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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[ Beneath some of the dirt and blood, his skin is paler. It's hard to notice, with the darkness and the dust on his face, but it's a clear reaction to the damage his body is enduring.

When she's close enough, he finds enough energy to lift his hand. He drags his gloved fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ear before cupping the back of her head. Distantly, it registers that he ought to have removed his gloves; the leather might snag uncomfortably in her hair.

His breaths are shorter, strained by exhaustion, pain, and something else that got into his lungs. That something else is what loosens his tongue and he speaks. He sounds hazy, obviously lightheaded, and his voice is low and rumbling. ]

Beautiful--

Edited (ruins my elegant tag with a stupid typo) 2014-01-12 04:30 (UTC)

[ she isn't expecting him to touch her. he never seems willing to -- not unless she's either pinned the man down or backed him into an often literal corner. it makes her still when he lifts his hand towards her, pushing worn leather through her hair in a way that reminds her too much, too suddenly of other times they'd been together. her eyebrows pinch together as emotion wells up in her chest unbidden.

then he speaks, just that one word, and her chest tightens almost painfully. she'd stopped feeling beautiful years ago, when her husband stopped wanting to see her bare or to feel her skin against his, but more than that -- it frightens her in a way she can't explain, this behavior that's so unlike him. it seems foreboding to her somehow, the way someone might give up regrets and confessions on their death bed. ]

Stop it. [ her voice is hushed, anxious. she lifts a hand to his forehead, checking for fever, for any sign of infection. it's hard to say now -- he's in such terrible shape. ] Stay with me, Frank. I need you t'stay with me.

[ He isn't sure what makes him say it.

It may be delirium from pain, but that's unlike him. Even in agony, and under torture, he's composed. It's hard to tell what compromises him now; maybe it's just the situation itself, and the company he has in it. It escapes him now because... he isn't even sure.

The truth is: Atropos is in his lungs, urging him onward, and he cannot resist it through strength of will.

He can't remember the last time he called a woman beautiful, or even any compliment so direct that had nothing to do with combat. It's something she deserves to hear. She may never hear something kind said to her again, here at the end of all things. What harm would it do now, when the world was in pieces? He might as well give her that. It's as much as he can offer now, in his condition. ]

Yeah. [ His voice is still hazy, distant somehow, as he idly brushes a stray hair of hers back into position. It's hard to connect the words she says somehow, and there's another level to his response that slips by him: ] I'll stay.

[ such few words, but they still make her lungs squeeze tight again. she knows, given the circumstances, that it shouldn't mean anything to her, but it's still hard on her heart to hear him talk that way. maybe it's just that she's too sentimental, always more emotional than she should be.

lil catches the hand that brushes at her hair in both of her own, squeezing tightly before she lets go of him to draw away again. there must be medications left somewhere -- or at least water. anything. she'll look, she'll find it if it's there.

she only lingers another moment, watching him with concern in her face. ]

Y'better, y'damn bastard. I'll never forgive you if y'leave me now.

[ with that she moves, more urgency in her steps than before. ]

[ He just makes a soft sound in reply. He lets her go without calling her back this time, his hand falling back to his side.

This won't kill him; worse things have threatened his life and he survived. However, it isn't his own survival that's on his mind -- it's the survival of the entire world that was created here.

He says nothing. He simply watches her move, his good eye fluttering but not falling shut.

He's too stubborn for that. ]

[ in the back of the abandoned building, she finds a locked door leading back into the actual pharmacy. it seems like the lock and an impressive metal grate kept most of the looters out -- but then again, most looters weren't lillian crawley. she wields a special sort of persistence -- and a little super-strength to back up that six-foot-four frame.

there's two or three loud thuds before the sound of the door slamming open resounds through the space. it only takes a few minutes before lil returns, her mission clearly successful judging by the supplies in her arms. it's not a lot, but it's enough to make due with. ]

Hey. [ she reaches out to lightly pat his face. ] Hey. Y'still with me?

[ if they work, the painkillers she has will probably be a blessing -- and a necessity, before she tries to get a proper look at his legs. she's no doctor, but she knows that'll hurt more than it does now. popping open one of the bottles she collected, lil pours out three or four white pills into her own palm before pressing them into his hand. ]

[ He hadn't realized he fading, not until she touches his face. His good eye blinks open, wide to begin before memory kicks in: Crawley. His legs. The pharmacy. Right. He lost a lot of his bearings for what could only be a few minutes with his eyes shut -- not a good sign.

Still, his expression softens somewhat when he recognizes her face. ]

Hey. [ He repeats her greeting in a dazed murmur. Belatedly, he notices what she pushes into his hand. He takes the pills dry, tipping them into his mouth and swallowing. ] 'preciate it.

[ He tilts his head back, waiting for the pills to kick in and he exhales deeply as he looks at her. ]

You're worried.

[ lil looks up when he says that, eyebrows pinching slightly. ]

I care about you.

[ as if it should be obvious -- as if she's almost a little annoyed that he points out her worry, though that's more likely her festering anxiety over the circumstances than any real temper.

she tries to focus on what her hands are doing instead of what her nerves feel, keeping herself steady as she picks through her supplies for a pair of scissors. she'll need to get a better look at the damage hiding under fabric of his pants. a part of her almost dreads it, but it isn't as if she hasn't seen more than her fair share of broken bodies before. ]

I'll try t'be gentle.

[ that's all the warning she gives before she gets to work, cutting a neat line through one pant leg to just above the knee, exposing the injury underneath. ]

[ She shouldn't worry, nor should she care to begin with -- but he won't have that argument now. Considering the circumstance, there is no reason to waste what little energy he has in fighting with her. It may be the last time he speaks to her at all; he may as well let it be.

It isn't pitying, how he thinks like this; it's merely practical. It's hard to deny the situation with one look around them.

His brow tightens when she gets near the wound, and he exhales steadily. ]

Do what you need to.

[ He finds the energy, eased by slowly working medication, to pull off his glove. The leather will do well enough for him to bite down on, if she tries to set the bone straight. ]

[ she sits back to put the scissors aside and roll up her sleeves -- a gesture that's almost beside the point, when she's already covered in dirt and dust. it's lucky that she's managed to scrounge up some antibiotics along with those painkillers, because this is hardly what one would call sterile. underneath blood and skin, she can see where the break is, ugly and jarring to look at. setting the bone will be an uncomfortable business.

lil glances up at frank almost apologetically. it isn't as if she hadn't caused him pain before -- purposefully even, at times -- but without temper and passion, it seems grim now, even a little cruel. ]

...It'll be quick.

[ that's all the warning she gives before she puts her hands on him, inhaling deeply before she forces the bone back into place. ]

[ It doesn't look good.

He's been worse; he repeats that to himself. He has been chopped to pieces, stitched back up again, and been reanimated. This is nothing. He can survive this.

He puts leather between his teeth and he bites down hard. The glove muffles half of his shout when she sets the bone, but not entirely. His eyes squeeze shut and pain burns white hot through him. It throbs and he throws his head back, chest rising in short, sharp breaths.

He reaches up, removing the glove to utter one command before shoving it back into his mouth: ]

Both; don't wait.

[ stress begins to tighten her lungs a little -- but it only shows on her expression for a brief, fleeting moment. she has a good strong face, this one, and she does her best to wear it now, forcing her hands to stay steady. scissors make quick work of the other pant leg, exposing the second injury. it isn't pretty. the gore makes her hesitate a half-beat before she puts her hands back on him, bloody fingers slipping ever so slightly before she manages a firm enough grip to set the bone.

lil's exhale, once the deed is done, escapes her in a rush. without thinking, she lifts a hand to her forehead, pushing hair back from her face. blood leaves smeared lines against her skin. but she can't be bothered to notice. if she stops to let it all sink in, she'll falter. the secret of her strength has always been to just keep going, to keep barreling forward until the worst is over.

she fumbles a little, getting the bottle of antibiotics open, but manages to get the pills into his hand before she wordlessly reaches for what few bandages they have. ]

[ Nothing exists for a moment after she sets his second leg. His teeth grind into leather and his mind whites out. It'll pass, experience tells him that, but in that instant he knows absolutely nothing. Slowly, the world bleeds back into focus, and he drops the glove from his mouth. He's hazy, vision a bit blurred around the edges, but he can focus on her.

He sees that hand in her hair, and the smear of blood she leaves behind. It catches his attention: bright red in the mess of dust and her skin which has paled due to her nerves. He takes the pills in one hand, but the other reaches out, touching her face again. His thumb rubs against the bloodstain, but he ends up just spreading the mark further. ]

Hey. [ A quiet attempt to get her to look at him, the pills in his hand idly dismissed for the moment. His voice is still slurred when he speaks, made lazy from the pain in his legs. ] C'mere.

[ his touch draws her attention, coaxing her to lift her head from her hands to his face when he speaks. there's a little festering anxiety in her face, making the space between her eyebrows knot and drawing tension into the shape of her mouth. she's strained with worry and tired now, worn down by the weight of her own feelings and the devastation around them.

still, she's surprisingly compliant for him, shifting closer.

quietly: ] What d'you need, hon?

[ Even with his eyes weak, he can see the stress on her face. She's struggling and she must be afraid -- afraid for him, at least. She did admit worry, but not fear; he doubts it's at all like her to admit anything like that.

After all, that's what she always says: nothing can hurt her; she's Diamond Lil.

Oddly, the idea of that being arrogance has never really stood out to him.

When she comes closer, he leans forward as much as he can to meet her, his forehead resting against hers. ]

Worrying too much.

[ He mutters it and his lips ghost over hers. ]

[ she stills when his mouth brushes against hers, eyelashes fluttering as something breaks in her expression, overwhelmed by a swell of emotions that starts in the pit of her stomach and catches itself in her throat.

she doesn't know how she became so attached to him -- enough that the idea of losing him wrecks her inside. she wasn't even sure she could feel anything like that for another person anymore. madison had left her emotions so broken. it feels like parts of herself and her sanity are always seeping through the cracks. some days she hardly recognizes herself anymore.

this small gesture of affection is almost too much to bear.

her breath comes out unsteady against his mouth before she's tilting her head, pressing those bloodied hands to his face as she gives him a fervent kiss. it lingers, flush with her feelings, until she pulls away. her voice comes hushed, her words trying to sound stronger than she really feels: ]

Whose goddamn fault is that?

[ When she pulls back, he raises his hand (the one not clutching loosely onto pills) to cup the back of her head, keeping contact.

It's easier to allow this now. He has given her hell, but it was all with the intent of keeping her out of harm's way. Now, that same caution is pointless and misplaced. She is a woman who has endured enough abuse, and she doesn't deserve any more -- not like this.

Her reply actually gets his mouth to twitch into something nearly resembling a smirk. It's brief and flickers out fast, fading in and out like his hazy mind.]

Didn't cause the end of the world. If that's what you mean.

[ the noise lil makes is a soft surprised breath of a laugh, like she's caught off guard by what she suspects is frank castle very nearly making a joke with her. it makes for a strange expression, a little incredulous and a little pleased, wrapped up in weary, worn out affection. she can't help herself -- she has to kiss him again. it's a warm press of her mouth against the corner of his, almost sweet in the way her hands linger on his face before she withdraws.

her voice is quiet and wry when she responds: ]

If y'could do somethin' like that, y'might've done a better job gettin' rid of me.

[ her attention falls back to the supplies with a light sigh. it would help if they had something for splints. she'll have to go looking again, won't she? ]

Too bad the goddamn world's endin'. For once, you're not actin' like y'hate me.

[ That corner she kisses remains upturned when she withdraws. He covers it up soon enough with his hand, as he finally takes his pills now that she's withdrawn from him. He swallows them down, clearing his throat. ]

I don't hate you.

[ The response is immediate. He would have thought better of it before, but not like this. Even so, he can justify it: he can admit this much to her now. It's the least that he can manage in exchange. ]

Thank you.

[ she hesitates when he says those last two words. it's hard to say what makes her stop exactly, except that it's unexpected and, like most small gestures of kindness, moves her more than it probably should. ]

Don't thank me. [ she finally answers, rubbing a bit of dirt from her nose with the back of her hand. ] I was bein' selfish. I didn't wanna lose you.

Mh. [ It's a thoughtful sound, tired as he leans back. His eyes close and his words come with a sigh of an exhale. ] You won't.

Not going anywhere.

[ it hurts her heart a little for him to say that to her. it's better than his eyes are closed and he can't see the expression on her face. they're only words -- she knows that, but they carry a weight with her that she can't help. nobody had ever reassured her that way and meant it. she'd become used to the leaving and losses.

she half-reaches towards him as if to touch him, maybe to brush his hair back from his face, but she hesitates instead before letting her hand drop back into her lap. he looks so tired. ]

...Y'should rest. Sleep a little. I'll take care of you.

[ It's good his eyes are shut and his mind is drifting. He misses her expression, and the aborted reach towards him. ]

Yeah. [ He sighs, his voice quieting. He hadn't thought much of it, when he saved her life all those months ago, and now it's rewarded with her fierce loyalty, as she offers him the same -- even more, really, than what he had done.

He voices the thought before drifting asleep. ]

Even now.

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of those blackholes & revelations

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