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aquadestinyswriting · 8 months

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Fire-Hollowed Souls

Summary: Agnar checks in on the single prisoner currently occupying a cell beneath the Cathedral of Kherillim. What he learns is about to turn his entire world upside down.

Words: 1,827

Warnings: Disturbing imagery, suffocation, claustrophobia, pyrophobia, panic attack, undead. I think that covers it, but if I've missed anything let me know.

Tags: @druidx @homesteadchronicles @sparrow-orion-writes , @blind-the-winds, @odysseywritings, @writeblrsupport,@freedominique

Note: So we're carrying on with the whump/angst train here. Please note the warnings above and keep your arms and legs inside the train at all times.

It was a cold and damp night down in the dungeons beneath the cathedral. The guard on duty wrapped his thick, woollen cloak more tightly around his shoulders as he checked on the one prisoner currently held in custody, squinting through the bars of the cell. The young dwarf on the cot rolled over with a shudder and small whine, the thin blanket she’d been provided currently twisted around her legs and half-falling off. Agnar’s face pinched into a worried frown as he took in the sheen of sweat on the girl’s face, only barely visible through the hair that had come loose from its braids. His ears pricked as she began to mumble incoherently under her breath, an unsettling chill seeping into his bones at the sound.

~*~

Meredith hacked out a cough as she stumbled through the smoke-filled streets of the Trading District, trying her best to push through the panicked crowds of dwarves that were running for their lives away from the inferno that burned behind them. She didn’t know how the fire had started, only that it had quickly engulfed the entire mountain below her.

“Da! Da!” she called, trying to fight her way towards her father’s smithy, only to be pushed back by a whoosh of air filled with smoke, ash and embers as a part of the ceiling far above collapsed. Meredith stared at the charred and smouldering rock that now barred her way… wait. That wasn’t rock. It was metal. Charred and sooty, and still very much on fire, but it was unmistakable. Meredith backed up and craned her neck to get a better look at it. It looked almost like part of…

Meredith’s heart seized as she realised what she was looking at, her gaze slowly tracking upwards to the hole in the ceiling. Thick, green-tinged clouds roiled high above her, raining down more of what she now knew to be pieces of the Anvil of Souls. Moradin’s Anvil. Without thinking, Meredith reached for her Holy Symbol, only to remember she no longer had it on her person. Shaking her head, she bowed it and muttered a desperate prayer. Nothing. Terror gripped her as she tried again, desperate to feel the reassuring warmth of the presence of her god. An empty hollowness gnawed at her heart. Dead. Moradin was dead. Before the realisation could crush her utterly, Meredith felt herself being dragged away, back towards the front entrance of the mountain,

“Come on we need to get –” the voice was cut off by a thundering rumble emanating from the depths of the mountain below. The earth lurched unevenly, causing Meredith to stumble to her knees as more of the ceiling collapsed. Hacking out another fit of coughing as smoke filled the air once more, Meredith pulled herself up, only to find the way entirely barred by rubble. She turned back the way she’d come and ran as fast as she could to find another way out, only to find that this direction, too, had been cut off.

Meredith sank to the floor, shaking uncontrollably, trying not to allow the despair of the end overtake her. Slowly the ringing in her ears abated as she looked at the people around her who had already succumbed to the smoke or had been crushed. Well, it wouldn’t take long for her to join them at least, though where they would go now that Moradin was no more…

Booming laughter echoed through the rubble, only barely audible over the roar of the flames that were overtaking the area outside of this collapse. Meredith had only barely registered it when the dead around her suddenly erupted into discordant screams. She clapped her hands over her ears at the sound, somehow aware that every last dwarf in the mountain was screaming at the same time. Meredith scrambled back to her feet as ashy, cold hands grabbed at her. She tried to bat them away, but it was getting so hard to breathe. Her limbs were getting too heavy to move and the heat was suffocating. The cleric only barely registered the green-yellow embers floating past her eyes and the distant roar of the fire and booming laughter before the darkness finally swallowed her.

~*~

Agnar’s frown deepened as he watched the supposedly most dangerous dwarf in the mount toss and turn in her sleep, whimpering and mumbling as she did. While he had orders not to enter the cell under any circumstances, he knew he couldn’t leave things as they were. His training as a Cleric of Moradin bade him help those that were in need, and the girl clearly needed help. Agnar sighed as he gently touched the runes inlaid into the wall next to the cell’s door to deactivate the antimagic field before pulling out the key and unlocking the door. He quietly stepped inside and closed it behind him, hoping that Grimbeard wouldn’t notice the antimagic field had been turned off just yet. He crept over to the side of the cot and, as carefully as he could manage, lightly touched the girl’s shoulder.

Meredith awoke with a startled, strained gasp, fighting against the blanket that had now become thoroughly entangled around her. Agnar’s hand glowed with a soft golden light as he laid it more forcefully on her shoulder,

“It’s alright, hen, ye’re alright.” he soothed, noting with worry that his prisoner was utterly drenched in sweat and was now shivering violently. Was it just the apparent nightmare, or was she running a fever, he wondered. He was brought back to his senses as Meredith choked out a sob, her hands scrabbling desperately for a holy symbol that wasn’t there any more. Aganar’s frown deepened. Grimbeard had told him and the other Inquisitors that the girl was no longer a devotee of Moradin, and yet, here she was trying to find the Holy Symbol that had been taken from her as a source of comfort. Was it just out of habit? Had she finally come to her senses and realised the error of her ways? If she had, then she shouldn’t need a Holy Symbol to feel Moradin’s grace, He could reach His most faithful no matter the circumstances. Either way, the girl was clearly becoming more distraught, her breathing becoming ragged and wheezy. Cautiously, Aganar pulled his own Holy Symbol over his head and pressed it into the girl’s hands.

Meredith hiccoughed as she tried to find the one way she knew she could connect to Moradin. While she normally didn’t need to have her Holy Symbol to feel His presence; since Grimbeard had come to talk to her, Moradin had become ever more distant to the point that she wasn’t sure that He could even hear her. She was only barely aware of the figure who had come into her cell. At least until a familiar, metal shape was pressed into her hands. Warmth immediately flooded into her, the connection reestablished. Meredith immediately bowed her head to the Symbol and muttered out a prayer, the one every dwarflet was taught the minute they could speak, relieved almost beyond thought that Moradin yet endured.

Agnar’s mind reeled as his own Holy Symbol began to glow in the prisoner’s hands. It was rare enough for a Dwarf’s Holy Symbol to do so in their own hands unless it was being used to channel a spell like Turn Undead, it took an incredibly deep set faith in order for it to happen with just a prayer. For it to happen with a Symbol not your own? It was inconceivable. It just did not happen. And yet, here he was, watching a scared young woman making his Holy Symbol glow in her hands with just a prayer.

“What in all the hells are we doing?” he murmured, “Ye’re no heretic at all.” Agnar slumped back, eyes wide at the sight in front of him. What kind of Heresy had he been a participant in to have been deceived into believing that a dwarf so clearly Marked was the one in the wrong?

Meredith finally looked up at her visitor at his mumbling. She smiled hollowly at him,

“It’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell ye.” she sighed, her voice hoarse, “I don’t know what our enemies have planned. All I know is that, currently, they’re winning.”

Agnar stared at Meredith,

“How d’ye even ken they are?” he asked. Meredith shook her head and handed the Inquisitor his Holy Symbol back,

“Because they’re driving Moradin from the mountain. Have ye even noticed how distant He is?” she asked. When she only received a befuddled stare in response, she snorted, “Of course not, that would require ye to pay attention to anything outside o’ what ye’ve been told.” she muttered. Agnar looked down at his currently inert Holy Symbol, then back up at Meredith,

“The statues in the Contemplation Chamber.” he murmured, "I'm guessing a glamour was cast over them just before we got down there…" he trailed off as Meredith shook her head,

"The glamour was keeping their appearance as statues of Moradin." She corrected, "They've been twisted into the shape of whatever Demon Prince is behind all this, though for how long I don't know." She admitted. The younger cleric tried to suppress her renewed shivering, the chill of the night finally seeping through her sodden clothing. Agnar grimaced, pulled off his cloak and wrapped it tightly around her,

"I'm not sure what I can do about the overarching situation for now." He said quietly, "But what I can do is get you a temporary secure transfer to the infirmary to get that fever taken care of."

Meredith was about to shake her head, when she felt a more feminine touch in her heart;

Those still faithful need to be warned.

The younger dwarf nodded,

"Aye, that would be appreciated." She murmured, yawning widely. "Ta, ye ken, for helping. You didn't have to considering my official status right now."

Agnar shook his head,

"I might be an Inquisitor, hen, but I was a cleric first. And Moradin's pretty damn strict about how we're meant to treat prisoners." He reminded her. He cast a critical eye over her, noting every visible ailment he could conceivably get away with describing, then pulling himself up, "Get what rest you can in the meantime." He added. Meredith nodded, curling up into the cloak in a vain effort to keep out the unnatural chill seeping into her soul. She was out even before Agnar closed the cell door behind him.

The older cleric huffed a stressed sigh as he walked back to the little office to contact someone about the situation. As much as he wished to inform the other Inquisitors of their mistake, he doubted he'd be believed. For now, all he could do was inform the infirmary, discreetly, about the condition of his prisoner and hope they'd pick up on the fact that the ailment wasn't necessarily physical.

#aquadestinyswriting #writeblrcafe #titan fighting fantasy #fangthane's folly and the anvil's fall #disturbing imagery tw #undeath tw #pyrophobia tw #claustrophia tw #panic attack cw #meredith gruksdottir

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somer-writes · 3 months

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here’s a question for you about your pestilence au! So I saw your character sheets about twilight and had a question. If some of his gloom burns go down to the bone, does that impair his movement with the damaged/torn muscles or does the healing magic somehow allow him to circumvent the consequences (or perhaps heal the muscles?)? Or perhaps it’s a consequence of the gloom itself? Given how mangled the phantoms seem to be, perhaps the gloom is allowing them to move when the damage to the body should make it impossible? I mean the gloom hands are basically just gloom with form and they can move without muscles (I’m assuming)

perhaps this question is too early on (lol don’t want to make you spoil anything), so no pressure to give an answer.

that's a good question :D

CW for gore/violence, body horror beneath the cut

so the gloom has some Weird Effects. the gloom itself causes deformity/disfiguration as it rots its host but also the host acts in extreme manners which often result in some variety of self-inflicted injury. the end stage of gloom results in a living corpse more or less and as the body breaks down, it loses natural inhibitors which result in the body becoming capable of high performance strength/speed at the cost of injury. the gloom also causes convulsions which are severe enough to result in broken bones/joints, muscle tears etc

phantoms continue to be dangerous and move after brain death as gloom uses the host for as long as it physically can

the gloom doesnt particularly care about the longevity of its host (the goal is to kill after all) but does act in ways to circumvent the destructive process in order to spread the infection

gloom can pool and stretch to act as a sort of faux muscle if needed

gloom will work a muscle until entirely disintegrated

phantoms will still move as long as they're able despite broken bones/torn muscles. they only stop when they are literally physically incapable. pain is not a limit for phantoms

gloom causes intense survival in its hosts which push them over the edge of typical human activity. if the body is technically capable of it (biting through bone, endurance, etc) the gloom will make it possible

ofc this sort of bodily destruction has its cost

broken bones

sloughing/decay/loss of limbs

torn/failing muscle

gloom also has severe effects on the brain and progresses very similarly to dementia

convulsions

delirium

fight response/extreme aggression

loss of fine motor skills

memory loss (primarily short term)

confusion

trouble speaking/comprehending speech

inability to complete tasks (mostly loss of long term focus)

poor spacial awareness

loss of logic/reasoning (including symbology)

increased hearing/smell, decreased sight

sensitivity to light

pyrophobia

so! Twi gets infected, goes through stage 1 (fever, nausea, fatigue, etc) and is cured in ordon spring during stage 2 (brain infection pre brain death)

Ordona is able to stop the gloom from spreading further which while they can't heal whats already there all the way, twi's infection stops getting worse and eventually the bleeding stops as well. twi does somewhat gain control over the gloom in his body since its *mostly* blanched by light magic and is able to use it better and better as he adapts to it

as a result:

bonus strength! when tapping into his gloom strength, twi's body naturally uses the gloom as a faux muscle but he can't do this during the day if his arm is exposed bc gloom cannot survive sunlight

is prone to damaging his own body as a result of putting too much stress on it

bleeds slower but also heals slower and has a high pain tolerance

poor fine motor skills--he needs patience in order to do things like pinch but he can grab with all five fingers

forgetfulness/struggle maintaining focus for long periods of time

struggles with spacial reasoning (distance primarily)

increased scent/hearing, decreased vision (especially in the light)

sensitivity to light. hes *fine* in the light like it wont kill him but he does get sluggish and has a hard time using the gloom in daylight

pyrophobia

phantoms and gloomhands leave him alone! hes also immune to further infection. monsters in the depths also will generally leave him be

he can sense the presence of gloom/blood moons

when twilight glooms (read becomes more phantomlike in the presence of strong gloom) he's prone to confusion, delirium, aggression, and comprehension issues. early warning signs of lots of phantoms or a blood moon include confusion, forgetfulness, and comprehension issues

he is in fact still infectious to others but only when acting as a phantom. his gloom will regain its red glow when he's contagious

this is probably a lot more info than you were asking for XD theres a lot of trade offs for the perks he gets from the gloom. most of the time they can be worked around

#somer answers #lu fanfiction #lu twilight #pestilence au

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raphieeee · 5 months

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CW: talking about scars and trauma, burns, Pyrophobia (I think that’s what it’s called…?)

For as long as any of them knew him, Casey Jones always wore big and baggy clothing. Not one of his paint stained hoodies ever went past his wrist or were rolled up, nor were his tacky denims jeans ever left with rips as he always stitched them together with messy black cotton.

None of them thought anything of this, even when they all realised at various moments. It was just one of the many things that made Casey Jones so, well… Casey Jones.

But then the tar incident happened.

It was a simple mission, stop some purple dragons from messing around at a construction site that they were using as a cover for their latest batch of weapons. Leo was even relaxed enough to make a few genuine jokes, something that always made them feel safe even if it had the side effect of a little cringing.

Casey and Mikey had been chasing after these two goons who had been caught with their pants literally down and were fumbling over the place. One of them knocked over a heated container that had tar in it, which ended up getting on Casey’s arm but thankfully he had enough layers to be safe.

Instinct still took over when the threat of burns settled into his mind and he ripped his hoodie of as the heat started to get to his skin, flailing a bit as the sleeve caught slightly on his shirt and he ended up ripping that off two in his panic.

He was cursing up a storm about loosing his second favourite hoodie, trying to focus on that and not the feel of heat, when he realised that Mikey was staring at him with a slack jaw and wide eyes that were quickly gathering tears. Confused, Casey had walked over to him before stopping suddenly as realisation settled in. Right as it did, Mikey’s lip started to wobble as he held back tears.

Casey couldn’t stop the growing panic attack even if he was at home alone with his favourite show and a dozen teddies around him and four air coolers on max.

Mikey had seen it, and he one thing he wanted to hide for all eternity.

Across the left side of his body, from his thigh up to his back and over both shoulders, were his burns. The skin was marred and twisted, both looking thin and so tough as it’s shaped wobbled and twisted, some pale while others seemed stuck on a pink like hue. His left side was the most visible to Mikey, and was also the worst, as it was where the skin of his armpit struggled to keep its flexibility and shape as scar tissue took over it. It was where you could see that he he fire touched his arm and dripped down and down, the source of over ten years of pain, physical and mental.

Casey sobbed as he tried and failed to cover himself, almost screaming when Mikey stopped him from putting the still tar covered hoodie on. Casey only allowed him to as he realised that the threat of more heat was bad enough.

It could have been minutes or hours, most likely mere seconds, but soon the others were rushing around the corner at the sound of the commotion.

Casey would forever be grateful to his leader for his quick thinking. While the others stared in shock, Leo ripped off part of a tarp and wrapped it over his body, careful to not actually put pressure on his body.

Him and Raph took Casey home, both of them letting him sob and whine like a child as memories and sensations took for this mind all while the feeling of being stuck in a pedestal with a hundred lights and millions of eyes watched him and whom sick.

Raph cleaned up the vomit, Leo ran a cold bath.

Casey Jones felt like his world was falling apart yet at the same time he felt a relief like no other when his best friend and his most trusted teacher didn’t bat a single eye. They stayed by him as he sobbed and even as his skin was visible.

Casey was scared, but he was also safe. Safe from fire, safe from tar, safe from judgement.

Safe with his ninja turtles.

#tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #casey jones #2012 casey jones #casey jones angst

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ofgentleresolve · 1 year

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verse: a knight is but a gentleman with a sword ( 4/??? )

cw for mentions of fire, torture, literary gore, human trafficking and p*tsd. please proceed with caution.

reposted and rewritten from my old blog on april 15, 2022.

what you need to know about Myungdae is that he has really really bad undiagnosed p*tsd ( and most likely? will not seek treatment until AFTER this entire ordeal is put to rest :/ ) and as such it affects pretty much every part of his life, not only when he is the black knight but also when he’s in civilian mode.

he managed to avoid anachron for almost two years and in that time, he was pursued for what he knew ( and he’s GOOD at research….he amassed A LOT of dirt on ANACHRON & its victims in those five years )

he learned the hard way not to sleep, stay vigilant no matter what.

there were also instances where people who housed him also got tortured/killed for helping him…either that or they got bribed to give him up- basically he also learned he’s not allowed to trust anyone.

and then, some time in the middle of the second year, he was finally caught and taken back to ANACHRON's base.

if you read the first hc post in this series , then you know that myungdae has a gap in his memory- four months prior to being taken in ARGOS. those four months was the time where he was in ANACHRON's captivity, where he was learned that ANACHRON was involved with organ trafficking….and lived under the threat of being harvested as well.

the conditions were NOT good. the 'cattle' as ANACHRON referred to victims of the trafficking ring as, were kept in cages that were too short to stand up in and too cramped to lie down in. the air was always moist, the floors concrete, and there was no light coming in. the victims were always given the bare minimum in food and water.

there was always the smell of sulfuric acid too...the harvesting room was right next to the 'cattle' cells and often screaming could be heard- often they wouldnt completely harvest the 'cattle'. sometimes they would only take, say a cornea one day and then another organ of the same person in the next week.

that and there was always a loud ticking clock that could be heard...it drove many of the victims into despair, being forced to count down the seconds before they were harvested.

overall, that experience was so bad to myungdae, that his brain blocked it out in order to protect himself...too bad the reprecussions still remain 🙃

but what myungdae does remember about that time is the interrogation that happened at the end of his captivity. they threw him in the 'cattle cell' in order to break his spirit- they didn't specify if they would take a body part of his in that time.

his interrogator was called the 'horologist' since he liked to dissect his victims like watches. very detail oriented and methodical. he's the reason myungdae has a bad right leg and he broke myungdae's fingers too ( thankfully healed ).

at the end of the interrogation, he dunked myungdae in oil and set him on fire, saying 'as long as the internal parts remain in tact, you won't need the rest of your body' 🙃

that's the last thing myungdae remembers before he was rescued by ARGOS.

when he joined ARGOS you’d think that the hard part would be over….well…🙃

u know someone has to do the dirty work in getting the essential information on anachron/other baddies….and since patrick’s good at survival, why not use him instead?? make him earn his keep aka send him on life-threatening missions that basically recreate the previous two years of his life he’s already quite fragmented-

okay so how does that affect his life as a civilian?

myungdae has severe pyrophobia. he also gets triggered by the smell of rotting/burning flesh, strong chemicals, and ticking clocks ( think of second hands on analog clocks ). the last one makes absolutely no sense to him as a trigger.

he does have flashbacks, they can come randomly but flames seem to be the main trigger…it’s not so much for seeing but rather strong and harsh smells like fire-generated smoke ( which is different from the smoke his s*moke b*ombs use ) or chemicals is more likely to trigger that.

doesn’t sleep. the paranoia keeps him up, but when he does try to, he gets nightmares…thrashing and crying when that happens. May turn violent too if woken up by another person considering that he always has his sword near by…

he’s very careful about when he goes to sleep as a result bc he doesn’t want to hurt either elise or hiro….but if he has to, he has an alarm to wake him up before they start…he’s lucky he’s a very light sleeper to begin with. ( also learns to lock the door too so he doesn’t hurt anyone )

has lower back pain a lot too. sometimes there’s neck pain as well :/

also just? he doesn’t really do a lot of the things he used to enjoy?

Like reading for example, he can’t bring himself to read for fun anymore ( even though he MISSES doing that ) bc he’s too busy being vigilant even tho he KNOWS he doesn’t have to be…and when he tries he just doesn’t find any joy in it…the only reason he reads nowadays is because of the books he assigns for his classes ( he’ll only assign short stories…and maybe one or two books )

The rubik’s cubes also don’t feel that much fun anymore either, but that’s a coping mechanism.

a lot of his free time if he’s not training or grading or hanging out with his kids/cool jacket squad is spent with him going into a daze…can sit for hours on end staring off into space.

if it’s not ANACHRON/black knight related, he has shit memory and not to mention terrible concentration…it’s part of the reason he doesn’t read much anymore. A lot of his grading tends to come a week or two late much to his students’ displeasure….he has a planner and sticky notes to counter the problem of forgetfulness ( although things do fall through the cracks ) ESPECIALLY when it comes to meetings.

And bc he learned to always have an escape plan, it affects how he interacts with space. He doesn’t like enclosed spaces with only one way in and out….he’ll always position his seat so he has sight of at least two ways of getting out; he doesn’t like crowded spaces much either ( alfred’s coffeehouse being the exception of where he stays tho ).

Basically those five years really broke apart a good portion of his identity….it’s a major reason he avoids most things related to his old life whether that’s ppl, habits, and places.

Why else would he choose to settle in seoul instead of london?

Also he tends to pick more casual clothing as well since that’s what he got used to in the last five years….his semi-formal clothing making him feel antsy….not really the gentleman anymore…. being the black knight is an exception bc it’s a costume.

it’s also why he avoids his loved ones, especially hyuk. because he knows he’s not the person they loved five years ago anymore, so he has this sense of shame that comes with just…surviving and coming out not feeling like a complete person 😭

#human trafficking cw #torture cw #body horror cw #gore cw #( about: a knight is but a gentleman with a sword. )#take me to court i probably deserve it 🙃#there's my fucked up idea.....#most of this i would explore in my own writing though #bc this is....too much to put on another person...#unless you want to help him with the symptoms tho #alright i'm sleeping now #although let me tell you #when he remembers the truth it's not pretty #no one's happy :/

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artoni-arts · 2 years

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sparks in the ashes; chapter 11

previous . index . next

what u should know;

@tiesthatbind-tf verse, quintesson-era [late 1920s]

cw; more stockholm syndrome, violence [particular cws for astrophobia and pyrophobia], unnamed character injury & death

anyway sTRAP YOSELVES IN GUYS GALS AND ENBY PALS IT’S GO TIME, WE AT THE HOME STRETCH OF THIS ARC! Reminder that Wednesday will have a single chapter as usual, but Friday will have TWO to wrap up this arc!

----------------------

Victor was given a new set of clothing to wear for the demonstration. The bottom layer hugged his body so close, so comfortably, it may as well have been a second skin. Over that was something of a dress uniform, the fabric similar to the coat of the Guardsmen while being just a bit firmer and more like armor than he’d ever had. It was amazingly light and flexible, and he couldn’t help but simply marvel at its make. Inquirata gave him no time to indulge, however, watching him dress and impatiently gesturing once he’d slipped on the heavy boots.

[Come,] they demanded, and Victor obeyed. This would only be the second time he’d been out of the laboratory, the first time being that disastrous ‘walk’, and he was intent on keeping his focus as to the distances and positions. He didn’t so much as think of Rhisling in the Quintesson’s grasp but for his affinity with it, fingers reflexively curling and uncurling as if to try and open a portal as they arrived at the lift. For a moment, he could almost imagine the familiar sensation...

This time, they went down. The air grew even more cold and humid as he folded his hands behind his back, if only to grasp his own wrists to keep from more fidgeting. And as they traveled, Inquirata spoke;

[You will not speak to Judge Deliberata unless they demand it, which is unlikely.] Victor could have sworn Inquirata scoffed at the thought. [However, you will obey them without hesitation or question, even above whatever directions we have given to you.]

[We are certain you will make us proud,] the other voice continued, voice soft as Victor was reminded of the old Inquirata, the one that he had first met, and his stomach did a flip-flop. Inquirata had no reason to be so kind, then, and yet they had been - but he remembered how they had treated Katherine, forced himself to think of how they considered the entirety of humanity nothing more than a grand experiment…

...I would like to study you, but not like the Quintessons do as though you were something to break apart…

How a species like this could have created a soul like Primus was beyond him. But he spoke none of his thoughts, only nodding, fingers digging into his skin from trepidation. Primus hadn’t been able to give him much advice as to how this would go, having possessed little to no experience with such demonstrations - they only warned him to be careful. Victor hadn’t needed the warning, but he had appreciated the sentiment that came with it. Especially knowing that Primus was relying on him, and so were Joel, Simon…

And if he failed here, then who would free any of them? But rather than bask in the thought of being so important, he was utterly terrified. Everything he had done here, every moment, every word and every action - it had all led to this.

Inquirata stepped off the lift, Victor followed, and the two stepped into a room larger than most buildings Victor had been in. Dozens of Quintessons lined the sides room, many sporting more than one face as Inquirata did; however, he caught sight of ones bearing three, one that perhaps could have been four - but his gaze was immediately drawn to the form at the far end. Five great and terrible masks adorned its metal body, and slowly rotated in midair as if to give every set of cruel eyes a chance to share the sights before them. Its lower tentacles barely graced the ground with their touch as the monster barely noticed Victor, instead seeming to focus on Inquirata as the two-faced Quintesson prostrated itself.

It was clear by both posture and tone that Inquirata was groveling to it as one would a king or a lord, and Victor only needed the slightest of pressures on his back before he dropped to the ground of his own accord, his face pale as he touched his forehead to the chilly metal of the floor. That was a Judge? Every instinct told him to run, to flee - or to simply freeze and hope he was overlooked. For the moment Victor indulged the latter, focusing on his breathing until another ‘push’ from Inquirata had him slowly rise to his feet.

As he caught sight of it again and dropped his gaze, a horrific thought entered his mind; while Inquirata could move objects with their thoughts, what if his own could be read? He had no way of knowing, and fear seized his heart. He was already doomed, all of them were, surely the Judge would see his very heart and know that in the eyes of the Quintessons, he was guilty…

[Human Victor.]

It took a low hiss from Inquirata before the words parsed, his name parsed, and he forced himself back to the moment. He couldn’t bear to look at the Judge itself, and so he looked as near it as he dared, saying nothing but hoping that it was clear he was paying attention.

[Demonstrate,] another of the Judge’s many faces demanded, and Victor took a deep breath before looking up at Inquirata. The Quintesson was already lowering Rhisling towards his hands, and Victor caught it easily with fingers that were just shy of trembling. And yet-

And yet, this he could do. He perhaps could not do much more than this, but he had practiced so much that this now came as natural as breathing. It was an odd calm that spread through his veins, now, a sort of serenity-past-fear as he ignored his heartbeat and instead, took stock of the world itself.

As his senses had developed, he had realized that he was constantly moving - the world itself was hurtling through spacetime in an endless orbit, but more than that; its orbit was moving, too. The entire star system he called ‘home’ was a sort of traveler on an endless road, and while he could not quite make out its center - much less the destination - this was only one of a few truths he had come to learn over the past days.

Primus had mentioned that space and time were connected, arguably the same thing. It wasn’t just that, though; much as they were constantly moving, time was constantly moving. They were falling through it, inexorably pulled through its dimension not unlike how other forces constantly pulled them through space. And perhaps there was a destination, there, too, a final end of time - but it did not matter much to him, not at this moment.

Indeed, he had come to think of existence itself as a river of sorts. Constantly flowing, constantly moving. And within it, him, and it was so very easy to gently reach for the water, to make a line to connect, here, he told the water of reality, just for a moment, flow this way-

Rhisling opened, and Victor stepped through. Countless murmurs echoed through the chamber as he promptly dropped to his knees once again, for Inquirata had not given him a direction to move - and so, he had placed himself directly before the Judge. He thought he heard the scientist say something, but he clung to the sensations of the world about him rather than try and process the words, hoping it would grant him calm.

Which was a good thing, for just as Rhisling closed and fell into one of his hands, he was lifted.

It was a peculiar sensation, and certainly enough to throw him into a panic if he wasn’t grabbing onto the box so tightly, if he wasn’t grabbing onto the world so tightly. As it was, he felt like a doll plucked up by a parent who found it particularly wretched. He struggled to breathe as the Judge’s faces filled his entire vision, so very tempted to shut his eyes tight as he was examined, inspected-

The Judge spoke, but not to him. Instead, in its own language, presumably to Inquirata - Victor couldn’t see them, his world still temporarily struggling to exist between the sheer presence of the Quintesson and his own wavering will, but he could just hear them speak. Another voice from the Judge answered, and a short discussion was had before Victor was set on the ground with a grace that surprised him. But legs that would not support him crumpled him into something he hastily turned into another bow, hoping desperately it would be taken as willing submission rather than anything else.

[Human.] Was it amused? Victor tried not to think about it. [Demonstrate once more.]

[Return to your master,] clarified another voice.

And then, another spoke: [You have done well, and will be an excellent template for the future Navigators.] But the words stole whatever serenity Victor had managed, his blood going cold as he looked back over his shoulder to see Inquirata. The Quintesson was practically vibrating in smug delight, beckoning his return as Victor realized the project had been given approval.

That they had run out of time.

No.

Pressure snaked around his throat before he realized he had whispered the words aloud. Inquirata’s eyes were bright and alarmed, but they weren’t the ones to speak; instead, one of the Judge’s many voices spoke from behind him, any amusement gone. [You will obey,] it said, squeezing tight in warning - tight enough for Victor to gurgle, instinctively reaching up to claw at nothing, no, no, no, he couldn’t, he would-

It released him after a final clench, and his hand wrapped around his throat as he hunched over, gasping for air. Any attempt to recover, however, was halted by the feeling of pressure once more, a warning, and he hastily nodded as he looked up towards the Judge and reached for Rhisling.

Once more, he forced a calm to better take in the world around him. But unlike before, he let his thoughts wander just a bit, thinking of the skies from which the Quintessons had first come, their ships like monstrous dragons to sear the lands below them-

He thought higher still, into the black emptiness of space. And then, he opened the box.

One of the curious features he had discovered with Rhisling was that the ‘faces’ of the cube were very much...well, only a matter of thinking in three dimensions. He had discovered, during one trial, that he could very much ‘open’ one that was not facing him, so long as Rhisling was still in his grasp. When he did so, he could not see the doorway, and as he was busy holding it open he couldn’t very well move himself through. As it turned out, he was more-or-less held in place by the particular act.

Which was a good thing, because everything else in the room did not have such a ‘brace’, and the effects of the open portal were immediate and intense. The Judge before him screeched as it was abruptly pulled forwards, the vacuum tearing at its very form. Metal was torn piece by piece as the hungry maw of space sought to consume the meal set before it, and indeed, Victor’s own breath was stolen away by its intensity. He couldn’t even hear anything over the roaring - or was that a sound in itself, the Quintessons reacting?

They’re coming.

He had some distance, but he could already feel himself being pulled - only his grip on Rhisling kept him stable. It wasn’t enough, though, there were glowing eyes looking over him, the Judge snarling in rage as its huge form fought against being pulled through the comparably tiny doorway, and Victor realized that he had made a grievous error. Its bulk was serving as a plug, keeping the disaster at bay, and he was about to suffer the consequences, he was choking-

"No!" he cried, trying instead the opposite. Instead of the vacuum of space high above - he refocused on the Earth below, of those sparse few lessons at school about what lay under her dirt and oceans. Of the heat that had scorched him back when Inquirata had pushed him to try again.

Rhisling’s far plane snapped shut, biting off another chunk of the Judge, and another plane opened to spew solid flame. Were it not for his spacial lock, he would have been thrown across the room - as it was, there was a chorus of shrieks as the Quintessons who had clamored to respond were suddenly greeted by the burst of what Victor could only assume was magma. Indeed, so close to the opening, he, too, could feel the heat - it was perhaps only because of his armor that he was able to bear it, for he had to turn his face away with a grimace, ducking it against his shoulder for protection.

By now, though, Judge Deliberata had a chance to recover. Victor felt his heart skip a few beats as he saw the wretched mass pick itself back up, tentacles thrashing in fury. As the pressure once again tightened around his throat, he allowed the side plane to close - and simply reoriented the doorway before opening it once more.

The Judge made a new gesture, and the surge of magma that sported out abruptly deflected off an invisible wall. It shrieked nonetheless, the heat more than enough to begin to sear its armor and skin. It was as if Earth herself was bleeding through Rhisling’s lesion, and the mere presence of her blood was antithesis to the Quintesson. And while some part of Victor wondered if he should have been pleased by the result, he just felt horrified even with the returned ability to breathe. He sucked in a lungful of scorching air as another sound cut through the chaos;

[Victor! Stop!]

A glance over his shoulder. Inquirata was struggling through the mass of charred Quintessons, reaching out for him. And for a moment, Victor had a flash of what could surely happen; he would stop, he would beg forgiveness and blame that shell-shock, Inquirata would perhaps not forgive him but they would- he would-

No. There was no chance of forgiveness from the Quintessons, even if he did want such a thing. But it was enough to have him shut the door, and then open a final spacebridge - one he took with his own feet, running away, because the intrusive thoughts terrified him as much as anything else in the past few moments.

It was just a bit disorientating, that sudden shift back into the laboratory, but Victor couldn’t spare the time to recover. He took a deep breath to stabilize himself as much as fill his lungs before he screamed, "HEI!"

Instantly - before even a single second had passed - Hei was by his side, grabbing his wrist. Perhaps he’d used some of his timestop to get so quickly to Victor, but there was no time to ask - instead, Victor felt the sensation of the world halting once more, and he spared the other man a grateful look as he took his wrist in turn. And as he pulled him towards a familiar construct, he asked, "Can we add another?"

Hei seemed surprised, but nodded after a (precious) second of thought. "Who?" "Them." Victor pointed, and then grabbed on to a protrusion for good measure. Hei cocked his head, but appeared to focus, and while nothing happened at first - Victor had to trust it worked. "Primus, can you hear me?" he called, praying he hadn’t made another mistake because if he had, he had utterly no idea how to signal his friend that they were ready to move without the minute being over.

At first, there was nothing, and his gut flopped. Then Hei reached out, brushing Victor’s hand aside to touch the protrusion, himself. And to Victor’s endless relief, the protrusion promptly shifted, pieces of itself furling and unfurling on itself as it sculpted itself into a Quintesson-like form. Hei startled, but Victor squeezed his arm tight to help him keep from breaking the connection.

"Victor?" Primus asked, their voice so different from what Victor was familiar with and yet, so similar-! Even if they did sound alarmed. "There’s something going on, I can’t access all the systems but-"

"I’ll explain later," Victor promised. "For now- I need the boys’ locations. Hei, can you stay with Primus when I leave?"

"Ah…" he looked between the two of them, from Primus’s alien attempt at a human face to Victor’s entreating expression. Then, he nodded. "Yes, I’ll do it!"

More relief. But there was no time to linger over it, other than a grateful look, for Victor was already opening Rhisling as Primus gave him a heading. Trusting that his friends would use the rest of the minute for whatever was needed to secure their safety, Victor released Hei’s hand and stepped through.

The holding room he entered was alive with people. It could have been a disaster...if Victor and Primus hadn’t already planned for it to be, and planned for him to enter above them all, above even the stairs in case someone was on them. Indeed, Victor was holding on to Rhisling’s open door as he looked about, and as voices cried out in alarm from the strange, armored man appearing in midair and looking about.

"Joel! Simon!"

"Down here!"

Even from a glance, it was clear whatever Quintesson monitored this project thought far less of its subjects than Inquirata...in its own way. There were no partitions at all, merely ugly benches serving as beds, tables, and seats all. And climbing up on one was Simon, waving his arms frantically as the crowd tried to decide how to react. Some were placing their backs against the walls, others crowding together, and a sparse few were reaching for Simon, as if realizing that the boy was about to be rescued…

Victor pulled Rhisling all the way through and, before he could fall more than a meter, reopened it as much to break his fall as to open a path for Simon to come to him. The boy looked at the portal that formed with wide eyes, but a roar of, "Simon, to me!" kicked him into motion. Immediately the lad climbed through with the sort of fearlessness that came only from youth, and Victor grabbed hold of him as he did lest he risk falling. Simon - all skinny limbs, it seemed, it hadn’t been that long but he appeared to have hit a new growth spurt - maneuvered about until he was clinging to Victor’s back and pointing across the room.

"Joel was left in one of the tubes, I dunno where the squiddie went-!" Swearing aloud, Victor quickly caught sight of the boy suspended in a familiar, slightly tinted liquid. Primus hadn’t mentioned that, but perhaps there simply hadn’t been time to advise him of the complication. He nonetheless opened another of Rhisling’s panes to bring them through, already feeling as if he’d just run a half a dozen kilometers - but he could rest when this was over. For now, he was looking up at the machinery, only briefly wondering what alien mind was behind this particular treatment before Simon dropped off his back and began to frantically smack at the buttons.

"Simon-!" He grabbed at the boy, who looked at him defiantly.

"Well, YOU turn it off!"

"Better idea." Taking another breath, Victor used Rhisling to open a window within - and promptly reached to pull the boy out. Joel sputtered as he came back to consciousness, and Victor was quick to shuck off his jacket and drape it around the boy. "All right, lad?"

"Victor-!" He was seized in a tight embrace, which he eagerly returned. "I knew you’d come, when the voice said you were here, when I saw you back on the street I knew you wouldn’t give up on us-!" "We’ll talk later," Victor murmured, ignoring the way his throat clenched at Joel’s unshakeable faith. "Right now, we need to get out of here." And they had at least one more to collect on the way. As Simon helped Joel hastily redress, Victor raised his hands to open Rhisling once more, feeling the strain of every spacebridge he’d opened today. Instead of a finger dragging in the sand to make a path for water, it was like he was braced against a great stone, trying to shove it with all his might to open a path…

But open it he did, even if he did fall to a knee when they re-entered the lab. Simon and Joel took the moments to gawk at the change of scenery, while another set of hands grasped at his arm to help him up - then another, and he looked up in surprise.

"Damn fool," muttered Katherine, with Hei giving an impish grin on his other side. Just past, he could see Anna and Dorothy, peering over the top of the stairs with no small amount of curiosity. "Had I known you had all this planned, I wouldn’t have let you do this alone-!"

[YOU!]

All heads turned towards the wrathful form of Inquirata, who had just slid the door open to be treated to the sight of their experiment gone amok. They raised a tendril, and Victor felt a tug at his hands. He fumbled desperately, but Rhisling was torn from his grip, obediently snapping into the Quintesson’s clutches as it moved forwards.

[We have been kind to you,] they began, faces rotating furiously as they spoke, [taken care of you, sheltered you from those who would ruin you, given you every comfort a human could ask for, and you repay us with BETRAYAL?] It spread its many limbs like some horrific spider, and Victor’s heart sank as he realized that the closest thing he had to a weapon in this place had been taken from him. Something in him, too, wanted to grovel; so used was he to abasing himself that habit was pressing him to do so now, he had to, had to try and save the others here, surely Inquirata would leave the others alone if he fully surrendered...

Then Joel stepped forwards, gripping his fists. Victor half-reached for him, but the boy simply looked back at him and offered a grin before turning to face up at the Quintesson. They glared back, raising a tendril, no doubt preparing to swat him aside as a Goliath against the boy’s defenseless David-

-not defenseless, Victor realized, for Joel was sparking. There were tiny glints all about him, and then, in another instant, the boy shouted as he threw his hands forwards. Jolts of electricity shot forwards in response, and he stared in shock until a cold, metallic limb was placed on his shoulder.

"Victor - we need to get Rhisling away from them," said Primus. "I was able to sabotage the data, but unless we can get that device-!"

"Then this was all for nothing," realized the man as he pulled himself to his feet. He reached for Primus to help steady himself, only for Katherine to give him a light thwap on the back.

"All you need is that weird box they have us mess with sometimes, right?" At Victor’s nod, the woman glanced back, reaching for Simon’s shoulder to pull him aside. "Girls! Get Mary and Shane to keep the boy here, safe - it’s time we made a stand!"

#verse; ttb #humanformers #transformers #maccadam #artoni writes stuff #YEEHAW #throws on 'all systems go' by krypteria

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