Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 4: Showtime!]
02-11-2010, 05:59 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
-You want me to kill Samuel-
Their connection shut off with a snap; only then did Maxwell realise he'd forsaken the spoken word, this time, to talk with the Faceless. Struggling with himself, Maxwell nodded, but Vyrm'n was not satisfied.
-Say it-
Another futile attempt at mental communication, and the genius gave in. "Yes. Vyrm'n, please... I want you to kill Samuel Therion."
The words were, from an atomic viewpoint, nothing special. They energised and oscillated the darkness backstage in a manner both human and Faceless recognised as communication, same as any other sound. With the proclamation, though, came a stream of subtelties beyond a Faceless' comprehension - but not Vyrm'n's. The link reopened again, but the shadow did not respond. Maxwell did not have to read too far into the rush of background thought to know he'd made a terrible, terrible mistake, but some perception of the Faceless had shifted; the cool reflection turning slowly upon some inexplicable axis, and revealing its cold, sharpened edge.
"Y-you don't have to, I sup-" the Faceless cut him off with a mess of thoughts, before the shadow started to shift away, seeking out the Karmist. The only indication was a quiver in the starscape as it was jolted out of its stationary drift. Its usual atomic perception clouded by the alien sensation of betrayl, Vyrm'n shuffled round backstage, sluggishly processing the sense of disappointment and ascertaining exactly what the problem was. Samuel had to die - they both knew Maxwell was lying - of course Vyrm'n had to kill the Karmist. She just never wanted to hear it coming from him.
Maxwell just stood alone in the dark, the smoke of the Stage Director curling round a corner with grey querulousness - a herald for the approaching horror. Still clutching Cabaret's mask in one dejected hand, Maxwell wretchedly waved with the other.
"Vyrm'n... I don't understand-"
The shadow stopped, and rushed at him angrily. The tendril which lashed out was more like a punch. The Faceless wasn't even coherent any more; just a disconnected stream of hopeless frustration. Maxwell pieced together, with a sense of bewilderment, the cause of Vyrm'n's conflict from the fragments of memory the Faceless dredged up in its attempts to rationalise its reaction. A known lifetime of spending day after day killing, in unknowingly fruitless pursuit of some barely-understood truth, out of a sense of knowingly archaic duty for another, streamed through the black fist in that single tap of contact before the man was knocked down.
The drifting stars and that snaky curl of smoke were the only discernible movement backstage, until Vyrm'n slunk away in a swirl of pinprick lights. A dull crash indicated to a still-prone Maxwell the Faceless was taking its frustration out on the set en route to the supply closet, where it knew Samuel was hiding.
-You want me to kill Samuel-
Their connection shut off with a snap; only then did Maxwell realise he'd forsaken the spoken word, this time, to talk with the Faceless. Struggling with himself, Maxwell nodded, but Vyrm'n was not satisfied.
-Say it-
Another futile attempt at mental communication, and the genius gave in. "Yes. Vyrm'n, please... I want you to kill Samuel Therion."
The words were, from an atomic viewpoint, nothing special. They energised and oscillated the darkness backstage in a manner both human and Faceless recognised as communication, same as any other sound. With the proclamation, though, came a stream of subtelties beyond a Faceless' comprehension - but not Vyrm'n's. The link reopened again, but the shadow did not respond. Maxwell did not have to read too far into the rush of background thought to know he'd made a terrible, terrible mistake, but some perception of the Faceless had shifted; the cool reflection turning slowly upon some inexplicable axis, and revealing its cold, sharpened edge.
"Y-you don't have to, I sup-" the Faceless cut him off with a mess of thoughts, before the shadow started to shift away, seeking out the Karmist. The only indication was a quiver in the starscape as it was jolted out of its stationary drift. Its usual atomic perception clouded by the alien sensation of betrayl, Vyrm'n shuffled round backstage, sluggishly processing the sense of disappointment and ascertaining exactly what the problem was. Samuel had to die - they both knew Maxwell was lying - of course Vyrm'n had to kill the Karmist. She just never wanted to hear it coming from him.
Maxwell just stood alone in the dark, the smoke of the Stage Director curling round a corner with grey querulousness - a herald for the approaching horror. Still clutching Cabaret's mask in one dejected hand, Maxwell wretchedly waved with the other.
"Vyrm'n... I don't understand-"
The shadow stopped, and rushed at him angrily. The tendril which lashed out was more like a punch. The Faceless wasn't even coherent any more; just a disconnected stream of hopeless frustration. Maxwell pieced together, with a sense of bewilderment, the cause of Vyrm'n's conflict from the fragments of memory the Faceless dredged up in its attempts to rationalise its reaction. A known lifetime of spending day after day killing, in unknowingly fruitless pursuit of some barely-understood truth, out of a sense of knowingly archaic duty for another, streamed through the black fist in that single tap of contact before the man was knocked down.
The drifting stars and that snaky curl of smoke were the only discernible movement backstage, until Vyrm'n slunk away in a swirl of pinprick lights. A dull crash indicated to a still-prone Maxwell the Faceless was taking its frustration out on the set en route to the supply closet, where it knew Samuel was hiding.
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