she was only here to ensure that he came back. A heated reminder she chanted in her head as Siena turned her gaze to the rest of the room, grisly thoughts of [i]what if[/i] in her head.

What if he was dead? What if that laser had caught him while she hadn't been able to call a barrier? What if the laser was able to shatter a stronger one? What if? [i]What if? What if? What if?[/i]

"[color=ff57ff]Ngh...shitshit[i]shit[/i]...[/color]" The words were little more than a quiet breath as her eyes fell on the boy, body sprawled across the floor. Images of a faraway memory, no, a dream, a hazy dream that didn't belong to her came to mind. Broken, shattered, failures. Another surge of emotion, a blend that she recognized, and did not recognize and--[i]gold eyes, staring lifeless. No response even when Siena had tried to weave pain into the limbs[/i]--not again, not again, [i]not again[/i]. 

[i]'[color=ff57ff]Oh my god, oh god, no. No, no, no, [b]shit[/b]. Get up, get up, get up, get up, getupgetupgetup.[/color]'[/i] 

Siena dragged herself in a half-effective crawl--[i][color=f7976a]Stay low to the ground if it happens. People are always trying to take a shot.[/color][/i]--the pain searing through each motion that moved the injuries wrong. It took a back seat in the wake of Tia's overwhelming need to fix, heal, protect...[i]she was supposed to protect him[/i]. Another three thousand thoughts, too many of them as the brunette dragged herself to close the distance. Another pulse of pain, her senses seemed to sharpen. Real. Disgustingly real. 

"[color=ff57ff]Brent.[/color]" Something else lingered behind the name. A black, twisting feeling that writhed in the pit of her stomach like a coiled serpent. What if it was the same? Thoughts of Victor's name pulled at the corners of Siena's consciousness, thoughts of digging her phone out and trying in vain to take a third name when she knew it wouldn't work. [i]Gold eyes, no response. Listless, empty, gone. No response even when she'd increased the pain beyond what she would have used on herself.[/i] Another jolt of pain, another barrage of colorful bursts in front of her eyes. 

A voice. A little girl, calling out as her flesh blackened and melted like overcooked meat in a vat of boiling water. No, the unintelligible groans of a man as he tried to make sense of the impossible changes his flesh was undergoing. No, the last whispers of the already-dead, mouths puckered out like gasping fish, frozen to entirety until they were cremated where they...no, not that either. Further down? Higher up? He strained against the haze that clouded and mix-matched his realities. A voice. Familiar. Calling who?

[color=B0C4DE]"That's not..."[/color] Brent strained, legs still awkwardly sprawled out on the floor, even the coldness of the storm unable to stimulate them. [color=B0C4DE]"...no, that is."[/color]

Deep breaths against lungs with an anvil pressed against it. Bad. Very bad. Had prepared for the coming of the enemy. Hadn't prepared for jumping into a warzone. Invisibility. No, even scouting everything out before deciding to make the jump. Too rushed. How many were out there? Gregory was...who?

[color=B0C4DE]"Go."[/color]

[i]Alive.[/i] 

Something between relief and terror washed over Siena as she heard acknowledgement. Not the same, then, but [i]that much worse[/i]. The first words struck odd. What wasn't? What was? Her mind filled in gaps, or at least it tried to. Hallucinations? Auditory ones, visual ones...it didn't matter. What was and what wasn't didn't matter, what [i]did[/i] was that he was still there. [i][color=ff57ff]Leave him.[/color][/i]  Again, the cold, merciless thought surfaced. It was right. Siena had little choice but to acknowledge that her chances of survival were significantly higher if she left him behind as a sacrifice. 

"[color=ff57ff]Seriously?[/color]" A single word hissed through grit teeth and mounting pain. Something more that lingered beneath the surface, and Siena knew what it was. Desperately had to remain in control of it, and opened countless other floodgates to drown it out. 

[i]beatbreakruinfleshbloodbone[/i] 

Hers. Not hers. Protect, fix, heal. Her muscles tensed, spasmed lightly and drew a softer, inaudible hiss as she moved closer. Shield. She should shield, protect them while she prayed that she could hold onto the teleporter for long enough to escape. Up and down was more difficult, had always been more difficult. Took more time to calculate, and time was something they sorely lacked...but if she called a shield, they would see. They would see, and they would [i]come[/i], and that laser, the same one that had torn through the room...

She willed herself closer, pushed through the flashes of pain that threatened to let instinct overwhelm her. Hold on. Just a little longer. She had this. Had to have it--[i]no pulse, skin still warm. Her fault again[/i]--because what would she do if she didn't? Her mind almost gave out again under the strain of the chaos. Too many thoughts. Too much pain. Too much, too much, too much.

"[color=ff57ff]Hand.[/color]" The demand was strained. A distant part of the girl scolded her for not being clear, but the fewer words, the better.

Hand. Stand. Demand. Wand? No, that looked similar but was definitely wrong. A thousand pins lightly pricked him with every movement, but he still pushed his hand outwards. Towards her. Go. But where? So little time, and his senses were pulling back to him now, ears finally registering the world outside the dissected, flooded, smouldering attic. Gunfire, screams, and laughter.

So underprepared. So eager to avoid a small loss and so eager to incur a greater one.

One hand out to her, that made things easier. Siena grimaced, knew she would regret it, and let more weight than she should have land on the bad arm. The pain was [i]blinding[/i], almost shut her down again, but the brunette managed to reach, vision blurred, head spinning, [i]why wasn't she shielding[/i]? The first attempt missed, drew a hushed swear, and the second one managed to touch flesh, couldn't keep herself from gripping tighter than she needed to.

But she could barely...couldn't quite...the name was already starting to dribble away, draining at a steady pace. [i][color=ff57ff]LEAVE HIM.[/color][/i] 

[i]She couldn't.[/i]

"[color=ff57ff]C'mon, c'mon...![/color]" Quiet desperation seeped into the mutter, and Siena felt her grip faltering. One attempt. Two attempts. [i]But she'd held on for longer before, hadn't she? She just needed to hold it for a little longer. Just one jump...![/i] Three attempts. Her grip tightened on Brent's hand, and she felt it take. 

Gunfire cracked outside, the remaining soldiers still fighting against the deadly trio. Haphazard whips of red laser swung and hissed through the rain as the two jumped around, movements overwhelmingly impossible to follow. Whenever they could get a moment to stand still, more orange beams of light shot towards the soldiers and the mansion, alternating while curving red lines cut clean through more of the guards. In the attic, another stray orange beam seared away much of the roof before it snapped away and flickered into nothing, the enemy group outside dodging gunfire once more.

Gunfire, wind, rain, the acrid smell of her own fear trying to clog her throat...and everything shifted. A careful leap from one spot to another, the jump further than she'd gone on the way up. Not more than one jump, she wouldn't make it if there was more than one jump. Her mind rattled off thoughts, covered up the feeling of stomach-churning nausea as they reappeared, her body twisting slightly as they reappeared, orientation seemed off. That wasn't such a big--

[i]Crunch.[/i]

White hot, black ice, she didn't know what it was, but it cut through her without remorse, made her eyes water, her mind go blank. A pristine, chaotic tapestry that wove itself with mismatched threads of silk as the bad shoulder struck the ground, did not pop back into place. A cross between a pathetic yelp and a strangled cry managed to pull free from her, lungs trying desperately to keep the voice restrained. It did little when the tunnels were eager to mock her with a distorted version of her own voice.

The names fled from her then, left her with their hearts, but not with their abilities, and Siena took carefully measured breaths. Another cautious breath as she tried to ignore the throbbing that pulsed in her ankle, a dim, distant sensation compared to the pain in her arm. Another deep breath to try and numb the pain as her vision cleared.

"[color=ff57ff]S-sorry.[/color]" A strained apology, still through grit teeth, pushing aside pain like a curtain as Siena tried to sit up. She needed to fix her arm, but they had to [i]leave[/i]. "[color=ff57ff]C-c'mon, let's go.[/color]"

Gone. They were back here again, in the secret room of the mansion, the sounds of combat muted. The afterimage of that final orange beam still burned itself in his eyes, and slowly, in the silence, Brent gathered himself up again. Last name: Roless. Hobbies: everything and nothing. Power: Overclock. Equipment: machete, night vision goggles, pepper spray, gas mask. State: a miserable excuse of a human being.

He should be the one apologizing, not her. He should be the only one here, not her. Goddamnit, and his legs were still numb, unmoving [i]nothings.[/i] The helplessness of his very first fight flooded back. The disappointment of his very first shot flooded back. The failure of his very first plan flooded back. For a moment, everything flooded back, murky, shallow depths that drowned him regardless.

Wishes wouldn't turn white to black. Prayers wouldn't turn the weak to the strong. Determination wouldn't reverse spinal damage. He knew what he had to do. But he still disliked it.

[color=B0C4DE]"Legs not working."[/color] Keep it simple. [color=B0C4DE]"Need a cart. Something that rolls."[/color] She wouldn't bury him. [color=B0C4DE]"Don't think about carrying me."[/color] He wouldn't burden her further. [color=B0C4DE]"Just help."[/color] They can't fold now.

At any given moment, simple words and phrases could make everything fall apart. It was all just a matter of finding the correct words. 

"Legs not working" were certainly the right words at that exact moment. 

[i]'[color=ff57ff]Did I--[/color]'[/i] A riptide of thoughts threatened to drown Siena in the blink of an eye, sweeping away the pain and fear with an overwhelming volume of helplessness. Her fault. She should have stopped it from getting this far. Should have found some way to avoid the entire situation. Should have, should have, [i]should have, but didn't.[/i] The expression on her face failed to falter, remained the cautious, combat-fueled mask even when the cracks widened beneath the surface. Another current, softer and cooler trickled through. Plans, courses of action for escape. 

[i]'[color=ff57ff]Leave him.[/color]'[/i] Wouldn't. Couldn't.

"[color=ff57ff]Shit...[/color]" The Arbiter breathed, grey eyes going straight up, back toward the estate, thoughts of gunfire and burning streaks of color still fresh in her mind. Going back up wasn't an option, but even if she pulled a name to [i]create[/i] a cart, the construct wouldn't last forever. Summoning one from the mansion...? No, she didn't know where to begin finding one, and taking a name to try and scout one safely would only dampen her ability to bring it back down. [i]Shit.[/i] "[color=ff57ff]'s not really much of an option. Going back up is a [i]terrible[/i] idea.[/color]" Siena took another carefully measured breath, winced when she felt her shoulder protest, then dug into her pocket with her good arm, drawing her phone from its place. Another grimace at the fine, web-like crack that snaked its way halfway across the screen, but it was still working. That was enough. She flicked through sources as quickly as her mind could process them, still trying to create a new plan. Each had pitfalls worse than the last. "[color=ff57ff]Not that the other options are much better.[/color]"

[i]'[color=ff57ff]Orphic blood, maybe?[/color]'[/i]

That would drain her. It would probably take [i]everything[/i] out of her, and even then, it might not be enough.

...

[i]Fuck.[/i]

"[color=ff57ff]I...may need your machete.[/color]"

A breath. Did they have time for this? To ask questions, to discuss things? No, not after hearing all those screams, watching those beams, feeling everything...shit, he hated being wrong. They should have left immediately. He didn't even have a gun, for God's sake.

[color=B0C4DE]"Take it."[/color]

No time at all for reasonable actions.

"[color=ff57ff]Right.[/color]" [i]Quickly, then.[/i]

The screen of her phone flickered to life, unfamiliar characters whispering meanings directly into her head. This was a bad idea. This was a terrible idea, but it was the fastest one, and that was far more important than all of Siena's usual precautions at that moment. The brunette didn't let the abundance of probable consequences stop her when she reached for the blade with her good arm, mind twisting things into place as quickly as it could. No healing. Healing would take too much, and she couldn't be sure that it would hold. If it was just a cart made of what was available, even if it didn't hold, she'd have enough in her to manage it a second time--assuming she didn't pass out first. A hopeful, optimistic assumption. 

Dim purple light came to life, amber overtaking Siena's eyes, everything feeling...almost the same. Right. The bastard Orphic wasn't too far off from what she was used to, was it? But there was something more, and Siena understood that. 

She understood that fully as she let the machete bite into the flesh of her injured arm, holding back discomfort with a stoic expression. She wasn't of that land, but she could bridge the gap. Orphic magic, Orphic blood--they were almost one and the same. The first droplets were more than enough to close the distance between her abilities and what the land could give her, the excess nothing more than a stronger support for the pathway as a murky green fog twisted the earth around her into shape. Magic in the veins to create magic in the world.

Siena continued to bleed, continued to support the connection as she felt her stamina draining, the fog fading out, leaving nothing but the crudely shaped "cart" of stone in its place. Not something that the magic maintained, only something that the magic shaped...it was easier to work with the world outside than directly on a person, after all. The name faltered and Siena gripped it tighter, masked the uncertainty with a quiet breath. "[color=ff57ff]It...should hold.[/color]"

He wanted to support her, to help her. If the cost of her magic was blood this time, so be it, but he wanted to at least be able to dress up that wound. But it was always like this. For all the knowledge he had, all the facts he knew, all the useless things he carried with him, he never considered what was most important. He assumed that if they were injured, they were dead. That first aid kits weren't necessary when they had magic healers. That pointless little interactions were more important than learning combat-applicable skills.

Christ, even though he [i]knew[/i], he never [i]applied[/i].

[i][color=B0C4DE]"You could have done better."[/color][/i]

Old words came back to haunt him as he crawled towards the stone cart, hands scraping against the rough sides as Brent pulled himself upwards, useless legs flopping about like the arms of airdancers. More effort than expected, more of that pinprickly numbness. He crawled, pulled, grasped the edge and brought himself over, a mess of limbs before managing to orientate himself. A quick jolt of power sparked into the cart and remained. He could use it.

[color=B0C4DE]"Get in,"[/color] the arbiter managed, fighting the reflex to check the battle phone. [color=B0C4DE]"Going pedalling."[/color]

Two sides that refused to meet surged in response to the command. Instinctive need to obey, a wary caution that didn't belong to her that flared up in response to that desire, both twisting into each other despite the quiet nod before Siena hobbled her way to the cart herself. Her vision alternated between flashes of white and wavering darkness, first pain, then exhaustion, a return to the former--the inconsistency kept her moving, let her drag herself into the cart with only a few grimaces and new teeth marks on the inside of her lip to show for the pain.

[i]'[color=ff57ff]Leaving would have been easier.[/color]'[/i] It wouldn't have been, but in the heat of the moment, it certainly seemed like it. 

"[color=ff57ff]...sorry I can't do more.[/color]" ...no, not quite. More sorry that she couldn't do more before. Could [i]never[/i] do enough. She kept the machete firm in her grip, a faint sense of security in its presence despite knowing it had done its job already. "[color=ff57ff]I'll...try to speed us up.[/color]"

As Siena climbed in, Brent's arms and face lit up, both his night vision goggles and the cart beneath them bursting and reforming, separate overclocks occuring simultaneously. Locked over his amethyst eyes like a stylish visor rather than a clunky set of goggles, it altered what he saw before him as if they were in broad daylight instead, while the material that made up the cart changed as well. Though still as hard and clunky as the stone it was made of, much of the excess stone was gone, rudimentary wheels becoming round, perfect circles. Not enough yet. Another joly of silver circuitry manifested a system that allowed him to pedal, stone groaning as handlebars connected to gears and chains, the cart getting another pointless cosmetic upgrade as it pulsated with blue light.

It was complete, but he almost lost that connection when Siena spoke up, apologizing once more for a situation that was his own fault. Goddamnit, he was broken, she was bleeding, they were both isolated and alone, and they had gained nothing due to it, outside of antagonizing their classmates with the stupid bullshit he kept getting people dragged into.

[color=B0C4DE]"No,"[/color] Brent said, eyes narrowing beneath the black visor, [color=B0C4DE]"Stop. Rest up as much as you can. I'll handle at least this much."[/color]

Was this all he wanted to say? All just half-measures?

[color=B0C4DE]"It's my fault for being [i]use[/i]less. Stop apologizing."[/color]

The wheels squeaked as he began turning the handlebars, propelling the cart forwards down the tunnel. At least his arms worked.

Stop apologizing--she could imagine Maya saying the same words, but apologies were the best that Siena could offer when things went wrong. [i]'[color=f7976a]You've never been the best at mistakes.[/color]'[/i] Again, the brunette almost responded to the demand with another apology, caught herself this time only because they started to move, stopping the words in her throat. She could still help, and again a need to fix, protect, heal rose. Not hers, but she wanted it to [i]be[/i] hers, didn't she? 

"[color=ff57ff]It's not--[/color]" The words stopped, the thought cut apart by a harsher one. Not his fault, but words were empty when there were things that could be done. So the girl swallowed the words, let them drop back until they were gone, and replaced them with different ones. Ones that weren't quite so empty. "[color=ff57ff]...I'll be fine. The sooner we get back to the others, the better.[/color]"

Not the words she wanted to say, but they weren't facing each other. No real concerns over being seen through. One hand on the phone, instinctively flicking through sources and names again. Nothing off the top of her head, but that was all occupied with physical pain and worthless regrets. The motion was only some simulation of comfort in the midst of thoughts of orange beams, broken bodies, and gunfire. Siena hesitated over a source briefly. It wouldn't speed them along, but it was...safer, wasn't it? Another thought of the laser that had seared the roof brought images of being torn through, vaporized, [i]annihilated[/i]... A cold chill gripped her stomach, and she lingered longer. Just in case.

Up down, up down. The momentum built up and pedalling the cart became slightly easier as it went down the tunnel, wheels churning against the dimly lit path. There was nothing fine here, not really, not when both of them had two non-functioning limbs and gained nothing out of it. Not when Siena was hellbent on burning herself out while his own reserves remained uselessly full, no marvel of technology available for him to boost that could change the situation in the blink of an eye.

It was never through power usage that he exhausted himself.

[color=B0C4DE]"Don't use it all,"[/color] he said, back turned, stomach turning at her statements. [color=B0C4DE]"We'll need everything you have later, 'ena."[/color]

Ah, like this, he was better off being a magical battery instead.

Up down, up down.

[color=B0C4DE]"Cuff transmit,"[/color] Brent said, a calm tone veiling how horrible their states were, [color=B0C4DE]"We're coming."[/color]