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mental link; goodnight sweet fuckboy

[ Nyx Ulric slipping from her grasp is like a sun blinking out, her skyline gone suddenly dark, her world gone suddenly cold. It knifes through her, and after a moment of shocked, numb, silence: she starts the vibrate. An earthquake of anger and pain, electricity crackling off of her as her thoughts explode outward.

To call the noise echoing out of her any kind of language would be a gross exaggeration, it is merely a series of ocean's deep lamentations, reverberating throughout the immensity of her. Up from the magma at her core, through the cavernous, lightless space that is her consciousness beyond the shell of She. ]

( Fucking--W͙͇͕̠͈̅ͭi̺̟̩̼͙̮̞̎ͮ̉ͪ̆ͨ͟ț̰̙͌͡h̢̯̹̃ͮ̈́o̩̼̟͚͍̾̔̃͆u͆̊ͤ̾̏t͕͎̞̳̙̙͔̓ͫ̒ ͔͋̐̿̓̊ͩ͛l̮̝̘̼ͩ́i͕̰̠ͦ̐͢g̘̬̺̜̓h̲͖͇̜͇͓͓̊̒͛t͈͉͈̹̫͖ͤ̔͒̍͊ ̠̤̫̄̈́ͯͣͦw͙̺̯̰̔͆̊͗̐̊̍i̻̽̋t͐̓̀̉̿ͮ͐ḧ̰̲̲̼́̒ͥͪ̋ͯ̈͜o̩ͮut̐ͦ̂ͭ̈͘ ̰̝̪̹̩͔̱̃͛͌͋̈́̀h̴̝ͯ̎ͥͯḛ̪̤̫͚ͅͅa̱̦̩͔̺̪ͪ͊̓͗̊ͅtͬ͛̓͌̇̓͜ Son of a cunt-fucking maggot-- S̲̜͈̜̲u̱f̨̥̥̳͍͖̝͈f̵͇̪̼̝͎e̡͕̫̯r҉͕̪͎̹͎ Don't you dare leave me with this, L͖͍̝̠̝͎̾͛ͤo͉̘̖͚͉̳͋̎̍̂ͅś̝ṥ̤̗̊ͤ͗̑͘ you worthless-- Fuck. C̢̩̝̳̫͖̗̆o̖̰͍̱ͨ̃͡m̴͍̫̤̰͓͓̠̋͂͊ͮ̑̆̚ë͖̟̩͙̻̦̬́̆̽ ̬̯̓̅ͮ̽͑b͖̣̒͌͂ͣ͘ả̶͖̮̂̔̂̓̍̒ͅc̝͍̼̩̻̒k̮̤̪̺̋̓̓̈́-- Don't come back, don't come-- A̴̪̯̭̯͓ͦ̾͋̍̔̾̚b̜͘s͗͋ͤͫ͊̀ơ̙̙͔͚̼̹ͦͨ̓̉r̸ͥ̐͛̿̌ͨb̻̥͇̝̊̀̈ͪͭ ̨̲̥́ͭͣͫt̙ͦͩ̏h͎ͬ̚ẽ̱͉͕̥̮̂ͅ ̇̉͗͗bͥ̅͋ͧ̎̂͟o͙ͤͥ̈ͤͣn̰̮͙͓̥͈̞ͩ̍̓͂͋̓e̶̻̋̀͛s̻͔̭̜̽ͨͅ. Fuck.
Fuck fuck-- )

[ Dripping colors and fury, a base shaken. ]

( Nyx. Ņ̘̩͖̙̪͓̔ͮ͋ͤͣͮy̶͎͑̾́ͪ̾x̦̹̳̱ͮ́̋̿̆̃̀͘. Nyx. )

[ ...It takes its time, but eventually her wounded presence slithers off, a poisonous trail of brack and blood in its wake. ]

[ Somewhere in the physical world, she shows little of her internal distress. Still as stone in her robes staring out into the distance, jaw grit, fists clenched. ]

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[ This is almost as good as the time she shocked Noctis into saying 'I'm not going to get you pregnant' out loud during one of their mental conversations... She snorts with laughter, but goddamn it is still tired. It is not her usual mischievous, mirthful, shoulder-shaking laugh. Just a little noise of amusement. ]

You do your shit with instruments?

[ She's seen the type. Their music instructor had been able to take control of whoever she wanted with the right piano tune... That was before Sparrows inseminated her and the subsequent alien monstrosity took her hostage. Annie hates thinking about Fallon and shakes that off quickly. ]

And don't fuckin' hurt yourself doin' anything fancy, everyone'll fuckin' yell at me for breaking yet another goody goodie and I'm not in the mood.

[ It's his turn to laugh then. ] I do! But no, nothing too fancy - I don't intend for us to spar. Hold this, will you please?

[ He passes his cane off to her and walks off without it, just a few feet away. As if all this wasn't strange enough he then takes out his canteen, empties its contents on the ground in a wide circle, and re-stows it on a loop in his belt. ]

That should do it.

[ And then, finally, he positions Excalibur under his chin and takes position to play. The song he's picked isn't to Annie's taste. It's too light and airy, clearly not meant to be her surprise, but that begins to reveal itself only few seconds later.

The wet circle in the ground begins to rise, slowly forming a wall around Gildor as he plays. A slight breeze picks up, rolling grass and dirt and rocks towards him - some even flying past her as the tempo increases.

Within a minute he's out of sight, his music falls silent, and in his place there's a tiny hut made of soft earth and rocks. It's even complete with a thatched roof, little windows, and miniature chimney. ]

There now! [ He has to bend through a small doorless opening to get out it's so tiny, but he looks mildly proud of himself. ] Not the best or biggest it could be, but I made it for you!

[ He doesn't say anything else, but his intent is clear in his mind - he hopes she'll enjoy smashing the heck out of it. He needs someone to destroy the evidence, after all. ]

[ She gasps. What can she say, she's seen some cool powers in her time, but no has ever literally summoned up a little house for her, just so she could smash it to bits. It's like someone looked deep into her shriveled little heart and knew exactly what she wanted.

She claps her hands together like a delighted child, his cane dangling at her wrist. ]

Holy shit. That's the nicest thing any fucking shithead has ever done for me.

[ Look. She's not going to just say thank you like she's suddenly a decent person. No matter how grateful and eager she might actually be. She pulls her hood off, throwing it aside. She really doesn't even give a flip if they get caught -- Her reckless at work all over again. ]

I'm going to smash the fuck out of it.

[ Gildor spreads his arms, violin and bow in one hand. He takes a short but professional bow, practiced in his way. ]

You're very welcome. [ The applause is enough of a thank you. If he's being honest with himself, it's a sound he misses.

He walks back towards her, awkward without his cane but he finds her again to take it back. ]

Good. I expect it to be utterly demolished.

[ And then starts backing the heck up to get out the way. ]

[ It really doesn't take her long at all, it's as though all she needs are a few deep breaths and then she's let loose of all sense of restraint that she had managed to cobble together after her no-good-very-bad-day and it all pours out of her. The noise she makes is half roar half growl as she sets in on the hut. She starts with just fists and boots, but she is not opposed to also to picking up a head-sized rock and thrashing it into the dirt. It makes an almost meaty sound, like it would be no real stretch of the imagination that she was beating in someone's head with that rock.

She's like her own raging electrical storm, contained in that clearing. She's not sprawling outwards, trying to creep and subsume, but she is rising just higher and higher, nigh on impenetrable in her forcefield of unbridled stress.

And that is the kernel of it. She's not angry, she's not merely that violent. She's just hurt and fearful of herself and for those around her, all the time. Sometimes the screaming and the exertion is all she can do to release that never-ending tension that winds in the back of her thoughts. She tries her best to not pay any mind to it, be the blithe colorful wretch that she's always pretend she was.

But it's always just been pretend.

She gives a hoarse screaming snarl. Thud, thud, thud, thud-- ]

The fuck is this?

[ An unsuspecting Rabadocean is standing there in the distance. They'd been drawn by the sound of the violin, and now they are very shocked by what they see. A crazed alien something shrieking and smashing the earth??? ]

[ For a few minutes, all is well. It had been the 'thrashing' music she shared that led Gildor to believe this was the sort of release she needed, and if her happiness beforehand wasn't proof enough, the way she throws herself into smashing the little hut to pieces certainly is. Gildor is content to stand back, just out of range of feeling her smash it too hard, but he can still certainly hear her growling and snarling-

And... someone else. ]

What?

[ He turns around try and face the direction the voice came from, but it isn't a voice he recognizes. As he reaches out with his mind he runs into... only Annie, still in her cathartic rage. He'd been standing still, focused only on Annie's thudding against the clay, this outsider's footsteps drowned out. ]

Ah- Annie? Annie!

[ He's raising his violin again, mind racing through his list of spells, but it seems the intruder has a surprise round on him. ]

[ The tone of his voice cuts through her like a knife and she turns, head coming up like a dog on alert. Her mind is vibrating with endorphins, hot and overactive, but in that pulsing activity, her tunnel vision scopes in on the Rabo. She exhales heavily, once, before she pushes up off her knees, already at a run.

She takes the alien out at the knees, wrestling him to the ground. ]

[ The one alerts the other and the little one is fast. He tries to draw a knife to defend himself, but she's already ducked low and taken him out at the legs. Obvious that they don't want him getting back to the camp to tell his tale to anyone else-- Are they going to kill him for it?

He doesn't want to find out and begins to struggle back in kind, trying to slash the little alien in its soft fleshy face. ]

[ She charges and closes the distance as if she'd activated a haste spell. Though their forms are flailing and grappling they are clearer to Gildor on the ground, and he can hear the sharp edge of a knife as it whizzes through air.

His frantic mind finally settles on a spell. Not a favorite, but simple enough to cast with a single note struck from the violin. Like a nail scratching metal, c-sharp, his arcane focus on the Rabadocean and an iron screw embedded in the frog of his bow.

The intruder freezes in place, and Gildor holds the invisible thread tying him down with concentration. ]

[ She's midway to blocking a strike to her face with her forearm when the Rabo freezes entirely. She exhales, going slack on top of the alien, her head falling back, eyes closed. ]

Jesus fucking christ.

[ How shocked is she right now? Not very. Of course the second she had a chance to let loose it would blow up in her face. Predictable. Adrenaline and nerves vibrates through her, and she can't even think. ]

Now what...

[ She rubes her eyes, very tired despite the the thrum under her skin. ]

[ In the calm, he wants to apologize to them both. To Annie for trying to give her a moment of freedom and failing, and to this stranger for taking some of their freedom away. There isn't time for either. The spell will only last so long, and it depends on maintained concentration. The feeling of the iron screw embedded in the violin bow is at the forefront of his mind, and somehow that concentration is keeping the Rabadocean pinned to the earth. ]

I could erase the last few minutes of memory with magic. However...

[ He shifts both pieces of the violin in one hand and reaches into his robes with the other. He hasn't removed the vial of memory serum he was given until this moment, and he holds it out for Annie as he steps closer. ]

I understand the protocol is for us to administer this.

It's fine.

[ She says that too often, just a dismissive set of words to push past anything she doesn't feel like dealing with. ]

I'll do it.

[ He doesn't need to waste any more of his magic, his energy, his power on her dumb ass. She takes the vial he offers her, taking it apart and rearranging it into the syringe with surprisingly nimble fingers. Even lining it up in the creatures neck, feeling out the lump of a vein and administering it is done with familiar confidence.

She knows how to wipe a fucking memory. Not every girl at Cartazonos had a pathos for it, but they all knew how to do it if they had to. You either had some kind of wipe serum on you, or you killed them. They were a secret not to be shared.

The familiarity of it all makes her nauseous. She wants to cry. She finishes what she's doing, tucking the empty vial into her pocket as she stands, staring down at the prone body. ]

Guess we better go.

[ Tone flat. ]

[ Annie administers the serum with surprising deftness, and he listens as she twists the syringe into place with a few clicks. A few seconds pass, and as he feels the stranger's body ease under his spell, he ceases concentration and ends it.

She stands, and he lets out a sigh he didn't realize he was holding in. ]

Annie, I-... yes. I suppose we better.

[ A few taps to the ground send vibrations that tell him their unfortunate passerby is still breathing, put to sleep by the injection. It also shows him where Annie's scarves are, and he moves to where they were tossed, bending to pick them up for her. He shakes off the dust and wordlessly offers them. ]

[ She takes back her hood without a word, pulling it on without a complaint, and offers her arm out to Gil again just as silently, ready to lead him back to camp. She says nothing, feels nothing, for the walk back to the others. It's only when she's taken him back to a more familiar and populated place and is slipping her arm from his that she offers, ]

( Thanks for trying. )

[ He takes her arm and waves his violin away, willing it back to the pocket dimension where it's safe from any more prying alien eyes. The walk back to camp is worse than before, when her mood was still lonesome and brooding. Now there is nothing. It isn't either of their faults things turned out the way they did, yet a pervasive sense of guilt hangs heavy where his good intentions once where. Guilt for her and the stranger.

She thanks him, and he doesn't say he's sorry or she's welcome. Imagines she'd punch his shoulder again, or worse, say nothing and retire for the night. So instead he leans down to kiss her head. Damn the scarves and veils, he does it anyway. ]

( Goodnight, Annie. Please take care. )

[ And he slowly heads back into the camp, feeling his way towards their designated tents. ]

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