14. the dam breaks

[orderfromchaos]

[Open spam]

[Like Arthas, the barge's limits on him cut out the moment they enter the arena. Unlike Arthas, he's had a lot less practice handling his power at this level. He feels cracked open, feels every leaf and bramble and rock like ants crawling through his insides, placement and pattern and chaos. He can feel a lightning-blasted tree a wuarter mile away turning from dry wood to green, hollow and weeping sap where it was cloven in two. It's too many random wild things leeching at him, gravel turning to grids, fallen leaves turning crisp and new on the ground. It's too much information, raw and strange, the twisted false ecology of a forest that isn't really a forest, just scenery for a deliberately inefficient killing ground. The wall is like a migraine on all sides, blank and blaring, unreadable, an edifice of white noise.

Dillon whimpers and curls into a ball, eyes screwed shut, hands over his ears, tries to think about his own breathing, and not rabbits in their warrens, not the footfalls of hunters and hunted, not the static-y wrongness of it all.

Around him, things thrive, feel refreshed and strong. Wounds start to close on anyone who limps into his proximity. A faint sense of serenity presses on anyone who comes near, a sense of rightness in the workings of the universe, a purposeful rhythm.]


[Public video]

[When he's gasped and shuddered and finally managed to pull himself together a little - he still feels overwhelmed and profoundly uncomfortable, but he can breathe, hold the crushing awareness back just a little - he turns on his comm, not bothering to hide the scars his mirror counterpart never acquired. His hair is neat as ever despite a few hours twitching on the forest floor, but his eyes are shadowed and strained and symmetrical dirt smudges mark his cheeks.]

Elsa? Abigail? Helena? Are you guys alright?

Is everyone - if you're hurt I'll try to find you.


[OOC: So Dillon looks stupid vulnerable but he definitely isn't - he probably won't kill people who attack him though, because he doesn't want to be around corpses right now. Uh. Yeah. I'd love him to get attacked by a couple different mirror maruaders and fend them off, and I'm totally cool with wibbly time or spam set later in the week when he's on his feet OR curled up against a tree again. Also totally up for scared people gravitating to his aura, which is basically the size the plot requires, but somewhat larger than sight-range, probably. He is also available for reviving people you don't want to have to death toll.]

Comments

[bothfoulandfair]

Oh, sweetheart. [She doesn't sound... super different, honestly. Not at first, anyway. But the ice palace behind her is a bit of a give away, isn't it?] You don't look like you're doing so well.

[orderfromchaos]

[He probably shouldn't be relieved. But at least she's not a target. He grins, and it looks pretty shaky, lopsided on his face, but hey. Fake it till you make it.]

I've been better.

[bothfoulandfair]

I know. Would you like me to come rescue you?

[orderfromchaos]

[His breath catches, something stutters in his chest. It would be so easy to just say yes. Whatever she did - it would be easy.]

You're probably the only one who could, you know.

[Ice is orderly, structured. And it's a good insulator. Like Tessic's tower, like the concrete shell of the old Hesperia nuclear plant, an ice palace would mute the unbearable ongoing exchange. He's not saying yes. He's just - tired, and telling the truth.]

[spam]

[imfollowinghim]

[Bucky's doing another perimeter check when he starts noticing the strangeness. Suddenly, he doesn't really feel as tired, or on edge, or bitterly anxious as before, even though he's still just as aware of his surroundings and what's happening right now. He's not sure what it is until he stumbles upon Dillon, curled up in a ball against a tree looking all kinds of miserable, and while there's a moment of hesitation - what if he's different, what if he's from the other place, because he remembers his counterpart and this would be playing with all kinds of fire - he finds himself deciding it's worth it.

The Dillon from that other Barge wouldn't be curled up on the ground like this. He'd probably be reveling in it.

So he approaches, still with caution, not wanting to startle him.]

Dillon? It's Bucky. What's going on?

[spam]

[orderfromchaos]

[It takes him a few seconds to process, sound waves as animal noise as meaningful words, a very human processing, narrow-band high-intensity. He shudders, tries to pull his power back in, tries not to radiate too much of whatever he is. Like trying to pull the tide in with a bucket. He swallows, dry mouthed, blinks his eyes open to the ground, huge and immediate in foreshortening.

Words. Words mean things.]

You ever -

[A disgruntled involuntary sort of throat-cleaning noise, pushing himself half off the ground, shaky, blinking. He drags a hand over his eyes.]

You ever been in a crowded room and tried to listen to every conversation at once?

[private]

[walkingmeltdown]

Careful, Mr. Cole. [His voice is sharp. But at least he's sure this is the right Dillon.] Neither Miss Hobbs or the ice princess are themselves, at present. I've already checked.

[Not that Dillon has much to fear, possibly - but he deserves fair warning all the same.]

[private]

[orderfromchaos]

Careful's not really my style.

[Weakly, a little pinched. Not rueful so much as unrepentant.]

[private]

[walkingmeltdown]

Are you really hurt or are you pulling some kind of gambit?

[private]

[orderfromchaos]

I'm not injured. But I have a migraine that is very literally the size of this arena. So yeah, no, lying is too complicated.

private

[versusnurture]

[It's not Dillon. Not the right one, anyway - or the wrong one, depending on perspective. Abigail can see that right off from the scars and from how shaken he is. His Mightiness wouldn't let himself be seen on camera like that.]

[She offers a frosty smile and wonders vaguely if he carries a comb with him wherever he goes. It seems like a Dillon sort of thing to do.]

I'm not hurt. I am a little shocked that you're asking, Dillon. To be perfectly honest.

private

[orderfromchaos]

I'm full of surprises.

[It hurts to look at her, the way it hurts to think about Lourdes, obstinate in her bitterness, possibilities clipped like a pruned hedge, neat and bleeding. He tries to hide that it hurts, all half-hearted joking, doesn't really succeed.]

private

[versusnurture]

I didn't think you were really capable of sadness, either.

Sorry. That probably isn't a nice thing to say. There's just a lot going on right now.

spam

[strangehistorian]

A massive, winged shadow passes overhead, momentarily blotting out the sun. It circles like a vulture, then suddenly dives.

A dragon made of what looks like cracked, black glass lands next to the curled-up human and leans to regard him with one glowing pock-mark of an eye.

"You are anomalous."

spam

[orderfromchaos]

[Okay, so, a dragon. A time energy dragon thing, that has to be evil Chromie, and she's actually making his headache worse, because the way he wants to process history and the way it lives don't jive at all. The crystalline physical elements, though - well. He can handle that. He sort of half-rolls onto his back, propped up on his elbows, breathes through his nose. One hand curls around a loose rock.]

Yeah.

You playing the game?

spam

[strangehistorian]

[In Dillon's presence, her scales ripple - the black melts back into bronze, cracks heal. She bristles and doesn't answer, reaches with a black front-talon to pick him up around the middle.]

[spam]

[semifreakingnormal]

[He feels - good. Calmer than he has in days, and it's only when he realizes that that he wonders if something is wrong. Shaking his head, trying to clear it, Scott closes his eyes; when he opens them again, his eyes are red, and he sees things the way he does as a wolf.

And he swears, he sees wildlife - aligning itself.

He breaks into a jog, and from there practically stumbles on Dillon, curled up in his ball. It makes him wary, but he blinks the red from his eyes, and approaches carefully.]

Hey, man.

[His voice is soft, unsure: Dillon is so powerful, but it'll be okay. It'll all be okay.]

Can I help you?

[spam]

[orderfromchaos]

[He makes a noise, half wounded animal, half hungover teenager. He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to think.]

Nnngh. Probably not.

[He cracks an eye open, looks at Scott, figures he doesn't need to do anything drastic. Anything else, anyway.]

[spam]

[semifreakingnormal]

[It's not a great noise. Scott comes a little closer, getting down on one knee.]

Well, are you hurt?

[If nothing else, he can at least take the pain.]

[Spam]

[youwill]

[This is interesting.

Unsettling, too, because he has certainly felt this before, the crawling fingers that worm into his thoughts like water flowing down his throat. It is like sinking. Like drowning.

Hannibal focuses his thoughts as he approaches, in jeans and a sweater: he'd begun to forgo his usual outfits in the light of every warning that approached. He crouches beside Dillon, expression faintly curious, largely unmoved.]

Are you injured?

[There is no inflection in his voice, not satisfaction or concern. Is he the injured wildebeest at the back of the heard, or the hibernating grizzly? Hannibal would bank on the latter.]

[Spam]

[orderfromchaos]

[It - grates.]

I'm a star trapped inside a monkey.

[Growled without looking, jaw clenched. It's ridiculous, it's obscene. He doesn't fit in his own flesh, spills out across too much space and far too little, is tied to his shape and his name and selfishly wants to keep them, wants to be unshackled but wants more not to die. At the moment, anyway.

Mostly he wants Hannibal to go away so he can groan in peace.]

[Spam]

[youwill]

A somewhat underdeveloped one at that.

[It's utterly neutral. He surveys the scars on Dillon's face thoughtfully.]

I would think a star capable of aligning nature and shifting desires would be able to affect growth.

Private

[adelphoktonos]

I'm unchanged, like you.

[And, look, she's really quite, quite relieved you're not your mirror self, Dillon.]

Private

[orderfromchaos]

Okay. Okay, good, if you - I'll probably be easy to find.

[Whether she wants to or not to.]

Private

[adelphoktonos]

Would you? [Be easy to find, that is. She might want to. Bucky is her first priority but maybe after that.]