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Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by ERode
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ERode Odd One Out

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Eye of the Storm



Brent | Marcus | Ernie
Siena | Emma | Lily

A Collab by @ERode@Papitan@Kyrisse@banjoanjo@Chasers115@Diggerton

Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by Baklava
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Unwise




Callan | Lawrence | Siena


π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / π•ƒπ•šπ•˜π•™π•₯𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕀𝕖 / / ~πŸ˜πŸπŸ›πŸ

Collab with @Baklava, @Snagglepuss89, and @PapiTan

Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by January
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January

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π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / 𝕆𝕗𝕗𝕀𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕖 / / ~πŸ˜πŸπŸ›πŸ


Rainwater streamed off the wooden boards of the pier as Thi fiddled with the controls in the ferry’s wheel house. It was an old thing, despite its solid functionality, and the dashboard offered only two throttles and two prop rotators, along with the standard speed gauges, warning lights, and ignition switch. For a moment, the simple lack of a key almost became a miracle on the students’ behalf, but the woman was dauntless and by the time she had donned her strange, needling glove and mapped out the tumblers of the switch, the rest of the Amigos had reached the flooded deck of the ferry, the heater mage finally removing his hand from the wall. Steam still issued loudly from the surface of the packed sand and dirt, but already the temperature was cooling in the onslaught of rain and wind.

β€œGet us going,” Nathaniel ordered entering the room well ahead of the other two and already remotely lifting the remaining Aberrations onto the boat. He dropped Angel’s cauterized, eviscerated torso in a corner of the wheel house, checking only briefly to ensure she was alive before returning outside to stand on the boat’s deck. A moment later, their surgeon had fashioned a grisly key from β€œextra” bone, the vestiges of her humanity that she had long replaced with her mechanical augmentations. Losing a metatarsal hardly fazed her. The boat’s engine sputtered to life, the lights flickering on inside the wheel house and along the front and back of the boat as the beams cast bright cones into the dawning light. A few moments of adjusting to the strange controls and they were off, the ferry veering clumsily away from the harbor until Thi seemed to catch on to the nuances of the levers.

As they reached an appreciable distance from the shoreline, Orla released her power’s effects, the structures crumbling swiftly back into mounds of sand and rock while the trees and sandstorm broke down as well when the other Aberrations followed suit, almost in perfect synchronization.

And the sun was rising.

Dawn came with the storm finally breaking. Rain still pattered along the island stubbornly and a milder wind insisted on accompanying the weakening bluster, but nature’s boiling rage had died down to a simmer and the light illuminated slowly the wreckage of the lighthouse roof scattered across the beach as well as the battered faces of the students and surviving staff. Two broken bodies in black suits and one wearing the unmistakable frill of the maids’ aprons lay near the far edge of the students’ impromptu frontlines where the marching trees had carelessly crushed anything underfoot, including hapless staff who had tried to help in whatever way they could. The distinct visage of something large and winged towards what remained of the lighthouse’s head caught Nathaniel’s attention and already he was motioning towards it, calling the others to bear. Most of their powers were rendered useless at sea.

Not his.

And Teitel’s orb had yet to be tested in real combat.

Nathaniel had never really believed in overkill; it was a sentiment the Father shared.

The dark blue orb pulsed in front of him, glistening like a jewel in the dim sunlight peeking over the horizon, like it knew what he planned to do, and this time he took it in hand, grim, because they had warned about the aftereffects of Teitel’s unstable creations. The man promised deadly resultsβ€”guaranteed them, evenβ€”with equally deadly consequences if he were to be caught in the aftermath of the weapon’s use.

He didn’t trust anyone to have his back, nor did he trust them not to throw him overboard once they realized his weakened state. But to have a winged monster chasing them without any of their long-range offense was a problem he refused to have.

So the orb flashed bright blue in his hand and the ocean shuddered beneath him.

”For a brief moment, Natey, you might almost be a god!”

It was Teitel’s grating voice, the man’s throat seared from a lifetime of chain smoking and relentless drinking. To be granted godhood from vermin who couldn’t cure his own lung cancer and would have surely died if they hadn’t found Thi was bittersweet at best.

The memory fizzled away with the surge of power that raced through him, rippling like the ocean below. Above and below. Around. The water that roared. An infinite cascade of energy that Teitel’s weapon unlocked and beyond that vastness a howling riptide that whirled like the darkest depths of the ocean come to bear witness. Something shook beneath his feet and he looked down to see the water rising, as far as the eye could see. Droplets drifting upwards, the rain falling back into the sky. Voices whispered something behind him and he turned to look at his allies, their faces slack with fear. It took the vague reflection in the windows of the wheel house for him to realize he was glowing the same blue as the orb, a beacon brighter than the lighthouse had been.

And still the suffocating ocean crashed onto him, unaware of the vessel’s limits. The orb screamed with the pressure, the sound a keening note in the air. Always imperfectβ€”that was the unerring condition with everything Teitel created, though the man would be hard-pressed to admit it. Power beyond belief, but hampered here and broken there. It wouldn’t lift that segment of the island. Wouldn’t crush it. Too heavy, too dense. Unless Nathaniel wanted to drink even more of the dizzying ocean above. More and more until he burst. He fought not to give in.

Water spiked into a wave a few dozen meters from the shore, the sea jutting into the sky and clawing upwards, growing higher until it dwarfed even the lighthouse high on its cliff. A tidal wave, building and building. More than enough to flood the beach and into the forest far behind it. The sky bled rain in twisting funnels of water that fed the coming disaster and just when the the rising wall of water and unwitting fish seemed to threaten the very clouds above, it slowed.

Then fell forward.

Water slammed into the shore, sweeping all the students outside of the lighthouse into a flood of icy ocean and lifting them into the sea’s grasp. It threw them back with the current, sending them tumbling towards the forest where the trees stood fast as a breakwater for the tidal wave. Inside the lighthouse, the windows shattered with the force of the impact, rain and sea pouring into the damaged building and filling a quarter of it before settling back out slowly as the wave passed. Everything above the tunnels, up to the third floor, was buoyed upward briefly and then dropped unceremoniously into a scattered pile of wet debris and damaged furniture. Water rushed through the edges of the trapdoor and into the tunnels below, filling it up almost waist-high before the deluge stopped and drained further down the tunnel. The sturdy lighthouse withstood the attack, though worse for the wear, its decades-old construction made with the ocean’s anger in mind.

But not a dragon. Chris was slammed back against the lighthouse, cracks webbing out from the point of impact. His left wing had its comparatively thin bones snapped like twigs. Allison and Kusari were similarly thrown by the vicious wave, the Aberration obtaining a fractured rib as she was thrown back against the lighthouse while the immortal’s ankles twisted as the water hurled her backwards and head over heels. A heavy mass knocked Zoe off her feet in time with the rush of ocean, forcing a poor landing that snapped her wrist and left her bruised. The body weighed on the girl as the tide returned, black-suited torso thoroughly mangled from an encounter with the walking trees earlier. The remaining corpses of the butler and maid washed up beside a breathless Callan.

By the time the attack had passed, the ferry had already made it to a safe distance away from the shore, a bright blue light shining on its deck where Nathaniel stood.



Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by RedDusk
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RedDusk Likes cheese and slacking

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π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / 𝕆𝕗𝕗𝕀𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕖 / / ~πŸ˜πŸπŸ›πŸ



The colossal wave came suddenly, and it caught him off guard. One moment Sander was dashing across the forest floor, long strides propelling him toward his target, then the next, his feet was out from under him and he was floating, drowning and falling down with currents. It smashed him through leaves and branches and dragged him through the dirt, where his limbs flailed in vain to get a hold on anything at all. He squeezed his eyes shut a few seconds too late, the burning sensation from salt water had began to pulse behind his eyelids and down in his lungs, just as he opened his mouth and tried to gasp a breath. Nothing salt water for his effort, and he retched. It burnt, all the way down.

It took him a few more moments of reorientation to realize he was surrounded by water still. Icy cold salt water that effective blinded his senses and slippery to the touch, denying him even the shakiest foothold. For all his impossible strength and monstrous endurance, he was rendered helpless so easily in the water’s cold embrace. His fire spluttered, threatened. Cold dread building in the back of his spine, which he tried his hardest to ignore while focusing on the coordination of his limbs, managing short and inhale every time he surfaced. But the water was determined to hold him down, and tried as he might, he could not break its hold.

He had to, and fast, or he was done for.

A twinge of regret formed in his stomach at the thought, stemming from memories of blond hair and blue ribbons, so Sander gritted his teeth and struggled harder against the waves.
Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by ERode
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β€œThey have Angel, at least... I think they do.”

What the fuck?

Callan running out to try to save others, Brent could understand. It was noble, even, something that was completely in character for an arbiter whose superpower made her Supergirl. Between letting her stay and letting her go, he would have sided with Callan against Siena, and would have even been willing to help coordinate her from underground. As long as the enemy remained β€˜retreating’, the turquoise haired arbiter should be fine.

Zoe and Kusari riding on top of Chris before Kusari is dropped onto the enemy while infected by the black plague and unleashing a viral explosion to decimate the enemy? Brent could understand that as well, how effective it was for there to be someone capable of β€˜carrying’ Zoe’s power to an enemy. It was smart, and if they didn’t see it coming, it was going to be an instantly fatal maneuver.
But the root of it, the root of that plan was absolutely, totally, mind blowing. Angelic, being alive? After these Amigos have done their best to kill them? A sandstorm potent enough to rip through flesh, a wooden army that even Zoe could chew through fast enough, a shadow monster that almost killed Hazel with a single attack? Not to mention the laughing she-demon that terrorized the estate, bisecting dozens and dozens? Were they really going to endanger the team for someone who, unlike the operation to scout out Gregory, were absolutely, totally, irrevocably FUCKED?

β€œAlli- fuck, cuff transmit. Allison, what th-”

And then all hell broke loose.

It was the rumbling first, and then the roar that sounded above, the sound of a heavy force slamming into the lighthouse. Ernie, either because he saw it or just instinctively knew, scrambled to close the manhole of the tunnel, but it was already too late. Even with the lid sealed, a waterfall bore down into the tunnels, a stark realization of what was happening hitting Brent as hard as the waist-high wave of seawater. Those bastards weren’t leaving. They just had a hydromancer who, with prep time, was going to flush them all out.

Bounding over to the stone cart, Brent leapt in right as the waves struck with enough force to push that weighty object down and down and down. Seconds at best, but that would be enough. He tore open the backpack, pulled out his dual-filter gas mask, and slapped it on while the cart continue to wobble, on the brink of toppling. Silver circuitry remade the mask into a set of artificial gills, and Brent stood, ready to dive into the quickly filling tunnel…but then the flow weakened, stopped, and…

It wasn’t a murder attempt then.

Not trusting the lull of peaceful silence, his respirator continued to hiss as he hopped out of the cart, sloshing waist deep in chilling seawater, the waterproof nature of his pants meaningless when submerged.

β€œRoll call,” he said down the tunnel, β€œWho's still kicking? End Transmission.”

A flood was still a flood, and he doubted those top-side were looking peachy, but for now...there was so little he could do. Stick with those he could reach. Cut his losses today, at least.
Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by BayRat
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BayRat Oh No

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Christopher Drake Francis




It all happened so fast, first the sea boiled with rage, then came its mighty wrath. The massive wave that had suddenly formed had planted Chris straight into the wall of the lighthouse. His body didn't crash all the way through, rather he remained smashed into the wall. The impact broke one of his wings, crippling his chances of ever reaching that goddamn boat. The water was cold, frigid just like the other day. The painful chill was second to the broken wing. With his ability to flight shattered with his dreams of getting vengeance upon these assholes. These goddamned fools that have attacked their own kin when the monsters that writhe in this world seek to exterminate their very race. It made him sick. Disgusted. The futility in his efforts only increased his anger.

While he remained stuck in his place for some moments, his rising anger finally transitioned into movement. The monster of an arbiter freed himself from the wall as his broken body thrashed and further damaged the ruined lighthouse, which caused him to fall ungracefully onto the earth below. It wasn't the worst pain he had felt, between getting a laser through the chest or being flash frozen and shattered, this was the least of painful experiences.

Still, he was enraged, boiling with anger. Reptilian eyes had spotted the boat far into the distance, and Chris unleashed a furiously, guttural cry. A sequence of vicious roars as loud as he could muster in hopes that those damned assailants could *feel* his anger. To understand the feeling that if he had the chance he'd tear and burn them all asunder.
After exhausting his primitive vocal cords, the dragon then rid himself of the dreadful cold touch of the sea by breathing fire beneath him, vaporizing the cold water upon him into a hot steam.

Yes, all of them. All will burn by my hand. Every damned one of them. Someone will pay for Angel's death.

But who? They had made their get away. Gone and out to see away from his wrath...However then he recalled Ernie's warning.

The mansion.

Ironic that Ernie had told him to keep him away, but if there was any chance they left any of these bastards behind Chris certainly planned on taking the opportunity. Rage had blinded him with confidence, the sea had smited his flight and several of the assailants had fled, but there was still an opportunity to shed blood. There will be no survivors, he was going to make this organization rue the day they ever messed with his team. There was one obvious problem however, aside from distinguishing allies from enemies.

These are in the way.

Chris's neck slithered back into a U, his maw darted and bit down hard on the base of his broken wing. There was no hesitation in force, no reluctant pause to consider getting a healer. Chris's bloodlust had become distant from such reasoning. he couldn't fix it, and the healers probably had more important injuries to take care of. A broken wing would get in the way of his sprinting, he'd be better off without it. The broken wing snapped off from the force, draconic blood gushing out from the wounded stump.

Ill escort these bastards straight to hell!

The pain was immense. It was one thing to nearly die, but self inflicted amputation was never easily registered, even for a dragon. The pain had only increased the adrenaline and his ire. To balance himself out, he severed his other, still-functioning, wing. The self inflicted pain had likely made him go mad, not just angry, but mentally unstable. Someone was certainly going to die from his burning vengeance.

Despite his berserk-like state, the pain had immobilized him for some expanse of a short moment. He panted with saliva and blood drooling from his saurian mouth. Once the adrenaline had overcome his maddened pain, Chris unleashed another battle cry as he darted off into a sprint. Like a predator in pursuit Chris accelerated quickly into a violent charge. His body moving like a s-shaped motion not unlike a lizard, and his speed was certainly impressive for his size. As his already swift sprint became closer to rivaling a cheetah's, his typical lizard-like movement evolved into a more cat-like run. He zipped past the light house with another cry of vengeance as his clawed feet tore through the earth. His eyes shifted to track heat as he made his way towards the estate to spot any of these damned criminals on the way.

Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Lasrever
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Lasrever

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Zoe Fletcher



π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / π•ƒπ•šπ•˜π•™π•₯𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕀𝕖 / / ~πŸ˜πŸπŸ›πŸ



Zoe couldn't really comprehend the sight of the water rushing towards them - her mind unable to accept the complete and utter terror of such a concept. She was frozen, completely frozen in fear, without even the presence of mind to hold her breath. Too afraid to even scream, or do anything at all to protect herself.

When the water hit, her mind went blank, the air knocked out of her by... something. It didn't matter, she wouldn't couldn't pay attention to it as the water surrounded her. Strong, far too strong, lifting, pushing, rushing--

She was helpless, helpless to do anything. It burned, burned her throat, her eyes, her lungs, clawing aching terror and there was nothing she could do. The weight, pushing her down, her inability to escape... no, she wasn't that, wasn't there, it wasn't the same, she knew on some level that was long in the past, but rationality had fallen by the wayside.

Gone was the resolve, the determination that had pushed her so far. It was wrong, she was wrong, she was sorrysorrysorry but it didn't stop. Her pride, her confidence... lies, all of it. You're still that same scared little girl, aren't you? And she should have done something about it, stood strong, proven that Zoe Fletcher was no coward, but the panic overrode everything else.

She landed hard, and something snapped. There was an odd numbness as she looked down at her wrist, a numb tingling ache that exploded into cutting, searing pain the moment she tried to move even one finger. Broken? Her breath came in shuddering gasps, hysteria and fear etched onto her face. Broken! So-- so appropriate, for the situation, for the pathetic little worthless mess that she pretended not to be.

There were tears on her face, though she hadn't noticed. She wasn't paying much attention to anything, really, but there was something missing. Something she was supposed to remember, right? It had faded. Maybe that was why things were like this. "I'm sorry." Mumbling under her breath as she shut down, as everything shut down. "I'll fix it. It's fine, everything's fine, you don't need to-- I'm sorry."

What was that, at the back of her mind? Blood. Blood and fear, skin splitting and bone shattering, organs spilling onto the dirt. A laugh, mixed with a sob, bubbled up between shattered, shuddering coughs. It felt good, she felt strong, so she chased it. The images felt good, felt powerful. It would be better, if she felt strong. Pain lanced through her arm as her fingers twitched, the smile on her face so at odds with the situation. Everything would be fixed. All better, right?

She wasn't thinking, as she chased that feeling. The voice of reason at the back of her mind -you said you'd be better - was too faint for her to even take notice. The corpse on top of her melted away, gone quickly, but the panic didn't disappear completely. There was still a little of the feeling there, so she made it stronger, her breath catching. More. More.

The rush was unbelievable, yet familiar. She shivered, paying no attention to the others. Others, that was right. There was part of her screaming to stop, but stopping would mean going back to the terror, to the fear, to being a helpless, pathetic little child who couldn't take control of anything. She didn't know why she'd want to give up the feeling, barely registering anything from her haze of panic.

She didn't even realise where her rush was coming from as Kusari began to rot from the inside out.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by PapiTan
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π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / π•ƒπ•šπ•˜π•™π•₯𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕀𝕖 / / ~πŸ˜πŸπŸ›πŸ


’They’re all bloodthirsty idiots.’ The thought was clear as day. Siena’s eyes found the bookmark she’d laid in place after her training session with the other sin Ground Zero. It felt like eons ago that they had been showcasing their abilities together, piecing together ideas and theories that might work in a hypothetical combat situation. How…quaint and bright, the memory seemed. She’d taken the names a few times over since thenβ€”to see how long she could stretch it, to see how quickly she could have it run through her fingers if necessary. It had been harder to see the effects without an actual dragon to put it to use on, but it should have worked.

Carefully, the mental wall was constructed, a sensation of…nothing washing over her as the name printed itself on her neck. Without any consequences on her emotional state, names didn’t last nearly as long, but in a situation where she only wanted the ability for a brief time, the brunette was certain that it would be a better decision. All she had to do then, was--

SLAM!

The gasp that should have torn from Siena’s lips was drowned, literally, in a torrent of water that struck her like a hose. Her body curled instinctively at the sudden cold that enveloped her, defensively gripping her phone, clutching it tight to her body as she felt her balance give way, sweeping her into the ground, a current knocking her against a tunnel wall enough to jar another breathβ€”no! Not breath, water. Water that burned the incisions her teeth had made against her lip, tasted like salt and filth, water that was going to fill her lungs.

Siena coughed once, the only result being the intake of more water in the process of recovery.

It occurred to her that she should have felt fear, but the gap remained as wide as ever. Fear, guilt, remorseβ€”too hard to feel. The water receded, and Siena coughed. A wet, rattling sound as the sea escaped her with each cough until it didn’t feel as though each breath was coming as air bubbles through a thin pipe. Her body trembled in the aftermath, from the chill, but not from fear, but Siena didn’t pay it heed. The rush hadn’t been severe, those in the tunnels with her were probably fine. She could faintly make out voices through the cacophony in her head, but tuned them out in favor of the immediate thoughts. Cold and rational. Ruthlessly efficient in their presentation.

The others. They’d been outside. In the tunnels, even with breakneck reactions from the others, the torrent had been powerful enough to knock her off her feet, sweep a girl down the tunnels a short distance. Outside, where there had been no defense…

Callan.

’God fβ€”shit!’ Frustration overwhelmed the remorse. Failed again. Her failure. Was she dead? Hurt? Worse? Instinctively, Siena looked down at her phone, wiped the droplets off the screen. Someone to track? No, she couldn’t. Not with her current name. Goddamn it! Another fire spike. The Arbiter grit her teeth, scolded herself for the rush of emotion, and felt the schism widen further.

β€œTransmit. You guys okay in there? We've got three dead-- staff members. Everybody else out here is alive, but we’ve got injuries. Don’t know how bad yet. End transmission.”

Alive.

For the second time in one encounter, Siena felt relief, but it wasn’t enough. She released a breath, shuddered against another chill, and focused on the task at hand. The girl ran another spear through her heart, stifled the surge of emotions that she knew wanted to break free, and utilized every remaining ounce of Victor’s residual influence before she reached out with her mind seeking a that familiar presence.

It wasn’t hard when there was only one that could match it on the entire island.

’Found it.’

Siena stood to her feet even as she allowed herself to plunge headfirst into a familiar link.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Baklava
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The Ship That Sank




Callan | Sander]


π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / 𝕆𝕗𝕗𝕀𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕖 / / ~πŸ˜πŸπŸ›πŸ

Collab with @Baklava and @RedDusk


Dead.

Shaky fingers withdrew from the man's neck. She'd decided to check despite the dismal state of his crushed body, hanging onto whatever shreds of hope she could. As long as there was a pulse, there was a chance, right? Christmas or Lily could heal anything, couldn't they? It was worth checking....

Yet once again wide eyes stared forward, as lifeless as those of the boy she'd been fighting. She tried not to look at them. As the sandstorm cleared and the wall fell apart, Callan immediately noticed the other two staff a short distance away, broken and unmoving. She gave a despairing sigh before her attention was drawn towards a bright light in the distance. They were... retreating?

A short-lived relief.

Her breath caught in her throat and she slowly rose to her feet, watching as the wave took form. Up and up and up.... So terrifying and sudden that for a fraction of a second she almost considered letting Misery loose. As if it could do anything to shatter the massive wall of water. She had to remind herself that she'd be fine. The others might not survive, but no matter how hard it hit her, she was durable enough to take it. Her body evidently needed a little more convincing, however, and she took several steps backward out of reflex.

When the inevitable finally happened, she squeezed her eyes shut, widened her stance, and took a gulp of air. The water was more than enough to knock her clean off her feet, drowning all her senses. She let it carry her, hands reaching tentatively for something she could hold onto but anything she managed to grasp instantly crumbled beneath her iron grip. Callan was left gasping for breath a good distance from the cliff's edge. Sand, seaweed, and other such ocean bits had been lodged snuggly in her hair and clothes. She shakily pulled herself to her feet.

Glancing at the two lifeless staff members who had washed up beside her, Callan reached to turn the maid over but paused as soon as her hand met the woman's shoulder. If she wasn't dead before, she certainly was now. She should... check and see if the others were alright. In spite of herself, she turned her over just enough to see bulging eyes and a gaping mouth full of blood and debris. She inhaled sharply and let the woman fall face down again, cursing her decision as she quickly turned away.

A quick headcount as she ran towards the lighthouse and everybody seemed to be accounted for. Worse for wear, but coughing. Which meant breathing. Which meant living. And those in the lighthouse were probably better off than everyone outside had been. She could hear Brent's voice shouting through his cuff, still on from before the wave hit apparently. Still, she'd feel a lot better after a much needed regroup. "Transmit. You guys okay in there? We've got three dead-- staff members." Callan clarified solemnly, "Everybody else out here is alive, but we've got injuries. Don't know how bad yet. End transmission." But that itching feeling that she was forgetting something still kept her eyes searching until she realized who she was looking for.

Sander.

Over the patter of persistent rain and the voices of her peers, Callan could just barely make out the sound of intense splashing. Her eyes fell on Sander's pale figure in the water where he seemed to have been swept down the cliff side and pulled out past the shore. Accompanied by the stolen ferry, the ominous blue light was fading in the distance, but she gave it little thought. A brief moment of uncertainty clouded her judgment and she watched Sander struggle for a moment, waiting for him to stop panicking and start swimming.

"Shit-- really, Sander?!" She ran towards him, soggy shoes sliding down the rocky cliffside. Before reaching the bottom, she gauged the distance and launched herself into a haphazard dive a few yards from where Sander's thrashing was growing weaker.

Even when he was choking down mouthfuls of salt water, Sander still recognized Callan's sweet scent once her hands closed around his shoulders. He stopped his thrashing then, and turned to her instead, arms reaching and grasping for whatever leverage so he could take another gasp of air.

A small burst of air bubbled out of Callan's mouth in surprise as Sander started trying to essentially climb on top of her in his effort to reach the surface. Geez, he was seriously drowning, wasn't he? The lost air had her feeling a bit panicked as well. She quickly adjusted her grip on Sander, trying to shift him to the side as she kicked her legs. She'd never been a phenomenal swimmer, but at the very least she could say she was a strong one now. She kicked as hard as she could, but a wave broke over the pair as soon as they'd reached the surface. Maintaining her grip on the evidently terrified Sander, she started kicking again, headed for shore.

She held on well after her feet could finally touch bottom, dragging him into ankle-deep territory before letting go. On all fours, she coughed and spit, the salty seawater burning her nose and throat.

As soon as she noticed Sander starting to sit up more, she aimed a tempered punch at his arm, pushing him sideways. "Fucking--" she coughed and shivered, "Learn how to swim! You scared the shit out of me!"

Sander only gave her a brief but apologetic look, still far too occupied with retching out the salty water and catching his breaths. Eventually though, he responded, voice hoarse from all the coughing and exposure to the frigid water. The damage could have been worse, if it hadn't been for the natural resilience his power provided. It did shield him from damage when the waves sent him tumbling through the dirt too, turning grievous injuries into superficial scratches and scrapes.

"Sorry."

Slowly, he rose to his feet, offering a hand to Callan. She accepted it with some reluctance. Once on her feet, she rang out her shredded sweatshirt, nose twitching with the occasional sniffle as the cold began to take its toll.

"You're okay, then?"

Meanwhile Sander didn't seem to be very concerned with the soaked state of his clothes. Instead, he just cast red gaze toward where the ferry had made a significant distance, then back at the battered lighthouse.

"We should probably get back."

Callan glanced up at him and sighed. "Right." She'd almost forgotten what it was like to talk to Sander. Then again, he probably wasn't thrilled about the whole needing to be rescued thing. Or maybe he would've been just fine without her... yes, that was definitely a possibility.

Either way, he was right. They desperately needed to regroup. "Let's go then," she said simply before taking off in a sprint towards the steep path back up to the lighthouse. Sander only nodded, before following closely.

Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by PapiTan
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PapiTan local trash panda

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I Shall Scream




Chris | Siena



π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / ~πŸ˜πŸπŸ›πŸ

Collab with...@dragonmancer


Everything was wrong as she dove into the link. Something felt wrong. The sensation wasn't the same as the attempt in Ground Zero--a matter of distance? No...they had managed it fine in the training session, and she'd been working with something weaker than what she was utilizing at that moment. No, this was the result of something that she was more familiar with than the physical limitations of abilities that didn't even belong to her...right? It felt different. Wrong--or perhaps it was from her own state. Muted emotions. Everything quieted down by willpower or by influence. She didn't know. All the girl knew was that she had to make him listen if she could.

Physically, Siena took another breath.

'Chris? Chris, can you hear me?'

The sudden and familiar voice of Siena had caused the rampaging arbiter to temporarily cease in his tracks just as he was about to leave the lighthouse area. Anger had caused him to forget of Siena's ability, and her intrusion into his conscience didn't help his ire. Though briefly confused, Chris responded to his fellow arbiter, not hidng an ounce of his current rage.

'Unless if you're hurt don't get in my damn way, I'm going to kill these bastards.'

The primordial rage fueled by both grief and physical pain boiled from his telepathic voice like molten rock rising from the earth's crust. The opportunity had caused the dragon to look and further exam his surroundings, despite being nearly lost in anger, his concern for Siena forced him to stay put until she confirmed her safety.

Hot. No, searing. Without her own emotions on the front lines to defend against it, the feral fury was easier to identify, but harder to keep from being swept up in. It wasn't surprising, but it had been...unexpected. Knowing that it was beneath the surface didn't make confronting it an easy task, after all.

Another physical breath.

'Most of us are in acceptable condition.' The words sounded wrong. Another side effect of Victor's influence, she supposed. Drove the division too far, she thought. Was she that averse to the concept? No. That wasn't it. It was just...necessary. 'But the others outside with you are not.'

A pause. Something still felt wrong.

'...you also don't seem to be in good shape.'

'If you're in good shape regroup with the others and get healers to the people who need it.' A sliver of reasoning beneath his anger, the heat of it briefly simmering down before slowly rising back to it's explosive force.

He had ceased to respond regarding to her statement of his condition, his goal of utter destruction was back into focus. Chris once again darted off into a sprint towards the manor. His anger had blinded him so that he even forgot Siena was still linked to his thoughts.

'Someone will pay for this. I'll let those damned criminals know...no, the whole world must know what happens when they take whats mine. The people I come to appreciate, I will not let the universe take such treasures from me anymore in silence! I will show them terror!' The lines that recited through his head didn't seem human at all, echoing with a booming dominance like that of a true monster.

"...hm. Not that I don't understand, but..." Physical words for her to register in her own ears instead of in her head as Siena listened, let the anger fill and fuel for a moment before pulling herself the equivalent of a mental step away from the surge. Familiar. Consuming. Things that she had felt, things that she hadn't--it didn't really matter at that moment. All that mattered was that she could recall, could still probably perfectly imitate it.

Who deserves to pay?

She thought, briefly, of what they had seen. Of crashing through a roof before they had even really landed. Of a dislocated shoulder and a twisted ankle that had throbbed and hurt, but meant nothing at the prospect of another broken body. Gold eyes, lifeless stare.

'For what little this is worth, I am sorry for this.' And Siena closed the link, thought again, for an instant, that every part of her would never have agreed to the course of action set before her by the imperfect imposter that took her place. Victor's influence separated her from the guilt, but couldn't completely stifle it.

Another breath, this one marked with an uneven shudder as Siena drowned herself in the experience of the worst terror she'd ever felt. Steeped in it for an instant longer, let it well up against the mental wall...and then she closed the gap as she returned the connection, this time coupled with a spike of fear in its most primal sense. A carefully crafted imitation of too many experiences that stopped the heart and made the blood freeze in place. How many names had done the same to her?

Too many to count.

What did she mean she was sorry? Was she going to kill him? There was a brief moment of confliction by that very statement, part of him wondering why while other parts wanted to retaliate. What she meant, however, became quickly apparent when her consciousness returned with a full force of fear. Instinct quickly came over reason, the powerful and sudden shock of fear prevented him from any chance of rationality. His state of berserking was fueled by anger, but now it was out of fear; Both fuels had blinded him but the fear itself had made him lose his goals.

Confusion mingled with hopeless fear, like he was being confronted with some incomprehensible monster standing right before him. His instincts spoke for him, self preservation tried to take the wheel over his increasing madness.

Outside of his conscience, the dragon form was going rabid. Terrified roars and screeches screamed from his mouth as he began to blindly destroy his surroundings as if it could spare him from the chaos. A wild tail knocked over a tree while a breathe of flames scorched the forest at his rear. The illusion that the fear itself was manifestating around him placed his enviorment in a position of danger.

Like a cornered animal unable to run Chris continued to strike at a force that wasn't even there. His aggression only taken upon the trees and wildlife that were unfortunate enough to be near him. Coupled with his injuries the exertion made him exhausted, and his stamina depleted he only became more and more desperate.

The response was immediate. More than Siena had expected, but it seemed to shut down the anger easily enough. Another pang of guilt resonated, this time unfettered by a severed connection, but the brunette didn't have time to embrace it. Memories of careful, gentle words played in the back of the girl's head. Maya's words, no doubt.

Use the opening.

She pushed further into the connection, reminded herself that the fear she felt was only as real as she allowed it to be as she kept pushing, melded herself more seamlessly. At its peak, the connection should have been flawless. But she wasn't looking for perfection, only improvement. The Arbiter released a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding, felt her heart start to slow as one by one, she replaced the gaps. A distinct division between herself and what made her almost human, pulling the fear away, replacing it with...not serenity. Siena couldn't describe it as peace, only calm. An empty calm, not as powerful as the fear, but warmer, at least.

And she waited. One moment. Two. One more.

'Head clearer now?' The thought came, a cautious testing of the waters. Again, she felt guilt try to build, but Siena did her best to push it aside. She would have time to regret it later. Time was ticking, and she knew that what she'd sacrificed for control was quickly starting to become more precious with each passing second.

As the sense of fear easily settled down Chris's rampage drained with it. The adrenaline that had helped cope with the pain and course his rage was gone, and all that was left was an exhaustedand wounded arbiter. '"I....I...'His voice struggled as if his own brain was trying to catch a breathe. Had there be any energy left in him he would have been far more furious with what she had did to him.

'You're damned lucky I care about you.' He hissed as if his own affection was a curse. There was still hints of anger and grief over Angelique's fate, but now it had been leveled away from primordial rage.

'Why the hell did you do that...' The exhaustion in his tone was clearer then his anger.

Calm. Siena had never really been very fond of that particular emotion because it had never really felt like it belonged to her, but at that moment, it was what she had been hoping for. The brunette felt her breathing regulate physically, brought another layer of level-headedness as the last vestiges of artifical terror slipped from her fingertips.

Only to return in small palpitations when the girl realized the price of forcing the connection as far as she had gone.

'I'm aware that it's lucky.' A faint whisper that she couldn't silence behind the words. Very lucky, for those purposes. 'It was the fastest way to calm you down.' Another string of quiet thoughts that tried to mask the real words.

Of every emotion she'd ever experienced, fear was the only one that could cut through anger.

Not the real thought.

Because you would have gone, and you would have died.

Siena took a moment to try and push back to the original distance, a surge of discomfort pushing past the blanket of calm as she did so. She had never liked having her thoughts on display.

'...and again, for what it's worth. I am sorry.'

Confliction once again. There was still a nagging voice of instinct behind him that wanted him to return to that state, despite how that was impossible now; With Siena there he was able to ignore it. More so a faint whisper made him feel..welcomed? Or was it something else, her whispers were hard to determine and it was clear these personal emotions of hers wanted to remain hidden. He didn't press the thought on those further for her sake of privacy.

'No, I should be apologizing for making you worry I suppose. You did what you had to do..I got reckless again...' With no adrenaline to mask his pain the stinging wounds of his wing-stubs had slowly returned. In addition to his drained stamina, the pain of severed limbs now coursed in his body.

Around Chris was the debris of cremated trees and scorched earth, and lying in the center was his broken body. Seeing his own destructive results in his current mental state only increased his regret of letting himself lose control again.

'I'm glad you're OK, I'm sorry I didn't force myself to make sure you and Brent would survive back there.' While Chris didn't bother hiding his feelings or thoughts, he did make sure to not focus too much on her own aside from those that she made clear; Regardless if it made a difference, he wanted her to feel more comfortable and secure.

Recollections of events far too fresh came to mind at Chris's words. Memories of bone white agony, Brent lying broken on the floor. Phantom pains twinged to life, and Siena felt herself rub her shoulder instinctively, felt a muted elixer of emotions try to bubble to the surface. It was a poor imitation, at best. Frustration, fear, relief, desperation. She was supposed to protect him. That was the only reason she'd gone toward certain death.

The sudden leak was stopped as suddenly as it started, a reflexive action.

'We came back fine.' Not true, but Siena did her best to maintain the thought. 'I'm glad you were with the others to help them.'

Another thought of the journey back. She'd failed, hadn't done the one job she'd given herself properly, and had felt the same gnawing insecurities that had been so quick to cripple her. One job, because she didn't know how to--didn't know how to or was too afraid to figure out? She couldn't tell--do the one they'd agreed on. Help. Co-dependency. Something that she'd been stumbling through every step of the--

'I don't have much time left with this power. Just...promise you'll regroup with the others instead of rushing off, okay?' She tried, desperately, to overpower every other thought with the one she presented. Something close to warm concern seeped through. Close enough, at least. ''If we have to engage the ones at the mansion, it'd be safer not to do it alone.'

Her recollections with Brent sent Chris on edge. He was ok with her going on the mission since he knew she was capable but the thoughts that leaked out from her made Chris think that he took advantage of her conscience for getting her do go on such a dangerous mission. It didn't help that Chris's feelings towards Brent was already mixed, but now there was a small side of him that knew he hated him to an extent. That, however, will be an issue for a different day.

Fortunately that negativity was compensating with her concerns, a thought that made Chris feel appreciated. It reminded him of Angelique in a way.
'I promise I'll go regroup. I'll see you there."'

The injured dragon got up from the debris, and proceeded to walk back towards the lighthouse. Though calm, the pain was still intense, and there was no adrenaline or cold water to numb it.

'Just having you survive is the best reward I can get out of this day.'

'Doesn't count if you're not around for it.' Easy enough. Quick quips as she tried to keep her thoughts under control.

--way. She'd tried, hadn't she? In the library? But things had only broken down, her sanctuary coming apart. Books scattered, tables turned. A few bruises that she had healed off by the next day physically, but the lingering flickers of heat had remained, hadn't they? It felt like a sliver compared to what she'd just been witness to, but that fire had burned out everything in her for longer than the bruises had remained. Some help that was. All she'd managed then was getting punched. Multiple times. No good there either, if she--

'See you soon.'

The connection faded out as the name finally slipped through her fingers like fine sand.

Just before she slipped away Chris could feel something that had happened between her and Brent.

He gave her bruises, that bitch I'll kill him when we get out of this.

Anger for another day, Chris returned to the scene of the washed up lighthouse to regroup with the students. Blood had still been leaking from his stubs which now ran crimson lines flowing over his scales and dripping from his belly. This time there was no battle cry, screech, or roar. Chris just approached standing as tall as he could on four feet with a steady gaze.
Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by Piercing Light
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Kusari found herself face down in a puddle of mud, her legs aching as they began to heal. She couldn't stand up yet, so she didn't bother doing more than sit up and look around with a dazed expression. She focused on the pier, and was distraught to see that they had failed to stop the amigos from escaping. If Angel was with them, she was far out of reach now. She couldn't help but wonder who it was that had enough power to create a tidal wave of that size. If they had that much power surely they could have used it from the start? As Kusari was drowning in self pity she noticed a stinging pain searing up her leg. You have got to be kidding me. Zoe was seriously doing this, right now.

She looked to the redhead and instantly frowned. The girl had lost it, blathering to herself with a crazed smile plastered on her face. This was the last time she trusted an Aberration with her body. She let out a sigh and went to cut off her leg in an attempt to halt the rot, but it was too late. Her heart skipped a beat, and her eyes opened wide in shock and fear.

She could feel it spreading through in her body, destroying her insides. A normal person would be dead, but Kusari was very much alive, and very much in extreme pain. "Stop it stop it stop it stop stop stop!" She yelled as her gut poured open like a rotting caracass. She dropped to her knees, which then gave out like moldy chopsticks. She fell to her hands as the rot began to reach her brain.

She screamed at Zoe as blood poured from her mouth, not even realizing she was speaking Japanese as her brain broke down, not that it mattered as she was speaking gibberish. Her consciousness was fading, and she didn't know if she was dying or simply passing out. She was scared, she didn't want to die after all, not like this. "Daddy, Where? I'm sorry. Why?" Her mind played random events in her head like a chopped up film. But she couldn't see her father's face, it was blurred out like ink smeared wet, her last thoughts before she stopped consciously thinking. Her body convulsed and she fell to the ground, her eyes empty.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Chasers115
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Freeze in the Flood




π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / π•ƒπ•šπ•˜π•™π•₯𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕀𝕖 / / ~πŸ˜πŸπŸ›πŸ



For a brief moment, the tunnels seemed like a safe place to rest; an opportunity that Marcus took advantage of for the few fleeting moments it was available. He leaned against the wall again, running his hand through his head, before slowly sliding down the wall into a sitting position. It was a pose very reminiscent of the Capture the Flags game, when he'd also found himself in a dark hole contemplating giving up. Although, back then it was just giving up on the game...it had bigger meaning here in the middle of what could be tentatively described as 'another failed evacuation attempt'. He wanted to just give up and hide in the tunnels until an actual evacuation team came to pick them up. Surely they'd send someone to get them after their actual escape route had failed.

It was as he sat there that everything went to hell. It wasn't quickly this time, either. It seemed like whenever anything bad happened, it went by so quickly that Marcus had no time to actually figure out what had happened until afterwards. Here though, he heard it coming first. The curious sound of rushing water. The sound of a great wave. Normally he would have associated it with better times; back when he and Max would take a weekend away from home and drive down to the coast, relax in the ocean, hang out on the beach. Right now, that was not the feeling that came to mind. He looked down to his leg as the speaker crackled to life, Brent's voice echoing through both the cavern and his leg.

"Allison, what th-” was all that came out before the voice stopped suddenly.

Marcus looked to the ceiling, attempting to figure out the sense of dread that his body had picked up on. He felt it rush over them, a brief shaking as if they were in an earthquake, before the trapdoor started spewing water and a frightening pace. It was like being on a sinking ship; the leak poured water into the tunnels, creating a current that washed over him before he got a chance to stand up. Everyone else in the tunnels disappeared in a wave as water crashed over his face, and he could feel himself being carried away. His lungs already burned; he hadn't taken a breath before it had crashed over him. He couldn't tell if the tunnels were full, if he'd be able to get another breath, if he was about to drown.

With so many questions, and the very real possibility of death...Marcus froze.

In the middle of the current, his body stopped suddenly, flickering slightly as the water rushed over his still body.

Two minutes passed as the water slowly drained, but to Marcus it seemed like it happened immediately.

The sound of water rushing past his ears was silent. The feeling of the freezing current was replaced by a dull thud as he fell a short drop onto the ground. Everything changed in an instant from his perspective. It was disorienting to say the least, and he shook his head once before he opened his eyes.

It was there. The eyes. Hot fear coursed through his-

Tater Tot licked his face, rubbing wet fur across his nose. Apparently he had been a suitable surface for the dog to latch onto, preventing the small creature from getting swept away into the tunnels. These were the events that had transpired, but not anything that he contemplated in a sudden burst of panic.

"AAAEHG!" Marcus shouted rather eloquently, his hands moving underneath Tater Tot and physically launching the dog through the air in one swift motion.

There was a quick moment of panic when Marcus tried to use literally all of his powers, shooting backwards far enough to nearly hit himself with the thrown dog, before scrabbling to his feet. Tater Tot hit the ground and rolled, splashing water as he did so, before also scrabbling to his feet. The two exchanged a look, before Tater Tot barked and Marcus flinched a little.

"Goddammit. It was too much to ask that you drown, huh?" Marcus said, staring past the dog at the figures ambling around the tunnels. Everyone seemed to be alright at least.

β€œTransmit. You guys okay in there? We've got three dead-- staff members. Everybody else out here is alive, but we’ve got injuries. Don’t know how bad yet. End transmission.”

Most of them seemed to be alright at least.

β€œRoll call. Who's still kicking? End Transmission.”

Marcus sighed, partly out of relief and partly out of exasperation. Callan was okay, everyone that was in the tunnels seemed to be okay. As selfish as it sounded, those were basically all the people that he cared about at this moment. He shivered slightly, the chill of wet clothing beginning to settle in now that he wasn't worried about the possibly of drowning.

"Transmit. Marcus, still here." he said, interrupted by a short bark from Tater Tot, as if the dog were exclaiming his own well-being.

"And Tater Tot. Over."

Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by ERode
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Brent | Siena

A Collab by @Papitan@ERode

Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by VampireOracle
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Sophia Lemane


𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / π•ƒπ•šπ•˜π•™π•₯𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕀𝕖 / / ~πŸ˜πŸπŸ›πŸ
She heard it before it came. Thought it sounded like rushing water. But that didn't make sense. It was too loud, too powerful, and though they were by the--

The water came, and she wasn't ready for it. It almost swept her entirely off her feet and down the tunnel, but with some desperate flailing she managed to remain more or less around the same area until the water ceased rushing in and she could stand properly once more. But though she herself was alright and intact, her clothes were soaked up to chest height as an unfortunate result of her stumbling. It was cold.

That wasn't the worst part. The cage remained clutched in one hand, and when she regained her breath Sophia looked down. To see the bird, lying on the bottom of the cage. Unmoving. Unmoving.

Unmoving. Irrational panic flooded her, looking at the bird that was possibly... possibly... dead? No. It was in shock. Pav was okay. Brent's transmission went unanswered. Pav was okay. But what did you do when a bird had been soaked in water? Take it out and wrap it up? When someone had been... drowned there were certain things you did, like uh, CPR? You couldn't do that to a bird. So then what?

It's alright, Pav. We're going to get out of here soon, and someone will know what to do. For some reason she wasn't convincing herself. But it was okay. Right? Sophia brought the cage closer to herself, hugging it and gazing down into the cage as if that could shield the bird from anything else to come. Heidi was left behind. Sav was dead. Gregory was...

"You guys okay in there? We've got three dead-- staff members. Everybody else out here is alive, but we’ve got injuries. Don’t know how bad yet."

...dead, if what she had heard was true. Staff members were dead. Classmates were injured. AngΓ©lique was... possibly alive? Or dead. Sophia shivered, hugging the cage tighter. Pav wasn't going to die. As she shifted, trying to find a position that would miraculously make her warmer, she became aware once more of the weight of something on her back.

No. The guitar. It must be so waterlogged at this point, it wouldn't be playable. Destroyed. She had failed at keeping it safe too. The guitar wasn't alive, it was more replaceable than a living thing. But still, the realization that it was yet another thing that had gone wrong was too much for Sophia, and she now found herself unsuccessfully fighting back tears.

She should take off the guitar and leave it behind.

Shouldn't carry extra weight. Yeah.

Soon.

Soon.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by VarionusNW
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Allison Revel


The hands of fate were unrelenting in their cruelty. Allison's feet were ripped from underneath her in a sudden, choking flood. Every inch of her body suddenly pierced with a seemingly impossible chill. Any attempts to scream filled her lungs with water, and any struggle threatened to rip her limbs off into the surge. The ungodly, powerless feeling lasted for a few moments, only stopped by the wall of the lighthouse. The unmistakable crack of bones reached Allison's ears, nearly lost within the rush of water.

The tide passed, leaving Allison's body to slump to the flood-soaked ground. If the rain was still falling, the aberration was not aware of it. Everything felt numbed, her brain focusing what remained of it's energy on trying to breath. She violently coughed up water before choking down the rain-soaked air. Every ragged breath was strained and painful, but she had no other option.

Allison's hands began to robotically probe for injuries, despite her knowing exactly what had broken already. The sharp pain that ripped through her otherwise-numb chest was a dead giveaway. She needed to get that dealt with quickly. She couldn't go through with her plan with a broken rib.

The plan. Why was she still focused on it? It was pointless now. Allison had no knowledge of the others, but if anyone else got as badly caught in the flood as she had, there was no way they were going to get up any time soon. Of course, Allison had gotten her hopes up, thinking that she'd have a chance to save Angel, and it had resulted in her nearly dying. At least this time it wasn't a direct result of the plan.

Allison's ears filled with the sound of her own painful breathing mixed with the fall of rain. She tuned the noise out again. She need to focus on staying alive, breathing. Her eyes strained to see even the rain in front them, but she kept them searching. She needed help. Yelling wasn't an option, and it likely wouldn't reach anyone anyway. If only she had the strength to move. She just needed to get inside the lighthouse...

There. Allison's eyes fell on two figures. They weren't far, maybe. Only the fully cognizant could afford a luxury such as depth perception. The delirious girl could easily make out an injured Zoe, and what seemed to be Kusari, though there was something odd about the scene. What was Zoe doing? The realization clicked instantly. Zoe was just doing what she does best.

For a moment, Allison considered whether it was better to have murderous tendencies or be entirely useless, but she was able to force herself to focus long enough to know what she had to do. There was no way she was just going to let Kusari be turned into a pile of rot. Whether or not Zoe could kill her wasn't important, all that mattered was that it was happening, and Allison was capable of stopping it. Was she within range? Probably, it seemed like it, maybe. Pain radiated out from Allison's chest. How much worse was Kusari's pain? Allison needed to end it now. There was no doubt that it would throw her into unconsciousness, but maybe that was better than feeling the throbbing pain. Maybe being unconscious would be better than knowing that Angel was as good as dead.

The shard appeared above where Allison's hand carelessly fell upon her leg, a depressing needle of destruction that seemed shamefully unfit for the purpuse it yearned for. It silently flew to it's target.

Everything faded into a deep, unending blackness.

Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by banjoanjo
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banjoanjo Still likes pistachios

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No Excuse





Christmas | Ernie | Sander | Callan
Kusari | Zoe

π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / π•ƒπ•šπ•˜π•™π•₯𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕀𝕖 / / ~πŸ˜πŸπŸ›πŸ

Collab with @January @RedDusk @Baklava @Piercing Light and @Lasrever



Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by January
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January

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π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / β„€π•™π•’π•Ÿπ•˜'𝕀 𝔼𝕀π•₯𝕒π•₯𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟝𝟝


She heard songs and screams in her ears, the high of her unholy cocktail of drugs coloring the world in blotches of technicolor. But Isabella dared say she could see clearer when the chemicals rushed through her veins, because without them she was lifeless. A husk of a human. Even breathing felt like it was too much effort. Every crash after the highs rendered her almost immobile in their severity and she often mustered only enough energy to inject herself with another home-brewed concoction, pushing the dosage of lethality every time. Thi had "repaired" her more times than she could count and by now the surgeon had modified her body to withstand the vicious abuse, because the high was all she lived for at times.

Her whips cut through wood and flesh alike as she swung her arms, letting Chuck quickstep her easily away from any guns leveled in their ever-changing direction. Martin had stood still for a second too long after the maid had blinded most of them, just a millisecond out of Chuck's grasp. His bullet-ridden body lay mixed in a pile of dismembered guards, but even with one of theirs lost the soldiers' numbers had dwindled now to a weary handful while the injured maid had retreated into the mansion, too out of the way to prioritize over the gunfire aimed at them.

The most troublesome of the lot was, surprisingly, the old butler whose every shot seemed perfectly timed to force Chuck's spatial powers and prevent Isabella from striking with her usual precision. It was as if the longer they fought the man, the more he could read in to their movements and the limitations of Chuck's power.

With Isabella on the ride, the spacewalker could no longer jump the large distances he would have alone and even with the lessened burden of Martin he was already getting caught on the timing of the jumps. The only thing saving them from a bullet through the heart was the fact that the old man could not yet guess which direction Chuck would jump in, though he had already figured out the rhythm of the teleports. It was imperative that he die first, and even in her feverish state the drugged Aberration could tell they would be the losers in the long run, especially now that Chuck was forced to jump before she could even lash out at the remaining batch of soldiers. Her whips went wide and sliced clean through the air, but already the short-range teleporter was jumping again, giving her no time to reposition or focus. Just as they shifted away from the position, the unmistakable sensation of cutting air whizzed by her ear. Closer. He was getting closer and Chuck was starting to tire from pushing himself to jump so frequently with another person on board.

The words that came out of her mouth surprised her as much as they did the boy she shoved away.

"Run!" A bullet caught her in the right shoulder but her other arm was already swinging, the whip faster than the soldiers could dodge. The smell of seared flesh flooded the field before the morning breeze carried it away. The last three soldiers of the 30-man team opened fire, the bullets puncturing flesh and shattering bone in equal payback to the last whip that cut across their torsos. In the backline stood the butler, already firing at the space around Isabella, preparing for the teleporter to dash in for the body.

There was a hoarse scream, but the boy was already gone, moving swiftly away from the scene of the carnage when he realized the steely eyed manservant seemed all too aware of what he had wanted to do. And that the man had deliberately allowed the soldiers to draw much of Isabella's ire, keeping himself at a safe distance until he had figured them out.

It was true what they said of monsters like the Director Zhang--she always gathered more of the same to her side.


π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / π•‹π• π•¨π•Ÿ / / ~𝟘𝟞𝟘𝟘


The small town had taken the flooding in stride, much of the water destroying nothing that hadn't already been left to decay. At the sight of the distant wall of water, many had crowded into the only sturdy building in town, an obvious effort on the Director's part to inject more modern conveniences into the subnaturals' lives. Construction had been stopped partway, however, and unkempt scaffolding snaked around a quarter of the large motel where an entire wing had been left unfinished. With the haphazard way the equipment had been abandoned, the removal of the workers seemed more forced than willing.

And yet it was that building that easily withstood the weak edge of the tidal wave, minimal flooding seeping into the main courtyard and forming a large, shallow pool outside the motel's main entrance.

Here Andrew had gathered much of the remaining residents who were willing to leave their borderline hovels of homes. Some had powers that would hold against a bit of flooding, but most were glad to make use of the Director's gesture of--dare they say--affection. No one was under any illusions that the surge of water was natural and their de facto leader seemed more than ready for it, her ponytail as cleanly tied back as ever and her makeup impeccable.

She was the first to notice, long before Chuck stepped in range of the town's borders, that an entirely different sort of stranger was approaching, one that didn't belong in a way different from the students who had recently arrived. Her head turned to the direction of the boy's approach, realizing that only the motel's bright lights shone so effectively in the ramshackle village. He was approaching at an impossible pace and before she knew it the presence was at the door.

And it knocked politely at that.

Her raised hand meant no one was allowed to approach the door. The knocking grew more insistent. Then turned into fists pounding against the reinforced door. It would hold.

Before long, the presence had moved away again, covering dozens of meters instantaneously until it was out of her range.

She allowed herself a moment to breathe before noticing, once more, a group approaching. But these individual signatures she could recognize from the weeks at the estate and her occasional visit to the area's outskirts to pick up the bare minimum of necessary supplies from Aldrich. The man always urged her to take more--the mansion had enough to feed an army--but she had always refused out of the pride that wanted to believe she could lead the shambling town to some glorious revolution. It was a child's dream, but in the end she always refused the surplus, bringing back only what could sustain and urging the townsfolk to remain wary. To learn sustainable living. To fight against their reliance on the fickle kindness of their esteemed Director.

These kids shackled to their overlord's whims and allowances offended her on a personal level, for they had more strength than most of the island's inhabitants combined, yet bowed their heads to a woman whose only positive attribute was her insane drive.

"Mary...?" a man nearby called her name, placing a rough, weathered hand on the shoulder of her pleated blouse.

She blinked and patted his hand in assurance.

"The Institute's undomesticated dogs are coming. I don't know who the previous one was, but it wasn't any of ours. Not even remotely."

"Should we let the kids in? Even though they ain't welcome?" he asked, blue-gray eyes wide.

"Only as long as they need to be here. And only if they wise up and come here first. Otherwise we leave them out there to fend for themselves."



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Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by banjoanjo
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banjoanjo Still likes pistachios

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γ€Žπ”Όπ•£π•Ÿπ•–π•€π•₯』



π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / π•ƒπ•šπ•˜π•™π•₯𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕀𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟝𝟝



Like the drenched clothes clinging to his skin, Ernie's thoughts only seemed to drag at him more and more as he trudged back to the lighthouse.

He was miserable and for good fucking reason.

West had never made him fight city-crushing giants. West had never forced him into a team of psychopaths that had long since fallen off the edge of sanity. Hell, West had never made him get his food from a convenience store in a shitty, small-minded town with a shitty, small-minded store owner.

And most importantly, West had no Amigos. The same could be said for Reno.

Monsters could be trusted to be bloodthirsty. Tear apart a town with no ulterior motive. But Amigos? Dastardly, cruel, selfish humans. They terrified him more than any ice giant could. He'd seen the trigger fingers arrive in stained envelopes. The careless execution videos. The articles on massacres by the border. Sadistic, borderline-suicidal nutjobs. But somehow the thought of getting eviscerated by a Heph-knockoff's weapons was merely one biggest of Ernie's concerns. The fact that this team was being sent against subnaturals for the third mission in a row raised a dreadful question.

How long before they were sent against Senators?

It made his heart beat anxiously. Ernie didn't consider himself loyal. He'd never had the heart for it, or a cause worth fighting for. Maybe if Reno had gone differently he'd actually be capable of something. He doubted that. Seven years behind the counter had taught him well. They were scumbags through and through, often on a scale just as bad as the Amigos. If it were them against the Unit today, none of the students would have even gotten the chance to fight back.

Strangely enough, Ernie couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at that. He wasn't for the Senators but he definitely wasn't against them. If things had gone well, he would have been on the winning team. It was a cruel game he liked to put himself through, imagining what could have been. Lived a comfy life with Owen and his friends. Plan that webseries that his group at West had been pitching. Even here on the East Coast, if Ernie ever found the guts to actually do something...

He stopped himself there. Chuckled a bit.

What would he do? Follow Elvia's wishes and be an actor? What a fucking joke. He could do nothing, had done nothing the entire time he'd been stuck with East. He hadn't even realised that they'd lost three housestaff until halfway through the walk. Too busy watching his own back to even glance at their's. Elvia wasn't going to take that well and a shameful, selfish part of Ernie knew that if she truly was dead then it'd be better for him. He wouldn't have to see the look on her face when she eventually heard.

None of this mattered. He'd be dead, killed by mages far stronger than he and this team before he ever took the time to scrounge up some resolve. The only thing he could do now was deal with the situation at hand. Another try at the radio resulted in static. That only left the reason he walked back in the first place.

"Hey, we're heading to town," he called to no one in particular, "Probably a bad idea to stick around."
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Bubsy 2
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Cold ground. Sea soaked, the bitter tinge of salt water on her tongue and filling her nostrils. It had come and went so quickly, but Emma hadn’t quite found the will to pick herself up of the ground yet. For a moment she just let herself lay there, well aware of Determination crouched over her. He was never far from her side as he had been since he had β€˜awoke’. The swell of water had knocked her off her feet, for a moment she had panicked, thinking more would come, but it receded as quickly as it had come. She realized that for a moment she was afraid of dying- afraid of drowning, cold and alone, in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Maybe she wasn’t ready for it.

Another long moment. ”Transmit. I’m fine.” she finally hissed, working up the will a while after the others.

She felt the familiar the smooth cold touch at her back – Determination’s shadowy hand. ”You’re okay.” it was more of a statement than a question.

”Yeah.” she confirmed, slowly picking herself up, pushing herself off the ground. ”Alive, at least.”

”More than could be said for some.” the implication of the statement hung in the air for a moment, a hint of bitterness in Determination’s voice coloring the statement with intent. It didn’t take long for Emma to connect the dots.

”Sorry. I…” a statement that she couldn’t finish. She found her back against the walls of the lighthouse, finally sitting up now. Determination, for a moment, said nothing.

”You can’t keep killing us.”

”I know… I just…”

”Get the white-haired girl next time.” he interrupted.

Emma sighed. ”Right. Yeah. You’re right.” the matter of Lily’s healing, it seemed, would be getting more complicated. She could worry about it later. The Amigos still might be a threat. She had lost track of what was happening while she was on the floor. She finally fully rose, walking towards the ruins of the lighthouse’s window. It looked like it was over, at least for the moment. The battle had come and passed and Emma hadn’t really done much of anything, now instead viewing the wreckage of the fight that she might’ve changed. There was no Angel, but plenty of injured. Was that her fault? Maybe. Probably.

Her that her continued uselessness was par for the course.

As Emma turned away from the window she finally caught sight of a shock of purple on the ground. Her scarf. She had lost it in the flood, she realized. She bent over, picking it up from the ground, squeezing the water from it. A gift in tatters, soaked with salt water and stained with blood.

Sorry, Val.

She’d have to find the time to mend it. Maybe their next stop in their hellish, seemingly unending, journey would give her enough respite to do just that. She decided to stuff the tatters of the scarf in her pocket, seeing as it wasn’t in much of a state to be worn.

She was looking around aimlessly as Ernie came in, giving her much needed direction. "Right..." she muttered, still in thought.
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Hidden 6 yrs ago 6 yrs ago Post by RedDusk
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RedDusk Likes cheese and slacking

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γ€Žπ•Šπ•’π•Ÿπ••π•–π•£γ€ γ€Žβ„‚π•™π•£π•šπ•€π•₯π•žπ•’π•€γ€


ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒π•₯π•šπ• π•Ÿ ℙ𝕠𝕀π•₯𝕀 / / @RedDusk@January


π•Žπ•–π••: 𝕆𝕔π•₯. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 π•€π•€π•π•’π•Ÿπ•• / / π•ƒπ•šπ•˜π•™π•₯𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕀𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟝𝟝



With his tattered shirt clinging to his skin and salt water still dripping from his damp hair, Sander felt miserable. His reservoir of borrowed strength was running dry; it was still there, enough to keep him upright at least until they reached somewhere warm and safe, but Sander knew he would have to get there fast. Beside him, Christmas was shivering lightly as he walked, despite the blood mage’s effort of shielding him from the cold. Then suddenly, the healer tripped on his bad leg, letting out a pained yelp before plummeting toward. Had Sander not caught him in time, Christmas would have been sprawled on the hard ground.

Only then did Sander finally take a closer look at Christmas’ swollen ankle.

β€œChristmas?” -He called the blond boy’s name, reaching up to his face with one hand while the other worked to steady his roommate.

The boy was already leaning heavily on the proferred arm, clutching at it in an attempt to right himself and stand, but he had overworked the tired ankle beyond the glacial rate of his self-healing and the bruised flesh now sported the unmistakable signs of a severe sprain. Whimpering answered Sander’s call and Christmas gingerly rested his weight back on his serviceable leg. The other he kept slightly crooked, limping badly in that manner.

β€œDoes it hurt?” -Sander asked, clutching Christmas tighter to his chest. The blond boy’s difficulty clearly answered his question. He reached down then, hefting the healer up into a bridal carry, letting the head of blond hair rest against his chest β€“β€œI got you. Don’t worry.” -He reassured his roommate, shifting the weight around until his arms were comfortable. It was a testament to the boy’s exhaustion that he uttered only a quiet noise of surprise before settling into the hold.

”…I’m sorry,” he mumbled, already shifting towards the unnatural heat of Sander’s body.

β€œDon’t be.” -Sander touched a few fingers to Christmas’ cheek -”Please don’t be.”

”You’reβ€”you’re okay…?”

β€œAs long as I’m with you.”

The answer caught Christmas off guard with the frankness of Sander’s tone and he buried his face in the tattered shirt to hide his embarrassment. Nestled against that steady presence, however, he felt brave enough to mumble ”Thank you” in response.

Sander simply smiled, allowing himself one last feather-light touch, before looking for his classmates and catching up to them. He had to get Christmas somewhere safe and warm first. The town was the best option at the moment.
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