Re: The Fatal Conflict (GBS2G7) (Round 3: The Infinite Playground!)
05-31-2012, 04:18 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
It used to be a little itch in the back of her mind. Just started as a small nuisance, a small grievance. But then it erupted into pain. Horrible pain. She could feel death and the dying and the absence, the absolute nothing where there should have been something and the children, someone was killing, massacring…
The pain tasted like blood. Flashes of colors burst across what could be called her body.
Simphonia stopped. She collected herself. And then she started throwing herself against the ceiling.
It was far, yes, but she reached it in a rather short time. Her entire mass thudded against the surface with an unimpressively dull sound. She seemed to have expected some sort of shaking, but it barely rattled.
She rammed herself into another spot, but it was just the same. She tried another spot. And another. She would find a weakness even if it killed her.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
“Ah…do you think that ceiling could hold…?”
“Well, I cannot say I have ever thought about what would happen in the event that a cloud of sentient musical notes would start banging on the inside,” Strassen coughed.
“So you don’t know.”
“No.”
Luron shrugged from where he stood, not even bothering to crane his neck anymore. “Well, nothing’s falling from the sky, and it’s not like she’s hurting anybody up there. So we can go back to focusing on something more important.”
The doctor coughed again. “I cannot say that I am very confident that she would remain so tenacious and not lose her temper. If she gets frustrated, it’s no stretch of the imagination what she would do next…”
“Yeah, but if we all manage to not be stuck in a battery by then, it doesn’t matter much at all, does it?”
Zach was still looking up nervously as Simphonia, who now looked more like a cloud of flies, continued hammering against the ceiling. “It would be nice to, ah, exorcise her though. Or at least get her out of here, since she seems to want that anyways.”
“So have any ideas on how to lure her to the door, exactly?”
Strassen only shrugged and looked at Zach expectantly. Zach didn’t do anything different and shrugged as well.
“So there you go. Let her waste her time up there and we can move on with other stuff. Things are probably crazier out there anyways.”
“I don’t know how that’s supposed to encourage me,” Zach muttered, but he was already moving to the window outside. He still didn’t really know where his more corporeal half was and his headache wasn’t getting any better, honestly. He almost wanted to forget about the things he was juggling around, but his damn innate curiosity kept getting in his way, curiosity about the everything that was going on. So he stepped out.
Simphonia continued reaching for her goal, realizing that if there weren’t any weak spots to exploit, she would have to make one on her own. The one spot she chose to collide with again and again definitely was feeling weaker to her. Sparks of color spun about her, the color of delirium. The ceiling showed no sign of giving away, but it must be weaker, it had to be, she had to get out, the murderers must pay.
The ceiling remained impassive.
It used to be a little itch in the back of her mind. Just started as a small nuisance, a small grievance. But then it erupted into pain. Horrible pain. She could feel death and the dying and the absence, the absolute nothing where there should have been something and the children, someone was killing, massacring…
The pain tasted like blood. Flashes of colors burst across what could be called her body.
Simphonia stopped. She collected herself. And then she started throwing herself against the ceiling.
It was far, yes, but she reached it in a rather short time. Her entire mass thudded against the surface with an unimpressively dull sound. She seemed to have expected some sort of shaking, but it barely rattled.
She rammed herself into another spot, but it was just the same. She tried another spot. And another. She would find a weakness even if it killed her.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
“Ah…do you think that ceiling could hold…?”
“Well, I cannot say I have ever thought about what would happen in the event that a cloud of sentient musical notes would start banging on the inside,” Strassen coughed.
“So you don’t know.”
“No.”
Luron shrugged from where he stood, not even bothering to crane his neck anymore. “Well, nothing’s falling from the sky, and it’s not like she’s hurting anybody up there. So we can go back to focusing on something more important.”
The doctor coughed again. “I cannot say that I am very confident that she would remain so tenacious and not lose her temper. If she gets frustrated, it’s no stretch of the imagination what she would do next…”
“Yeah, but if we all manage to not be stuck in a battery by then, it doesn’t matter much at all, does it?”
Zach was still looking up nervously as Simphonia, who now looked more like a cloud of flies, continued hammering against the ceiling. “It would be nice to, ah, exorcise her though. Or at least get her out of here, since she seems to want that anyways.”
“So have any ideas on how to lure her to the door, exactly?”
Strassen only shrugged and looked at Zach expectantly. Zach didn’t do anything different and shrugged as well.
“So there you go. Let her waste her time up there and we can move on with other stuff. Things are probably crazier out there anyways.”
“I don’t know how that’s supposed to encourage me,” Zach muttered, but he was already moving to the window outside. He still didn’t really know where his more corporeal half was and his headache wasn’t getting any better, honestly. He almost wanted to forget about the things he was juggling around, but his damn innate curiosity kept getting in his way, curiosity about the everything that was going on. So he stepped out.
Simphonia continued reaching for her goal, realizing that if there weren’t any weak spots to exploit, she would have to make one on her own. The one spot she chose to collide with again and again definitely was feeling weaker to her. Sparks of color spun about her, the color of delirium. The ceiling showed no sign of giving away, but it must be weaker, it had to be, she had to get out, the murderers must pay.
The ceiling remained impassive.