019 || [Action]
[Heather isn't known for being one of the most stable people in the school. She stays up late, can be found wandering around campus long after the sun has disappeared, winds up in the infirmary much too often with a strange assortment of injuries...
But this is a bit different.
It's the evening, the sunlight dimmed, sky colored a light gray-- ( Read more... )
But this is a bit different.
It's the evening, the sunlight dimmed, sky colored a light gray-- ( Read more... )
This, however, is a perfect example of being careful of what you wish for: Heather's current appearance, her blood-stained clothes and wild eyes, make for a very worrying sight. ]
Heather! You alright? [ But she doesn't see any threats... ] What's the trouble?
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The figure approaching is daunting, the image of intimidating: the Closer, standing aside, a figure that would tower over her if it came nearer. And it does, lumbering forward, fleshy arms swinging and head writhing. The sound it makes is a garbled moan. Heather bares her teeth, glaring up at the thing-- staring at a space above Fang's head. She jabs the pipe forward warningly, swinging it a few times in wide arcs around her.]
You-- You get the hell away from me!! GET AWAY!!
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When the Darkness had taunted her, it had used three specific names, meant to hit the hardest. Heather's had been one of them. She can't rule out that this is something related to that, so she'd rather avoid direct contact with Heather right now. ]
Calm down, Heather. Look at me - it's Fang. You hear me?
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Nngh-- Shut up, shut up...! [She grasps the pipe and lashes out with it, swinging it wildly. She's fast, but definitely not skillful now; her movements are purely instinctual.] I'll friggin' snap off that stupid big head of yours!! [We are totally good at this taunting thing. Yes.]
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Wounded animal, huh? Fang's dealt with a fair few of those in her time. She keeps her tone calm. ] Wasn't aware my head was big or stupid. C'mon Heather, you still ain't looking at me. I ain't gonna hurt you.
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She is confused, straining to make some sense of the disjointed words, but, with a gasp, she suddenly distances herself from Fang, almost frantically. The Closers were aptly named-- they attack in enclosed spaces, their arms trapping her. Those arms contained more than just chunks of ragged flesh-- Heather had found out the hard way that inside those giant clubs were sharp bone fragments, like sheathed swords. She can't risk staying too close to the thing, especially without a firearm.
She glares at Fang fiercely.] You're not so tough! Just a big hunk of flesh with arms, huh? [She grasps the pipe, raising it again.] You don't scare me at all! [She rushes ( ... )
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She gets at least half an answer when the pipe descends, smacking into her collarbone and making her wince. Before Heather can pull back, Fang reaches up to grab the pipe, her fingers accidentally brushing over Heather's on the way up. No wave of Darkness washes over her; while the training she's been doing with Alan is supposed to increase her defenses against it, Fang doesn't sense it at all.
Which means physical contact should be okay. ] Kitten, you'd better cut it out or I'm gonna dump you in the fountain.
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She's confused, then completely lost when she finds the pipe has been grabbed by the Closer.] Ah-- L-let go!! [She grips the pipe and tugs on it desperately. It's her only weapon.] Gimme-- that-- back--!!
[Words: Kitten, cut it out, dump you in the fountain. Kitten? Isn't that what... No, that's stupid. Fang isn't here. It's just playing with her memories again. But the mention of the fountain makes her flinch. In her eyes, the fountain isn't full of water like it usually is-- it's full of blood, choking out clots of rust and bits of flesh. It goes without saying that she would rather not be near it. She releases the pipe and retreats a few paces, standing a few feet away, panting and glaring.]
That's... not fair. [She's unarmed. Now the ( ... )
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Fang tucks the pipe into the holder meant for her lance, which is currently hanging uselessly in her room. The pipe's a little loose in the straps and bangs against her leg and back as she runs, but running after Heather is the more important thing - she's obviously in trouble. But that "Kitten" reminded Fang of Heather in the tree - she's starting to wonder if this is something similar. But why Heather's attacking her still makes no sense. ]
I told you I'd help. Promised your dad I'd look after ya. You'd think by now you'd trust me a little!
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She keeps running forward, just to set distance between herself and the monster, when the static's volume suddenly increases, and shrill words break through: Help, promised your dad-- She doesn't hear the rest because she suddenly halts to scream over it.]
Don't you dare talk about my dad!! [Even if it's a memory-- not him. She won't let this place warp him.] You freaks killed him!! If it weren't for you-- [She doesn't care if she's unarmed, all she wants to do is leap on top of the thing and kill it with her bare hands. She almost decides to try, but her common sense wins-- she can't fight the monsters without a weapon. Maybe ( ... )
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As the walls of Aldale rise up before them, Fang tenses, gritting her teeth. As much as Heather needs help, right now she's a threat to the other students. No, Heather. Don't make me do this to you. The pipe is still at her back, but Fang's not practiced enough with it to be able to knock Heather's feet out from under her like this. And she really, really doesn't want to do that, both because it's Heather and because she's sure that any violent action will only make things worse. ]
This ain't what you think it is. Fight it off, Heather, c'mon - you're stronger than this!
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She looks around the hallway-- dorms. Lots of doors she can escape through. Hopefully. She starts checking each one-- but she runs to the next one before any of the doors open. In the Otherworld, all these doors are locked. She gets more and more frantic with each door she passes.]
Fu-- Dammit, d-dammit...!
[Words come through the static again, clearer: ain't what you think it is, fight it off, you're stronger. She doesn't respond at first, but this does confuse her. Those are all... positive phrases. But she can't let herself be trapped. Stairs, stairs, where are the stairs--? She finds them, but, like with the doors, recoils once she gets near them. In the Otherworld, the flight is barricaded with a mesh wall, bolted shut.]
No-- No, dammit, no!! [She turns and ( ... )
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Listen to me. I trust you, so you gotta trust me, okay?
[ She pulls out the pipe and drops it on the ground, where it rolls to a stop in between them, slightly closer to Heather. She just has to trust in Heather and her own ability. ]
There. See? You can attack me if you want, but killing me won't solve a thing. Wake up, Heather. It's tough right now but you gotta pull through. I'm staying here til you do.
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She gasps and recoils when the Closer moves, shutting her eyes and pressing herself against the wall, bracing herself for a strike from those arms. When nothing happens, she dares to open her eyes again, and finds the Closer simply standing there, tall and menacing, arms swaying idly, and the pipe placed between them.]
Wh-what... [She flinches with another barrage of static: You can attack me, killing me won't solve a thing, wake up, gotta pull through, staying here. The voice is distinctly feminine, just barely familiar. She keeps her eyes on Fang, and inches forward a bit, hand ready to reach out and grab the abandoned pipe ( ... )
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I rather like your face; you've got a pretty one. I got no plans to eat it. That'd just be missing the point, yeah?
[ Fang becomes a bit more serious, though she's still smiling slightly and a hint of that humor remains in her voice. ]
I dunno what you're seeing, but it's not real. You're safe here, alright? I'm not gonna let anything hurt ya.
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She waits for the words, wincing just slightly at the tear of static. As she strains to listen, she hears nearly every word, some slowed and warped in places, but still understandable. She is even able to hear the voice clearly on a few selected words, a telltale tone and slight accent-- one she knows well.
This all seems familiar. It scares her. "Not real"? That's right, it's--
She takes a small step forward, pushing herself away from the wall, squinting at the Closer. She leaves bloodied handprints behind.]
.... Fang...? [The static's volume suddenly drops, a dull whine in her head. It's easily ignored.]
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