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Post by Clara Hart on Mar 7, 2009 10:15:30 GMT -5
"I could show you how to split the atom with your mind. How to bind others to your every will and whim." The voice in Clara's dreams offered. "How to spread your gift to any you wish to give it to. Just let me have more freedom. More power. Let me out again."
"No." Clara replied. The saplings were now decent sized trees, and the stream was now a peaceful flowing river. Signs and sounds of animals were all around them--birds in the trees, rabbits and foxes in the brush.
"Clara. You know we're merging. Becoming one. And when we do you will be so powerful. Nothing will be beyond your reach. Why fight it?" The voice asked.
"My body and my mind are my own." Clara answered to nothing.
"Are they? My power has kept you alive. It is through me you are faster and stronger than any other. That you are able to live through and instantly heal from deadly blows." The voice was older now, like a teen a few years Clara's senior. "I am the reason your are alive today in many ways, little Clara. Never forget that. You live on time borrowd from me. And your body will never, ever be completely your own."
The mage woke up once more with a start in the small room she had to herself in the house she and her group were using. They had raided a small town a few months back. Atr first they were feared and reviled, but now they were accepted and almost worshipped out of this fear.
Though a few found their way into still being reviled. But not publically.
Clara got up and stretched like a cat and walked to her dresser in order to get ready for the day. Then she paused and looked at herself in the mirror.
Her tail was a full foot longer than it had been when she went to bed, and her ears were a few inches taller as well. She then caught her reflection smiling at her.
"Oh, your body is going to go through some changes, Clara dear." Her refelection said in her dream voice's voice. "Don't worry, I just want to improve on the aesthetics a bit. Your current form is a bit too...." She trailed off for a moment. "Human."
A strong gust of wind shattered the mirror. Grumbling to herself, she got dressed and walked out to the common area. Soon, they were going to go on another mission of liberation. Each mission, her army grew, and the armies of Man lost a significant portion of their soldiers. Every defeat was crushing.
In the common area, Clara paused, and then went to the basement. In a prison she had forged with her magic was Isabella Martinez, who was glaring at the girl almost immediately upon her entrance into the basement.
"How are you this morning?" Clara asked.
"Fine, save for the fact I'm imprisoned by my father's cold blooded murderer." Isabella said back both demurely and coldly.
Clara slunk up to a chair in front of the prison and sat in it backwards, arms folded across the back of the chair. "Why do you think I kept you alive? That I brought you here?"
Isabella kept glaring at her and said nothing. Clara sighed after a few minutes and stood. "You would have more freedom if you answered my questions. I am going to go make breakfast. Christian is on guard duty for you today." As the empath left, she stopped on the stairs for a moment and called back, "Don't be so excited about that. I kill for a cause. Christian kills for a grudge he will never forgive."
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Post by Christian Monroe on Mar 7, 2009 10:58:45 GMT -5
Christian sat apart from the others as he usually did, while partaking in his portion of the morning meal that someone had fixed--probably Amanda. The winged female was usually the one to take care of domestic things like that. She wasn't a fighter, after all, though her devotion to the cause was just as strong as any of the rest of them. She typically played the part of a messenger, as her ability of sub-sonic flight could get her across the battlefield in seconds and minutes and Gloria, more often than not, was far too occupied to devote her time or attention to stuff like that.
Amanda sat now next to her boyfriend, the large Siegfried. The two had been officially dating now for two or three months, having finally owned up to the attraction that had arced between them almost from the moment the large German had woken up aboard the Plunder. Christian was glad for it, as it meant a little less annoying teenage, angsty hormones clogging his nose. Now he just had to deal with the only slightly less annoying, clinging smell of sex that usually permeated the two.
He wouldn't have pegged Amanda to be the type of girl to give it up so soon, though Christian was sure that their situation had a lot to do with her decision. They were at war, after all. Every day was a day that might be their last.
His attention was shifted from the softly murmuring couple to the arrival of another of their group. Cassiopeia stepped into the kitchenette-dining room dressed as she usually was now--in all black, her blond hair pulled back into a tight and unforgiving braid. Her silver eyes swirled restlessly, expression carefully neutral. But Christian could smell the pain and the loneliness that she kept hidden, always boiling just below the surface of her deadpan facade. To this day, six months later, Christian still couldn't figure out why Cassi was here with them. Sure, she was an excellent fighter--as she had proven time and again against the Earth's military. And she wanted equality as much as the next Mage. But the soft female wasn't meant for this kind of harsh living. At her core, Cassi was still a gentle soul.
And though she was doing her ultimate best to try and kill that part of herself, it was slowly killing her instead.
Cassi didn't speak to anyone else as she entered, seemingly ignoring the slight hesitation in the conversation at her arrival or how many pairs of eyes watched her in reactions that ranged from pity and sympathy to uncomfortable suspicion.
A moment later Clara suddenly arrived into the room. All of them tensed in reaction, sitting a little straighter in their seats as their unequivocal leader entered into their immediate vicinity. Christian noticed the changes to her body immediately, and he frowned a little, wondering what had happened exactly. Though really, there was no telling with Clara. No one understood her powers, or what her limitations were, if she even had any. More than likely, even Clara herself didn't know them.
"Christian," she suddenly called, tone a little sharp. The lion-like teen lifted away from his food, turning fully toward her with an eyebrow cocked.
"Yeah?"
"You're on guard-duty for the day," she pronounced affirmatively. There was only one person in this house that required guarding. Christian had been trained by the best, therefore none of his real emotion concerning this showed on his face or even internally--not while he was anywhere near a girl who could read them like an open book.
He let out a soft growl. "I'm not a fuckin' babysitter," he snapped testily, expression grumpy.
"You're whatever I say you are," Clara shot back, tone hard. "Finish eating and get down there."
The others kept silent as Christian pushed to his feet, shoving his chair back with a loud scrape across the floor. He snatched up a plate of food that had been left on the counter before stalking out of the room with a low rumble out of his chest. One that was not entirely faked.
There was certainly enough frustration and annoyance churning in his belly to cause the reaction after all. Just not for the reason most would assume it to be. It was true that Christian hated being kept out of the fighting. And had it been for any other reason than to guard the pretty girl in the basement, he'd probably be throwing a much larger tantrum that would more than likely end in him getting a little singed--Clara was fond of 'burning the stupid' out of him nowadays, after all.
It was because he was a lot less put out than he should have been by the prospect of being assigned babysitting duty that caused the frustration and the annoyance, however. It was a dangerous game, he was playing. His damned libido and over-active hormones were trying to convince him that the beautiful teen was his mate, or something. Making him ache for her. Making him want to touch her. Making him want to protect her.
Making him want for impossible things he had no damned business wanting.
She was his prisoner after all, not to mention she was aristocracy. Even if she hadn't been held captive for the past six months directly after the cold-blooded murder of her beloved father, Christian was so far beneath her it was pitiful. He was a killer. An animal. There was no room in this universe for the idea of her returning his misplaced feelings.
And Christian did a pretty damned good job of ignoring how her scent spiked warm and languid whenever he entered the room.
He did so now, pushing through the door and then shutting it behind him. His cat-like eyes immediately centered onto where Isabella sat in a chair on the other side of the metal bars that Clara had fashioned around her. Her expression was carefully blank, though her milk-chocolate eyes betrayed a faint mixture of wariness and relief.
"She said you would be coming to watch me today," the pretty girl murmured, tone cool, though not entirely unfriendly. If he'd been a little less in turmoil, he might have even recognized the very faint note of grudging pleasure in that simple statement.
She had hated him, at first. He remembered well the first few weeks that she had been with them. The tears. The spitting venom that had dripped from her voice. And that had killed him more than Christian was comfortable with, though he'd met it with the same gruff determination as he did anything else. As the months passed, that anger and hatred had slowly mellowed out. Until, now, there was only a faint lingering scent of doubt and hurt that clung to her when he was near.
Christian wasn't entirely sure why. He was very careful never to show outwardly all the raging turmoil going on in his own head.
He stepped forward now without responding to her comment, setting the plate of food down in front of her through the bars with a somewhat gruff, growly clearing of his throat.
"Brought you breakfast," he muttered, attempting to sound as neutral as he possibly could. Those brown eyes watched him intently, making him want to squirm. Which only increased his discomfort. "Eat," he finally ordered roughly before turning around and retreating again. Taking up his usual spot by the door, crouching down and then staring off into space.
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Post by Cassiopeia Reyes-Hart on Mar 7, 2009 11:27:23 GMT -5
Cassi ate her food with careful, almost robotic motions, doing a fairly good job of ignoring any murmuring going on around her. She took no pleasure in the food. It was merely a requirement to keep her strength up. Cassi didn't derive pleasure from anything anymore. She was aware enough to know that that was odd, even dangerous. But she couldn't bring herself to care enough to try and change it.
After all, if she cared about stuff like how her food tasted, then she'd start to care again about other stuff. Stuff like how many people she had killed, in the name of her sister's rise to power. How many lives she had destroyed. She'd start to care about her other sister, probably worried sick about her absence--that is if Andromeda hadn't begun to hate her too, along with the rest of the crew.
It had been six months, after all, and not one sight of them. Cassi was sure that, before, they would've moved heaven and earth to rescue her. They had rescued her from the facility after all. Now, she was no longer worth the effort.
The blonde paused in eating, staring down at her fork, now trembling faintly. The emotions were there, clinging to the edge of her conscious mind. Just waiting to break through, like a wall of water through a dam. But just when she thought they might actually crest over, she felt the torrent get shoved down again. Blessed relief soon followed. Cassi glanced over at Clara, who met her gaze with a faintly concerned one. The blonde managed a faintly wobbily smile of thanks before she got up and disposed of her plate--suddenly no longer hungry.
Cassi exited the dining area and went back to her room to recover her sword and belt before stepping outside to exercise a bit and practice her forms. The glowing starmetal rapier hummed and hissed through the air as she twisted and turned, with all the fluid grace of a ballet dancer and the deadly precision of a Mamba officer.
Her eyes swirled almost constantly now, and as a result she whirled around in the blink of an eye, the tip of her sword pointed at the throat of a male Mage in his early twenties who had been approaching from behind. Her silver eyes were narrowed on the guy--who was named Max, one of the later recruits that had joined after the war had started--expression hard.
"Don't," was all she said, tone soft but deadly, before slowly lowering her sword. The fairly attractive male raised his hands, though he just smiled back at her, refusing to be intimidated.
"C'mon baby," he coaxed, not for the first time. "I just wanna help you out."
Cassi scoffed. "You don't want to help me out, you want to get laid," she snapped back testily. "And I've already told you no. So get lost."
Max just continued to smirk. "You're too tense all the time, sweetness. Seems to me you could use the relaxation. Somethin' to loosen you up." When Cassi continued to give him a cold rebuff, his smile turned faintly sneering. "What's the matter, Cassi? It's not like you're a virgin or anything. I heard all about it from Rascal. Apparently you turn quite the trick, or do I gotta be a big black pirate to get you to give it up--,"
His words abruptly cut off with a loud, startled yelp when her sword slashed up and nearly speared him through the groin. Her silver eyes were now narrowed slits.
"Unless you want to lose the ability to get interested in anything ever again, I suggest you turn around and leave. And don't ever bother me again."
Max scowled. "You think you're so fuckin' mighty, just 'cause you're Clara's sister. Uppity bitch."
Someone else might have retaliated, Cassi supposed. She just glared at him silently until he finally spun on his heel and stalked off, muttering more obscenities under his breath.
Apparently you turn quite the trick, or do I gotta be a big black pirate to get you to give it up . . . .
Cassiopeia went back to her training with a determined scowl, shoving that thought and the others that tried to intrude after it far away. That life was over now. This was her life now.
What there was of it.
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