capeandcowllogs | of those blackholes & revelations

of those blackholes & revelations

WHO: All imPorts.
WHERE: Atropos.
WHEN: January 7th to January 14th.
WARNINGS: Death and destruction.
SUMMARY: Atropos has risen in the night, and the inevitable has come: with her jaws she shears away the City from Earth and swallows it whole.

But the City is not yet dead.
FORMAT: Whatever you please.

The formless mass of metal haunting above, hovering like a lunar tombstone, begins to take shape. Asteroids plummet into the cheeks, the eyes, carving out bone structure. Her features howl with fury, with triumph, as she stares down below, savoring her conquest. A cavity opens. Metal swoops to form jagged, angry shears. Her teeth are born.

She waits as the world rotates, its spin more wobbly than it used to be.

And then she leans down to feast, her bite vampiric. She takes the City and then some, and all that it encompasses, so that every single imPort is captured. She takes the time to drink in any stragglers, any imPorts elusive to the City's thrall.

She holds the City on her tongue as she draws back her fist to punch the world.

And then teeth close to the shuddering, glass shattering vibration of a cosmic laugh. The jaws close, and there is no light for about an hour -- until Atropos begins to siphon solar energy from the sun into her veins. She is dissatisfied with its dying tint, or perhaps she cannot stand the redness of color, so once she injects this energy into her her body (her most intimate domain), she turns it bright yellow again. The universe within her is illuminated.

The City is a floating chunk of broken skyscrapers and puckered asphalt streets. The trauma of consumption has wrecked the usual infrastructure: buildings are half collapses, or skeletal, vehicles are flipped and strewn across the layout. Whatever vegetation that is still clinging onto life has rejoiced under the return of normal sunlight.

You can breathe. It isn't too hot, or too cold -- it's unusually pleasant, in fact. The sunshine veins that light your world are not overwhelming. There is no blue sky to complement the atmosphere, and whatever water still in the City will be constrained to the bottled kind found in shops.

But there are other floating pieces of worlds, and they might have water. Or food.

If you live in the City, your possessions should still be in the City. While about 76% of the natives have fled the City (which had gotten the brunt of focus over the past week), there are still some natives who were too sick, too sentimental or too stubborn to leave.

You'll find that your powers work normally, though you can't teleport within Atropos. You probably wouldn't want to teleport outside of her, anyway.

She swallows, and the City gentle glides down a slick throat. Dust and particles create stunning visuals, like the aurora borealis, except in warmer colors. Light reflects so easily from solar veins and starstrewn flesh.

While you can breathe easily, gravity is fickle. Physics is often defied. Atropos was never one to play by the rules.

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Kill me?

[He reacts, as predicted, with nervous caution. He knew Danger's sleek form to be lethal, he understood that her calculating mind worked to immense precision. She could kill him, if she wanted to -- her agility and strength had threatened that before, though in motion rather than words.

He stared at her, his face draining of blood. His lips twitched, torn between what might be his final speech.]

I don't want to die, no, it isn't a mercy. And as cathartic as it would be to watch you release your evident psychotic inclinations from under that perfect glean of restraint, I don't want to be the sacrifice.

If I could, I'd arrange for someone else.

[Again, that peculiar honesty.]

[ a part of her was satisfied by his response to her threat-- the way his face blanched, his voice subdued by anxiety. that was better. she preferred it. maybe it was that constant need for control, or something more basic, like her disdain for the man, but she couldn't deny that it placated her somewhat, to see him that way.

with what little space there was between them, it was easy to reach for him. she wondered if maybe he would flinch from her-- but violence was not her intention, not yet. instead, she simply straightened his jacket for him, pressing his lapels straight with her palms and brushing away some of the debris. ]

Doctor. [ her voice was calm, steady, utterly the voice of a calculated killer. ] I am going to make a suggestion to you. If you value your life, perhaps you should consider being somewhat more pleasant towards me.

[She knew that agitated him, the petting. She had to have known. The smoothing, the cleaning, as if he couldn't manage his own appearance -- as if he needed her to hold dominion over him. His jaw tightened, teeth clenched, and a hot glare darted out, sneaking between tense seconds.

Well he was going to show her. He was going to give her a piece of his mind.]

You thrill me when you speak like that.

[WRONG PIECE! WRONG PIECE!]

I'm intrigued by how homicidal you can sound, given the right variables. Your dislocation from humanity suggest a consistent battle with empathy, and such is a common quality among sociopaths. Not that you are necessarily one -- it doesn't make sense, to label you with human conditions. But you might approximate.

[His throat tightened, the mist still sharp in his lungs. Truth never pricked so severely.]

None of what I say is intended as insult. I've built my life on sociopaths.

[ she regarded him carefully, with a slight downturn playing at the corners of her mouth. his confession seemed compulsive somehow, as if he couldn't help but tell her these things. her impression of the man wouldn't have led her to think that he would say them willingly. knowledge was power, after all, and everything between the two of them seemed to revolve around who had more.

another strange symptom of the apocalypse, perhaps. it seemed likely enough, when reality itself was confused and twisted. ]

I am not your patient, Doctor. [ her response finally came, still quiet and lacking any real inflection-- though a subtle tone of threat lingered. ] I don't require your analysis. Or your diagnosis. Your submission, on the other hand, I might be more inclined to appreciate.

Submission? I can't -- [The protest died on his tongue, its content untrue, and thus exiled from his speech (for as long as the mist infected bloodstream, at any rate). If Danger had an inkling to his condition (and he suspected she might, she always took a keen eye to the details), then the lapse in sentence would prove embarrassing.]

You said you didn't like being lied to. [He replied, as means of defense.] While understandable and, surely, shared widely as a preference, yours nevertheless betrays the depth of your need for domination.

[Submission, domination. Perhaps a psychiatrist of thinner caliber would blush under the subtext.]

You appreciate me yielding to you, yes? Bending over to your will, as these terms of submissions imply. I find it a common sentiment among people who feel... Threatened by my authority. [He's talking about a specific subset of individuals.] You're not my patient. Yet. But if you ever misstep, Danger... [He leaned an inch closer, not daring to take her by the elbow as he would another. He figured she'd break his hand.] I will be the first in line to treat you.

[ she exhaled softly-- the only sound that betrayed her impatience with the man. it was true, she had a special distaste for patriarchal authority. her mind was filled with memories of oppression and enslavement. but those thoughts remained private. she was not compelled as he was to reveal the truth.

instead, she moved, quietly circling around behind him to put her hands on his shoulders, taking advantage of her height to lean down towards his ear and speak with careful, soft precision. ]

Which of us do you think should feel threatened at this moment, Doctor? [ she paused purposefully before going on. ] Do you truly believe yourself a match for me? That you are capable of exposing my secrets? I am infinite. I am poetry.

You are just a man.

Edited 2014-01-11 20:08 (UTC)

I know. [He said, ruing his truth. His shoulders tensed under her agile fingers, his head angling away from her lips with their soft precision. He was pinned beneath a magnifying glass, with every twitch and fiddle visible; she would miss nothing.]

I know what you are, what you are not. And, I think, what you humor becoming. [Any other circumstance, and he wouldn't mediate such a bold statement with "I think".]

It isn't that I don't feel unease. Threatened. [A shiver down his spine, though one related more to stimulation rather than abject fear.] It's that I am invigorated by it.

[He turned his head the other way now, so that his cheek nearly made contact with Danger's lips.]

[ it was a shame really, that with everything crumbling to pieces around them, she would have so little opportunity to use what had become a rather enlightening conversation. still, despite the logic of the limited time their world still had, she couldn't help feeling a certain vicious satisfaction. the man had undermined her for months, mocking her in her own fortress. this was only justice.

she let her hands slide from his shoulders to his upper arms where her grip tightened ever so slightly-- not enough to cause pain, but suggesting the potential of it. when she replied to him, their proximity allowed her quiet words to be nearly as much felt as heard. ]

I prefer you this way, Doctor. Honesty suits you.

And what does it to for you, if it suits me? Does this stimulate you?

[His cheek was turned profile now, his eyes downcast. Her touch, her proximity -- it boiled his blood. It soaked his spine. One deep breath followed, playing preamble to his prickling scowl. Hands, balled into fists, slowly eased their knuckles out.

He touched his palms back, touching her at her thighs.]

Because I often find that what invigorates and stimulates people usually dissects them as easy as any psychoanalyst.

[Those palms didn't move, they simply touched.]

Edited 2014-01-13 07:03 (UTC)

[ the muscles of her thighs instinctively tensed under his touch, her grip on his arms tightening in response. her eyes narrowed faintly. she disliked being touched so boldly without warning-- that kind of intimacy threatened her control, especially in this vulnerable human-like body.

restraint prevented her from responding with immediate violence. she allowed his hands to linger pressed against her for just a moment, just long enough for the sensation to solidify itself, before her fingers dropped to curl firmly around his wrists in a bruising grip.

her voice was low, dangerous: ]

I might find it stimulating to cause you a certain degree of physical discomfort, Doctor, if you continue to insist on touching me without permission.

To what degree? [He couldn't help himself, with his curiosity. He had to inquire. He had to know.] How intensely would your pursue my physical discomfort? To the point of whimpering? To begging?

[He worked off of his prior assumptions, all born from his observations of Danger. There was continuity to his questioning, and he knew she would appreciate the detail. His throat made a tight swallow, proof that while his anxiety was stillborn compared to his inquisition, it wasn't invisible. He knew he was playing with fire -- he knew he was petrol to the flames.

He loved it like that.]

You said that Norman couldn't protect me now. Why assume he ever did?

[ she listened to the string of his questions, watching the way his jaw and mouth worked on each word ("whimpering" and "begging") as he spoke.

she had always had a natural inclination to control and violence, but this was a special opportunity. the circumstances were particularly tempting. with others before him-- other men in position of power who had demeaned or used her-- she had never quite been able to extract any satisfying revenge. there was norman osborn, and charles xavier before him, neither of which she had ever felt the pleasure of humiliating.

her hands shifted again, moving their grip back upwards, past his shoulders until her fingers found a fair fit around his throat. but she didn't squeeze, only barely applying pressure-- just enough to threaten without harming him. just enough to feel it if he swallowed or breathed. ]

You do enjoy the sound of your own voice, Doctor. It makes me wonder if I should in fact answer your inquiries, or if you would prefer to answer them yourself.

Edited 2014-01-14 05:05 (UTC)

Ah.

[His eyes rounded, the whites conforming his irises bright with fear. Swallowing proved intimate, his moving throat against her firm grip, and Chilton felt more exposed than ever. More than when Danger acknowledged watching him and Christine on the surveillance footage, more than when she kissed him under the cursed mistletoe. The quiet desolation of this final frontier bore into his skin, making every pinched nerve scream in cadence, together, like a last symphony.

It was too real a feeling, too close.]

Isn't this what -- what happens to humans? When structure abandons society, primal -- ah. Primal desires. Surface. This poetry of yours, it must be written in -- human blood.

[ she could feel muscle and bone shifting under her fingers as he spoke. how fragile human bodies seemed at times-- and yet, how like machines they could be too, so full of small working parts. she savored every hesitation in his words, every faltering, memorizing the way each one sounded. she could sense his fear, as though it were tangible. fear suited the man even better than honesty.

lowly, she finally answered: ]

I want you to remember the way this feels, Doctor. Recall this, if you should survive these events to ever consider opening your mouth to condescend to me again. Know that I had you pinned like an insect, a breath away from snapping your neck--

[ her grip loosened, releasing his throat. ]

--but as I am capable of both malice and benevolence, I have chosen to spare you.

[ mercy, in some ways, was a greater show of control than punishment. ]

[He tasted her clemency like steel. It rattled through his ribcage, penetrating his cellular membrane. Sinking in like judgement. Restraint was not what he wanted to witness, regardless of his own safety.

He wanted to see her willpower crumble.]

You won't get another chance.

[It was a solemn promise from his lips, lingering with venom on his mouth.]

But me? [He didn't dare hold his throat, knowing it was red from Danger's pressure. Probably soon to bruise.] This isn't over for me, Danger. I know what's inside of you! I know you won't succeed every provocation.

[He bared his teeth, his expression nearly primal.]

I know there's something human inside of you. Human, but not humane.

[ she circled around him quietly, watching and moving like a predator. those blank white eyes betrayed nothing, only giving him the weight of her attention. her face remained passive, a stark contrast to his own. she had always said that she was something of a monster-- perhaps no amount of exposure to humans and their ways could ever really purge her of something so innate, so programmed.

but the monster was not all she was. neither was the machine. parts of her could only be described as chilton suspected: human. or at the very least, human-like. a powerful and convincing mimicry, if not the real thing. ]

Careful. [ her warning came softly. ] Have we not yet learned our lesson? What is it you hope to achieve by pushing me? Justify your obsession, Doctor.

You're no educator of mine. [He hissed, his eyes bringing into focus a sudden intensity -- his body language spoke like a jackal, hungering, sensing. Something of a predator and a scavenger.

The thought of her lording lessons over him was unbearable to his mind.]

I have every right to know, Danger, what makes you tick. Because that's what it is -- tick, tick, tick. You're a ticking timebomb clocking to explode. And when you do? I want to be there. I want to analyze every second.

If you should be so unfortunate, you would undoubtedly have the pleasure of being my first casualty.

[ she spoke it as a statement of fact, rather than a threat. she was aware of her own volatile nature-- she had, of course, experienced the consequences of it before. not entirely unexpected, for a being whose first real emotions were loneliness, anger, and then hatred. she was young and powerful, an aptly dangerous combination.

but she refrained from laying her hands on him again her restraint prevailed, at least for now. ]

If this is a game of analysis and observation, I would dare to say that I have done far better at it than you have.

Oh yeah? Is that right? [His skepticism took a nasty boil, the effects of the honesty mist still heavy in his lungs. The sarcasm was a little overdone.]

Then I would looove to listen to your pet theories about me. No doubt you're keen to educate, and lacking the usual black leather crop --

[Woah. What.]

-- That a woman of your caliber ought to don--

[NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!]

I'm sure you have such interesting things to say.

[ her own stare took on an obvious edge of skepticism, eyes narrowing faintly as she considered chilton and the words he was spilling at her. she allowed a moment between the tail of his statements and the beginning of her own, scrutinizing him openly before her voice came, each syllable carrying condescension and judgment: ]

I'm sure it would indulge your ego for me to elaborate on my pet theories. You do seem to value your ego, Doctor.

[ danger stopped her pacing, approaching to stand before him. like this, she could look down her nose quite literally at the man, surely aware of the effect her imposing stature could have at such proximity. ]

But are you certain you wouldn't rather discuss your colorful fantasies? It is possible that would prove more interesting. Context, perhaps, for what I've observed of your sexual habits.

Which you had no right to do so! [His color flared, reaching a coral pink against his cheek. There it was again, that humiliation -- lesser than Danger enacting as an educator to him, perhaps, but still present. The idea of being exposed to her, his intimacy a set of data for analysis.]

Your prying into my personal affairs suggest a teensy bit more than mere control issues, Danger. [The heat of his voice swirled down an umbrage of focus anger, burning so hot it seemed to cool.

He lifted his chin, imposing fictional height -- he was still shorter than Danger, especially as she stood before him.]

It's quite human, to harbor fantasies. I wouldn't doubt you share some yourself.

[ she knew that would be a sensitive issue. no doubt she mentioned the incident purposefully, to rile him. there was something a part of her enjoyed about that stark contrast-- in the moments where she could both provoke his anger and respond with that passive, unfeeling face.

she didn't lay her hands on him again, despite how easy it would have been, with her standing so close to him. instead, she only narrowed her eyes the barest fraction, responding in that quiet, flat voice of hers. ]

I suppose I do fantasize now and then. [ she likewise lifted her own chin slightly, her posture becoming more condescending than before. ] I have, for example, dwelled on the idea of shoving you face first into the ground with the heel of my boot against the back of your head. Calculating a trajectory between my first and your teeth when you attempt to mock me is another personal favorite.

[ a pause allowed that imagery to linger and fester. ]

The difference between us, however, is my restraint. That is to your benefit, Doctor.

[As her detail elaborated, Chilton did all that he could to hold back a gasp. His heartbeat quickened, encouraged by the adrenaline that Danger so effortlessly inspired. The feel of her booted heel, the rubber digging into his hair, his scalp, invaded his thoughts; his imagination whisked him under Danger's tone.

Just as she wanted, it festered within his mind.]

There is conceivably a situation of provocation where I won't be the mainstay of your wrath.

[The words were pushed from his mouth, open and broken. He was convincing himself more than anything.

Chilton was relieved that Danger refrained from additional physical contact -- he wasn't sure if he could control himself with the stimuli. He was flustered enough as is.]

That would unsatisfying, don't you think, Doctor?

[ her words were clipped and precise despite their intimate softness, sharpened with an edge of resentment and disdain. ]

For both of us.

It can be difficult to determine what you find honestly satisfying, Danger. We've only experienced the surface skim.

[He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow, his heart still pounding and pulse still moaning. A few deep breaths, and he tried to cool his composure.]

When. If. We see each other again? I don't intent to feel the dirt, just so you know.

(no subject)

heartlessglitch - 2014-01-19 12:51 (UTC) - Expand

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