"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
06-23-2018, 11:55 AM (This post was last modified: 06-24-2018, 08:09 PM by Neo.
Edit Reason: To add timezone
)
They Come. They Conquer.
But.
Only 5 will continue on.
~*~
The Unworthy
All are captured by the things that go bump in the night. Some go willingly, tempted by the unknown. Some fight, because they have known the unknown and it is not pleasant. Either way their fate ends the same.
Upon inspection though, some of these equines just would not do and so they are left to dispose of them. They draw a liquid into a syringe and then prick it into their captives flesh. Immediately their world goes blank. Erasing the memory of ever having been elsewhere. The only sign is a now glowing green mark on their body from what could be believed as radioactive residue.
(this hand sized mark is temporary for 2 real weeks. Feel free to use its presence in your BQ posts!)
Nataylia/Wishbone/Traton/Ilma/Jackel
One returns to Beqanna flawed
Hephaestus-
Beakers filled of acidic fluids begin to flow freely from confinement and into the tubing leading from their base and into your veins. Consciousness slowly fades with muffled voices chattering about the effects the poison is expected to have. Excitement is lit in their eyes as they watch the transformation...
You wake to find yourself returned to your un-scythed(so you think), in a land you are familiar with. You brush the thoughts off as being a nightmare with a shrug of your shoulder. Walking a short distance you lower your lips to a reflective pool of cool aqua. Quenching your thirst, you almost overlook the image staring back at you, but how could you not notice the glowing green eye centered upon your forehead.
In fright, you jolt backwards. Only to steady and draw yourself forward out of disbelief(or curiosity) and peer into the pool once again. It is still very there...
(Defect for not starting as prompted: third eye that glows green in center of forehead(does not have sight abilities) will disappear in 2 real weeks unless you want to keep the defect as permanent.
~*~
Chapter 2
Congratulations!
Virgo/Sabra/Jesper/Casia/Pond
They are excited to begin working on you, their specimen.
But, who are they? Where do they come from? What do they look like?
Why do they need you?
The down low:
*This chapter will be written in the prospective of your They
*Details are crucial!
*This will begin probably no where near BQ and must end with your They entering in and capturing your pony from the first chapter. The scene and timeline that your characters merge should be the same as chapter 1 and FLOW is key.(You do not have to re-cap the entire capture but enough so I can visualize it taking place as before).
-This is a story,after all, and all stories have back stories.
*3000 word max
*Due June 30th @2359(11:59pm)cst
Rules:
*No editing posts *No use of existing traits during quest(physical features such as wings or horns will remain intact only until Chapter 3) *No extensions- notify me if you must drop out *Defects can be given but will be temporary *There will be a 1st, 2nd and 3rd place trait prizes TBD *Judged on creativity, flow of your story, and following rules ofc
Thank you to everyone who entered. It was hard to limit it to only 5! There was a lot of creative beginnings and I am excited to read the remaining chapters yet to be written. From this point forward all will advance to next chapter except one( I hope this makes sense as in my mind I get it but Im not sure i am interpreting it correctly) Chapter 2= 5 entries, Chapter 3= 4 entries, Chapter 4- 3 entries remain, Chapter 5- 2... From Chapter 5 the winner is decided.
Questions about anything feel free to PM me ~ Neo
If I get a lot of questions I will edit or start a thread in Questions/Suggestions
Years and decades and almost a century - that's how long I've been with her, or rather, since she captured my heart (or something to that effect anyhow...). But of course, the time before Casia (as I christened her) is eternally longer: or almost, anyway. Her suspicion about my having been mortal and powerless at one point is correct; so I do have a beginning. Truth be told, I'm actually young in comparison to the rest of the Fae - young enough to not even be Official.
Ah, but to explain it all... I suppose I ought to start at the beginning, oughtn't I?
As the sun dawned on the birth of Beqanna, it saw also the first generations born of the three original colonizers. The population of this continent quickly swelled, and I was among that pregnant number. I did not live long; abandoned by my mother, I was left to freeze not months after my birth. Of course, other children had been killed by this point: but something stirred in the hearts and minds of the Fae as they saw my white body blended perfectly into the snow.
Not to be made immortal, they whispered, scheming. And no, not to be sent to the Afterlife. Their voices rang like echoes through the dead neurons of my skull, tingling and begging to reanimate my fallen corpse. They must have felt my willingness to be alive once more, for their speaking grew more heated until at long last a single, matriarchal tone silenced the rest. She will be one of us. As Beqanna grows, we will need to grow our number such that we can keep her residents in check. This child is pure, yet unsullied by the mindset of mortals. We will take her, and we will hone her. Voices sprang up, rebuking the Matriarch's verdict in their lesser tones. Again, she silenced them. She will not be granted powers immediately. From now on, mortals absorbed into our rank will be put through a pilgrimage; and only after that point shall they truly Ascend.
And so, I became one of them.
Time went far more slowly in their land than in Beqanna. By about year 50, my physical form hadn't reached past three years, and my mind remained adolescent in nature, having been taught much but trusted with no true responsibilities. The roles of a Faerie surpassed any I would have imagined, had I remained mortal past the ripe age of six months; but upon adopting their ways as my own with a cunning immediacy, their ways seemed perfectly natural to me. By year 75 I was itching to leave for my pilgrimage, yearning to Ascend and to govern with the same godly intent as the Official Fae; but it was enforced that I finish a century of training before returning to Beqanna. What kept me most sane during that last quarter century of waiting were the two other Apprentices they'd welcomed to my rank (that being the lowest of the low). In their dreamy, childish ways, I took solace, reminding myself of where I'd come and the blessing that'd been bestowed upon me so mercifully. And so, I waited.
Come forth, child. The Matriarch's deep, resounding voice awoke me one morning, stirring me from a fitful dream of hope and adventure. Floating to her (as my form in this realm had yet to be determined, though I observed a wide range of options among the Officials), I listened with rapt attention to the specifications of my pilgrimage which she next gave forth. They were obscure and open ended, but the one thing that remained clear was this: I would not be welcomed back to the land of the Fae until I came with something of value to them, in whichever form that presented itself. In essence, I was banished: my time there had been a gift, and now I needed to work to repay them their eternal generosity.
And Gods, I planned to.
Beyond eager to prove my worth to the Matriarch and all her underlings, I paid no attention to the form I was allotted before plummeting back into earth's atmosphere. The first thing I noticed upon touch down was that I lay exactly where I'd died, in the middle of the forest as winter busied itself around me. For a moment, panic overwhelmed me, fear striking my heart that the last century had been but a dream in the mind of a dying child. But as time passed and I remained alive and quite unaffected by the bitter cold, I found courage enough to sit up and regard my surroundings.
Sit up?
Intrigued, I lifted my strange new legs, considering them more calmly than perhaps you, dear reader, would have expected. But remember - I've been surrounded by the Fae since the beginning of my Apprenticeship. This shape, called human, is as familiar to me now as that of a horse. The exact motor skills of this new form did get me into trouble that first day (face planting in snow, even if you can't feel it's freezing bite, is less than fun), but sooner than later I perfected the art of walking, running, dancing, leaping, and yes, flying.
Even as an uninitiated Faerie, I had more magic in my veins than even the most magical of Beqannians could dream of.
For the first few years upon my return, nothing fruitful occurred. More often than not I found myself simply memorizing the exact landscape and observing as many residents as I could. By the time a change came about (because they always did; the Cloud of Darkness, the Disruption, and many other smaller-scale events), I was caught quite off guard. There'd been teachings on these kinds of forceful remodel-lings; but learning of one and living through it are two quite different experiences. The Catastrophe took place around year 100 itself, wrecking the groundwork I'd lain in pre-catastrophe Beqanna. The Amazonian women with whom I'd felt a most kindred attachment were at once ripped to shreds by the gale that the Fae sent careening towards them. Devastated - as their home was now mine, and being even minimally Fae meant an empathy to the land that not even the Sisters could understand - I receded into the crevices offered to me by the sick rending of the land, taking time to nurse my wounds though they were exclusively emotional in nature.
---
As yet again the dawning sun rose upon Beqanna, I too rose. This time, I wasted no time with observations or studying of the land: during my years melted into the soil of Beqanna, I'd devised a plan.
Cloaking myself as always in a magical white dress which disguised me to passerbys as but a drifting cloud overhead, I took to the skies in search of the perfect place to hatch my plan. The beauty of a herdland based in the Falls caught my attention, and I settled there easily, comforted by the silence which reigned there at the time. A lull of liveliness was at this point rampant, and I hoped that by way of my scheme, some life would be injected back into this land. Of course, I had ulterior motives: four decades had now passed since the beginning of my pilgrimage, and though I felt no true pressure time-wise, the fate and destiny of it all felt as right as it ever would.
Thus, surrounded on all sides by the dense pines of the Forest Frontier, I traveled to its center. There I found a lake, and borne from it, a stream. Perfect. Without much further exploration, a particular curve in the stream pulled me to it as if with a force greater than gravity, and I knew this to be the place.
Settling overhead in the guise of a cloud, I commanded the river to take on the hue of a rainbow. It's sparkling waters would entice even the simplest of minds, though I hoped desperately for one of intelligence to find themselves at the mercy of my magic. But that magic was yet beyond my reach, and so I was forced to wait in anxious stillness for a passerby to approach, watching in quiet fascination as the stream glimmered due simply to my own unworthy command.
(Power felt good, I began to realize; it wouldn't be long before I felt the full weight of it securely in my grasp.)
And that - that was when She arrived.
Clad in a simple black hue, the creature approached with a boldness unlike others I'd observed during my early years back in Beqanna. The dark orbs of her eyes spoke legions of strange stories into my ears, though she threw me only a glance as she caroused through the forested land. Although I had no control over her in truth, I willed her to bathe in my magic, to become one with me.
(Power felt good, I began to realize; it wouldn't be long before I felt the full weight of it securely in my grasp.)
And thus, she bathed.
---
"Who are you?" Her voice rang out harshly, those dark eyes squinting towards me with a sharp keenness. She asked not about the change of colour, nor of its coming about: in our first moments together, she already knew to respect the dynamics of our illicit relationship. That I would be magical - and she only tinged by its effects, cast forever in the hue of my choosing. Purple, royalty, to suit her name: Regina Atra, Evil Queen.
"I am the decider of your fate," came my ethereal reply as I drifted in an obscure, vaguely equine shape before her. My hands reached deep into her brain, prying apart neurons much as the Matriarch had all that time ago (years and decades and far more than a century). From there, I pulled for memories that she held sacred, speaking them back to her such that she might understand in full the extent of my power and reign over her. Silently, the newly christened figure listened to her own life departing from my lips, perhaps sick to her stomach or perhaps admiring the power I wielded. Of course it was the latter - the Evil Queen was not proud or egotistical, but did of course see the exact way in which she could better her station by aligning herself with me.
It wasn't the plan of course - but those eyes...
"My first action as decider is to rechristen you, as you have bathed in my waters: go forth now as Casia, though your true name shall always be known by me." The tall, amethyst mare stepped forward, quiet but infinitely attracted to the glow of my white figure. Feeling confident myself, I too stepped forward, solidifying the mist of my being into the shape that I'd been granted. A soft snort billowed from Casia's nose, but still she remained silent. Others of her kind would accost me with curses and confused screams upon seeing my human shape, but she was different: she was not born of this land, coming instead from a great Elsewhere that perhaps even the Matriarch Herself was not aware of. Her raw individuality beckoned to the feral snow-dead child within me, the way she licked her lips opening a thousand doors of possibility where there'd once been none. I would have her, I decided in that instant, as I reached out to stroke the length of her cheekbone. I would have her.
(Power felt good, I began to realize; it wouldn't be long before I felt the full weight of it securely in my grasp.)
She came for me all too easily, though I admired the way she put up a fight against the euphoric magic that flowed from my hand into her most sacred areas. Our sex was not graphic, nor would it ever be; a simple touch was all that her pleasure required, and of my own pleasure, derivation came solely from the faces she made as I collapsed her sensuality again and again. It was a great gift for me to bestow upon her, after only those three words: who are you. But in the catatonic waves of my sexual prowess, she soon said far more words, crying and screaming into the night until she was all but dead from exhaustion.
---
"So," I murmured into the velvet of her year, stroking her forelock with hands that were no longer vessels for orgasm. "I have a proposition for you, my love." She tried to lift her head from my lap, but I pressed it back down gently. She hadn't the physical strength to resist any farther. "In exchange for tonight - and for many, many nights to come, oh yes - you will go forth and multiply. You will strive with all your might to reach an exact descendant count of one hundred and sixty four individuals, or else be lost of my pleasures forever." She mewled into my lap pitifully at the thought, though I knew that as she grew more accustomed to the intensity of my powers, we would be at each others throats more than she would be in my lap. "I know baby, I know - you will do it." She blinked her agreement, and I smiled my benediction down upon her. "That's a good girl. Now come; rest."
---
And so, after years and decades and almost a century, she completed her task. There were of course times of doubt and anger between us - but always, always the touch of my hand to her skin would cure us of any tribulation. Some mortals might have questioned our union, had they known of it, but between her and I, it felt as natural as breathing. As I told her one night, I truly believe that we were lovers in a different life; but I stopped mentioning that thought in favour of being her lover now, again and again and again and especially after she fucked a stallion. Showing her the true meaning of pleasure satisfied me to no end; I didn't need to, but I proved over and over how superior I was to any of her kind.
It was love, but not in the traditional way.
It was prostitution, but not in the traditional way.
---
"Remember your agreement, Casia." comes my voice, humming around us as it always does. My beautiful amethyst leans into my side, aged no despite my best efforts to keep her youthful. My cool hand (always cool, as one murdered by winter) rests easily on her skull, brushing her thick purple forelock away from those devastatingly cunning black eyes. A tired sigh whuffs from her nostrils, a lifetime's exhaustion threatening to take hold: and well she deserves that rest, for all that she's done to obey my one and only command.
Too bad she won't be receiving it.
"I have not forgotten; how could I, my love?"
Such a smart girl, my Evil Queen.
Lifting herself, she steps towards the portal with the same confidence that she'd stepped towards my stream. Perhaps it is our connection as reincarnated lovers, or perhaps it is her brazen courage in the face of magic, but I've never once seen the purple mare cower before the whims or power of the Fae. Now, I can tell that her confidence verges even on becoming boredom, and I simply cannot have that. As she looks back at me one more time, I send a thrill through her, reminding her that with me, everything is an adventure. Or rather, everything is a scheme; and everything, everything is sex.
"Don't be afraid," I murmur, reaching out with both hands to cup both sides of Casia's purple face. Our eyes connect, and with grim satisfaction, I send a shock through her; adrenaline, oxytocin, tranquilizers, both, everything. A moan of sexual pleasure and release slips gutturally from the mare as the familiar sensation of orgasm rolls over her at my whim. Trembling now, though only slightly, my Evil Queen nods, nuzzling closer and preparing herself to step through the portal.
"I won't let them hurt you." "I don't believe you in the slightest."
Ah, my smart girl; how easily you see through my lies.
(The weight of power shifts as if to settle itself in my grasp; as we cross through the portal, my grim smile only grows. After ninety six years, my pilgrimage will finally come to an end - and with Casia as my gift, I am certain I will Ascend.)
casia
Notes:
-Catastrophe generally around year 100
-Regina Atra claims colour change on March 7th 2013, year 144, followed closely by an OOC name change to Casia
- http://www.boards2go.com/boards/board.cgi?action=read&id=1362673085.05988&user=beqannaforestfrontiers&page=1 link to thread where fairy gives gift via stream
-Fuck this got historical and long
-Word count: 2775
-Thank fuck I stopped in time
the first time he calls you holy, you laugh it back so hard your sides hurt.
the second time, you moan gospel around his fingers between your teeth.
When the stars were in their infancy, the angels first flexed their wings. Wars and rebellions never came to them in even their wildest dreams, back then. Fate wove together the galaxies and mapped the course of history. They were birthed there in a cradle of golden celestial dust that would someday be a planet. But they were not so perfect or lovely as the other creations – they were one of Fate's exceedingly rare and unfortunate miscarriages. The swarm-children were never meant to exist in this plane or any other, yet the heavens wept at the thought of ending the crooked little things, believed themselves merciful to spare their lives. For centuries they cried out to their gods and yet they received no answers for their prayers. They were castaways, abandoned at the dawn of time and left to turn helplessly through the universe without end.
Try as they might, the children could not shape themselves into something solid and whole. Their only defining features are their skin, slick black like the waters in the silent depths of the Mariana Trench, and their glowing white eyes. Some of them seem female while others have a more masculine shape to them. A few of the children have nubs that may eventually grow into horns while others have stumps on their bony backs that were feathered wings some millennia ago. Their skin is somehow smooth and supple like a newborn baby while also gnarled and leathery with age. Their movements amongst one another are dizzying and any who stare too long succumb to nausea, punishment for trying to conceive what reality could not. They have never numbered themselves but they suppose there are a thousand of them, all together. Despite their primordial nature, the children count no age and have no sense of time between them. They think perhaps they have always been this many.
Yes, the children think, each mind a drop in the pool of a collective consciousness. Their thoughts echo across the hivemind and they frequently weave between this and speech without preference for either. To comprehend their minds is to speak the language of madness, though, and they often send others into a psychosis when they absorb another's consciousness to pick it apart – which they can and often do. But they have learned to be gentle in their dissections. The swarm has practiced little hands that find sleeping heads the most suitable to their needs. All they must do is pluck the dreamer's thoughts from their pillow, devour all the history of their memories and emotions, then slice it clean from their own. The slumbering strangers brush the thundering hivemind from their own as though it were all a fever dream brought about by too much stress and the children vanish into the night like hungry ghosts. The horde has learned that this is one of the few times others may gaze upon them.
The mind's eye does not fight to conceive their shape so hard as the physical eye. They have also learned that to be perceived is agony for both them and outsiders; it sends them skittering and scattering in a desperate mess until they find some shadow to cower within while the pain subsides. Once, though, they left a little fragment of themselves within an outsider when their minds married. They still hear him sometimes beneath the cacophony of their own thoughts, murmuring of his day and occasionally even telling them to silence their racket. His eyes beheld them with horror when he awoke and they fled from their torment. Yet, yet, their skin did not sear beneath his gaze. They felt… peace. Perhaps even comfort? They did not return for fear a second glance may not hold the same promise of paradise but the memory often churns across the pool of their mind. This is why they travel. This is why they seek a new host for a fragment of themselves.
Others had been unworthy of their gift. The others had not accepted them and instead fought with every fiber of their being. These outsiders the children abandoned, cut them from the hive and left them to their own pathetic fates. Their new brother, however, they shared all their knowledge with. Every lesson the galaxies offered was also his to revel in and fortune found him ever since. For this, they consider their gift a blessing rather than a curse.
They travel in the depth of night to find a new addition to their numbers. But this brother or sister must be truly worthy of them to risk such torture and so they cannot take just any single-mind orphan. They have scoured planets for a potential but they remain unconvinced of the prospects they find. Tonight, they have reached the shores of Beqanna and they have found an abundance of sleeping creatures to pick apart. They crawl across the beaches and the forests on all fours, each limb stretching fluidly to lengthen their strides. Occasionally a child bumps shoulders with another and they seem to simply melt into one as raindrops running down a window may. The four snow-white eyes swirl across a distorted face and three arms reached for their next step across the grasses. Then, just as quickly, they split into two once more. (Some of the children accidentally leave an eye in their sibling's head and yet they carry on as an unbothered cyclops.) Slowly, the center of the swarm converges into an amorphous heap of legs and arms steadily marching forward. Hundreds of eyes flow across the body of the behemoth while a few mouths surface to mumble, "Unworthy.."
The moon is full and fat in the night sky, casting a dim light across the army of children. It is just bright enough for some stranger to make them out across the meadow. Instantly, their skin grows hot and blisters. A thousand little voices cry out in terror and the children stampede from their aggressor, who falls to the ground and shrieks in her own personal hell of pain and dizzying terror. The members of the swarm collide, one into another until they form several more giants that in turn combine into a single beast. The innumerous eyes frantically orbit their new skin in search of relief when one spots the lake. A mouth erupts to shout "SANCTUARY!" before others burst forth to agree. "SANCTUARY! SANCTUARY!"
They plunge, head first, into the waters and immediately swim to the floor of the warm lake. The children split apart though they remain piled on top of each other in an exhausted, shivering horde of terrified creatures. Together, they warp the shape of the lake and wear a pocket into the fabric of space and time. Reality bends to their will and the waters become like the nest of a trapdoor spider for them, impossibly deep and safe from the world above. They could tear a new hole in the fabric of space and time as they had to reach Beqanna, but they find themselves too tired to even try.
Sleep takes them for some time before they have rested enough to recover from their episode. Perhaps they have slept for a week or even a month. None of them is certain but they are not concerned with the matter. Instead, they burrow deeper into their pit while also skimming the minds around them. This one has lost their lover while that one has murdered their child. A new queen is crowned and a new foal kicks against her mother's womb for the first time. These minds do not know loneliness as the children have. None of their thoughts circle endlessly as the hivemind does and one of the hive-girls weeps in frustration. Her sister kisses her tears and holds her close.
A brother perks his ears at the sound of these thoughts. Alone, alone, alone. This stranger aches for something that was never truly theirs just as the hive does! They clamber toward the surface clumsily in their haste to see this candidate, carelessly stepping on each other's shoulders and fingers. A child with wing stumps on her back sucks in her breath as she realizes the sun is out in the summer sky above them without a cloud in sight. "Flee," she whispers weakly.
"Run," agrees another. "Hide."
They murmur amongst themselves until one speaks up above the others.
"Worthy." His voice cracks but he remains poised beneath the surface. There is a fire of determination in his eyes that they have not had in eons. A hush falls over them as they consider his vote. Another concurs in thought, then another. They return to their unity once more and the boy carefully gleans her name from her mind. He takes a deep breath before he edges close enough that his lips barely kiss the surface of the lake.
"Virgo," he whispers. His voice is full of all the hope and love for his brothers and sisters. They all tense as she turns her head in search of the source and he knows it's now or never for them all. "Virgo!"
Virgo
you will ruin him and he will thank you; he will say please.
It was an ad in the newspaper, that I had picked up as an afterthought that day. Nothing unusual about that, I'd mostly been interested in the current events and the obits. Life and death make the world go 'round. Classifieds were glanced at on a whim, and well, it's a wonder I didn't miss the ad. Hardly one inch of space, just a few lines really. Cryptic, as these things usually are.
That would be a two dollar improvement over my current salary, and truth be told I didn't love my latest position as a records clerk at the local hospital. Why not try? A quick search brought me to the cover page for Occāsus Institute of Technology. Clean, crisp site with minimal detailing. A few pictures of people in white coats staring thoughtfully at half full beakers, with the declaration "Occāsus: the final word of the future" emblazoned at the top. The hiring page was similarly brief. Tap, tap, tap...
Thank you for your interest in joining the OIT family Please stand by for an email with further instructions
So communication may not be a highlight of this job... I'd barely closed the page out when my phone buzzed, signaling an incoming message of some sort. Well that didn't take long. The email was short, something I was coming to realize was going to be par for the course.
Dear Mr. Bright,
We have received your resume and application and would like to schedule an interview at your earliest convenience. We are looking forward to making your acquaintance.
Sincerely,
Monica Blair, HR Manager
◇◇◇
Getting hired had been the easy part. It was a small company that had signed a very large, very discreet contract, and was expanding its workforce accordingly. My new job title was Laboratory Technician, I was issued four sets of black scrubs and a security pass and told to keep Lab 3 in working order. Sweeping, mopping, delivering Petri dishes and slides, organizing chemicals... it was mundane work in an extraordinary setting. At Occāsus, impossible things were happening.
Under the brilliant leadership of one Nadia Mendez, DVM, PhD, etc, the Institute had been busy developing tomorrow's technology. Spread across a moderately sized campus, the labs were each assigned a dedicated purpose. Lab 3 dealt with blood and tissue studies. Two doctors and half a dozen technicians worked long hours combining and recombining samples that arrived at the lab in clean white boxes. Blood, urine, muscle and brain tissue. It was all studied with utmost attention, every detail logged precisely. I was happy to be a background witness to what I already knew would be world changing science.
◇◇◇
The Institute had made good on their promise of benefits and good pay. With my annual pay raise, I had felt no need to leave, and the steady rhythm of work passed seven years without major change. It had, however, brought tension to the work place. Dr. Aimes and Dr. Landry who ran Lab 3 grew terse where once they had joked with the techs over their pipettes and centrifuges. Now the lab worked mainly in silence. Until one day in the middle of May when one of the newest techs, Lydia, called the doctors over to her station. I paused in my task, deciding that the MSDS could wait to be updated for another five minutes. It was in this way I was able to observe the gathered personnel, as first the doctors, then the techs, then the doctors again peered into the microscope sitting on Lydia's workstation. There was an inaudible but urgent debate, after which Dr. Aimes strode over to the wall mounted phone and dialed a number.
Minutes later the door swung open dramatically, admitting the surprisingly diminutive form of Dr. Mendez. A woman in her mid 50s, I had only seen her around the campus a handful of times, and only once within Lab 3. The look on her face was somewhere between hope and fear a she hurried from the door to the microscope without a word. Practically shoving Lydia to the side she stood on her toes to squint into the sights. The room held its breath for a full minute. Vaguely, I noted a russet spatter on her white coat lapel. Like a woman waking from a deep sleep she stepped slowly back, an expression of rapture stretching her features ghoulishly. "Yes. YES. It's done! We have to- wait. You there, follow me." And suddenly I was no longer the invisible observer. One stubby finger was stretched out across time and space, or at least across the lab. I, it seemed, was its intended target.
◇◇◇
There had been no thought to argue as the mind behind Occāsus lead the way out of the building. There was no conversation as we moved further and further away from the shell-shocked faces of the crew I had been working with for nearly a decade. God knew I wasn't about to initiate conversation with the formidable woman. Before long our destination became apparent. We were heading towards Lab 1, by far the largest structure on campus. This area was considered off limits to most personnel, but the good doctor needed only swipe her ID in a slot by the door and it swung open of its own accord. Once inside I could see why they required such a large building. They interior was a hybrid between science center and equestrian center. An arena took up the central area, surrounded by a series of 10 stalls on one side and a combination biology lab and physical research zone on the other.
About half the stalls were filled with horses of assorted colors and breeds. One was currently standing in a strange contraption in the lab, partially submerged in what looked like an enormous fish tank and walking at a moderate pace. Dr. Mendez cordially gave me a moment to take in the scene before addressing me at last. "I'm going to level with you David. We were this close to being shut down. Not enough progress, you see. Natural selection will only get you so far so fast, and it wasn't fast enough for my employers. Never mind the artistry of the work, never mind what we've already achieved. They wanted more precision. As of today, we're going to be able to give it to them." Truly I had no idea what she was talking about, nor what it had to do with a lab full of horses. She wasn't going to give me the chance to ponder either. Once more we were walking, this time along the stable side of the lab. The scent of horse was somehow dulled by an overreaching odor of disinfectant.
As we neared the first beast, I noted a certain raggedness about it. Hair was dull and frosted with grey, and it was obvious on closer inspection that it was also entirely blind. A chart hung on the door of its synthetic stall, as thick as a dime store novel. The name, "Ankh" stood out, and then we had moved on. Our frenzied pace came to an abrupt halt in front of the seventh stall, though this was only the fourth occupied one. This horse looked to be in somewhat better condition, at the very least it's chestnut pelt was smooth and its eyes were clear. I almost missed the rows and rows of pencil sized puncture wounds on her neck. They ranged from jaw to shoulder, the lower ones now silvered scars, the highest ones still glistening with recent blood. My eyes dropped to the rusty smear on the doctors coat, one eyebrow raised. The greying woman spoke while staring almost lovingly at the marked creature. "We wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for Darla here. Sweet girl, she has the most beautiful genome. A perfect sequence for the work we do. The other three horses here are her foals by the old man you saw in the first stall. All great specimens, but she was the first and still the best." A shrill whiny echoed throughout the building then, followed by a sloshing of water.
It was an animal sound, I was sure. And yet it could almost be mistaken for a woman screaming. It was enough to unnerve a body, though the doctor looked merely irritated beside me. With an ugly scowl she cursed under her breath. "I must apologize. The subjects are usually sedated but it must be lightened for certain tests to minimize the risk of property loss. They get restless without it."Not a problem, I replied. My curiosity was piqued more than anything. A weird little smile pulled at her thin lips. "I chose you for a reason, David. Your work is adequate, of course, but it was your background check I was more interested in. Good school records, good work ethic reviews. But you know this. Standard stuff, a dime a dozen. What set you apart was the rabbit. And the cat. The neighbors "runaway" dog. After some rather literal digging it became apparent that you were exactly what I've been hoping to find. Someone to share my joy in the work. Congratulations on your promotion, David. Today you begin work as my personal assistant."
◇◇◇
My new position was much more fulfilling than the one I had held in Lab 3. They were easily forgotten, all but Lydia... She occupied my thoughts like a buzzing mosquito, persistent and irksome. Pretty, in an unglamorous way, thoughtful, quiet. Always with a kind word. The day she'd discovered the new M6x2 complex was burned in my mind. The way she'd fallen to the side as Dr. Mendez rolled through. She would get her recognition one day. I would see to that.
It was not much after that when the doctor found me at my new desk in Lab 1, a clipboard in hand. "Ah, good, you're here. I have a job for you. I'm sending you to the Island. The details are in here. I trust you to handle it with some... finesse, shall we say?" By now I was more familiar with what OIT was about. The island she spoke of... It was an incredible opportunity. A quick skim of the cover sheet revealed a few necessary details. When do I leave? Her other hand came forward, a long barreled pistol offered nose first. "Etorphine and xylazine. A potent blend, do not use more than one shot or you'll kill the target. It is vital that she and the others be retrieved in good condition." I nodded in understanding, accepting the weapon. Tucking it into my belt I smiled to myself, feeling the beginnings of a plan coming together in my mind. My time was almost here, and she was supplying the missing pieces as we spoke.
Ironic, that.
◇◇◇
The aircraft sent was not standard issue. It moved far to quietly to be considered a normal helicopter, and was barely large enough to carry the pilot and myself. The vertical landing ruffled the grass of the meadow the pilot had plotted out beforehand. A small radio and a compact survival kit were handed over and he was gone again, leaving me to my own devices.
A week of observation. The intended target was female, and much stranger than her file dossier would lead one to believe. Strangely coloured, the freak. Her offspring were no less unnatural. This critter had to be barely within genetic profile. Doused in scent killer, I approached slowly, day by day. The seventh day dawned brightly, unfortunately. And by now I could see that the target had realized something was up. It was now or never. Her pattern was memorized. By the time the foals were off playing I was set, waiting for my shot as she grazed restfully.
The thick foliage of the area worked in my favor, disguising the lines of my shape from view until the weirdly winged creature turned away. Slowly, slowly, I raised my arm, pistol in hand. A bird flight suddenly, shaking the branch over my head and making the blue horse look over quickly. I could have been turned to stone. If she saw me, this mission was over, and for a moment that was how it looked. Eerie blue eyes looked in my direction, holding far more intelligence than a beast of burden should ever have. It shook its head, almost as though it were convincing itself that it had been imagining things. Good. As the slim neck bent once again to the grass beneath its feet I readjusted my aim and squeezed the trigger. The little red tail of the dart marked its path to where the drug sunk itself into the muscle of her neck.
She jumped like she'd been stung. Judiciously I waited in my hide, until the effects of the drug began to show themselves. It was almost funny watching her sway, then fall to her knees, and finally flat on her side. Another minute and she was fully anesthetized. Stepping out from the obliging scrub I moved quickly to the side of the fallen creature. Horrible, unnatural thing. Oh yes, she would have to go. Idly I considered the pistol, what Dr. Mendez had said about it. No, that would be too quick. Back at the lab she'd be useful before we were finished with her. It was probably in the plans to release her afterward, but this island was crawling with the monsters. Her loss wouldn't hurt them in the slightest. With any luck her spawn would die of neglect.
Humming as I worked, the shining creature was trussed and made ready for transport. A quick call on the radio... really, I had hoped this trip would be more of a challenge. Oh well. There was work to be done yet once we returned. The fun was only just beginning.
I have been awake since two o'clock this morning. I have been lying here, staring at the ceiling and pondering how today came about so quickly. It seems like, only yesterday, Project Lyssa was an idea. A proposal on paper that I would pitch to the board. Where did the time go? How is it already Day One?
With a sigh, I roll onto my side to glance at the digital clock on my nightstand. Its red digits read 3:42. My alarm would not be sounding for another hour, seventeen minutes and, however many seconds. Since, clearly, sleep was avoiding me, I resolve to lying on my back. I lift my hand to run my fingers through my tousled blond locks. I then, find myself recapping the past eighteen months, for the umpteenth time.
This whirlwind began the day I presented my dissertation. I had, literally, just finished. I was basking in the brief glow of polite applause that followed my defense. Hey! I deserved my moment. I had only devoted my entirety, over the past five years, to get to this point. By all accounts, standing at the front of an auditorium, for forty-five minutes, summarizing and defending the work I lived and breathed, should be a piece of cake. Yet, it seemed so daunting. Nevertheless, I did it. I even answered all of the questions thrown at me. I was one step closer to earning my PhD.
I was packing up my things when a brown haired man, about tens years older than me, stepped in front of me and, cleared his throat. I stopped bustling and, looked up. His brown eyes met my hazel gaze from behind a pair of frameless, rectangular-shaped glasses. I offer a polite smile though, refrain from saying anything until he has spoken. As it turns out, he works for Matrix Pharmaceutical, Inc. He is a supervisor within the Research and Development department and, as he admits, he sat in on my presentation to scout my potential. Needless-to-say, he invited me to tour the facility and, meet with several of his team. Next thing I know, I am presenting my thesis again - to their Board. Except, this time, I am Dr. Melissa Powell and, I am an epidemiologist employed by MPI.
Meeting after meeting ensued over the following months as I strategized the logistics, the budget and, the science with my peers. About fourteen months in, during one such meeting, all of the pieces began to fall into place. The next four months involved finalizing my idea into a workable plan. Blare. Blare. Bla- My arm stretches across the remainder of the empty queen bed until my fingertips wrap around the device. I silence the alarm before flipping the covers down and off of me. I push myself up and swing my pajama clad legs over the edge of the mattress. My gaze searches for Elbie, my three-legged (front left was amputated due to cancer) Beagle and, I smile as she stretches and wags upon seeing me awake. I then slide out of bed and, reach out to gently stroke her head. I offer an affectionate pat on her head before strolling down the hallway to the bathroom.
I will spare you the details of my morning bathroom routine; however, when I leave the bathroom, I am ready to face the day. I choose to secure my elbow-length hair into a single braid. I wear no make-up as, is typical of a scientist. I am clad in a pair of khakis and, a forest green polo shirt. Elbie bounces down the hallway and, the stairs, ahead of me in anticipation of breakfast. I chuckle and, make my way to the bin where her food is stored. I feed her and, once she chows down, I begin putting together my lunch. I toast a bagel and, brew a vanilla chai tea for breakfast. I then hear the familiar chime of Elbie's potty bell and, open the sliding door to let her out. She does her business promptly but, gets sidetracked by a squirrel, sitting atop the stockade fence, who is taunting her. I convince her to come back in with a shake of the bag containing her duck jerky treats. When I bend over, to give her her reward, she jumps up to meet me halfway. She darts off with it and, my smile widens before I stand upright again. I gather my things, confirm Elbie's dog-walker will be here mid-day and, secure the house.
My Volkswagen turns over without question and, I make my way to the research center. The car ride is shorter than usual though, I suspect that is because I am distracted by what today holds. I shift the vehicle into park and, take a deep breath before I let it out with a loud sigh. Finally, I step out, lock my doors behind me and, march towards the large glass sliding doors. They slide open smoothly and, permit my work boots to grace the industrial style floor. I make my way to my office where I sit down and begin scanning through emails, half-heartedly. A knock on my open door causes my gaze to lift. I glance upon Hannah, our Grad student and biotechnician. "Everyone is gathering in the conference room, Dr. Powell. See you in there." I nod and smile. Then, I collect my thoughts and, my folder, before I make my way down the hall.
When I step into the room, its glass walls flood everyone's excited faces with natural light. "Everyone" refers to my entire team. There is Dr. David Abernathy, a doctor of veterinary medicine, who serves as our Equine Care Specialist. Dr. Abernathy works with the assistance of Ashley and Stephanie, both of whom have fifteen years of horse experience. Dr. Lauren Gates is our microbiologist and, works closely with Hannah, whom I mentioned earlier. Dr. William Marsh serves as our pharmacologist. Lastly, at my disposal, we have Jennifer and Mark, our research technicians. I receive several smiles and warm greetings despite the early hour of 7:00am. I return the friendly welcome and, position myself at the head of the table. I swallow once in an attempt to steady the excitement in my voice before speaking. "Good Morning everyone! I am relieved to see everyone as excited as I am." I grin, from ear-to-ear, and look around the room at the eager faces glued upon me.
"I want to start by thanking you for supporting me thus far. I never imagined we would get this far. Today, and every day that lies ahead, is possible because of each of you." I pause here to permit my appreciation to be absorbed. Feeling as though this is long enough, I continue. "I don't think we need to go over much but, I would like to remind you of a few things. This project is the first of its kind. The science we propose is unprecedented. Thus, if we want our work to have meaning, we must do things properly. I can not impress the importance of following protocol, every step of the way. Remember, we chose our specimen from Beqanna because he possesses no defenses, advantages or, immunity. He is essentially a control specimen. As Beqanna remains an untouched biome, we must be careful to leave the smallest footprint possible. Do not wander off. Do not disturb the vegetation. Do not approach or, talk to any of the wildlife. We must preserve the natural environment so, please focus solely on our desired target. On that note, I will begin the morning with an inspection. Are there any questions?"
We had certainly been over and, through the plan several times. However, I still found myself slightly surprised that no one had a question. I nod with approval and, usher everyone to return to their normal posts. As promised, I begin my inspection with Stephanie and Ashley. I follow them to where our specimen would be residing for the duration of the experiment. The room is approximately 18' x 18' and, framed in concrete. The inside is thickly padded across every surface with a plush, white layer of rubber. The idea was to create a safe place for our equine, in which he could not harm himself or, anyone else. The room is designed with a pair of cameras to monitor every corner, its own drainage system, a separate ventilation system and, there are no windows. Food and water will be dispensed in two rubber bins on the floor. I offer a nod of approval and, move on to the drone we would use to get close to and sedate our specimen. It responds as commanded and, will travel with three full batteries.
I move on to the trailer which will carry our equine, from the boat, to the research center. It is a three-horse slant load though, we have it configured to accommodate the gurney. Its tires are properly inflated, the ramp lowers easily and, the brake lights and turn signals light up in accordance with my safety check. The gurney inside the trailer is spotless and, its hydraulics work well. I inspect the truck which will haul the trailer containing our specimen. It awaits with a steady transmission, full-tank of gas and, ready-to-roll tires. Next, I make my way to the vessel currently docked. It is a large boat, tugboat style, equipped with a crane and, metal cage, secured to its deck. I find the vessel to have a full tank of gas as well. With everything in order, I inventory the supplies on board. I find the appropriate amount of light analgesia prepared. I feel relief that the morning has gone so smoothly. With any luck, the rest of today will also.
Following my approval, the team is boarding the boat within the hour. Drs. Marsh and Abernathy, Mark, Ashley and Stephanie will be accompanying me. We are bid a fond farewell and, good luck as the vessel putters to life and, pushes away from the dock. The ride from the mainland to Beqanna is approximately forty-five minutes. We travel in silence for the most part though, the atmosphere is a buzz with the excitement in our hearts and minds. As the vessel enters the shallows, we lower the motor so as to hide our approach.
Mark ensures that the drone is in sync and, the camera feed is visible from the deck. With a thumbs-up, I grant him permission to send the drone away. Built with an infrared camera, we watch with baited breath until it picks up the warm body of our target. A gleeful smile spreads across my lips as the gadget closes in and, herds our specimen towards us. When the black stallion first erupts from the jungle, onto the shore, we are frozen in awe. He is a beautiful being and, I can feel my pride welling up inside. The remainder of the capture goes without a hitch and, before long, we are pushing him into the research center to the tune of cheers from the rest of the team. I smile proudly in acknowledgement but then, silence the twitters of excitement. "Excellent work team! Now, let's get him cleaned up, settled in and, begin our initial observations."
Ciolan cannot remember how long he has traveled alone now.
It may have only been a few days, a few hours, a few mere moments. To him, every second seems to last an eternity. Every breath is a day’s length; every ruffle of his gills is a rotation of the moon above. For a creature so gigantic, so leviathan, time passes as slowly or as quickly as he chooses to perceive it. But time had never really mattered to Ciolan, so keeping track of it always fell by the wayside, into the aphotic depths of his consciousness.
Time is rather meaningless when one spends their time alone. And he had always been alone, ever since the first time he opened his eyes. He’d been born self-sufficient (or had he been born at all? Had he simply sparked into existence?) and he has never had to rely on anyone else. At times, this could be a rather desolate way to live, swirling through greenish-blue waters of his world without companionship. For him, it had always simply been.
There were other creatures, of course - smaller fish, porpoises, turtles, gulls - but none of them stayed with him for long. Most were too afraid of his massive size and dagger-like jaws, but most simply had their own mortal lives to lead. Thus, many of his days were spent in silence amid the warm and swirling waters, reveling in the way they sparkled against his silver-green veil-like fins that wafted about his gigantic body in his gentle manner. Despite his gigantic size and serpentine body, Ciolan was never known to be a violent creature. Although he feeds on the fish of the sea, he has never quite been viewed as an enemy or a threat, for he chooses his prey wisely and conservatively. No one has ever faulted him for that. It’s simply the way of the ocean.
But in all his travels, he has never come across another leviathan like himself. He has come to believe he is the only one, and while he does spend time with some of the other creatures around him, he longs for a more permanent friend to share his paradise with. His gargantuan size makes him frightening to others, his fins and fangs frighten away even the whales who are large enough not to become his prey; he wanders and he wallows after all this solitary time and his sorrowful songs are answered by none.
Perhaps he is searching in the wrong place? Perhaps this is an instance when water and land must meet and meld?
He swims through a violet twilight that soaks the ocean in a strange murky brown light. The moonlight still glimmers through the waves like lace but Ciolan slithers through it alone, gigantic and somewhat sad that no one has answered his calls. The surface of the water whirls above him and the gulls overhead, following him in the hopes that he is hunting for a shoal of fish, can see the shimmering gleam of his scales even in the fading light. He is easy for their beady eyes to follow and even they can hear his sorrowful songs seeking friendship as they hover low over the calm ocean surface.
His draconic face easily parts the water and the currents of the ocean; his crocodilian maw sucks in the water and filters it easily through his gills; his serpentine eyes make easy work of the murky light. Ciolan navigates the tides easier than any sailor of legend. His emerald scales gleam and flash in the moonlight that rises gently but he mentally sighs and eventually lifts his head above the surface of the water for just a moment, enough so that he can lift his golden eyes to the stars below.
Briefly he wonders what his purpose is, if he truly is alone, if he would ever have a long-lasting friend...Is he condemned to be a giant of the seas, something that other creatures fear? Often, he wanders to the banks, nosing the crabs and snails from their hiding places along the shorelines just for the fun of watching the scuttle or slither away and stir up the sand. Tonight, however, as the sparkling waters glide over his fins and the spines along his back and the waves lap softly at his scales, he can feel a different sort of vibration in the pits on his chin.
Something soft and small (larger than the usual critters of the ocean but still smaller than him ((then again, everything is smaller than him))), he peeks his head curiously above the surface. It is difficult to see, but there is a small shadow wandering there. It has four wobbling legs and its head is bowed toward the tidepools. It is quiet and it seems as lonesome as he is. It is black like the parts of reefs where the light doesn’t touch and its feet make no sounds as it walks, though there are footprints in the said, though they are raised as if the sand is being depressed from underneath.
Ciolan watches for a moment or two before his intrigue gets the better of him. With a momentary breath of ocean water, he lifts his head higher and exhales a misty haze into the air below.
In just a few more moments, he hears a mild struggle in the sand and a friendly smirk spreads over his fanged maw. Slowly, a young filly appears in solid form just where the shadow had been. Her coat is a rich color of brown and her gray eyes stare around with confusion as her mouth hangs open in wonder.
Ciolan recedes into the water just enough so that she cannot see him and he watches her as she stumbles for a moment and regains her bearings, staring up-down into the sky and down-up at the ground. And then Ciolan stirs the water so that she might see him. She freezes and he decides it might be time to announce himself rather than frighten her further.
“Hello,” he speaks to her telepathically, although he does not know this is her first encounter with such magic. A cursory glimpse of her mind tells him enough about her and he continues: “Will you keep me company? I have traveled so long and so alone. I chose you, Pond, to come along with me.”
He believes that she is a gentle soul like him and he is curious to see what she makes of his world, and what he can learn from her.
He opens his mouth and wraps her gently with his serpentine tongue, taking her into his mouth so that he may take her away to share in some of his adventures with him.
“It will be okay, little one,” he assures her as they descend.
Jesper
