Rockette

The Spirits Within

*

---

If there was one advantage to being small like her, it was the ability to hide.

Magdalena had found a particular notch for herself on that cannon that served the purposes of a minuscule haven away from the puttering noise of the engine and everything betwixt from the muddled baritones and husky-bell cadences of her... Friends.

She has now been given reason to speculate on that word and its meaning.

In the reality that was her past it only conveyed that she had met them upon chance and had felt obligated and bound because a particular person had died, to this day she can’t really say his name or even dare think of it. She isn’t entirely sure why it chokes her verbally and subconsciously, maybe because he was the first person to dare reach out to her? Submerging his hand into the dark and to bring her affront in a world of colour and beauty that she hadn’t known about, or maybe she was afraid to acknowledge it? But what does an eight year old child know other than their family and the foundation of love that it’s supposed to be built upon, that sort of comfort and solace that blooms wide and far in hearts that are just starting to know what it means to hate and to feel pain. What happens to the small human thing that has only known anguish and maladies that sing such obscure sorrows in their soul. She knows that once upon a time she did know what it meant to be apart of something good and what it was that so many children yearned for and could find peace within. It just didn’t last very long.

She supposed that she could blame the world around them, it just seemed to thrive on delivering trials and tribulations and she wonders about the Kami and if they too seem to find sustenance in their suffering. It’s a little fucked up, but what life isn’t?

Magdalena can only see the teal tarpaulin but beyond it, in her mind, there’s a scenery of white and black and red where shadows dance and it’s beautiful to witness in her solitude. Their illustrations are ones of faces she can’t really remember anymore and of eyes that are the wrong colour -- they’re kind of alien really, an esoteric familiarity that isn’t really there. She thanks them though, for their effort, but she can’t remember what her family looks like anymore no matter how hard she tries.

But despite that, for this single moment, she isn’t raging in on herself and there isn’t a botch of pain festering in her heart, it’s a morbid sense of tranquility bidden under bloody knuckles and gruesome smiles. Psychotic tortures from someone who really isn’t alive, or so she thinks, but she can’t really trust her mind now can she? Magdalena’s eyes begin to wander as she shifts her body to pull her legs against her chest and this time she looks out at the water and the bow bobbing upon the choppy waves, how long have they been on this vessel now? She vaguely wonders what everyone is doing below deck but she can’t bring herself to really care about those details no matter their significance. To her, she would rather talk about what exactly they’ll be facing upon their arrival, but who wants to talk about the future?

Everyone would just rather be a prisoner to their past.

Instead of standing up, breaching the subject, and voicing her concerns [she wants to call them points and facts, but she doesn’t know] she simply pulls out her phone that had surprisingly survived the entire deluge in Doral and all the fighting and whatever that was.

She doesn’t want to think about it.

There are no new messages, only the public board that Olivia had tacked to about her purchases, well at least someone had been thinking, but so much for that. She doesn’t think Doral would be all too pleased to see her just yet so there’s no point in turning around for supplies, not that they would. But what she’s really looking for is that woman’s name to come flashing across with green and red - answer or deny. She wants the pleasure of ignoring her just like what she does to her daughter, to inflict a silent cruelty of: this is what you’ve done to me. If her mother had been more supportive, would she had made a difference anyways? Magdalena doesn’t think so.

I’m not going to call you.

Do you ever think that maybe she is scared too?
No.
Then maybe you should ask, after all, she lost her husband and her sons.
But I was still there.
But you didn’t stay.
No.
Why?
I was tired of being alone.
You were never alone.
Wasn’t I?
Only because you preferred it that way.
I didn’t ask for any of this.
But you didn’t deny any of it either.
Well I can’t take it back now.

Can’t you?

She doesn’t know if maybe it’s her spirits, or maybe her own delusions, but an eight year old boy is perched on the cannon with her. His eyes are red, like rubies and they pulse in a rhythm she can’t seem to pin-point, it’s irregular, not really a heart beat but she doesn’t know what else to compare it to. He’s entirely sodded in black and grey and only the differences in shades give him any sort of definition. But she can’t really say it’s a ‘He’ either.

‘It’ seems much more appropriate.

What are you?
You know what I am.
A hallucination.
Maybe.

She doesn’t like the way It answers, they aren’t really justifications to her inquiries, but if It really is a trick of her subconscious, then It will only know what she knows.

This is confusing.
So don’t think.
Getting harder not to do that lately, all I can do is think.
What about?

Things.

She doesn’t like the way It’s looking at her, though there are no pupils to dictate where It’s staring and there’s no expression upon the visage constantly wreathed in darkness, there’s a sliver of pure black that she can assume as It’s mouth but it stays in a constant uplifted curve.

You’re smiling.
I think so.
What are You?
I think you should be asking Who.
I don’t want to know.

Maggie -

“No, you don’t get to call me that. You’re dead. Dead people don’t get to call other people by their names.”

Then what would you have me call you?
Nothing.
Sounds negative.

She can almost hear the tone of his voice soft and innocent with that curb of confidence as only a child can have and this is the last memory she ever had of him, the young eight-year old boy that pulled her from her darkness. Magdalena, for a moment, feels hatred.

You rather I had just left you alone?
Yes.
But then you wouldn’t be here.
That’s the point.
Would you rather be dead?
I don’t know.

There’s a pause between the two and she can’t bring herself to break it. The creaking of the squall and the splash of the water is all they have.

“What is it like?” She speaks aloud, no one here will answer, but the It in her head hears it loud and clear.

What is what like?
To die.
I don’t remember.
I see.

Magdalena wonders if this is a ghost or spirit, an angel or demon if such things existed. She’s read about them in fiction and she’s pretty sure there’s something out there of their equivalence, but who really understands the Kami and the Eternal Etro. Could such things be? But anything now is possible, after all they’re all vessels of spirits of forces beyond human comprehension. Strengths and powers, wielding fire and lightning, light and earth, to see and hear things that no one else can. They’re havens for things that are dead and had no where else to go. Her shadow is curled within her lap and she gently strokes her fingers through it, if it could speak, what would it say?

You’re not alone.
You’ve already said that.
I’m only speaking of what’s already in your head.
So I’m talking to myself.
Perhaps.

That bothers her, especially when It laughs and the breath It excludes is tinged red and black and swirls in the air in a collage of colours, the air is white - they’re back at the alabaster plain in her mind.

You’re bothering me, go away.
You can’t keep pushing things away.
Yes I can.
Why?
Because I don’t want to deal with it.

That’s the thing about pushing everything back to be dealt with another time. It comes back ten times worse, all at once, when you least expect it and it knocks the wind out of you, drops you to the ground all dead weight with no capability of standing back up.

I’ll deal with that when it happens.
I don’t believe you.

Now she’s getting angry, Magdalena can feel her hounds prowling around, awakened once again by this spectral delusion but It doesn’t seem to mind as they swirl around and prance across the silvery field. They snap at It but don’t come any closer.

“Why are you here? Olivia and Jyn, the others, go bother them, I’m sure they’d be happy.”

This isn’t their mind, Maggie.

“I told you not to call me that!”

I’m sorry.

“No you’re not, you’re not real. You’re dead. So stay that way and get out of my head!”

You don’t mean that.
You don’t know me, don’t act like you do.
Is that what this is? To have someone know you and understand you.
What -
Because isn’t what we all want? For someone to understand, do you think you’re really the only one?

It lifts a shadowy arm and points and she doesn’t know why but instead of fingers there are claws in replacement. Suddenly it’s not an eight year old boy, but a man, a man that could have been but never will be. He’s tall, but then everyone is taller than her, instead of rubies staring at her there are sapphires and they’re burning and the slick ebony of his mouth is twisted.

Everyone else is hurting, in pain, just like you. But you’re so selfish and warped into your own fears that you can’t see it. You don’t want to, you want to wallow in it, you want to live to your shadows. Isn’t it just like he said, Kimberly -

That name makes her flinch.

What like Julian -

“GO AWAY!”

Magdalena is screaming in her head and there is a howling pitch that rises and rises until it’s all she can hear. Her fingers clutch at her head continuously and she can feel the dried blood on the follicles and it hurts, but there isn’t anything she can do but endure, there’s no unsuspecting people to unleash this upon and she can’t face Kimberly anymore. Not after that.

I’m sorry, Maggie.

“Just leave me alone.” It’s a whisper, barely audible by human means.

And It does just that.

---

┊»ｉｎ ｔｈｅ ｒｅａｌｉｔｙ ｏｆ ｎｉｇｈｔｍａｒｅｓ●

They're standing in the dark but she isn’t afraid, in fact, she’s at home and feels safe. But it’s a false sense of security here, it doesn’t take long for the claustrophobia to settle within as hands enclose against her face, they scorch her cheeks and her temples and she’s suddenly fearful of what she can’t see.

Her lips part.

But she can’t speak, no words come and suddenly there are lips upon hers. Crushing, bruising, forcing heat upon her that spirals down from the point of contact, she tastes nothing but blood on death on his tongue. Tiny fists beat against his chest, but it only serves to fuel these carnal feelings, emotions and wants that are not her own. He’s forcing them on her and when his teeth scrape against her lip and that soft whimper chokes out, he pulls back carefully and laughs straight in her face.

She runs.

---

┊» ｔｈｅ ｂｏａｔ●

She doesn't know how long she's been there, holding her head, feeling the crusted remains in her hair and the bruises that throb continuously on her skin. But time has long since been avoiding her, especially as they toll and arrive to their mark, to this war that really isn't their own, but they're just obligated to do so. So when she finally stands her limbs are aching and sore without being stretched and it takes a minute for her to gain balance against the creaking of this dismal looking barge. Magdalena sighs quietly and is relived to see that It is gone, just like she had bidden It to do, part of her feels a pang of worry and misplaced sadness but underneath she can't help but feel that It was just herself attacking what Kimberly had already exposed. She kind of hates him for that. In fact she kind of hates herself for letting it happen, she allowed him to dig deep inside her heart where she keeps things locked away and he shoved it all back without remorse, he used a voice that wasn't his and a taunting he wasn't supposed to do, and now she's imagining tiny figures and this time they actually talk.

Or so she thinks it's talking.

Magdalena isn't sure what is what right now.

She knows that retreating below deck is the obvious option after what she just saw, but she can't bring herself to move, nothing more than a shuffling step to where the rail is all splintered and in dire need of a paint job. It flecks beneath her nails, she can't tell what the original colour was, but it's something to distract her, to push at time until she can bring herself to just waltz on by as she usually would do; she wants to sleep, but in that need, she's afraid to dream. So for now she has to be content with the dark waves as they break across them, she hates the spray that rises up against her apathetic glamour, but it's better than shadows and smiles and ruby eyes and flashing accusations. It's better than facing It again.

Aaron stared at the rusty door that Olivia had just walked through lost in a storm of confusion and emotion. What had she meant by 'I know', everything about the encounter had pointed towards the understanding that she had shared the same feelings as he did but her exit made it seem as if she had almost regretted the scenario. Once again feeling like his heart had fallen to the soles of his shoes, Aaron once again leaned against the wall that he started against, Aaron pulled out another cigarette and lit it, using the long inhale to attempt to process what little he could understand. As he pondered the tender moment he noticed something that he didn't before, it almost felt like Liv was picturing something else within in the depths of her own mind. A sickening and disheartening thought suddenly overtook his already tulmtous mind, it wasn't Aaron she was thinking about...it was Sam. Of course, it was always Sam. Aaron had always been a bit jealous of Sam and Olivia's relationship but always kept his distance out of respect to his friends. Unable to hold his breath any longer Aaron let out a long steady stream of smoke, and with it apparently, all of his hopes and dreams to ever have a real meaningful relationship with Olivia.

'No...what I felt was real, and certainly she felt something.'

Even Aaron didn't believe his blind hope, but he figured that if he kept at it there might be something worth perusing there.

It takes a mental push, a rather hard one at that, and a lot of convincing for Magdalena to drift away from the rail and to go below deck. She remembers passing by the entrance decked in rust when she first boarded on, what she doesn't remember is exactly where. The petite woman takes the opportune quest to push her hair back and down, smoothing away what she can and scratching at the dried crimson that makes her skin prick in unease. She feels disgusted, cloaked in filth and smog that had permeated the air in Doral and wonders, vaguely, if jumping in the ocean for a simple dip is entirely out of the question.

Though her line of thought processing is interrupted along with the thud of her boots when she witnesses the perfect illustration of dejected heart ache. Everything feels like forever ago, a progression of years and time that hasn’t happened in the waking circumstances, but in her mind, things are not so withstanding. She recalls the battle and Magdalena tips her head curiously to the side and she reflects on what It said.

You're not the only one.

But how does she say it? How does one even begin to speak about it.

She doesn't know that kind of pain, heart break [if a heart truly does break, doesn’t someone usually die?], it's unfamiliar to her but he just looks oh so sad and it kind of makes her smile, in the manic way that she does. Her shadow is alive with it, swollen with darkness and slinks across the threshold and the deck and further reaches up along the railing as she approaches.

"Hey," she says quietly, her voice not quite reaching her usual timbre, but slightly scratchy and burning from all the screaming she has done lately. Who knew that leaving the Academy and the shell that it was would be her catalyst.

The quiet and timid sounding voice brought Aaron's attention to his left, surprised to see Maggie standing there. He wasn't sure what to say since they had never really had anything to talk about prior to leaving the Academy.

"Hey Maggie, what's up?" Aaron could tell that something was bothering her, she was usually not this sheepish sounding but something was obviously bothering her. "Is everything alright, you seem a bit off?"

Although he wasn't as concerned as he was when Olivia walked out, Aaron moved his cigarette and his smoke exhale where it would avoid flying directly into the girls face.

It was an innocent enough inquiry, endearing really that he should feel obligated to ponder on such a state of her mental affairs. Magdalena though won't answer, she merely shrugs her shoulder, the one still bruised now thrice with Julian and Kimberly's grip respectively having marred the usual pallor of her skin.

"I could say the same about you." Her blue eyes cut through her lashes, lingering upon the nicotine stick dangling in his grasp, the smoke doesn't bother her though she could never understand that habit of his or anyone else who took upon the addiction. The pale smog billowing around them in white though is much more curious, it reminds her of certain things.

"Since the fight, you've been off and naturally so, but now." Magdalena has a peculiar way of observation, each tick of her stare is excruciatingly slow before she manages to fall upon his face though never once does she bother to look at his eyes.

"You just look really really sad."

Aaron let out an audible sigh, sad couldn't begin to cover what he was really feeling. Ever since the incident on the road Aaron had been kicking himself about his lack of skill to help his friends that it had caused him unimaginable grief, on top of the fact of Liv had given him some sort of weird vibe from his earlier encounter his life had become some sort of weird soap opera.

"Yeah, you could say that. I'm alright though you don't need to worry about me." Aaron placed a gentle hand on the top of Maggie's head flashing a gentle smile at those huge blue eyes.

Magdalena doesn't know what it means to worry about someone, she has never been giving reason for it before, but looking at him she wonders if this is what everyone does. She has had Olivia ask her numerous times how she was doing and then she had Kimberly who just knew and she herself who naturally sought him out. Her lips are gaped to speak, but only a soft breath is drawn in to her throat and she flinches. She's not used to gentle, physical invasions and too soon does it remind her of earlier and suddenly the bite on her neck burns. Her skin flares up alive in defense and her blue eyes immediately sharpen and she grits her teeth into a primal grimace.

"Don't touch me," she grabs his wrist, fingers like teeth that lock around his limb and she pushes herself back from him, her spine hard against the wood of the splintered rail. Now she can't stand anyone to touch her where as before she craved it, it's brilliant really, in a twisted sort of way after what she had just endured in Doral, after what she had seen earlier upon the bow of the ship. Magdalena stares down at her hands and for some unknown reason they're shaking, she doesn't know why, and it frightens her all the same when she slams her palms against the wood. Her grip tightens gradually, slivers impale white-hot into her skin and the pain, though small, is enough to temper the fire and heat boiling underneath and inside.

"Don't touch me," she murmurs again to herself, her shadows coiling tight and rearing high, as if to submerge her within their inky cores and hide her way from everything.

"I'm sorry, Aaron, but - " She sighs to herself, it's pathetic. "You should just go."

Aaron was caught off guard by her reaction, watching the shadows rear back as if they were ready to wrap themselves around Maggie and hide her somewhere. If Aaron didn't know if there was something bothering her before...he knew it now. From sheepish to stern he once again reached towards her hoping to calm her down and see if he could help her,

"Maggie, wait! I'm sorry if I did something wrong. Please stay with me a minute I could really use the company." he said with pale eyes almost begging her to stay. His hand reached out and held hers in a desperate need to hold on to something in his current state of mind.

"Please Maggie..."

Later on, she'll speculate on this moment and the touch of his hand on hers and how desperate he seems, and then she'll decide that it's the please that does it for her.

Magdalena's eyes widen in panic, it's like he doesn't know, doesn't he know what is inside her? With everything going on and has happened, and yet still he touches her. She can only think about Kimberly's harsh words and grasp, those are imprinted on her permanently and It that spoke to her before. The things It said, but then they were things she had already known, right? Everyone else is in pain too. Magdalena doesn't push away from him this time, she doesn't know if she can run away from his plea for her to stay, she doesn't know how and she isn't like her mother who never reached out for her like this. She doesn't think anyone else has, it's strange and different and just a little terrifying.

But for a moment, she wonders if it really is her he's asking to stay with him.

"Okay," for she doesn't have the will or the heart [if she has one] to deny him. "I'll stay with you, if only for a little bit." Magdalena doesn't know what she can offer him, she knows where his heart lies, and never has been put in such a situation like this before. With Kim it had been different, he was the one that had forced her, had bitten her, told her all she had to do was reach out. For some odd reason, he’s absorbing her thoughts, and she doesn’t like that. Aaron makes it look so easy and she envies him for it.

A heavy sigh of relief escaped his throat as he fell back against the wall once again placing the cigarette into his lips and taking in another long drag only to release it slowly. To be honest he didn't know what he really wanted to say to her or what he wanted out of the interaction...all he knew he wanted was to spend a few minutes in the company of someone that made sense to him, someone that could help muddle through what he was thinking and feeling at the moment.

"Thanks...I’ve had a rough day and it's nice to have someone to talk to. You and I never really get to talk...its kind of nice actually. What's on your mind...most people don't freak out like that unless somethings happened to them. Wanna talk about it?"

If she was honest with herself, no, no she didn't want to talk about it, but Magdalena was hardly every honest and directed at herself, most of everything was a lie. However she doesn't have the strength to fib and gloss over everything, it takes too much energy to pretend and her shoulders literally droop with the effort of it all. Never has she felt so tired.

"I got into a fight," she begins slowly, her voice rough but near it's usual bell grace, once upon a time she was told that she sounded like the tolls of a funeral march, the somber kind that were light and without reflection other than a lingering sadness. "In Doral, I nearly killed three men and Kim stopped me." She won't explain how, the bruises on her face and her busted lip attest to that but there are wounds that linger and fester deeper within, she doubts Aaron can see those. For safety measure she brushes her short hair down further to try and conceal the mark on her neck.

"And now I'm seeing things, I won't say it's him, you know who. But It talked to me." She turns on her heel and leans back against the wall with him, her eyes are cast up but not seeing anything, she can only see the blood and the darkness and her shadow is calm despite these visions, she isn't sure what to make of that.

"There's a lot really, and no I won't talk about all of it even if we don't speak often. There are just some things that cannot be said." She draws the line there, unable to open completely and still holding onto a small fragment of her usual self of emotionless indifference.

"That's alright...you don't have to tell me everything. You only need to tell me what's going to make you feel at ease."

Aaron turned in her direction and flashed another smile, deep down he knew there must be a plethora of things that has been pent up that she has yet to let go of. He could tell that behind her calm and almost doll like exterior was a wall of things that she was trying to keep in, for now though he decided that he wouldn't push too hard and let her tell him in her own time.

"What happened in Doral? I can see the bruises and the cut lip but I think that the story behind them would be more interesting to hear."

He brushed the blonde strands away from her face so he could see a greater view of her face and the blemishes that marred it. In his own mind he had to admit that she was extremely beautiful, even with the marks placed upon it but the pain behind those giant azure eyes held years of pain that had yet to be pushed through. Aaron wondered what she could have possibly gone through that she didn't tell the rest of the gang. Strangely enough a smile danced across his face, he wasn't sure why but for some reason he actually enjoyed spending time with Maggie.

"Not as interesting as you think," she admitted softly and closed her eyes for a brief moment. She reflects on the events, each just as confusing before when they occurred, each harsh and raw and burning and it takes her breath away just as he touches her. Again, it's easy for him it seems and Magdalena wonders how people do it, it seems so unnatural and yet it was, she didn't how she had managed to touch Kimberly earlier and that moment seems so far away the second the blonde comes away from her face. Her eyes flash open with dark, churning blue and her body immediately tenses up.

"I - don't do that." She whispered softly. Magdalena doesn't know what a smile like that means but it's natural across his visage and it isn't forced. Her lips sort of quirk, a mimicking grin that is a mere imitation of his own, but, she's trying and that's all she can do. She turns her face towards him and levels her stare upon his brow, she can't bring herself to look him in eyes, she can't do that for anyone, but for now it's better than nothing - isn't it?

"I got attacked by a bear," she flashes her fingers quick and simple, gesturing towards herself. "Obviously: me and Kim had a fight." Magdalena keeps it light and simple, she doesn't want to say what really happened, she isn't entirely sure herself. But don't friends tell each other things like that? Don't they open up?

Magdalena considers him a friend, without a doubt, but looking up at him like this and how earnest he is in wanting to know what happened. She can't help but think it's nice, in a way, despite what usually wars away inside her and what usually burns her heart and soul. Maybe she's just too tired and her guard is down, that has to be it, there isn't any other explanation for it other than that. Her eyes drop down for a moment, their weighted by her weary soul that is constantly fighting, never resting, and she's scared of this particular scenario, it makes her vulnerable. Too vulnerable and it's just too soon for that again.

"But really, I'm just tired. I've been tired for a long, long time. Can't tell you the last time I actually slept."

She doesn't want to talk about Doral, it's still too fresh in her mind and on her body.

Aaron kept his eyes focused on hers, he could tell that he had reached yet another wall that she did not want to go through. The fight in Doral must have really spooked her, especially if it left marks like that on her. Aaron could tell when he might be pushing too much, so he figured that he might save the rest of this conversation for another day. With a light chuckle and yet another slight smile he wrapped his arm around Maggie's shoulder and spoke softly,

"Hey...you don't have to say anything if your not ready to. Hey lets head into the mess hall and see what concoction Remi has cooked up...it'll be better than noting on this hell of a boat ride."

She's kind of relieved, and a little disappointed when he doesn't pry or broach the subject even further, but then maybe it's because the people that pry information from her use cruel means to do so. She's not used to genuine emotions, there's no pain or agony, no torturous malady that wreaks her soul apart, and her shadow is lax and calm around them. It's such a queer transition to what she had been feeling ever since they embarked from Oak Ridge, it isn't peace, but a slow winding weariness that is plaguing her and mutely she nods and consents to his suggestion. The arm looped around her shoulder is warm, burning really, but then she doesn't push him away, not like before, Magdalena isn't welcoming it though, this isn't like the weight of someone else that had embraced her before, in the rain, but it's something else that is kind. It's a friend bringing her in closer.

"I'm a little wary about it, if he's going to cook, but, you're right, it's better than moping about out here." She smiles simply and this time, it is her own.

The Spirits Within

Blackwell said
Right, so fun?Ugh just got a second job and its been eating up all my time. I'll get back to you on that pad soon enough Prisk, as well as post the rest of my post.

I know those feels.
Working two jobs can drain you entirely, just get plenty of rest when you can!

The Spirits Within

That post.



Oh and I finished Remi's new banner:


[IMG]http://i.imgur.com/sTnx7vd.png[*IMG]

I maintain that I like Cillian, but, OH WELL.

The Spirits Within

Tenish the Mighty said
Alright, then if you don't mind, please do make a banner for Remi as played by Sean Maher. I don't have any particular picture in mind, whatever seems best/easiest from a google image search should do the trick.People are just going to wonder about why they changed actors in the first couple episodes. There will be rumors about a falling out between Cillian Murphy and the producers, or about how he was impossible to work with do to his growing alcohol problem. Fans will be divided with most only remembering Sean Maher's reign on the character, all the best moments, especially in Season 2, with the whole Charybdis arc. But a few diehards will maintain that Cillian was always the better Remi, before the writers completely destroyed his characterization and flanderized the hell out of him.And then someone, someone will write a Remi X Remi fanfic, and the recursive self-indulgence will achieve critical mass.On a tangentially related note, Insatiable and I are going to try to collaborate on a post in the next few days, so, you know, look forwards to that.

All right, I'll get right on it now that I'm home for the day.

Having done everyone's banner I have permanent characterizations in my unofficial head canon, so Cillian will always be Remi for me.

Prisk said
I've been thinking about opening up the board for you guys to include custom music/soundtrack for your posts. I feel like you guys are a creative bunch, and music is an important part of expression—I don't want to limit creative expression. Also, I'd like to experiment a little more myself, perhaps use some scores from the Advent Children soundtrack, and some other neat stuff. Finally, while the roleplay is certainly a homage to Final Fantasy, I don't want it to be associated with any particular Final Fantasy installment. It would also be cool to hear which selections you associate with different characters and so on.If you use music, keep the links like so: . Listening is, of course, optional. But, I will always listen to whatever you guys post, even if nobody else does.Removed 'posting rules' from the first in-character post. Updated the Rules hider in the ooc-text.

Oh this is a good idea! Glad you have considered it. Sorry to hear about your forced socialization though, I actually look forward to those rare moments myself. You know my work schedule somewhat so it's very rare and seldom that I get to enjoy them.

On a separate note I'm feeling particularly motivated to write so I might post again for Magdalena just because and give some insight to another aspect of her past.

And Oz, I sent a PM your way with an important question! c:

The Spirits Within

Sixsmith said
Falling is my absolute favorite and I love dancing (alone) to Dog Days Are Over.

I can't say I have a definite favourite. But Lungs is without a doubt my favourite album.

Tenish the Mighty said
Plus there will be a complicated web of affairs where everyone is cheating on everyone else with everyone else, completely out of character for most of them. Well, everyone except Kat of course. Which is really a shame, but it will lend more canon weight to my KatXSimon Firefly crossover-fic.Oh my, I am having entirely too much fun, take the plate away.EDIT: Oh my gosh, you guys, I am so dumb. I should have made Remi look like Sean Maher. He would have been a much better fit for Remi. Poopcrap.

I can see this happening. o u o

But, if you'd like, find me some pictures and we can replace the banner - I don't mind making another one for Remi.

The Spirits Within

Sixsmith said
You know, whenever I listen to Lana Del Ray, I've noticed I get these creepy chills... not like "OMG THIS IS MASTERPIECE" chills, but like... the kind you get when watching a horror movie.Something about the way she sings is both reminiscent of a kind of older jazz style, with a bit of a symphonic twist to it. I think it's the latter part that kind of gives you this creeped out feeling. It gives it to me, at least, but that's probably because I'm a wuss. But, yeah, I like her, it's just that some of her songs creep me out. Like a, "I need to look over my shoulder ever few seconds to check if there's a rampaging demon" kind of chill.I do, however, love Florence and the Machine, especially their song in The Great Gatsby. :o

I've always adored Florence. <3

The Spirits Within

Blackwell said
I'll be working on my post tomorrow, should be up mid-week. I'm gonna get in on that flashback probs.Anyone here a fan of Lana del Rey? Her new album dropped recently and I'm lovin' it atm.

I enjoy and really only like the one song they used in the Great Gatsby.
I do like her singing but something about her other songs I'm just kind of, hm. Aside from the one.

Edit: Sam's banner.


[IMG]http://i.imgur.com/eSHR32V.png[*IMG]

The Spirits Within

---

It wasn't enough.

The rain, it burns her, each small droplet forging a hiss of steam that coils up in front of an azure gaze hardened and sharpened into a deadly gem. She's burning, because of the fire coiling inside her heart that rages in the horrid inferno that it is, that it will be if released, it makes her breath harsh and jagged and she cuts those eyes over at the conjurer of tricks and unfortunate showers. It's enough to make teeth grind, molars throbbing with each incline of her jaw as she struggles against this deluge, rolls of thunder shatter her resolve and the small girl she is crumbles in on herself because it just isn't enough. Not enough to curb her desire, her hunger, her want of gaping wounds and lesions weeping her crimson sorrows, that numbing pain and agony that slices across her soul in pleasurable lashes. She hates herself for it, but what else is there to the beast loose inside her, she can feel the prowling and stalking of the hounds at her sides, each snap of their hideous jowls deformed and jagged with sharpened bone, some beaming malicious smiles of metallic needles. She's trembling, but not in fear, but in confined agony.

Magdalena moves in restricted and jerky motions, her fingers can't quite grasp her weapon as she attaches the bladed pieces back together into the original design, and she shucks her dexterous gestures through her drenched tresses to shovel the pieces from her eyes. She hates the water, and this infectious storm doesn't alleviate her sheer antagonism towards the liquid. Regular cleansing is much different compared to this assault, it's tinged in the taste of lightning and peppered with mischievous reflections that could only be on Roy's summoning. She marches across the corpses frozen and impaled, each morbid carcass is an illustration of power and capability and their blood all black and stilled is enough to make her clenched hands tremble. She doesn't want to reflect on the whys, so she passes over them with a down cast gaze and towards her chakram shining in the sunlight attempting to break through, but it's for not as the clouds continue to blot out what gleam there is to be had. The edges are tainted and she carefully slides her fingers over the customization and uniqueness of this modeled circlet, she's pricked herself upon these refined borders countless times, she knows everything about this weapon and it fits her body like none other. It's an extension of her heart that is capable of slicing through her enemies, it'll spin and dance upon her whims. She envies the weapon for a moment before finally pulling it from the ground, not minding the press of her sharpened curves and spins it back to the designated holster across her spine.

None of this is enough.

Magdalena sighs quietly to herself and attempts to shake the remaining droplets from her pale hair, her uniform feels heavy and thick, suffocating her small body beneath and the chakri on her ankles and wrists continue to chime as she turns on her heel, only to witness Olivia in her fit of anger that can be in signs of concern and protection. It's endearing, envious, Magdalena wanted to lash out like that, she wanted to be able to grab Aaron and shake some sense into him, she wanted to be able to voice herself in loud exclamations and accusatory screeches, but she merely glanced away, towards their destination. She had been right in the beginning along with Remi, about standing here out in the open, granted no one had suffered injury and critical harm, but the fact remained that simply standing here in the open plains had been an open invitation to their impromptu break.

She almost voices herself again, a simple inquiry to everyone, but the all too familiar sound of flesh bounding onto flesh made her still. She turns to her peripheral and watches as Kim strikes the dwindling Xenomorphs again and again, each strike, each ringing punch sends her nerves flaring. She knows those hits personally and aches to join him, but Olivia is already marching off, settling the pace to determined and purposeful. She glances at Kim for only a second longer before forcing herself to move, each step hard and frustrating, but it's better than submitting to whichever it is that howls and whines and scrapes at the edges of her soul. Her shadow has been wide and dark the entire time, but only then does it sharpen and coil around her. Her spirits wave carefully around her, cloaking her in their shadowy selves and their ruby cores.

Magdalena rubs her shoulder the entire way, unable to forget the ache from Julian's grasp and the sound and flash of Kimberly's fist upon their enemies.

It's never enough.

A pair of knowing eyes glanced at Magdalena’s direction, but did nothing ---could not do--- more.

---

┊» ｄｏｒａｌ●

By the time the group had made it to Doral, under the increasing downpour, Magdalena had shed her uniform jacket, peeling the heavy cloth from her shoulders and looping it around her thin waist and tying it off to the side in a knot. From Roy's sudden thunderstorm and the transition to the earnest shower wasn't an easy process for her. She was irritated, edgy, constantly flexing her hands and arms and scraping her nails against her scar in her frustration, her shadow was vibrating intensely with the offset collection of emotions boiling beneath. Her skin constantly hissed and burned with the fall despite any and all attempt to ward it off, her spirits were even effected by it. Sluggish and dark they pooled around her like clogs of ink in the infinite space before simply vanishing all together and sinking beneath her heated skin - leaving Magdalena completely void of her usual warping darkness. It was a strange sight to witness but she simply folded her arms around her middle and glanced at each of her friends. Sure enough mocking her uniform, yes, but her current mood over shadowed that little effect despite the grandeur of the military and it's habit of uniform continuity.

Standing there, drenched and positively pissed off, Magdalena was thrilled beyond comprehension when Olivia bid them to shop around, which to her translated as nothing particularly of interest. She just wanted to get away, standing so close to everyone, unable to meet their eyes and unable to still the spirit that thrived under her skin and made her burn, but alone to her thoughts was even worse. As everyone split off to their own devices, Magdalena watched each of them go with dark eyes like the dreary night sky before she began her own dismal trek down the boulevard. She couldn't banish the memory of particular events, each coiling to the front of her mind and flashing across her consciousness and frontal lobe. It was so startling in its clarity that it appeared nearly present, as if the very figure was standing before her and unleashing his repertoire without remorse, each singularity was harsh and she had to slice her teeth across the pout of her lip; a blossom of scarlet slid on down her chin before she swiped the back of her hand across and smeared it across her fingers.

This was getting out of control, beyond a point of redemption that had her fumbling and pathetic in sorrowful reflections. Magdalena glanced up toward the deluge coming down even harder, now surrendering to her surroundings, the stench and filth compiling across the corners and alley ways was enough to curl her lip. She didn't linger among the focal shops and vendors, their wares weren't important to her despite their promised and publicized uses, it was the individuals flocking around the glow and awnings straining under the pressure of water pooling to the centre. Their glances and uneasy postures illustrated their nervousness around new arrivals especially donned in their uniformed blues and armour, she slid her eyes through spiked, waterlogged lashes and met the heavy glare of those flocked near the bar. Beyond the stained glass she couldn't see her two companions inside, but it only took a shift of chin and a gesture of nodding off for the group to split off; some retreated inside and Magdalena continued to stare down with the remaining troupe. Three to be exact in which she merely tipped her head and continued her walk, her destination unknown even to hear jerky footfalls, but they were deliberate.

Her hunched shoulders and folded arms betrayed her, she was painted as the youth curling in on herself to get away from the rain, which in reality she didn't feel it at all, the steam coiling around her was just another assumed smog that choked the air. She was tiny, and alone, isolated in the dark when it was just her domain. The trio shrugged off from the threshold and like predators intent of their hunt they stalked Magdalena down the boulevard, vendors watched them carefully but did nothing to put themselves out there in the situation; afraid of those that controlled the underground of the city. And what was one little girl lost to the wiles and cruelties of life when she went out by herself? It was a poor, unfortunate circumstance but as they turned to their patrons, they didn't see the manic grin splitting her usual apathetic elegance into something warped and how she kept cutting her eyes over her bruised shoulder; taunting and luring, she beckoned them down the alley way and to their shadowy graves.

---

---

Kimberly did not move immediately after the group disbanded. He wasn’t sure what to do next. There wasn’t much to do in general, but simply wait for time to pass.

“And what are you going to do? Count the number of raindrops?”
Actually, I was planning to count how many seconds it will take for the boat to arrive.
“No you weren’t.”
No I wasn’t.

The two stood in momentary silence. A silence that was not even slightly quiet. Not to Kimberly anyways. Kimberly’s ears could hear the busy night of Doral. The sounds of the town’s nightlife coming into full swing. From what he could tell, there were only four kinds of people who would willing walked out at night in this town: those who intended to have some fun, those who were looking for trouble, those who didn’t do honest work, and those who didn’t know any better. They were going to have to be careful in Doral, however short their stop may be.

Kim’s eyes moved down to his armor. Nature's shower washed away most of the previous battle’s evidence. No one would have been able to tell that his armor, especially the parts that protected his arms, was covered in xenomorph body fluid, and Kami knows what, not too long ago. They were clean. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel dirty. The thought of microscopic remnants of the creatures clinging to his armor made Kimberly uncomfortable. He needed to properly clean his armor.

Kimberly looked around to find a place to clean his armor, when he heard his roommate let out a wistful sigh. Kimberly’s eyes looked at him once, and then to the only person he knew Ghost would sigh in such a way for. Magdalena.

The way he looked at her. Had Kimberly not thought that Ghost was just a desperate horny perverted adolescent ---or whatever age this hallucination supposedly was--- he would have believed Ghost had genuine feelings for her. Although Kimberly had not the slightest idea why. Ghost was figment of his imagination; a hallucination.

Ghost grinned, “then maybe I’m the suppressed subconscious. The Id of your existence.”
That’s… a disturbing thought.
“Well if I’m an imagination or a hallucination, then I must have been based off of something.”

Kimberly had considered the possibility. Ghost obviously did not exist in this world: Kimberly had been with his roommate for over 15 years and no one has ever acknowledged him. Unless, of course, all of humanity decided to give Ghost the silent treatment for nearly two decades. If that was the case, Kimberly was as much out of the loop as Ghost was. Though he seriously doubted it. Samuel would not have done that to Ghost. Even if he occasionally annoyed Kimberly to no end that could not possibly warrant a cold shoulder from every being for years.

Did that mean Ghost was something very real inside of Kimberly? A thought; an idea; a belief; a need; a desire that was hidden deep inside of him? Possibly. For all he knew, Ghost could have simply been one of the many spirits inside himself. Which, quite frankly, explained a lot if true. Regardless, Kimberly, and not even his doctors, had evidence to prove any hypothesis. Although Ghost never truly admitted it, Kimberly was also pretty sure that not even Ghost knew what he---… it was.

“Kim.”
I’m not going to stalk Maggie just for you to ogle her buttocks… or whatever it is you do.
“You might not have a choice in the matter.”
What are you talking about?
Ghost’s chin lifted itself and pointed at a group of shady characters following Kimberly’s petite friend. From how closely they followed, Kimberly thought Magdalena knew and possibly even lured them into following her. Why would she do that? It was very uncharacteristic of her.
"Unless?"
Kimberly narrowed his eyes.Unless... Kimberly quickly ran in the direction Magdalena and her unsuspecting prey walked towards. Not only to save Magdalena from the suspicious trio, but to also save her future victims.

-----

Doral must have been a town, in which the buildings were built before the roads. Excluding the main road, every road and back ally twisted and turned in such a way that it had created a maze. Turning right, right, and right again did not always take a person to their original starting point. Thanks to the combination of intricate pathways, the frequent interchanges of dark to brightly lit areas, loud noises, and the crowded main road, Kimberly lost sight ---rather the distinctive “sound”--- of Magdalena in a a matter of seconds.

Kimberly attempted to focus all his attention to his ears to grasp any echo of Magdalena, but Doral was too loud for him to concentrate on just one sound. Everything was amplified, from the rain hitting the metal vehicles to the breath that every living thing took. Everything distracted him. Defeated, Kimberly gave up on tracking Magdalena with sound. When the idea of using animal spirits to find her scent crossed Kimberly’s mind, it was quickly shot down by Ghost.

“Ignoring the fact that the rain probably washed their smell away, have you seen this dump? This town is a mess. You’d smell more garbage than the odor of the people who actually live here.”
I don’t think running aimlessly through a maze is going to improve the chances of me finding her.
Ghost pointed at the rooftop of the buildings, “then cheat.”

Kimberly jumped across the sky, landed onto the next building and ran across it as fast as he could. Searching for any sign for Magdalena or the trio. He stopped at the highest point of a building he could reach and surveyed his surroundings.
“On second thought, maybe we don’t actually need to hurry. Let her beat them up. It’s not like they didn’t deserve it.”
No. She might hurt herself and she could accidentally kill them. I can’t let that happen.
“Sucks for them. Life goes on Kim, with or without some thugs. Lena, on the other hand, needs to let it out. It’s a win, win situation Kim! Less criminals and improved mental health for Lena! Everyone is happy!”
We don't know if they're actually criminals...

Images flash through Kimberly’s mind. People looking at him as if he was an evil spawn. Waiting; expecting for Kimberly to show his true colors: to one day become a ruthless criminal like his father.

Kimberly was sitting alone in the cafeteria when he was suddenly accosted by a group of children who had discovered who his parents were. “I heard your dad was a bad guy!” “Are you a psychopath too?” “My mom told me that criminals would always be criminals.” “Was your mom crazy? Is that why she killed herself?” “Why did your dad kill all those people?” “Do you think about killing people?” “What was the saying? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree?” “Your dad got what he had coming to him!” "Bad guys always lose!"

They continued to gossip in front of Kimberly as if he wasn’t there. He wished he wasn’t there. He wanted to scream at them; shut them up; make them stop. But at the young age Kimberly already knew one sad truth about the world: once labeled as something negative, no matter what he said or did, everyone only saw Kimberly as the villainous Lee Faye’s son. It was pointless to say what he believed. His father and his mother fought for years to let their voice be heard, but no one listened. No one cared. The world just wanted one more lowlife disposed of. And the world got what it wanted. The evil criminal was executed for his inhumane crimes. Justice had been served and everyone lived happily ever after. Life went on. Even as the case slowly became the thing of the past, inside, Kimberly always screamed of Lee’s innocence. Even if his voice would never be heard by anyone, he continued to yell at the world. His father was innocent. But they took him away. His mother died of heartbreak. Not because she felt guilty for the "crimes" her husband caused. Not because she was just as mentally unstable as her husband. She died, because the world took him away from her and no one ---no one--- provided solace to her in her time of need. Kimberly silently yelled his lungs out to the world: My father was innocent.

“I’ll believe you,” he heard his savior say.

Ghost expression suggested that he felt guilty for triggering unpleasant memories, but he did not apologize or make any attempt to rephrase his previous statement. To do such a thing would mean that he thought Kimberly’s father was indeed a guilty of the murders... and oddly enough, Kimberly got the impression that Ghost did not think that. It was difficult for Kimberly to deny that the world would be a better place with less crime, but he could not convince himself that killing criminals ---the "bad guys"--- was the perfect solution.

You know... I’m surprised you’d want to spend less time with Maggie.
"What?"
I thought you enjoyed sparring with her. But if she lets off steam with someone else... well... that would mean she doesn't need us... Right?
“Kim, what are you doing wasting my time sightseeing? We have to find Lena quickly! Like soon. Like right now.”

The loud cries of pain accompanied by a dragon’s roar reached Kimberly’s ears. When he turned to the direction he thought he had heard the noise come from, his eyes saw a shadow reach out to him. “Maggie?” The shadow beckoned him to follow it and he did just that.

When the shadow lead him straight to where Magdalena was, he felt himself pale at the sight. Magdalena was beating her assailants victims into a bloody pulp. If the trio were not dead yet, they would be soon. Kimberly did not allow himself to waste any more time. He jumped down from the roof and ran to Magdalena. “Maggie! Stop!” His giant arms wrapped around Magdalena, restraining her arms and overall body movement, as much as he could. The small dragon struggled viciously and made every attempt to escape Kimberly’s physical constraint. He could feel the heat radiating off of her burning skin, but he dare not let go. Now that he was in closer proximity, he allowed his ears to focus on the sounds of the fallen men. Kimberly sighed in relief. Although they looked liked they were in terrible condition, the sounds their body made assured Kimberly that they were still alive and would get better if they were taken to the hospital.

As he contemplated what to do next, he heard additional sounds coming closer. “Over here!” someone said, “I heard something over here!” Kimberly took this as a sign to take Magdalena and trust the well-being of her attackers to the newcomer.

Once Kimberly found a quiet and secluded area in the town, Kimberly freed the dragon in his grasp. The second Kimberly let go of Magdalena, his stomach was treated to a quick slash of the chakri blade. Kimberly ---inwardly thanking himself for not taking his armor off to clean it earlier--- jumped away before Magdalena could slash at him again. Kimberly maintained eye contact with her as he slowly placed his backpack to the side. Watching her every move. She paced back and forth, like an agitated wild animal, frustrated that she had nothing to unleash her wrath onto. The dragon lets out a frustrated roar, before turning around to search for something that could satiate its burning need.

He ---they--- couldn't allow her to leave. Not in this condition. Kimberly rushed to take off his gauntlets.
"You know she loves it when it hurts more right?"
Well, I'd rather not hurt her more than necessary.
"Tease."
Kimberly was tossing his gauntlets to the side when he saw Magdalena's shadow reach out for him---... them. Although Kimberly could not touch, let alone feel the shadow, Ghost was able to embrace it. He was petting it, as if to sooth any anxiety it was feeling. Suddenly Kimberly's previous thoughts on his roommate resurfaced. He had totally forgotten something. Kimberly was not the only one who interacted with Ghost. Empathy ---the spirits---, and consequently Magdalena (though she may not realize it), also recognized Ghost's existence.

Kimberly did not know what passed between the two, but when Ghost's closed eyes opened, his face expressed sorrow ---of sympathy---, which was quickly replaced with disgust. Then he grinned. Kimberly didn't like that grin.

---

---

There was a certain haze that filtered over her gaze when she fought; when she surrendered herself over to the desires of her heart and soul, when she submitted to the wills of violence and chaos that festered deep within. It blanketed over her then, she punched, clawed, even bit at the unsuspecting trio that had followed her into the dark. Like a hellacious beast she had turned and with arms spread wide in an invitation she had spoken of their utter demise and torture.

"Take your best shot boys."

The following brawl had been a confusing and erratic fight for them, having not encountered something so small and yet so threatening in their pathetic lives here in Doral. Later on they'd speak of the blonde temptress and her demon, they'd spread a web of stories and lies and fear and talk about the red so bright and hateful against her skin and the heat that burned oh so painfully. Of the rain and the steam and the screams that were torn from their throats in bloody force from every time she launched her entire body at their trembling selves, there had been a gleam in her eyes and a darkness around her and within they would see the beast that was Chaos.

But her climatic want never did come.

She had not been paying attention to her shadow vibrating and spinning around hectically or the way it whisked off and slunk across brick and metal and found Kimberly. The haze was suffocating her at this point as her fist shot down and crunched bone, spreading cartilage and blood across the man's split cheek and relishing in the pain as her skin peeled across her knuckles. They were smiling, grinning mouths across the back of her hands and the red made her pant and laugh, manic sounds that slid from her throat and came out in a slow purr from her candied lips. She saw her mother's sorrow filled gaze so blue like her own standing within a burning inferno, she saw her father standing in the distance upon a hill of bleached bone; surrounded by the corpses of her brothers, she saw their youthful faces gaping wide in silent cries of anguish. She saw him, Julian, smiling at her and his teeth were barbed wires and his eyes were swirling pools of grey and when he laughed, oh how he laughed, he belched a black tar that held her down as he touched her with clawed hands stained scarlet on their edges.

And then he spoke. . .

"Come on now, let me taste your despair!" She laughed.

Stop!

Arms swooped down, held her, cut her off from her pain and kept her prisoner.

"NO!" Magdalena screeched and kicked, flailing her limbs in attempt to break from her captor. She nearly sobbed in her loss, her tiny frame convulsing in the constraints as Kimberly began taking her away from her victims. She needed this, wanted this, there was no other way to get it out. There was no other way.

"Let me go!" She begged, her voice often light and careful was now strained and bleeding, painting her agony and her self-directed torture. It was coming out, it was so painful, it was clawing at her heart and choking her, it was tearing away at her soul and she thought she that might die.

And then he let her go.

Everything happened in a slow rotation, from the numbing sensation coiling across her ligaments and securing around her cranium, blue flashed to a boiling ebony before she prepared. Muscles taut and burning before she spun and tried to lash out with a vicious kick.

"You son of a bitch," she seethed, teeth bared into a vicious grimace like the hounds prowling around her shoulders and hips, snapping their jowls and cackling madly. She paced, her chakri ringing, her boots stomping through puddles as she tore at her soaked tresses and screamed. It was a bloody screech of pure, unrestrained frustration, it was torn from her soul and with a dark look towards Kim, she nearly growled before turning away, searching for something, anything.

Anything to rid of this pain.

A hand reached over to caress Magdalena's bare arm. Despite the unbearable heat the dragon's skin must have emitted the hand continued to stroke her. The man behind Magdalena leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Magdalena," the man with Julian's voice said. The man felt the woman in front of him start to tremble. Out of fear? Out of rage? Who knew. Yet he continued despite the obviously negative response she gave. "Let yourself go, my pet. Free Chaos from its prison." His hands stopped right on the bruises Julian had made as a parting gift. The fingers began to grip tightly on its marks. "You know you want to be free. So be free... What's stopping you Magdalena? Your friends? HA! Of course its your friends. It has always been. They chain you down, force you to cage the beautiful and magnificent beast inside you. And what has that accomplished? Nothing. Don't you see? Don't you get it? It's meaningless to keep it locked up inside of you, my sweet... sweet... Magdalena." A hand left her shoulder to slide itself down her back and thigh suggestively.

"No..."

A cold sense of dread had settled within her heart, but this wasn't happening. It couldn't be, a harsh denial tried to shake her resolve as a numbing, frigid pain congealed within her blood and forged with marrow. From the moment that voice had broken through the rain she had been powerless and weak, trembling and utterly consumed over her chaotic emotions. Everything was pin pointed and sharp and digging into her soul, each word struck somewhere deep inside her and let some of the darkness weep through. Wed to her sorrow, Magdalena's hands slowly ascended upon her visage warped into a illustration of pure distress, fingers arch against her skin and nails bore at her temples that pulsed with her terrified heart. She can't move and she can't speak, her voice is abandoned somewhere within her chest and every time she inhales, it's jagged shards of obsidian ice that impale her will and force her into place.

She can only remember the pain and she can't banish the memories surfacing to her eyes that cannot see behind the sheet of rain and the wavering obscurities that are spinning about unrestrained and without control. Their ruby cores are pulsating, a matching tempo, a mimicking cadence of absolution and abhorrence. Magdalena releases a choked sound when he touches her and everything is suddenly so real.

The hand gradually moved its way to the front and continued to travel up her chest... and every slowly up towards her neck. The other hand that still had an iron grip on her shoulder, finally loosened up to travel to her neck as well. Every movement the man made was deliberately slow. He took his time: time given to Magdalena so that she could truly register what he was doing to her. A wet tongue licked the back of her ear, "maybe if you loose them too you'll finally." Both of the man's hands reached her neck, lightly applying pressure to it, "snap."

The flashing, scarlet centres of her spirits burn, their conflagration merging within the ebony shadows, bleeding their power as she drags her nails down and scrape them across his hands cinching around her throat. She won't let him use her like that again, she refuses him that chance the second time around. She knows he isn't here, but then he is, he's standing behind her, just wearing a different face. His voice scrapes across her soul raw and aching and she impales her nails in deeper like an animal clawing her way from her terror. When his grasp loosens, she throws all her strength in her formerly trembling legs. Her former training is second nature impeded into her habits, it doesn't take much for her to launch forward in a flip, her booted feet rocketing out whilst she's suspended in the air to launch a kick meant to dislodge him away from her quickly.

After letting out a surprised yelp from getting his hands clawed at, Kimberly stumbled a few steps back from the impact of Magdalena's powerful kick to the face. His hand touched his face to see red blood on it. The giant smiled to himself at the sight of it. Before turning back to Magdalena, he spat the blood in his mouth to the side and grinned so wide that Magdalena could see his teeth. Kimberly continued to taunt his friend with Julian's voice, "don't tell me that's all you got, Magdalena."

It was like staring at a manic beast that mirrored the one roaring away inside her heart. Facing the man she saw as friend and ally, with that smile splitting his features into a mocking grin. Magdalena's eyes burn like the pure heart of a fire, blue and scorching and boiling. He used that man's voice against her, for what reasons she doesn't know, mayhap to distract her, maybe to tease her and mock her, she's only seen this side of Kimberly a few times before. It was him and then not, a completely different persona that had his eyes. His taunting voice rang out and she snarled, a bestial noise that raked over her teeth.

"You haven't seen anything yet."

Magdalena flips forward once to scissor out with her legs, an attempt to implement her chakri that chimes on her ankles and slash across his abdomen again. But Kimberly is expecting this, he knows her style and he fastens his large hands around her ankles and uses her momentum to throw her into the brick wall at their flank. A dull thud echoes through the alley and she gasps, the pain spearing across her body, but she doesn't stop. She spins and screams with her frustration and throws her legs around his waist, using her body to try and pin the man down. He lets her, but the smile across his face still mocks her and she seethes. Her fist comes down upon his cheek, his jaw and his laugh echoes through the torrent and he grips her thighs and throws her back away from him, planting his foot into her shoulder and sending her flying. Magdalena swears she can feel her bones breaking, but still she won't stop.

She charges at him, receiving a punch for her efforts but not before her nails rake across his eyes. He flinches back and her secondary fist comes rocketing up from the shadows and straight across his brow. He winces but still, he's smiling. She wants to tear that smile from his lips, she wants to tear it apart with her teeth and swallow it whole. Magdalena launches again and he blocks her with a flash of his arm coming across to protect his already split and bleeding cheek. Her fists are throbbing and it feels good but that split second of pleasure costs her, he brings his hand across her mouth and there's blood blooming from her lip; the metallic and copper palatableness coats her tongue in a macabre tang. She feels worn out, her arms trembling and her soul spent but Magdalena doesn't back down and continues the assault and there's literal magma leaking from her eyes, it comes in small trickles of burning oranges and reds as a vermilion circle borders her iris.

"Why?!" She inquires in a scream, using the wall as a launch pad to flip over Kimberly's towering height. She lands behind him and pivots on one leg to plant her boot on his spine. He jerks forward, coughing from her brunt hit again as she undermines his strength and metric stance, he's stronger than her but Magdalena has long been used to her diminutive size and has adapted to larger opponents: which is nearly everyone she has ever faced. She spins from his punch, catching it against her bruised shoulder and lashes out with her leg and smashes her boot against his shin with a fierce kick. Wheat blonde tresses waver in front of her eyes, her breath plumes pallid in the air and no longer does her skin burn under the torrential deluge, she's actually smiling. It's a wide grin that is endearing across her face, it lifts her stare that is burning orange and blue and she swipes her fingers across the pout of her lip in an almost provocative gesture. Her pink tongue swipes out to clean the carmine hue from her finger tips and her shadows careen high above her crown and spread wide like splotches of ink against the bricks and concrete of their battle field.

"Why are you doing this to me?!" Her scream is ringing with hopeless emptiness and while her eyes tear lava and stay true upon Kim's brown gaze - it can't be helped to feel that he isn't the only one she's beseeching to so desperately.

Kimberly smile faded as he returned Magdalena's intense glare. Still using a voice that was not his own, he answered Magdalena's question with another question, "who's answer do you want? Julian's?... 'Mine'?... Yours?" The beast's eyes suddenly flashed in a different color before he sprinted towards Magdalena. He whispered, "or the world's?" Two creatures fought viciously in the dark alley, with spirits as their only audience. Anyone who might have passed by to witness the sight might have sworn the humanoid animals were fighting to the death. Every attack executed was made to bring pain, spill blood, and make bruises. Yet, at the same time, it also looked as if they were dancing with each other. Both creatures knew how their opponent moved; their strengths; their weakness. It was obvious that they had fought each other before. Many times, in fact. That may have been why the fight took so long to reach its end. Near the end, the two soldiers were a complete mess.

Panting, Kimberly finally spoke in his own voice, "I, you, we, him... everyone in this world does this to 'you', because 'you' allow it to happen." When he noticed Magdalena freeze at his answer, Kimberly took the opportunity to push her down. Before she could stand up again, Kimberly pinned her to the ground. As she struggled, Kimberly growled and leaned forward to bite down onto her neck. He bit so hard that her skin broke, allowing the liquid ruby to drip down her white skin. He bit her like a beast displaying its dominance over its opponent. As if to mark her; to replace the invisible scars Julian Leonhardt created. As if to leave the only "proof" of his existence in a world where he did not exist in.

Once Magdalena stopped struggling, his teeth released her neck and licked the fresh wound he made. He softly whispered, "he controls you... owns you... as long as you continue to fear him... to think about him... Don't give him that power, Lena. He doesn't deserve it." The hands that pinned her to the ground moved to hug her. "We're here for you, Lena. Don't ever doubt that. All you have to do is ask... all you have to do is... reach out...for help." When Kimberly finally pulled away from Magdalena, he smiled at her, "that, is what you should never forget."

---

Loneliness.

It was all she felt.

Within the warmth of his arms her shadow pulsed and with it she felt a deep, aching loneliness within Kimberly. But could she entirely call this his own? Magdalena stared up at the dark sky that continued to rain despite the scene it poured down upon, as if the world continued to go on despite the shattering of abandonment she felt against him. The small woman sucked in a sharp breath of pain from the throbbing of her neck, the wound - no the mark - he had left. It was deeper than any bruise and burned twice as much and she wasn't sure of what to make of it and the feeling that blossomed from it and numbed her senses. Maybe she was still in shock of his words, forcing a sort of revelation upon her soul that she wasn't yet prepared for. So she took each word and sealed it within her heart, locked it down with the pain, for she would unlock it for another day.

But now, it was just too much.

The heels of her palms dug into her eyes, rubbing away the burning salt of tears that were gathering, never had anyone dared to embrace her like that or say such words. He took her own self-directed tortures and submissions and turned them against her. Did she really let it all happen? Was she that twisted and vulnerable to the pain and darkness? Magdalena didn't know, she almost felt sick with thinking that maybe she did deserve all this because she had allowed it to be. She peeled her hands away from her eyes only to meet the smile that was warm and so uncharacteristic of the usual stoic Kimberly. Her shock though only lasts for a moment when his expression transitions to a confused glimmer in his dark eyes and then a slow, creeping realization. There's blood across her neck and face, her lips is split open, her knuckles are torn and everywhere upon her usually pale and desaturated colour there is a blotch of red running thin with the rain. Neither of them say anything just yet.

"I-I'm... sorry... didn't... mean..." Kim breaks the silence with a panting baritone before he attempts to collect himself. Only the harsh breath of Magdalena's parted lips sounds along with the falling rain. "A-are you... okay... Maggie?"

Her eyes, now their usual blue luster simply glance away. She isn't sure how to answer, her body is pounding but there is no longer an aching, torturous need to rid of her agony. So Magdalena merely sighs quietly into the air and slowly peels herself from the cold, wet ground. She reaches out and gently cards her trembling fingers through his ebonette hair to soothe and calm him, it's a foreign action to her and her gestures feel alienated despite her good intentions but it feels right and her shadow is finally calm and collected behind her, no longer warped and trembling.

"I'm as good as I'll ever be."

Kimberly's hand reached over to Magdalena, but refrained from actually touching her, "I... can heal you..."

She shakes her head in declining him as she slowly manages to stand completely despite the strain in her muscles. She knows that him healing her would probably be the most logical choice, for she was sure that the group had many more battles to face and foes to vanquish, but just like her scar, she wants the pain to remain.

"No." Magdalena can't bring herself to look at him anymore and instead opts to stare at the ground and watches the rain cleanse away their blood and evidence of this fight. "I'll be fine."

It's a lie, but that's what she does with her pain, she always lies about it.

---

┊» ｔｈｅ ｂｏａｔ●

Olivia had said twenty-five minutes and Magdalena was confident that they both had abused that allotted time, literally. She had assembled her uniform back into proper place which had amazingly remained without any sort of fabric blemish, that was not to include the ivory cut-off blouse beneath it that was stained with water and filth, but, she doubted anyone would really care. She can feel Kimberly behind her, a gentlemen to the fault and a friend, he had refused to leave her side even when she had told him to go ahead of her. It had only mildly made her nervous, considering their former skirmish and the peculiar carnality of it all; from his personal touch and his bite, it had left her out of sorts in how she was to look at Kimberly now. Though now she had to speculate if that was him at all, the giant that she knew didn't express himself often and he had never spoken much to her before even during their usual brawls.

But now that she thought about, she could reflect on certain circumstances in which her shadow had altered and acted around him when situations of her emotional turmoil would arise. She wonders if the two are connected as the duo come upon the harbour, they're the last to assemble among their group and the petite blonde doesn't waste anytime in boarding, by passing everyone and retreating onto the vessel, but she doesn't go onto the lower deck. Magdalena surrounds herself in shadow and comes upon the bow where the teal tenting is stretched and fastened over the military cannon. She hides herself among the machinery and stares out across the dark waters before them, she can't bring herself to face everyone just yet, not with her presentation so disheveled and chaotic. Magdalena sighs quietly to herself and glances over her shoulder as everyone else clamours on board and the ship is sent upon the hellacious and uncomfortable voyage.

She knows that she should attempt to sleep but the lolling and rocking of the entire ride immediately unsettles her, even more so, and her hand keeps ascending up to the bite continuously pulsating: it's a reminder to never forget.

She just isn't sure who exactly she is to remember.

The Spirits Within

Cute. x3
I have a nephew who is nine months old.

[IMG]http://i.imgur.com/aU10lsu.png[*IMG]
Here you go, just replace the * .

The Spirits Within

Adorabadass said
I am so sad that I won't get to play that till I get out of AIT. :'( Boohoo.And I'd have to agree most of the pictures for possible Sams are perfect. I'll just be adding them to my wallet.wut

What job are you training for? o:
My family is military.

Archangel89 said
Sorry I dissipeared...my son woke up so my times dedicated to him...ill get back on the pad when I can

Aww how old is he? c:

And hello everyone, I'm able to come away from the party for a bit, seems majority ruled in favour of Liam - should I go ahead and edit him into a banner?