bloodyvirgo: (Default)
Kanaya Maryam ([personal profile] bloodyvirgo) wrote2012-10-19 08:54 pm

> Be Kanaya.

Done. You are Kanaya. Currently, you're laying dazed and on your back in the middle of an alien dimension. You've just taken the brunt of a failed FRAYMOTIF, which is what put you in this predicament to begin with.

> Get up!

Experimentally, you flex and move various limbs, ensuring that you are uninjured before you heave yourself to your feet. It's simple enough, and when you scan about, you see no enemies in the immediate vicinity. You know you're still in the Combine world, by the constant reminder of the WRONGNESS of this place, and very suddenly, it makes sense why the fraymotif failed so spectacularly.

SPACE itself is wrong here, and it makes sense that a fraymotif that uses elements of Space would not work properly.

>Go find the others.

Probably a good idea. You cast about for a direction to start walking, but you end up just picking one at random. You'll be teleporting out, anyway, so if you end up not finding the main group, at least you can still find another decent fight.

You've only been walking for a while when a terrible shriek rattles your thinkpan, enough to make your vision haze. You shake your head to try and clear it, but the shriek comes again, this time, you think you can sense your hind-brain, that little bit of feralness shriek back...or was that you? Another shriek sets your teeth on edge and everything just kind of...fades

When things fade back in again, it's with a horrible sense of remembrance. A smirk pulls at your lips, revealing a fanged grimace as you lean back in the high-backed chair you've claimed as your throne. You're not wholly yourself, a faint part of you declares, but why would you want to be, then you're oh-so powerful as you are now. Dispassionately, you regard the blonde, petite girl knelt in front of you, eyes averted while she dutifully laps the cerulean, purple, and violet from your fingers. She dares glance up at you and something inside you twists, and your hand steaks forward with the speed of the lightning that ran you through and killed you.


Lavender eyes widen, and the panicked, stricken look she gives you has a faint ring of familiarity to it and you muse for a long moment if you should drag that sickeningly pretty face down to where it belongs, or if you should just continue squeezing and watch your food scramble, twitch and go red in the face until you deign fit to lean down and drink as much of that mutant red blood as you want.

No, this isn't right.

At your side, a throat is cleared, and you turn your head with a snarl at the troll that dares interrupt you. The troll stands fast at your side, unflinching as one who supports you should, carefully extending a hand to rest on your shoulder. The other still holds his weapons, ever at the ready and still stained with olive and yet more purple, smeared on his shirt and over the grey symbol on his chest. He inclines his head to your plaything, and you remember she's still there, red-faced and wheezing in what air she can while she tries not to struggle.

Stopstopstop, this isn't RIGHT!

You feel your lip curl, and come to a decision. Your grip loosens incrementally, and you drag her downdowndown. You can almost feel the relief that courses through her, beneath the thundering heartbeat, and long delicate fingers reach for the fastenings on your skirt in jerky, frightened movements. She-


She pulls-


There's a look of-


Everything snaps back into focus, and you're back on the combine world, hunched on your hands and knees and retching your stomach contents onto the ground. You're still a little dazed, but soon enough you're sitting back on your haunches and sucking in ragged breaths while you try your hardest not to throw up again.

Once you've willed your stomach back into submission, you stagger to your feet to begin regaining your bearings and once again, you're looking around for a direction to head to.


You have to strain your ears, but you can hear it faintly. Fighting in the distance. You smile grimly, and will your chainsaw into existence. After all, what better way to keep the horror of what you saw in your own mind at bay, than more fighting? Right? Either way, this is something you have to deal with later.

After a bit of jogging, you rise a crest to see some of your teammates fighting. They're wounded, struggling to keep the Synths at bay, and that's all the invitation you need. You dive into the fray, chainsaw swinging and cutting, and you doing your best to dance nimbly away from searching claws and teeth.

All too soon for your liking, there are no more enemies to cut down and you will away your weapon for now. The men break, and move to check on their fallen comrades, a few of them eying you warily. It's not something you blame them for, some of them have never seen a troll before today, and your species can be rightly terrifying during combat.

Looking as unassuming as you can, you approach the group. They're definitely worse for wear, and you distribute the small amount of healing candy you have to those that are the worst off. It's not much, but it gets them on their feet. Some are supported by their teammates, and you carefully position yourself so another can lean heavily on your shoulder. You're not tall enough to sling his arm over your shoulders like the others are doing, but you can still act the part in keeping him upright.

There's tunnels nearby, and apparently they were headed there for cover, before they were ambushed. It's a good idea, and you help them along, keeping to their slow pace and acting the part as rearguard.

Once you're inside, it's like something clicks in your mind's eye. You take point, guiding them through a dizzying set of twists and turns, deeper and deeper into the caverns, as well as providing the illumination for the expedition.

>Protect your allies.
That's what you're doing! When you're finally content with where you are in the tunnels, you have them settle down there, letting instincts guide you whe you tell the able bodied soldiers to take up guard on the openings of your little alcove. You tell them your plan, how you're going to double back, and make sure you weren't followed. When you get back, you can begin evacuating.

There's not much more to say after that, really, so once you make sure the men will have their own illumination, you heft your chainsaw, ready to head back through the tunnels. One of them voices their concern about you being the only one going. You just smile toothily at him.

"There Is A Reason No One Attacked The Brooding Caverns."

With that, you're gone, slinking down the tunnels and retracing your steps back the way you came. It's not as stealthy as a run as you'd like, with your glow, but you do well enough because you were followed and you were able to take them out with a series of misdirection and hit and run tactics.

You're fairly certain there's at least one Combine Synth who's last thought was "...chainsaw?", before you took them out. It's no matter, though, because the job is done soon enough, and you make your way back to the small base camp. They're a bit more grim-faced than than when you left them, and after ensuring that no, you didn't let any get past you, that all the men's teleporters had gotten damaged while they fought for their lives.

Grunting, you scrub a hand over your face and tell them that obviously leaving them here isn't an option, so they need to figure out how to make hers take all of them.

You all take some time bandying ideas back and forth, having to inform them at least once that yes you may be an alien, but that doesn't make you technically inclined. Very suddenly, you find yourself missing Sollux and Equius keenly.

Soon, you decide that just giving the device more power should work, but you have no way of knowing for sure. Carefully, you end up dissembling your own device, and salvaging a few of the others for parts, and you cobble together something that you hope might work. You all know the risks, though, and gather your small group around the device. You figure staying close is a good idea, in order to make sure you're all in it's range.

Once more you find yourself being used as something of a crutch and you turn to regard them all, nodding as you tell them you'll see them on the other side.

Then, you activate the device.

You can...feel Space wrap around the group, and pressure builds and builds and something's wrong. The cloak around you all flickers and hesitates.

No. You're not letting this happen. If only you could...

You take hold of the Space bending it as your own, holding and directing it. Home. Well. Not home. Greenbrier.

You screw your eyes shut and grit your teeth, trying to hold in your mind's eye a mental picture of the base in your mind, and the room you're supposed to appear in.

Then, you and your men wink out of existence.