vatheon | Terror under the sea

Who: The Disciple and whoever
Where: The Plaza, The forest, and the path in between.
When: Early morning 3/29
Style: whatever suits your fancy.
Status: Open

Water. She was Wet.

She came to lying down, somehow drenched in saltwater. Blood mingled with seawater, on her hands and face. The Disciple was unable to remember how she got here. She seemed to be in some sort of city. A heavy fear caught in her chest. She shook herself awake to figure out where exactly she was.

"Where...am..." Her voice cracked from disuse.

Her conscious brain began shutting down as her senses were pounded with information. The sights and sounds of this new place, hammered into her mind. Unfamiliar beings were all around her, some even looking at her, in the open. Her mind scrambled for purchase. Worst of all was the scent. With so many...things together in this dome, compounded with the ever-present smell of seawater. Flooded with input, her animal brain took over.

FLEE!

DANGER!

Finally, she caught wind of a familiar scent. Trees; there were trees here. She flung herself after the scent, knocking aside anything in her path. Desperate for survival she attempted back alleys and other paths that didn't reek of these many strange beings.

She fled to the southeast.

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RUN.

NOT SAFE.

She continued to dart through the woods, a primal need sending her deeper. She needed a place to recover, somewhere to think. So far, she had yet to find a suitable hideaway. As she burst through an upcoming brush, she found herself on the edge of a small clearing. She intended to jump from one side to the other. A quick leap minimizing her time in the open.

The Disciple dropped low, coiling her body like a spring. With deft movement she released herself into the air, her momentum carrying her through the clearing. Half-way through the jump, a couple things hit her at once.

Someone was speaking, nearby. It seemed directed at her, but the words themselves lost in her flurry of motion. Confused, her head darted to try and find the source. Standing in the clearing stood a troll. She knew him. Why did she know him. Her mind screaming a name at her, but she refused to believe. Finally, a scent catches her from this newcomer. An impossible scent, one she knew could NOT exist.

The airborne troll recoiled as if struck. Memories long dead, starting to stir in the recesses of her mind. Completely forgotten, however, was proper protocol for a correct landing from a long-distance jump.

She hit the ground hard, rolling involuntarily. She ending up sprawled haphazardly in a small bush on the far side of the clearing. Her body refused to move, muscles refusing orders as her mind still trying to register what she saw.

Signless hadn't been expecting that!

He ducked a bit, instinctively, as the form sailed through the air. For a moment, his confused mind wondered if it was Nepeta, in the middle of some game, but this was too big to be Nepeta, and Nepeta never quite moved that way, so lithe and feral, no movement or motion wasted. And then somehow, for some reason, the jumper lost their balance and went sprawling, and Signless was reminded of the first time he'd met Psii, and how he'd landed in a pricker bush.

Slowly, his hands up and in front of him in a peaceful, non-threatening gesture, he crept closer. "Are you all right? I'm not going to hurt you."

Voice. That voice, she knew that voice.

No.

That was impossible. This was a trick, a filthy highblood trick.

She needed to be ready for it, whatever it was, and sitting sprawled in a bush is no way to defend yourself. She shifted how she lay, and with a sudden motion, shot herself to her feet. She allowed her jump to carry her into her fighting stance, teeth and claws bared.

This thing may wear that scent, and carry itself in that manner, but she needed to be ready it. With a small howl she offered a warning to the interloper. The only thing taking away from her intimidation was a twin set of olive tears streaking her face; she seemed unaware.

Signless kept creeping closer, although he stopped when the creature in the bush leapt to its feet. He kept still, nonthreatening... until his eyes met her face.

"Kitten?!"

That's her, it's her, that's his Kitten! Older, yes, and wild and feral, more feral than he's ever known her, but still his love, and Signless almost feels like his heart is going to break. He goes down on one knee, moving his arms out, welcoming, offering her a place to rest and be safe between them.

"Kitten, it's you. You're back. It's me, Signless, I'm here, and it's okay, everything will be okay here, I promise..."

No!

Impossible!

He can not be here!

He is dead!

They killed him!

The Signless is dead!

The Signless...is...

Memories crashed through her like the bursting of a dam. Errant thoughts came pouring out of the recesses of her mind. The sheer volume of them forced open the protective fog she had hid herself behind for so many years. The horror of that day slammed into her, completely disarming her.

Strength drained from her, and she sunk to the ground, landing on all fours. Olive tears poured from her eyes, the ground growing wet beneath her. She tried to rise, but couldn't the sheer weight of remembrance stripping her of whatever little control she had of herself at that time. Already clogged with tears, her vision started to go dark around the edges. The Disciple felt herself losing consciousness, it was all being too much for her poor mind to handle.

Signless doesn't know what exactly is going on, but he reacts on instinct when it looks like Disciple is going to fall over. He darts forward, arms out, and catches her before she can hit the ground. And that's when he knows it's really her; the familiar weight in his arms, the scent of her hair, the heat of her skin under his palms. Yes, this is his precious one, come home again.

He sits on the ground, holding her in his arms, and tries to gently shift her around, getting her onto her back so he can cradle her in his lap. "Oh, Kitten... Kitten, Kitten, Kitten..."

What sick joke was this place playing on her? Still reeling from her epiphany, she could not think straight. She felt herself get scooped up in his arms as she fell. She remembered his touch. Her body was not lying to her, but it must be. All senses told her the impossible and her mind refused to believe it.

She felt herself turned over, nestled comfortably into his lap. The greenblood found herself staring up into those beautiful eyes. His eyes. Her vision still blurred from heavy tears and mental strain. Her mind still managed to overcome nearly insurmountable evidence, she knew him to be dead. killed by the hands of the highblood trash. Those monstrous bastards stole his light from the world.

And yet.

A terribly shaking hand raised to the cheek of the Signless.

"you...are...real?" She managed to get past her tightly closed throat. The sorrow in the Disciple's voice was almost palpable.

Signless puts his hand over hers, covering her small, blood-stained hand with his own.

"Yes, Kitten. I'm real, and I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." His throat is tight; she's obviously from the future, beyond his own point in the timeline. She's older than he is now, older and sadder and worn down, but still the most beautiful troll he's ever seen. It makes his heart ache, knowing and seeing what becomes of all his friends after his death, and he wonders sometimes if he actually took the easy way out by dying.

He starts rocking Disciple back and forth, moving his cloak so it's wrapped around them both, and under his breath, he hums a tune that Zelda taught him, something calming and gentle.

This had to be a dream. That must be it. This whole thing, this place, a self inflicted delusion. She must be lying in her cave, her thoughts clouded with a fever-fueled hallucination.

The Disciples mind still scrambled as parts of her repressed memories fell back into place.

She was tired; heartsick.

If this truly was a dream, then so be it. She didn't care anymore. If it was to be a choice, this place or back to that cave...there was no choice. If this was just some sickness induced dream leaving her lying in her cave, then at least she would die happy.

He started humming a gentle tune, she lost herself to him.

She threw herself into him, burying her head into his chest. At the same time throwing her arms around him in a fierce hug. She would not let go ever. Olive tears still streamed down her face, now flowing onto him.

She tries to speak, but words fail to find purchase. All that emits from her mouth is a series of gibbered nonsense. But she did not need words.

The Disciple felt herself drifting away. The black edges of unconsciousness continued to play further into her vision, until it finally overtook her. Her sobbing tears finally stopped, and her breathing grew restful.

The beast inside briefly forgotten; She was safe.

Signless keeps humming, and strokes the top of her head, trying to calm her down the same way he calms the wigglers when they're upset. It must be working, because she falls asleep against him.

Soon, he'll gather her into his arms and take her back to his hive. There, he and Psii can begin the long road to recovery. But for now... just rest. Rest, and him holding her against him, remembering.

Terror under the sea

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