RE: QUIETUS [S!5] [Round 2: Krei'kii'kelriz]
06-16-2017, 08:05 AM
O congregation of we low, we have gathered for it is time-
-it is time-
We, born of fallow stardust, victims of victims of incomprehensible tragedy-
-she grieves-
-how She grieves! And for Her kind's vast intellect She will have no denial, none higher than Her to who her pleas be heard-
-and in Her fury, our suns be scattered-
-four our stardust was Their soil, Their canvas and creche, and we low have performed our crude rites with blind faith we shall align with Her glorious design-
-Vindication!
-she arrives!
-she arrives!
Robin felt Florica's entrance, an assault on her limited senses even through the crowd suspended through the chamber. The black-hole tug, the aberrant window-in-the-world at which the dead gathered.
It was so easy, to forget the girl for the phenomenon - especially when you yourself were less-than-corporeal. The flow of alien spirits around the room shifted, much more visibly than they had minutes ago when the gravity cult's executive branches elsewhere had sabotaged the gravity.
Next round, for sure, Robin promised Florica, and was startled how casually she'd thought it. The ghosts seemed agitated, somehow. They tugged at Robin's cladding of murder victims like a lost child. at an adult's coat.
For agonised eons! They, custodians of our universe, were stranded out beyond the veil-
-by disaster!
-by some unfathomable disaster, powerless but to watch as life-
-riotous life!
unmoored from Their brilliance, rank and gross, springs unchecked in Their kinder-garden!
Until now!
"Until now," croaked the oracle, tears blooming directionless upon his face in the zero g's. He clasped his hand around that of his prophet, and raised it until the chorus died down. Florica simply hovered there.
"Our prophet! She stands firm 'neath the sway of the veil, beacon to Her lost children. Through the prophet at last, we are vindicated, we may accord Her children Their last rites, and prepare funereal - at last!"
The assembly sang out once more, and a single cultist kicked out into the gap between bridge above and brain below with Florica and the oracle. Something deep in the lower chamber began to glow, and the cavern raised the zealot's voice. Clearer, sharper than the oracle's.
"Our Ushers have set forth across Krei'kii'kelriz, arranging vessels and dismantling superfluous systems. Those who choose the holy path of acting as vessel to Her children, depart now - perform your duty elsewhere, lest the blood spilt of your severing disrupt the task of the Prophet."
He turned to Florica, who had set to drifting a little when the oracle released her hand. "Let them guide your hand, prophet."
Robin, in a direction from the action roughly analogous to "above", had a really bad feeling about this. She wanted to get back to her body, but she had to know. The feeling only got worse when the cultists pushed Florica headfirst, propelling her gently down and away toward the Krei'kii'kelriz' brain.
Florica spun in midair, then stopped spinning. Looked straight at Robin. Grinned like she was used to having far more teeth to bare.
Something big leapt out of Florica, lunging for Robin only to pass her by and wing its way the way she'd come-
and the worms rushed in, hypnotic in their coordination. The brain lit up in earnest as Florica approached, the uncoordinated thrashing of Florica's possessors casting shadows on the walls of the bridge above.
---
The others were rocked by a distant explosion, then carried on their new trajectories through the air. Sonora slosh-squelched her way back to hard surfaces with a noise that, coupled with the weightlessness, made it really hard for Amaranth to not throw up again.
Anila flailed ineffectually for purchase, beckoned to the best compromise between "stable-footed" and "safe for exposed skin." Arokht. "Catch me if you can, ha ha, we can't risk any more damage to this body, not even a three-foot fall, if the gravity's restored."
Arokht snarled, braced himself and strained to grasp a gelatinous limb. Only once Anila was secured did he glare down at Amaranth. "How much longer."
"That slow burn wait, while it get's dark"
"You stay out of this."
"I'm biting my tongue~"
Whatever argument might've ensued was interrupted by a curse and a thud, and Rachel emitting a jet of flame. One of Robin's ritual buddies wheeled leisurely away from her, and she glared at the others like it was their fault. "Course correction."
"Do not use your weaponry in close quarters without my command-"
"-or what?" Amaranth had to avert her eyes; Sonora squealed and coagulated her way under a console. The console switched on.
"I'm not going near that," Mary said, so automatically that Amaranth wondered if she'd been projecting something without thinking. Alien script streamed across the screen, and a ring-shaped collection of machinery halfway up the walls of the circular room lit up.
Somewhere in the midst of all this chaos, the necrologist returned, unfolded from their now-airborne sitting position. Stared around, warily, like there was nobody here they recognised. Sizing things up.
Wizard Jelly noticed first. "Dr. Pearson." A flash of recognition. "Anila needs help." Her entire body seemed to recoil away from itself at once, before she grabbed a floating pen and dragged it across the back of her free hand.
"Fuck!" exclaimed Robin, before taking in her surroundings properly.
"Robin!"
She was still clutching the pen like a knife, while the drawn-on hand thrashed and twisted around like it had a life of its own.
"What the hell did you just do-"
"Explain later."
"Explain now," spat Rachel.
Robin weighed her options, but the two were already arguing. To Anila, who seemed the most attentive, she shrugged: "something tried possessing me while I was out. That priest I brought over from the Valley, at a guess? Of course, I've got safeguards for that kind of thing." Robin indicated her hand with the pen, which stopped trying to reach the markings long enough to make a snatch for the implement. Whatever the machinery above was doing, it spat out enough light for Robin to get a good look at her audience. "Holy shit, Anila. You look awful."
But then:
The space encircled by the ring of machinery shimmered, flickering in and out until it settled, casting the chamber with the unlight between stars.
The air felt cool, dry, ashen. Loose machinery rattled, caught in a breeze that couldn't seem to touch the living. Just as the dark disc seemed to stabilize, it rippled again - this time from single points, like first raindrops on the surface of a pool.
A shade pushed its way through the unlight, a vermicious spectre visible to all.
"Fuck," said Robin, and the third fuck seemed the charm, for worm-ghosts began to pour through the veil en masse, filling the air with a whispering rush. Most ignored the warm bodies and Arokht (who crouched protectively over Anila) and fled past them into the hallway, but a worrisome number swam into the floating corpses.
And the corpses
twitched.
-it is time-
We, born of fallow stardust, victims of victims of incomprehensible tragedy-
-she grieves-
-how She grieves! And for Her kind's vast intellect She will have no denial, none higher than Her to who her pleas be heard-
-and in Her fury, our suns be scattered-
-four our stardust was Their soil, Their canvas and creche, and we low have performed our crude rites with blind faith we shall align with Her glorious design-
-Vindication!
-she arrives!
-she arrives!
Robin felt Florica's entrance, an assault on her limited senses even through the crowd suspended through the chamber. The black-hole tug, the aberrant window-in-the-world at which the dead gathered.
It was so easy, to forget the girl for the phenomenon - especially when you yourself were less-than-corporeal. The flow of alien spirits around the room shifted, much more visibly than they had minutes ago when the gravity cult's executive branches elsewhere had sabotaged the gravity.
Next round, for sure, Robin promised Florica, and was startled how casually she'd thought it. The ghosts seemed agitated, somehow. They tugged at Robin's cladding of murder victims like a lost child. at an adult's coat.
For agonised eons! They, custodians of our universe, were stranded out beyond the veil-
-by disaster!
-by some unfathomable disaster, powerless but to watch as life-
-riotous life!
unmoored from Their brilliance, rank and gross, springs unchecked in Their kinder-garden!
Until now!
"Until now," croaked the oracle, tears blooming directionless upon his face in the zero g's. He clasped his hand around that of his prophet, and raised it until the chorus died down. Florica simply hovered there.
"Our prophet! She stands firm 'neath the sway of the veil, beacon to Her lost children. Through the prophet at last, we are vindicated, we may accord Her children Their last rites, and prepare funereal - at last!"
The assembly sang out once more, and a single cultist kicked out into the gap between bridge above and brain below with Florica and the oracle. Something deep in the lower chamber began to glow, and the cavern raised the zealot's voice. Clearer, sharper than the oracle's.
"Our Ushers have set forth across Krei'kii'kelriz, arranging vessels and dismantling superfluous systems. Those who choose the holy path of acting as vessel to Her children, depart now - perform your duty elsewhere, lest the blood spilt of your severing disrupt the task of the Prophet."
He turned to Florica, who had set to drifting a little when the oracle released her hand. "Let them guide your hand, prophet."
Robin, in a direction from the action roughly analogous to "above", had a really bad feeling about this. She wanted to get back to her body, but she had to know. The feeling only got worse when the cultists pushed Florica headfirst, propelling her gently down and away toward the Krei'kii'kelriz' brain.
Florica spun in midair, then stopped spinning. Looked straight at Robin. Grinned like she was used to having far more teeth to bare.
Something big leapt out of Florica, lunging for Robin only to pass her by and wing its way the way she'd come-
and the worms rushed in, hypnotic in their coordination. The brain lit up in earnest as Florica approached, the uncoordinated thrashing of Florica's possessors casting shadows on the walls of the bridge above.
---
The others were rocked by a distant explosion, then carried on their new trajectories through the air. Sonora slosh-squelched her way back to hard surfaces with a noise that, coupled with the weightlessness, made it really hard for Amaranth to not throw up again.
Anila flailed ineffectually for purchase, beckoned to the best compromise between "stable-footed" and "safe for exposed skin." Arokht. "Catch me if you can, ha ha, we can't risk any more damage to this body, not even a three-foot fall, if the gravity's restored."
Arokht snarled, braced himself and strained to grasp a gelatinous limb. Only once Anila was secured did he glare down at Amaranth. "How much longer."
"That slow burn wait, while it get's dark"
"You stay out of this."
"I'm biting my tongue~"
Whatever argument might've ensued was interrupted by a curse and a thud, and Rachel emitting a jet of flame. One of Robin's ritual buddies wheeled leisurely away from her, and she glared at the others like it was their fault. "Course correction."
"Do not use your weaponry in close quarters without my command-"
"-or what?" Amaranth had to avert her eyes; Sonora squealed and coagulated her way under a console. The console switched on.
"I'm not going near that," Mary said, so automatically that Amaranth wondered if she'd been projecting something without thinking. Alien script streamed across the screen, and a ring-shaped collection of machinery halfway up the walls of the circular room lit up.
Somewhere in the midst of all this chaos, the necrologist returned, unfolded from their now-airborne sitting position. Stared around, warily, like there was nobody here they recognised. Sizing things up.
Wizard Jelly noticed first. "Dr. Pearson." A flash of recognition. "Anila needs help." Her entire body seemed to recoil away from itself at once, before she grabbed a floating pen and dragged it across the back of her free hand.
"Fuck!" exclaimed Robin, before taking in her surroundings properly.
"Robin!"
She was still clutching the pen like a knife, while the drawn-on hand thrashed and twisted around like it had a life of its own.
"What the hell did you just do-"
"Explain later."
"Explain now," spat Rachel.
Robin weighed her options, but the two were already arguing. To Anila, who seemed the most attentive, she shrugged: "something tried possessing me while I was out. That priest I brought over from the Valley, at a guess? Of course, I've got safeguards for that kind of thing." Robin indicated her hand with the pen, which stopped trying to reach the markings long enough to make a snatch for the implement. Whatever the machinery above was doing, it spat out enough light for Robin to get a good look at her audience. "Holy shit, Anila. You look awful."
But then:
The space encircled by the ring of machinery shimmered, flickering in and out until it settled, casting the chamber with the unlight between stars.
The air felt cool, dry, ashen. Loose machinery rattled, caught in a breeze that couldn't seem to touch the living. Just as the dark disc seemed to stabilize, it rippled again - this time from single points, like first raindrops on the surface of a pool.
A shade pushed its way through the unlight, a vermicious spectre visible to all.
"Fuck," said Robin, and the third fuck seemed the charm, for worm-ghosts began to pour through the veil en masse, filling the air with a whispering rush. Most ignored the warm bodies and Arokht (who crouched protectively over Anila) and fled past them into the hallway, but a worrisome number swam into the floating corpses.
And the corpses
twitched.
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow