Re: Epic Clash Round 3 - The Ascended City
07-07-2010, 07:48 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
By the time Walt started to come to, Greg's emotions were back under control. He sat, stiff-backed and plain-faced, in the Captain's chair, staring out the window at the driving rain.
Walt sat up and looked at him. He kept silent, not pushing or expectant, just ready.
After a minute, Greg spoke, his voice barely more than a pained whisper. "I did what I had to do."
Walt didn't reply.
"We needed to overcome her emotional manipulations, so I overpowered them."
More silence.
"She wouldn't have listened to reason, so I did what was necessary."
Walt got slowly to his feet and moved over to him, speaking softly. "And then you kept going."
Greg kept staring forward, his jaw clenching. "It was her manipulations. I wasn't myself."
"She was on the floor, dazed. She wasn't manipulating anyone."
"Dammit, Walt! I don't get angry like that! I'm supposed to be rational and logical, not spiteful and cruel! Where the hell did that come from?!"
Walt stopped next to the chair, staring off into the distance. "We aren't that simple, you know. We're not perfect, clear-cut slices of personality. We all have a certain amount of rationality or communications skills. We each demonstrate our particular aptitudes, but that doesn't mean we have no other traits."
He turned, placing a hand on each of Greg's shoulders and looking him in the eyes. "We're human, Greg, imperfect and flawed. We are complicated and multi-faceted beings, and even though you're 'the logical one,' that doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel."
Greg sniffed, pushed Walt's hands from his shoulders, and stood, moving quickly to his door and going through. Walt looked after him for a moment, then took a seat. Greg would be fine, he knew. He just needed to think things through.
Eric and Bern were still out, so Walt decided to took a look around. The dark clouds were blotting out the sun, and the almost constant flashes of lightning provided a strobing illumination in its place. The whole city reflected the chaos of the storm- the metal surfaces reflected back the lightning, seeming to contribute to the visual chaos. The rain limited visibility, making anything more than a few dozen metres away an indistinct mass of alternating dark and light.
He just watched for a few minutes, taking it all in, admiring its raw, natural power. Eventually, Greg and Eric awoke as well, and Walt turned over control.
Greg took the chair. He couldn't distinguish Spender's beat from the storm, if it was even there, but he knew what needed to be done anyway- the city had to fall so that its existence was not wasted.
He reached up into the storm and gathered the lightning once more.
Spender considered which coins Michelle would be able to make the best use of. Obviously, she didn't have the experience to make use of some of the more powerful ones, but a simple Energy Spear or Flame Burst would work well enough.
He was dispensing a few of each when a column of lightning tore through a group of nearby buildings, sending severed halves tumbling away. Thomas must be back in action, he supposed.
Michelle seemed to think the same thing. "Come on," she urged, "just give me the coins."
Something in her voice made him pause for a moment. She seemed just a bit too eager for them- but then again, the storm around them wasn't exactly calming. It would be perfectly understandable for her to be in a bit of a hurry.
He went back to dispensing coins, slipping a few Analysis Space coins into the stack for good measure.
He barely had time to react to the next sustained bolt as it tore through the next building over, racing towards them at terrible speeds. He dove, grabbing Michelle's waist as he flew into the air, flying out of the building and into open air.
"Take this!", he shouted, his voice almost drowned out by the storm. "It's a flight spell! It'll let you-" He was cut off by another blast of lightning as it tore through a group of nearby buildings. He leaned closer and shouted louder. "It'll let you-"
A severed walkway whipped around and caught him in the small of the back. He lost his grip on Michelle and tumbled through the air. He was sore but unharmed, and he quickly righted himself, spinning around to search for her. His search proved fruitless, however; the wind and rain obscured his vision, and she had already fallen out of range of an Analysis Space.
Michelle fell, the flight coin clutched in her hand. She struggled, trying to move her arm and slide it in the invisible slot, but Asteira held her back. All pretence was abandoned between them; they didn't talk or argue or discuss, they simply pitted their wills against each other, trying to force the coin in one direction or another.
Asteira strained. She may have been able to overcome Michelle through misinformation and deceit, but when it came to pure will to survive, Michelle had the advantage. She'd had to, to survive as long as she had: living in squalor, constantly on alert for the threat of imminent death, never able to truly and completely relax. She'd lived her whole life fighting to survive, and she wasn't going to let go now.
The coin steadily climbed toward the invisible slot, and, in desperation, Asteira changed tactics.
"Michelle." The voice was impossibly clear, somehow managing to come to her through the sound of wind, rain, and thunder.
The coin faltered as Michelle spotted the figure approaching her. It was a man, his face sunken and emaciated. As he came closer, somehow keeping pace with her as she fell, she recognized him.
"L-Leader Johnson? Is that- How are-"
He sighed, sadness underlining his words. "Spirits aren't bound by space, Michelle."
"But- No! We got the medicine, we were bringing it back! You were going to be fine!"
"Not quite- your party was ambushed on the way back, and without you, they didn't stand a chance. The medicine never reached me."
"So you're..."
Solemnly, the figure nodded. "Dead, yes."
"No, I won't believe it! I can't! I-"
Suddenly, the figure vanished. Michelle looked around, confused. "...Leader Johnson?"
The ground met her a moment later.
Asteira looked down, satisfied. She'd have to remember that trick- using one's memories against them could apparently be quite effective.
By the time Walt started to come to, Greg's emotions were back under control. He sat, stiff-backed and plain-faced, in the Captain's chair, staring out the window at the driving rain.
Walt sat up and looked at him. He kept silent, not pushing or expectant, just ready.
After a minute, Greg spoke, his voice barely more than a pained whisper. "I did what I had to do."
Walt didn't reply.
"We needed to overcome her emotional manipulations, so I overpowered them."
More silence.
"She wouldn't have listened to reason, so I did what was necessary."
Walt got slowly to his feet and moved over to him, speaking softly. "And then you kept going."
Greg kept staring forward, his jaw clenching. "It was her manipulations. I wasn't myself."
"She was on the floor, dazed. She wasn't manipulating anyone."
"Dammit, Walt! I don't get angry like that! I'm supposed to be rational and logical, not spiteful and cruel! Where the hell did that come from?!"
Walt stopped next to the chair, staring off into the distance. "We aren't that simple, you know. We're not perfect, clear-cut slices of personality. We all have a certain amount of rationality or communications skills. We each demonstrate our particular aptitudes, but that doesn't mean we have no other traits."
He turned, placing a hand on each of Greg's shoulders and looking him in the eyes. "We're human, Greg, imperfect and flawed. We are complicated and multi-faceted beings, and even though you're 'the logical one,' that doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel."
Greg sniffed, pushed Walt's hands from his shoulders, and stood, moving quickly to his door and going through. Walt looked after him for a moment, then took a seat. Greg would be fine, he knew. He just needed to think things through.
Eric and Bern were still out, so Walt decided to took a look around. The dark clouds were blotting out the sun, and the almost constant flashes of lightning provided a strobing illumination in its place. The whole city reflected the chaos of the storm- the metal surfaces reflected back the lightning, seeming to contribute to the visual chaos. The rain limited visibility, making anything more than a few dozen metres away an indistinct mass of alternating dark and light.
He just watched for a few minutes, taking it all in, admiring its raw, natural power. Eventually, Greg and Eric awoke as well, and Walt turned over control.
Greg took the chair. He couldn't distinguish Spender's beat from the storm, if it was even there, but he knew what needed to be done anyway- the city had to fall so that its existence was not wasted.
He reached up into the storm and gathered the lightning once more.
Spender considered which coins Michelle would be able to make the best use of. Obviously, she didn't have the experience to make use of some of the more powerful ones, but a simple Energy Spear or Flame Burst would work well enough.
He was dispensing a few of each when a column of lightning tore through a group of nearby buildings, sending severed halves tumbling away. Thomas must be back in action, he supposed.
Michelle seemed to think the same thing. "Come on," she urged, "just give me the coins."
Something in her voice made him pause for a moment. She seemed just a bit too eager for them- but then again, the storm around them wasn't exactly calming. It would be perfectly understandable for her to be in a bit of a hurry.
He went back to dispensing coins, slipping a few Analysis Space coins into the stack for good measure.
He barely had time to react to the next sustained bolt as it tore through the next building over, racing towards them at terrible speeds. He dove, grabbing Michelle's waist as he flew into the air, flying out of the building and into open air.
"Take this!", he shouted, his voice almost drowned out by the storm. "It's a flight spell! It'll let you-" He was cut off by another blast of lightning as it tore through a group of nearby buildings. He leaned closer and shouted louder. "It'll let you-"
A severed walkway whipped around and caught him in the small of the back. He lost his grip on Michelle and tumbled through the air. He was sore but unharmed, and he quickly righted himself, spinning around to search for her. His search proved fruitless, however; the wind and rain obscured his vision, and she had already fallen out of range of an Analysis Space.
Michelle fell, the flight coin clutched in her hand. She struggled, trying to move her arm and slide it in the invisible slot, but Asteira held her back. All pretence was abandoned between them; they didn't talk or argue or discuss, they simply pitted their wills against each other, trying to force the coin in one direction or another.
Asteira strained. She may have been able to overcome Michelle through misinformation and deceit, but when it came to pure will to survive, Michelle had the advantage. She'd had to, to survive as long as she had: living in squalor, constantly on alert for the threat of imminent death, never able to truly and completely relax. She'd lived her whole life fighting to survive, and she wasn't going to let go now.
The coin steadily climbed toward the invisible slot, and, in desperation, Asteira changed tactics.
"Michelle." The voice was impossibly clear, somehow managing to come to her through the sound of wind, rain, and thunder.
The coin faltered as Michelle spotted the figure approaching her. It was a man, his face sunken and emaciated. As he came closer, somehow keeping pace with her as she fell, she recognized him.
"L-Leader Johnson? Is that- How are-"
He sighed, sadness underlining his words. "Spirits aren't bound by space, Michelle."
"But- No! We got the medicine, we were bringing it back! You were going to be fine!"
"Not quite- your party was ambushed on the way back, and without you, they didn't stand a chance. The medicine never reached me."
"So you're..."
Solemnly, the figure nodded. "Dead, yes."
"No, I won't believe it! I can't! I-"
Suddenly, the figure vanished. Michelle looked around, confused. "...Leader Johnson?"
The ground met her a moment later.
Asteira looked down, satisfied. She'd have to remember that trick- using one's memories against them could apparently be quite effective.