Sub|Liminal

illirica
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Sub|Liminal Apr 28, 2023 14:10:20 GMT Ghostly likes this

Post by illirica on Apr 28, 2023 14:10:20 GMT

[googlefont="Syne Mono"]


	SUB\|LIMINAL FIRST VEIN: THE FOREST OF DEAD TREES The Chichén Itzá vein was a weird one, but not one of the worst that Jacque had ever been in. She didn't know which one she would have assigned that dubious honor to, only that there would have been some competition for the title. The membrane was nestled in between some of the stones of the monument itself. She'd heard stories that back long ago, before the apocalypse, there'd been some sort of rules about preserving things like that and they hadn't let people climb on it. These days, no one cared - and half of the monument was gone, anyway. It looked like when a kid started trying to build a pyramid out of blocks, but got bored and decided to do something else after a few levels. She'd heard stories that once it had gone all the way up. Jacque tested that information, wondering if she cared about it, but ultimately decided that it was better to focus on the here and now. The vein itself was fondly nicknamed the Forest of Dead Trees, which was a name that was entirely wrong in every possible way. There wasn't a forest so much as a sparse set of scraggly tall things growing out of the ground. They were not trees. Their bark was scales, overlapping like those of a fish, and if they were cut away, one could very briefly see the pulse of a heartbeat below the scales - because they were definitely, definitely not dead. And they didn't like being cut. But if you went further in, seeking out the places where they truly were dead, the ones that had been dead for ages and ages, there were places where the things that weren't trees had petrified, and whatever it was that they petrified into was light, hard, and strong. It made a good building material for houses or shelters, she knew. People had tried making weapons out of it, but it couldn't hold an edge for anything. Still, there were plenty of houses with their frames made of branches of the stuff, and it was easier to get than some of the other options. As long as they were careful, anyway. She wondered who her group was going to be this time. She'd lost the last one, two veins ago, and run the last vein with a random, but not someone she'd wanted to run with again. Anyone was better than going in alone, then. They all knew that. You never went into a vein alone. Jacque took a seat on a rock to wait for the others to show up, wondering what they would be like this time. Sometimes they were people who knew what they were doing, sometimes they weren't. Sometimes they thought they knew what they were doing even when they didn't - those were the worst. She didn't run with those, if she could help it Those were the sorts of people who got everyone else killed. She shifted a little, turning so that she could keep an eye on the membrane itself. Nothing ever came out, but she'd been in enough of them that she didn't trust that. She'd been in enough of them that she didn't trust anything.

Last Edit: Apr 28, 2023 14:10:32 GMT by illirica

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Sub|Liminal May 2, 2023 19:47:26 GMT

Post by Annasiel on May 2, 2023 19:47:26 GMT

The sound came before the sight. A terrible, rattling, roaring sound that echoed across the flatlands of Yucatan, sounding like some terrible beast struck by some sort of illness that made its roars sickly. Then - a dot in the distance, dust clouds behind it. It rode down the cracked, dirt-covered asphalt of what was once Federal Highway 180, bouncing over gaps in the road, growing larger and larger as the noise it made grew louder and louder.

It was - a motorcycle. At least, it resembled a motorcycle. It was close enough to a motorcycle to evoke images of one, especially for the contemporary, where the only vehicles still running were often bastardized hodgepodges of leftover parts. The only thing was, motorcycles were supposed to have two wheels. This one had five. One in the front - the rubber covered in chain treads - two in the back, sitting side by side in a double-wide fashion - and two smaller bicycle-like things jutting out of the bottom of the tumor-like metal pod growing out of the motorcycle's side. It was obviously an addition onto whatever poor, suffering base still existed beneath the impromptu junkyard surgery, an extra seat to give the rider's passenger somewhere to sit.

And the rider -

They were large. Bulky. Less so from physique, or at least, physique couldn't exactly be determined - but instead from the giant leather and tarp suit they wore, and the strange apparatuses dangling off their body. Some sort of breathing filtration system running to tubes in their mask, and hanging from a thick strap on their back, the towering nozzle of what appeared to be a flamethrower.

The biker, its rider, and its passenger together pulled off the remnants of the highway, driving up along a dirt trail to the base of the monument itself. With a final sputter, the bike turned off. Up close, it smelled, but not in the way one might expect. A discerning nose might pick out the faint scent of burning wood, or maybe of char. Even more discerning, and they might note the chaotic weld of a chassis had been fitted with an old Ford F150 diesel engine, but that from the smell, it was most likely running off of some sort of vegetable oil based mix instead.

The rider slipped off the bike with a heavy thump, tinted visor turning to look at the woman waiting nearby. They turned to their passenger.

"This it?"

Their voice was muffled and distorted by the hood, but not deep, or gruff. Just - tired.

And wary.

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there!
He wasn't there again today,
Oh how I wish he'd go away!

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Sub|Liminal May 2, 2023 20:20:41 GMT

Post by UmbraSight on May 2, 2023 20:20:41 GMT

The Vespa’s engine had a low, pleasant drone as she bumped down the decaying asphalt of some other world. That was a weird turn of phrase wasn’t it? Like, referring to the past like it was a different world when there were veins in the skin of reality that actually lead to different worlds or whatever, still it was nice to have the asphalt under tire as she motored along. Props to whoever the poor bastard was who put the road down before things broke.

Wind rushed nicely through Kitiara’s hair and was brisk against her cheeks and neck, and it wasn’t too bad a day to be outside, deadly murder miasma aside. Total shame she’d be spending most of the day in some meat portal or whatever it was; a forest of dead trees she thought someone had said which really didn’t sound weird. Like aren’t most forests full of dead trees at this point? Ground crunched as Kitiara turned off the road onto a wispy path of gravel and grass, this she followed for some time until the fat, squat shape came into view. It had been something else once, just like everything else, but it wasn’t like she could imagine what the missing part was like. Maybe like the base but smaller?

There was an older woman there already, not as old as the Old Man, but she looked just as weary. Not an uncommon way for people to look anymore, but that was the problem wasn’t it, everyone worrying all the time, like that alone would change anything. Two others she noticed in some welded together beast of a motorcycle. Real cool in that ‘this thing would properly remove a leg of you sat on it funny. Same energy off the riders too, if she was reading them right.

The engine puttered as she pulled her Vespa to a stop, wheels chewing away a patch of earth. She flipped the kickstand with her heel as she killed the engine. Kitiara kept her head tilted away from the others she slid her mask from where it hung off the side of her head over her face. She tested the straps with her fingers, and made those little adjustments it always needed to feel comfortable before she finally looked back at the group. Shame to lose that feeling of wind on her skin, but wasn’t like she would be doing much riding in the vein. Kitiara knelt down and pulled her sword from where it was attached to the side of the Vespa, she simply held it by her side as she ambled her way on over.

“Hello, hello!” Kitiara said with a wave of her free hand. Lazy enough to be friendly. “Haven’t been waiting long I hope.”

The motorcycle hadn’t anyway, those fumes were as jarring as the contraption that made them. Under her mask she grinned, toothy and sharp.

//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//

Katpride
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Sub|Liminal May 3, 2023 5:12:39 GMT

Post by Katpride on May 3, 2023 5:12:39 GMT

Doll sits at a corner on the fourth level of the Chichén Itzá, her heels against the stone below her and her throwing arm aimed towards the sky.

She launches the small-ish chunk of crumbling rock in her hand as hard as she can, watching with delight as it arcs high into the air. The delight ebbs some as it misses the Miasma, but returns just as quickly when it shatters on the hard-packed ground.

A death now, and hopefully less death later. She studies the scattered rock, eyes darting around to watch the skitters, and then looks further up as a sound comes from the distance. Oh, that’s loud.

Doll stays very still, the stillness that had earned her her name, head just barely tilting to the side as the metal beast roars onto the scene. When she squints, her vision focuses a bit. Two passengers. She can fit two passengers on her bike, too, if someone stands on the back spokes, but she can’t do it in nearly as much style. She sighs a jealous sigh, that she was never very mechanically inclined.

Another person comes up the road from the opposite direction, on a much less dangerous vehicle. Doll doesn’t bother squinting at that one, just gives her seat a farewell pat and starts hopping her way down the big stone steps of the beheaded old monument.

Four on the ground. She joins them, and then there are five. She walks her bicycle closer to where the others have put their vehicles, left hand steady on the junction where the handlebars meet.

“Hello, hello, hellooo!” She parrots, smiling her nice smile at the gathered group. Her eyes scan them, trying to pick out the weak points she’ll have to watch for. “Don’t worry, little fox. Who’s got the time for time these days, anyways?”

She parks her bike and adjusts her arm fluidly, bending it at the elbow and pretending to check it for the time before tugging it down again.

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Sub|Liminal May 6, 2023 14:14:39 GMT

Post by HighVoltage on May 6, 2023 14:14:39 GMT

This was the life, that was one thing Dee knew for certain. The wind whipping past his hair and against what bits of exposed skin he had, able to feel every bump and crack in the road as Em’s motorcycle jostled around, every bone rattling around in his skin. He was sure that it made an awful racket, clattering like it would fall apart at any minute, but any sound the bike made was drowned out by the roar of its engine, shoving any thoughts out of Dee’s head and onto the road behind them. Luckily, there wasn’t much there to get shoved out.

Em steered the bike onto a dirt road, and the ride went from bone-shaking to bone-jostling, and Dee was grateful for his makeshift filtration mask. When you worked with Em and explosives, noxious fumes were all but guaranteed, so it didn’t take long for Dee to rig up something to help him breathe a little bit easier.

As they roared to a stop, the world seemed deafeningly quiet now that the engine was silent. In contrast to his partner, Dee sprung out of the surgically-attached sidecar, pulling down his mask while pushing up his goggles, eyes darting around to take stock of everyone and everything there. Not that there was much to take in. You had the temple pyramid thingie, top sliced off where the miasma started, and a lady who had to be older than he and Em combined.

“Sure is, big guy!” He shouted to the hulking figure before his attention was pulled away by the dull whine of another vehicle, a little scooter that Em’s bike could eat for breakfast. He gave a wave to the fox-masked figure who greeted them before turning back.

“I’m telling ya, if you just let me tinker with the fuel, we could get this baby flying down the road!” He talked quickly and with his hands, as if he was used to being interrupted mid-sentence and wanted to get all his thoughts out at once. Yet another person joined their group, with yet another downgrade in transport. Man these dudes really needed to get on his and Em’s level. This one was more interesting though.

“Woah, how’d you get that?” Dee asked with unbridled curiosity. “Did you blow it off? Man you must be really bad, I mean I’ve lost a finger or two, and the prints of the rest, but never an entire arm!”

illirica
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Sub|Liminal May 9, 2023 14:28:26 GMT

Post by illirica on May 9, 2023 14:28:26 GMT

[googlefont="Syne Mono"]


	It wasn't the worst team that Jacque had ever worked with. The fact that it took her less than five seconds to recognize that fact didn't speak so much to the abilities of the current group as to the fact that she'd worked with some real doozies in the past, but it was enough to go on. They'd all made it here of their own free will, at least. She remembered a scrawny youth once upon a time who'd been quite literally hurled into the vein by a couple of large, angry looking men. He hadn't lasted long. She'd made sure of it. She didn't like watching the young ones suffer. Transportation seemed decently acceptable - a couple motorized vehicles, another bicycle like her own. She liked low tech better - some of the veins got funny about things, and the less complicated something was, the more likely it was to work. And the more likely it was not to turn into some sort of electromechanical-fungal amalgam. Good times, those. Dead Trees was pretty reliable as far as physics went, though. It was a nice, easy starter vein - easy in the sense that it was still entirely possible to get killed, but at least it was usually in ways that were over quickly. Usually, anyway. And if not... well, Jacque had a knife. "This it?" The question was rhetorical, and she didn't really expect an answer. "Okay. Guess so. Welcome to the group. Don't know if any of you have been in this one before, but I'll go over the basics anyway. I'm Jacque-" She pronounced it Jack, the standard way, not some weird girly way. Jacque was anything but girly. No comment on weird. "-And this is the Forest of Dead Trees. Entrance is right over there." Her gesture encompassed a space between a pair of rocks where things were, for lack of a better word, a bit woobly. There shouldn't have been a space between the rocks at all, and indeed, if you looked at it right, there really wasn't, except if you tried to look away, there sort of was. It was best not to think about it too much, she'd found. There were other things to keep their minds on. "They're not trees, and they're not dead. Do not, under any circumstances, fuck with the trees. No firewood, no clearing a path, no stupidly trying to carve Your-Name-Was-Here on the trunks. Just leave them alone. Our goal is to pick up some deadfall and come back with it. Check all ends to make sure it's not attached to anything before you try to pick it up. We'll probably run into some of the Myne. I didn't name them. They're little critters, squirrelish. About the size of a raccoon. Glowing antennae. They talk now. Word is they're a bit like parrots, they've been picking up bits of speech as people run through. Don't listen to them. They probably don't know what they're saying, and if they do, definitely don't listen to them." "Physics works about like you'd expect, tech should be fine. No major alterations in the vein - if you want to pimp your ride, you do it outside. I'm told the water is drinkable, I don't trust it, so I recommend bringing your own. We'll be in there less than a day. For now, introduce yourselves, give us a name - short is good. The less syllables we have to yell to get your attention, the better." Sometimes, every second counted, and getting tripped up over a name wasn't a good way to go down. "Oh - and if the ground starts shaking... run."

Last Edit: May 9, 2023 14:28:39 GMT by illirica

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Sub|Liminal May 9, 2023 16:44:21 GMT

Post by Annasiel on May 9, 2023 16:44:21 GMT

At Dee's prattling offer to tinker with the fuel - something Em had heard a thousand times before - she listened, despite the short man's seeming belief he'd be cut off. Em always listened. Em was a very good listener. That was, in part, because she wasn't much of a talker, in part because listening to Dee was the best way to prevent what Em often called Dee-related incidents, and in part because Dee was the only person Em actually had to listen to.

Listening didn't mean acceptance, though.

"No."

The last time he'd tried to "improve" her fuel he'd tried to convert the bike to run on nitroglycerine. She did not exactly feel comfortable with the idea of a bomb strapped between her legs, so any further attempts were to be shut down with prejudice.

More strangers were showing up, now - some kid in a fox mask with a sword, and a creepy-faced girl with a wooden arm. Both dangerous. Different reasons. One because she didn't look like she knew what she was doing, the other because Em didn't know what she might try to do. Best to keep an eye out, just in case. Their apparent leader, a woman who introduced herself as Jack, launched into a bit of a description about the vein and what they could expect. Em liked it when they did that. It meant people tended to leave alive enough to talk about what they saw. At the end of the speech, she raised her large, gloved hand, then spoke.

"The trees. If they attack." She lowered the hand. "They burn?"

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there!
He wasn't there again today,
Oh how I wish he'd go away!

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Sub|Liminal May 10, 2023 22:24:10 GMT

Post by Ghostly on May 10, 2023 22:24:10 GMT

Chichén Itzá was something else. An ancient structure, perhaps the capstone of an entire lost culture, revered and cared for by generations of descendants. It stood marred now by a force beyond man's reckoning. Some say the apocalypse was their own fault, but Dr. Acacia hoped not. He hoped he wouldn't have to blame mankind for the desecration of such a marvel upon the Earth.

The Yucatán was beautiful, despite the state of the world, August tried to find the beauty in what was left. He'd dressed in his most comfortable safari clothes, but he was still sweating in the southern heat. His thick dark hair was pulled back and up into a bun to keep from sweating to death - now he understood why his Venturer friend had advised he get it cut before he'd left. Ah well, live and learn. If anyone had anything close to proper shears he'd have to ask for assistance when the right moment came.

In typical psychologist fashion, August chose to listen rather than speak. He'd learn more by observing, letting them make the first impression. They'd all benefit from him getting to know them better, but distance would be good at first. Most of the others looked accustomed to this line of work, seasoned and alert. August would have to learn, and stay alert for their wellbeing. It all starts with the mind, a moment of dissociation or glimpse into the void and you might not come back.

The group who'd gathered were quite odd. The girl with the prosthetic had been touched by the Vein, he could tell. It was a look he'd seen dozens of times before in his patients and friends who ventured out. Yet somehow she seemed energetic and excitable, or at least absorbed by such emotions. Processing trauma comes in all forms. A pair on a motorcycle arrived as well, the rider was hard to evaluate in any regard, even physical. Their companion seemed to be the mouthpiece for the two of them, a hyperactive and enthusiastic young man.

Another girl joined them, her face hidden with a fox mask. A sword was at her side, protection for the group? She seemed kind enough, but still as strange as the others.

Their leader had the look of the type who avoided his clinic, the kind who'd found their own ways to cope with the world and their work. Better not to try and get under her skin unless invited first, but as a health care professional (or what passed for one) he'd provide whatever care he could whenever he could. That, and he'd make them chili. Approximately one third of his bag was dedicated to chili and other foodstuffs, enough for himself and a few communal meals. It was the thought that counted.

The older woman introduced herself as Jack. She gave them a rundown of the job and the location, the oddities they'd be expecting but devoid of the how's and why's of course. He'd heard stories of how weird things were in the Veins, but this seemed a bit more than he was expecting. Perhaps his sources hadn't been as observant as Jack, or maybe they'd just been lying. Either way, it was good to know what they'd be expecting and now he'd have the chance to meet his new... well, he wasn't sure what they were yet actually.

Augustine cleared his throat and smiled politely at the others. "Hi, um, my name is Dr. Augustine Acacia - which is pretty long, I haven't really had a nickname or anything before." Short was good, better for intense situations. "So if you need to yell for me, you can call me whatever."

"I'm looking forward to getting to know you all better." He finished with a nod.

. . . I could never hold enough of you in my hands . . .

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Sub|Liminal May 12, 2023 15:56:57 GMT

Post by UmbraSight on May 12, 2023 15:56:57 GMT

“Oh, like, that’s a rad arm,” Kitiara said to the woman approaching with her bike. Had she peddled her way all the way here? That must have been such a long ride, she could feel herself practically sweating just thinking about that workout! Gross. Even the thought of a tacky shirt sticking to her back is enough to make her shiver in her boots, ugh, that could be a total bummer of a day. The man from the side car piped up, man spoke like he was hocking product up on stage or was afraid someone was about to tell him to sush.

The older lady, Jack she introduced herself as which Kitiara could vibe with, was the next to speak up. Sounded like she knew her stuff, definitely knew a lot about the Forest of Dead trees being full of not-so-dead trees that didn’t like getting cut. Shame, but her sword wasn’t made for cutting trees so there wasn't any skin off her mask. Job sounded easy enough, even with the talking rats, she could even bring her baby in, which was, like, also rad. The big lady with the talkative man offered a few words, which she seemed the type to like to keep it tight, all power to her. The sixth man spoke up to introduce himself next a doctor by the sound of it, quite the tangled web of characters they had gathered up to pick up sticks.

“Oh, a doc man? That’s cool, never worked with a doctor before, looking forward to it,” Kitiara said with a laugh as she drew close to the others. “Name’s Kitiara, or Kita, or Fox is fine too if you think it suits ‘s all good y’know? Nothing to get, like, hung up on, names.”

//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//

Katpride
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Where's your sense of whimsy?

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Sub|Liminal May 13, 2023 0:03:27 GMT

Post by Katpride on May 13, 2023 0:03:27 GMT

“Maybe!” Doll responds brightly, tugging her arm out and leaning in towards the resident non-exploder like she’s presenting a bracelet at show-and-yell. She lowers her voice to a stage whisper, eyes fixed on him. “Memories are tricky, tricky, just like the best kind of people. I’ve had it long enough. You’d think I’d remember, huh?”

She laughs heartily, twisting suddenly to look at missy Fox. “Thank you, by-the-by.”

Their coordinator launches into her explanation like she’s been sitting on it, and Doll listens along. It doesn’t really look like she’s listening, eyes scanning the trees and the people and anything that moves, but her ears are working just fine. She goes a little cross-eyed trying to get the rocks to settle their afterimage games, but eventually concedes defeat with a respectful nod.

“Lots of rules, but not too many,” she comments. She’d’ve thought there’d be more. She wonders if the trees-that-aren’t-trees will mind her arm. The thought has her readjusting it, setting the hand on her hip and bending it at the elbow. She’s distracted as another person approaches, introducing himself as a doctor.

“Doctor-doctor. I’m the doctor,” her grin is sharp as she looks him over. “No good, you’ll have to be A or August or Ace. If there’s trouble we don’t want to run-crash-splat, you feel?”

She knocks a hand against the flat palm of her wooden arm as a demonstration, twirling her wrist away and letting it linger palm-up like a dead fish.

“They call me Doll. Doll, or Doc, or Delusional, but that’s not so nice. I’m here to make sure no one splats too permanently.”

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illirica
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Sub|Liminal May 20, 2023 11:45:33 GMT

Post by illirica on May 20, 2023 11:45:33 GMT

[googlefont="Syne Mono"]


	The person on the motorcycle was a woman of few words, it seemed. Jacque could appreciate that - a few relevant words were often all that were needed. It was the ones that kept talking that you had to worry about. Sometimes, that was fine. Sometimes, that was how they coped. The ones who talked to much to cope, they knew when to shut up. The ones who talked too much and didn't know what they were getting into... sometimes they didn't. Silence wasn't always safer, but it was generally the better bet. Jacque shrugged, regarding the suited stranger with a single steel-eyed gaze. "Most anything burns, if you get it hot enough. They don't burn like trees, though." A held gaze, making sure the woman understood. "They burn like people." Had she been in enough to know the difference? Jacque didn't ask, didn't want the answer and more than the stranger wanted to give it. Some things, they didn't talk about. For lack of a name, Jacque mentally dubbed her Toast, and moved on. Some girl with a speech pattern that suggested she was not taking this nearly seriously enough, though it could have been a defense mechanism. The kid had a sword, which didn't necessarily mean anything. At least she was upbeat - it was better than having to drag them in. "Kit." Even shorter, but a kit was a baby fox, and this one definitely had some growing up to do. "You know how to use that thing?" A doctor, evidently, but Jacque knew enough to be skeptical about that - and so did the woman with the arm who called herself Doll. Apt, a good name. The ones who could poke fun at themselves usually had at least a few mental facilities in place. In Doll's case, maybe not too much. Jacque pointed a finger, slightly accusing, in the direction of the first - Augustine Acacia. *"Doctor of what?"* Her voice dripped with the skepticism she felt, mostly because she'd been in that position before, when she was younger and stupider - someone calling themselves a doctor, and thinking they were in decent hands - then six hours in, finding out that doctor didn't necessarily have anything to do with medicine or being remotely helpful. Fuck you and your Doctor-of-Classical-Civilizations, 'Doctor' Barnes. He'd almost gotten them all killed - had gotten himself killed, in the end. She couldn't say she was sorry, except that it had been a Hush Zone and she hadn't been able to tell him what she thought of him. "Doll." A point to the woman, who was evidently a real doctor, giving her the identification. "Ace." Because there was always one, wasn't there? "And Toast and Tinker, unless you've got better, in which case say it now. Let's get a move on. Push through. Feels like walking through a rubber sheet, if it's your first time. Right until it doesn't." She stepped up to the place between the stones bending down briefly to take her bike by the handlebars and looking ahead at the place where it was just stones, of course just stones. Why would it be anything else. It was still rough, even though she'd done this... Jacque didn't know how many times. Even if she'd been in this vein before. Sometimes people were eager, the first time. Not after that, though. She swallowed, and turned her head, taking her eye off it so that the membrane was just a vague grasping space in her periphery, and stepped through. It tugged at her, like rubber. A bendable, steady pressure, not so much sticky as stuck, and she took a couple steps that went nowhere, and then the sheet snapped, like popping a bubble of chewing gum, except instead of having gum all over her face, the bubble was whole again and she was inside. Or maybe it was different for everyone. Jacque wasn't always much for metaphors. A cursory glance showed no immediate danger, which meant she didn't have to run yet. Good enough. She'd wait a moment for the others to come through. The landscape ahead was more or less barren, which meant the Dead Trees weren't right up against the membrane this time. That was good, it gave them a chance to get their bearings. She checked behind the membrane as well, making sure the danger wasn't just around it, but they were clear for a moment. She could see the trees out by the horizon, though, stretching their dead limbs towards the pale green sky.

Last Edit: May 20, 2023 11:46:12 GMT by illirica

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Sub|Liminal May 25, 2023 16:09:00 GMT via mobile

Post by UmbraSight on May 25, 2023 16:09:00 GMT

“Doc Doll? That’s got a good ring to it, but maybe it’s too long.” Kitiara tapped the side of her mask, momentarily in thought. Two Docs, but she couldn’t call the first doc the Doc because the second doc was the real Doc, but Doll fit doc two like so much better than doc one. It was a complete conundrum! Maybe she’d just call neither of them Doc which was a bummer but nothing that could be done about that. Maybe the next group would only have one doctor, then it wouldn’t be a problem at all! With that all squarely dealt with, Kitiara turned her attention back to Jack as the woman handed out her nickname.

“Kit? Oh, those are like sooo cute!” Kit said, bouncing on her heels. She set her shoulder, as she lifted her word, scabbard and all, and tapped the hilt of the weapon against her shoulder. “You won’t be disappointed.” She said, a grin in her voice. The rest of the housekeeping went by quick enough as Jack gave everyone their nickname, lady was all business and she knew her business, then she was pushing her way through the vein.

“We~ll, let’s, like, go,” Kit said, sliding her sword through a sash at her side before she took up the handlebars of her moped. She pushed the bike along, following after Jack through the crack. Helped to not really look at it, just give it a like sidelong glance as she pushed her moped, and herself, through. Felt a bit like stretching, or like having rubble pressing down on your chest. Always pressing until it snapped like a piece of rotten rubber, and Kit stumbled through.

“Ugh, like that always feels so gross” the girl said, moments before a bright ‘ooo’ escaped her lips. Trees like mourners reaching towards a rotting sky. “Oh, that is like so totally rad, wish I had a camera.” She said, cheerfully.

//... into the dark she stepped, but never did she feel free of the gaze...//

Annasiel
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Sub|Liminal May 29, 2023 8:19:47 GMT

Post by Annasiel on May 29, 2023 8:19:47 GMT

The figure nodded solemnly. Burned like people was something they could understand - if anything, it was somewhat relieving. Burned like people meant they hurt. Things that hurt could be scared away. Trees? They weren't sure if trees felt pain, but they'd burnt her fair share of them and never heard any screaming. Hoisting the nozzle of their flamethrower over their shoulder, they bent down next to their bike, flipping a small red wire from one terminal to another. They didn't like leaving their things around where anyone could take them, but that was kind of difficult to avoid given the nature of these trips, so this was the next best solution. Just a little surprise Dee had helped them cook up.

If they died in there, they hoped the idiot would remember to change it back before he nicked their shit.

Moving up with the rest of the group beside the temple, they gave a non-committal shrug at the names the boss lady had given. Names didn't matter, as long as everyone knew what they were being called. Still, they tacked on a -

"Em."

And a slight gesture at the shorter man -

"Dee."

And left it at that.

Boss lady slipped through the tear a second later. The figure sidled along after, stepping sideways towards the rock and - in a way hidden by the thick gloves - clenched their fists. They hated this part. They always hated this part. Taking a deep breath, finding the gap in the corner of their eye, they stepped in. It was like drowning. Like falling deep under water, everything dark, everything numb. The suit didn't help. It wasn't a comfort here - it was a hindrance, confining them, keeping them from escaping the suffocating pressure. No fire could last here. No light could glow.

They were going to die alone in the dark, buried beneath the waves.

And then they were through. Sickly sky stretching above, distant tendrils rising high into the air like tree trunks barren of branches. Name made sense. Stepping to the side so the next person through wouldn't ram into her, Em pointed at the spot and glanced at their group leader.

"You got a mark?"

Last Edit: May 29, 2023 8:20:01 GMT by Annasiel

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there!
He wasn't there again today,
Oh how I wish he'd go away!

HighVoltage
Patron

Token Gay Character

Posts: 313

Sub|Liminal Jun 5, 2023 14:38:48 GMT

Post by HighVoltage on Jun 5, 2023 14:38:48 GMT

Dee laughed as the wooden-armed woman showed him said wooden arm. It sure looked real, even felt real as he impulsively ran a couple fingers across it. Wait, did she feel that? Could she feel that? Before he could ask, the leader lady spoke up, named Jacque, she was really big on one-bit names. Some doctor-looking guy showed up, but wooden lady said she was the doctor. Dee was inclined to believe her, since she managed to repair her own arm. Maybe he’d be able to ask her if his ever got blown off. As soon as that idea popped into his head he glanced up at Em, they always had a sense for whenever he was thinking of things that ended up in “Dee-related incidents”. Of course they were Dee-related incidents, he was great at causing incidents!

Jacque said the trees burned like people, which Dee chuckled at. Burning like people meant they could blow up like people, which was something he could absolutely take care of. There’d been one vein a bit ago where they didn’t blow up or burn, which was just annoying. Em had gotten him out of that one. Jacque gave him and Em nicknames, not the worst but not great. Before he could suggest “Bomb Boy”, though, Em spoke up with their actual names, which Dee supposed could work for now.

Everyone began heading in, one after the other. Em flipped the kill switch on the bike, meaning it’d kill anyone who took it, before heading inside. Dee chuckled, he couldn’t help it. He loved going into veins, even if nobody else did. He took a few steps back, hopping a couple times as he slid his goggles down over his face before sprinting headfirst into the tear.

It was like he was flying, momentum hurtling him forward right as someone slipped a rubber band around his waist. It stretched farther and farther, he stretched with it, his whole body extending and stretching so thin and taut that Dee felt like he was gonna tear right down the middle. After decades, centuries, a few seconds, someone let go of one end of the rubber band, snapping Dee back together and letting him hurtle forward, tumbling out of the tear and into the vein.

Dee landed in a heap on the ground before springing back up, cackling the whole time as his goggles went back onto his forehead. He gave a huge grin to Em before looking back to Jacque. If the barren landscape, pale green sky, or gray trees in the distance gave him any pause, he didn’t show it.

“Alright! So where we off to? How far in is the dead stuff?”

illirica
Moderator

Posts: 1,388

Sub|Liminal Jun 21, 2023 12:19:57 GMT

Post by illirica on Jun 21, 2023 12:19:57 GMT

[googlefont="Syne Mono"]


	Em, Dee. It went well with the two Docs, Jacque supposed. At least the two of them seemed to have some experience, although this Dee character seemed like he was going to be the sort that needed a constant eye kept on him so he didn't get off track and screw everything up catastrophically. That was Em's job, then - Jacque met the place where she thought the person's eyes probably were with a half-gaze of her own, the unspoken agreement between them not needing any words to be understood. A fractional tilt of Jacque's head towards the now-named Kit acknowledged that she'd take point on idiot kid management while Em handled Dee. The others could fend for themselves, or not - but at least they seemed like they didn't need a designated babysitter. This established, Jacque scanned the area as best as she could, getting her bearings. Landmarks weren't a good indicator, in Dead Trees. They moved around too much. She took an old style magnetic compass from a pouch on her jacket and took a moment to get a reading on it. "Should be this way. Most of the close by stuff has been cleared out already, so we'll be about four and a half miles in. Make sure you know which way the vent is if we need to get out in a hurry." Her hand raised over her eyes, sighting along the horizon. "Looks like there's a big patch of 'forest' that way. We can go through if we're careful, or we can go around, which will make the trek about... probably eight-nine miles. I'm for going through and scouting it on the way in so we know if it's a good route to run through if things go bad. Vote?" She might be the de facto lead, here, but Jacque had never gotten anywhere just by ordering people around and assuming they'd do what they were told. Some professional delver groups did that, but they were all bat-shit crazy. Not that this group was any better, but at least they were bat-shit crazy in a different way. Getting a vote in also let her gauge people's confidence level, which usually fell either on the absolutely terrified side of the scale or the way too into this side of the scale. Rare were those who were anywhere in between. In the distance, the tree branches shifted, as if by wind. Jacque knew there wasn't any wind out there any more than there was here at the membrane point. The air was still: dry and cool. Guess they know we're here. They always did, somehow. The roots went deep, and wide.

Last Edit: Jun 21, 2023 12:20:14 GMT by illirica

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