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fissionmailed2009-10-31 02:40 pm
minettedonnel.livejournal.com) wrote in fissionmailed2009-10-31 02:40 pm
Entry tags:
ac!d trip
[...and the sleep gas was fading, or perhaps he was fading into it, cloud-white and weightless once again. Or not. There was a ground beneath this body's feet, of sorts, steady beneath the pinched, girlish shoes - and there were walls nearby, not curving and dotted with windows but straight, solid.
Somewhere new.
He looked down at herself. Still the same shape, a 'Minette' if that was what you wished to call it, dressed in black and red and with pale hands streaked with blood. Little hands. Always smaller than he remembered, delicate and feminine and smaller than they were on the inside. Though he had always been called delicate.
It didn't matter. Bodies never mattered, until you didn't have one, and then you craved it and would take anything you could force your way into.
Perhaps that was what had happened. Perhaps the plane had dropped out of the sky and his mind had scrabbled its way to this new place - but the body was still the same. That was good, really. She had found it was a useful body. Soft and unassuming, a suitable hiding place.
The last breaths of poison-mist swum out from under his skirts, expiring. She was still holding the knife, though the broken canvas that had been lying at her feet had vanished.
She knelt on the floor, and began to carve his number.]
((OOC: have a Minette, taken from the end of MGA.))
Somewhere new.
He looked down at herself. Still the same shape, a 'Minette' if that was what you wished to call it, dressed in black and red and with pale hands streaked with blood. Little hands. Always smaller than he remembered, delicate and feminine and smaller than they were on the inside. Though he had always been called delicate.
It didn't matter. Bodies never mattered, until you didn't have one, and then you craved it and would take anything you could force your way into.
Perhaps that was what had happened. Perhaps the plane had dropped out of the sky and his mind had scrabbled its way to this new place - but the body was still the same. That was good, really. She had found it was a useful body. Soft and unassuming, a suitable hiding place.
The last breaths of poison-mist swum out from under his skirts, expiring. She was still holding the knife, though the broken canvas that had been lying at her feet had vanished.
She knelt on the floor, and began to carve his number.]
((OOC: have a Minette, taken from the end of MGA.))
no subject
Hahaha...?
[Taking a few steps forward, she approached the girl, stopping in her tracks again as she saw that her hands were covered in blood. Panic rising in her chest, LB gasped, taking a couple fearful steps back. But...perhaps the girl was like her...someone forced to commit an act of violence against her will...maybe she just needed help.]
Eheheh...ahahaha...are you alright, little girl?
no subject
He didn't look up.] I'm alright. I'm not on the plane any more, so I don't need to worry about it crashing into the sea. But I still need to carve my number.
[The first figure was the easiest. One vertical stroke, up and down.]
no subject
[Instinctively, she looked up...but it was just the regular, hallway ceiling. From the little bit she knew, this nexus really seemed to have everything...but could it really hold a plane?!]
I don't think you have to worry about it here...heehee...I think you're safe here.
[Or at least that Thomas guy said that she wouldn't have to worry about being used to kill any more people. Maybe this girl was safe too...she hoped.]
Y-you shouldn't need to worry about carving anything here, haha...no one will force you to do anything! I don't think...
[Nevertheless, she still clenched her hands nervously as the girl carved the one, biting her lips, desperately trying to keep herself calm.]
no subject
You don't need to be scared. I'm not like number 16. I don't hate people.
...I only killed Lena because she would have killed me if I hadn't.
no subject
It-...it's okay...hahahaha...no one will judge you!
[Because she herself had killed far more than just one person just to stay alive.]
...do you need help? You must be new around here...like me?
no subject
Minette didn't blame himself for anything. But...it was good to know that there was someone else who felt the same.]
Thank you.
[He glanced up - her new acquaintance was dressed oddly, like a sort of soldier, and he thought she was quite beautiful. But hurting. Hurting from laughing too much.] Oh, you're new too? Where did you come from?
Help? Not right now. I'm more than halfway there. [He looked down again, and started on the third stroke of the 0.]
no subject
Um...well, I was somewhere in South America...eheh...I was defeated in a fight, then I woke up here a couple of days ago!
[Or at least that's what memories she thinks she has. The memories of the past year she spent in the nexus...and the misery that surrounded the most recent ones were blissfully tucked away in a spot deep in her mind. Normally, a room's effects would only last three days, but it could be debated that LB was so desperate to be free of her misery, that the nanomachines within her mercifully rewired her brain. Or perhaps it was her own willpower that held her memories back.]
[Not feeling too much of a threat from the carving now, she eased slightly, watching her draw out the number.] So...what do you want me to call you?
no subject
How...sad. It was memories that made identities, that tell people who they are - but here was a woman with a year of life and feelings swaddled away and suffocating. Minette was the same; wiped clean three years ago, left with no memory of his origins or any name she might once have had.
He was the number on the floor. She raked out the vertical stroke of the last figure.]
That happened to me once too. My body died, so I had to find a different one to wake up in. This one. That was a long time ago now. I'm not sure how I got here today...
[He sensed that this woman liked names - found more personhood in them than she did in codes or numbers.] I'm Minette.
no subject
[Screaming Mantis, her unitmate had dolls, which were rumored to be possessed by Mantis and Sorrow themselves...but she didn't know if there was any truth to it herself. But this girl was certainly a lot bigger than the dolls SM carried around!]
Minette? [She managed a smile, bending down to the girl's level. If she felt comfortable giving her real name, she'd give her own name as well.]
My name is Sarina... [She tilted her head, looking at the number.] ...what does this number mean?
no subject
Sarina...that's a beautiful name.
[He was cutting a horizontal line on the floor.] It's me. My number. There were 130 of us.
[But now there are only two.
With the horizontal stroke, she'd made a 1, a 0 and a +. The knife was losing its sharpness now, making it hard to carve against the grain, but he was almost done now. Only one cut left.]
no subject
Thanks! Minette is a pretty name too, teehee~!
130...? [Intrigued, she tilted her head.] Are you all...clones...family...friends? Haha...?
no subject
[To make one stronger through the sacrifice of all the rest. Number 16, the Neoteny - the Ritual's sole survivor...except for him.
She looked up into Sarina's face, and saw fair eyes and lips creased with laughter. What strength he found there was brittle - full of pressurised secrets just waiting to explode. Like Number 16 - turned into what she is by the trauma of keeping her life while killing others.
For 104, being dead had simplified so many things.
She found himself wanting to tell Sarina what it was really like - to be killed by another through no fault of their own, and then to watch that other break inside while you, somehow, remained - in three knotted layers of names and namelessness - whole and healthy. She could, at least, try to reassure her new friend about it.]
Sarina...something sad happened to you, didn't it?
no subject
Perhaps she really did know about that incident, so many years ago, in her native Devil's Village that still traumatized her to this day. Screaming Mantis was able to read minds, so perhaps this girl was gifted with a similar power. In either case, she wasn't going to give out more information than necessary.]
Of course...haha...something sad has happened to everyone, hasn't it?
no subject
I suppose. But you don't seem like the sort of person who would get into a fight just like that! It must have been very sad for you indeed.
no subject
no subject
[He keeps his distance, black hat pushed back out of his eyes. Young girls with knives are not to be trifled with.]
no subject
[Starting on the 0 now, and there was no neat way to do it but four diagonal lines would more or less suffice. She scored out the first of these over and over, splinters scattering over his bright red skirt.]
Why are there so many people here? Everyone on the plane was asleep, except me. Asleep or dead, anyway.
no subject
[He watches her, fascinated by the determination she seems to have,]
This place is not where you came from. It's a nexus. For what ever reason, you've been teleported here.
no subject
Teleported? [She looks up, curious but unfazed.] Well, that explains why I kept this body. I wondered if I was dead. [Again.]
What is a nexus?
no subject
[Hmm, how to explain this.]
It's a meeting point of different worlds.
no subject
[He nods slowly.] So what world are you from?
no subject
[John think how best to describe his world.]
It's 2032. Depending on when you come from, it's a long ways ahead.
no subject
♪♪ Top grade silk does a body good,
Sleep tight like you always should ♪♪
no subject
...Are you almost done? I would think disarming a bomb would be more of a priority than graffiti.
[Mind you, Alice had left her timeline in the midst of trying to get Minette to do just that... unaware of what would lie ahead.]
no subject
She looked up at the sound of that voice - Alice Hazel's voice. So strange to be hearing it out loud for the first time in three years. It rang with the wisdom of a child speaking, authoritatively, to one of her own dolls.
Which is what Alice was doing, or what Alice thought she was doing. Minette decided it would be best for Alice to be left in error. For now.
So still she must play hostage to Alice's imagination. Behind that mask, however, he was free. She couldn't overpower Number 16 - had failed at that once already - but neither could he be detected or destroyed by the other psychic. 104's cards were all held tight against her stole.]
Yes, I'm done now.
[He got to her feet, splinters scattering from the folds of his skirt, feet planted over the number.]
The bomb's finished, Alice. I cut the red, just like you told me to.
no subject
[She paused a moment and considered the possibilities of the cut. Should she have trusted Minette with the delicate task? Did the malicious device detonate and kill her, sending her to the nexus? Or if she had lived, did the plane even land despite the assassin on board?]
Is... is that how you ended up here?
no subject
[He clasped her hands together behind her back - Constance's fingers, long like a pianist's, still stained red under the nails.] How did you come to be here?
[She thought about how it had felt to watch No. 16's mind collapse under the recoil of all its machinations. It was sad, really, because No. 16 had never chosen to become the omnipotent, broken puppetmaster she was.
And yet. In a way. That meant. That 104 had been the victor all along.]
no subject
[A write off retort was given because it would be so easy, so very easy to simply tap into her gift and find out if truth were in those words. Alice bore skepticism only because of the tense situation and the overwhelming oddity of things lately. Even the urge to know all the details of the mission's results were suppressed. Alice chose this obliviousness, and now it was haunting her worse than ever, something she thought was nullified with SIGINT and Tanya's friendship. "Why does it always come down to a vicious struggle for survival?"]
I... I am pleased that you are alright. Asking you to do such a task must have been nerve wrecking.
mind a late person?
[Pain's smile is confused because Pain sees a girl, Pain hears a girl humming, but there's something about the body language that makes him think twice. So he'll be watching a little more closer than usual, his knife flipped back in it's sheathe with a quick snap of the fingers.]
Have you just arrived?