fleetlogs | => PHERES: Abscond.

Pheres is starting to think of Riccin as one of the wild beasts he watches when he's on the road: dangerous enough, if you're unprepared, but otherwise perfectly harmless.

(Prepared, for him, usually involves being in his steel-enforced cart. But he thinks he's got a handle on how to deal with Riccin. Everyone responds well to manners, and they're apparently no suggestion.)

He leans against them, chin still on their shoulder, his hand tucked in front of it. There doesn't feel like much point in moving it, for all that he doesn't need it to stay upright, and besides, the position feels nice. The warm press of his body against Riccin's, and the heat of the sun on his back, is excellent: he could just stay like this for the rest of the trip, and the thought makes his rattlereeds rasp in the beginning of a purr.

Edited 2014-12-01 16:45 (UTC)

This is so fucking weird.

The familiar tingle of psionics again, and then the little troll is lifting up to eye level. The greeting is perfunctonary, and Riccin holds perfectly still for the duration of it: they tap left horn to left horn, and then right horn to right. "Hinnom," they say, prim as a schoolfeed, and then they drop back to the ground.

This has to be a fucking lowblood thing, because when they cant their eyes towards the jade, Marduk's got the same wigged out face going on. Well, whatever. Getting bagged for the programs early meant Riccin never spent much time with lowbloods: before that, they spent their time with Myrrha and Liyiji, and after that, they spent their time in church. But if these fuckers want to play rustbuddies, it's no skin off their back.

"I'm yellow, too," Hinnom says, and Riccin frowns. They're all decked out in maroon, from the lips to the eyes to the twice-painted horns, and that shit is weird.

Maybe it's quad colours, but there's no insignia on the coat, in either maroon or yellow. Bluebloods play this game occasionally, but it seems weird for a yellow: their blood is shitty enough, why chance someone making the mistake it's the one hue worse?

"'course I'm fucking yellow. That's what the symbol says," they say, and then they stop.

There's a vibration against their side, almost like diagnostic pulse from their ports, and it's only when they lean towards it and it increases in response that they realise what's going on. Pheres is fucking purring, too quiet to hear.

Yeah, they're.. definitely not shoving him off. Maybe they'll let him just stay there, for the rest of the walk, although managing that slouched like this would be a fucking miracle.

Edited 2014-12-01 17:35 (UTC)

"Since you're all evidently just going to stand around in the daylight," Castor says, "I'm going to check the perimeter."

He doesn't walk away so much as he dissolves, his outline growing more abstract with each step. Ghosts can do that, when they don't want to be seen, and Hinnom could force him to refocus.. but ze doesn't bother. Castor's allowed his space! And besides, it isn't as if ze can't feel him just by thinking about the leash.

Riccin has trailed off: for a second, Hinnom thinks they're going to say something else, but Castor was right. They're all just standing there! Welll, whatever. Not like they can walk until Castor gets back.

"Is it?" Ze leans in, peering at their cloak, and oh, now ze can see it: two overlapping yellow circles, on the edge of their collar. It looks neat! Ze doesn't have any clothes with those, and although trolls have made noise about the lack, the only colour ze'd want a symbol in is maroon. But Castor said it wasn't allowed, and that was that.

"You got any powers?" ze asks, more to talk than out of real curiousity. The silence is dragging on and on, and they're not sure why, but it's boring as fuck. "I do! I'm a psychic."

A beat, and then ze adds: "That means I talk to ghosts."

Marduk's starting to think she'll feel excluded from any group. All of her highblood classmates look down on her for blood, and many refuse to talk to her outright: they'll all be heading off to ships and colony planets, but she's the only student, save for the four sweep old Dammeo, who will be sent to the caverns. Why bother making connections with the girl you'll never see again, when you're surrounded with children you might be stationed with?

She's never had that problem with lowbloods. Jade is rare enough that most think she's just olive, and she's always been treated like one of them. But at times like these, when they're all doing strange things like they're perfectly normal...

It's almost a relief when she notices the way that Pheres is drowsing, half-perched on Riccin's shoulder. She's read about the dangers of sunlight: it's important to know, for all that it doesn't apply to her. And sleepiness, all of the guides said, is one of the first signs of danger.

Marduk gently tugs a water bottle free from her decimal sylladex, where it's been catalogued as 600.641 (Food & Drink), and heads over. She taps him on the shoulder, carefully, and holds out the water bottle. "Excuse me, Pheres," she says. "Um. You should drink this."

"It's water with additional electrolytes added in order to prevent dehydration." He's already drank contaminated liquid once tonight, and she doesn't want him to be unaware. "You've been in the sun for a great deal of time, so you should rehydrate."

Edited 2014-12-02 02:52 (UTC)

Man, lowbloods are all so fucking tiny. Riccin is feeling like a drone in the caverns right now: Marduk is the tallest, and even slouched, they've got a head on her. Shit is absurd.

Little fuckers could at least have the courtesy to wear boots.

"Ghosts," they repeat. That sounds vaguely familiar: if they're hanging with Marduk and Sipara, then they're probably another dork from Fleetbound. Well, whatever. "That's hilarious, kid, 'cause I fucking make them. Now shut the fuck up. I'm not out here to yammer."

Moving requires shifting Pheres, who is still purring, and.. apparently sleeping, because he doesn't do much more than make a muffled noise of protest when they try to stand up. It's pathetic, and they'd almost be tempted to let him stay, except they're sweating like a fucking mammal, and the way they're getting damp is making their skin crawl.

Keep this shit up for too long, and their ports will have them sparking like the redblood. No fucking thanks.

Thank god for the jade. She trots over, rattling off some creed on water bottles and dehydration, and Riccin takes the opportunity to untangle their arm from Pheres, and push him - none too gently - towards her. "Go cling to the trainee," they order. "Come on, we're walking."

Edited 2014-12-02 02:56 (UTC)

There's someone tapping on his shoulder.

His eyes have shut sometime in the last few minutes, and his purring slows as he opens them. Marduk is standing in front of him, holding out a bottle of water.

She's standing awfully close in front of him.

"Oh," he says, blinking rapidly. That's because Riccin has removed their arm and is steering them towards Marduk, one tapered hand pushing firmly in the center of his back. He's still burning off the pill, because for all that the sparking has died back down to mere glitter, Pheres finds walking straight is a conundrum.

Latching onto Marduk's arm is a matter of self-preservation. He doesn't want to fall: he'd land horns first, and that'd be terrible. "Sorry," he chirps, laughing a little, leaning on her. This is ridiculous. He is never going to drink again. "Haah. I take it we're walking now..?"

Pheres is her height, but he's featherbeast light: even when he leans on her, the only inconvenience is the way that her earring tangles in his horn.

"Um," she says, frowning at Riccin, "it's alright."

They claim that they're an Imperial Trainee as well, but manners are an important part of every course, and respecting your betters is the main focus. Marduk isn't sure she really believes in the hemosystem, but she knows better than to flout it.

Apparently, Riccin doesn't. There might only be two castes between them, but the fact remains: jade is past the limegap, and yellow is not. That warrants a little respect.

She flicks her ear back and forth until the little wire of the earring slips free, and then she removes the other from her ear, and catalogues them both. Then she pushes the water bottle into Pheres's hands. This is all a bit of a complicated affair, with him clinging to her arm like a pupating cocoon, but she manages.

"Do try to drink that, please."

Edited 2014-12-03 17:11 (UTC)

Hinnom pushes out zir bottom lip, pouting. They want to say something, but Riccin is looking at them, so they pinch their fingers and zip zir lips shut, instead.

As soon as they turn their back, ze sticks out zir tongue. They're so mean!

Riccin shoves Pheres off on Marduk, and Hinnom watches approvingly as she catches him easily. Her other arm is free, and maybe ze'll grab it in a minute, so the three of them are all in cahoots. But first, ze has to wait for Castor.

The rest of them are walking ahead. That's fine: ze'll just catch up. Hinnom lingers back, giving the leash a mental tug, and waits for the blueblood to appear.

Pheres staggers free, and immediately latchse onto Marduk, without so much as a word of complaint. He's leaning against her, close enough that he'd be cheek-to-cheek if it weren't for those stupid horns, and he says something under his breath and laughs.

It's irritating as fuck. Good to see the purring shit wasn't personal: apparently, cuddling with strangers is just what he does.

(Well, what did they expect, when they shoved him off? Should've just dealt with the mugginess -)

What the fuck ever.

They start walking, and the other two fall in step behind them. Riccin only makes it a few feet, though, before they realise they're missing one of their number.

The yellow kid is hanging back, peering off into the distance like they're waiting for someone, which is bullshit: no one's awake this time of day save for them, and Riccin isn't up for dawdling. Long legs mean a long stride, and without having to wait up for the other short-asses, heading back to the kid only takes a minute.

"Come on," they snap, and snatch them up by the back of their cape. Carrying them or dragging them, it doesn't really matter: either way, Hinnom's coming with them.

Edited 2014-12-03 17:25 (UTC)

Ze's snatched up by the back of zir cape like a baby meowbeast, and for a moment, ze's too startled to move - and then ze doesn't dare to, not when Castor isn't there to catch them, because Riccin's hauled zim all the way up into the air.

Hinnom growls hard enough that it feels like zir entire body is shaking with the noise, but ze doesn't dare do much else. Riccin's the sort of jerk that would drop them, and that's an awfully long way to fall. Ze jerks on the leash again, instead, soft one time and then harder when there's no response.

Then ze yanks it, as hard as ze can manage, and there's finally an answering vibration. Castor emerges over the horizon a few seconds later, approaching at a run.

Castor can't look pale. There's no blood in his veins, no flesh to drain, but maybe he's feeling especially corporeal today, because when he gets close enough to see, his face is drawn, his body is tense, and he's as pale as.. well, a ghost.

"Drones," he says, his voice like he wants to tear something to shreds. He always gets angry when he's scared, angry and a little wondering, like the emotion's new. "We need to go."

When Riccin turns back, Marduk peers over her shoulder to see why.. and immediately, her bloodpusher sinks. She forgot about Hinnom.

But the yellowblood has grabbed zim, and is hauling them like a package of goods back to the group. Hinnom dangles by zir cape, and even from here, Marduk can hear the rattle of their reeds, a high-pitched rasp that's more like the buzz of an angry insect than a true growl.

She doesn't like the way Riccin's holding them. That can't be comfortable! But Hinnom is the smallest of them all, and there's no way ze'll be able to keep up, otherwise. Unless..

Marduk steps to Riccin's other side, pulling Pheres gently with her, until she's next to Hinnom. Good thing ze isn't thrashing, or ze'd kick her in the face. "Hinnom," she says, "do you think you could use your psionics to keep up?"

Marduk says something, but ze doesn't hear. Castor's close enough to grab zim, now, and he's eyeing Riccin like he wants to haul off and pop them.

But that'd be wasting energy, and they've got to amscray. Drones are super-duper, hellaciously bad, the one thing that both zir lusus and Castor have both raised hell about avoiding, and if they're close enough to freak him out...

Himmon starts flailing instead, kicking and flailing. Riccin's arms are covered in cloth, and their claws aren't doing jack shit, so ze starts pummelling the arm with zir fists instead. "Let me down," ze shrieks. "There's drones back there, I gotta go, let me down!"

The kid is growling, but Riccin does not give a single fuck what sort of raucous noise they want to rattle up: it's not like they can do shit. Their apartment is a thirty minute fucking walk, and they're not dawdling.

That changes when the kid starts yowling about drones. The first high pitch noise goes straight into one audiosponge and cuts into their pan, and Riccin hisses, their ears immediately pinning back defensively and their free hand clamping over one. The other hand is occupied with the kid, though.

Not for long. The kid starts hitting them and they shake them, hard, and then drop them for good measure.

Edited 2014-12-03 17:54 (UTC)

The only warning she gets is the way that Hinnom tenses, head tilting like ze's listening to someone talk, and then goes still. Combat training is what makes Marduk duck, and she's grateful for it when the booted foot goes over her head and straight into Pheres's, instead.

Grateful, and appalled.

"Hinnom!" she hisses, flushing. "Pheres - are you alright?"

Pheres only realises he's fallen asleep again when Hinnom starts yowling. He snaps up, blinking rapidly, and thank goodness he's still wearing the glasses, because it feels like the day has only gotten brighter, and even through the tinted shades, his vision is crowded with white spots.

Part of this is because a small boot kicks him directly in the horn. The momentum is too weak for it, and the angle too high, to really hurt, but the way his horn rings is still enough to set his bloodpusher to pulsing.

He has no idea what's going on. But he does know -

"Drones?" His mouth feels like it's full of cotton.

But he's holding a water bottle, for some reason, and he rips off the keratin lid with a claw and takes a grateful gulp. The rest of the water, he dumps on his head: the suncloak he's wearing is just canvas, and it permeates rapidly through the cloth, and onto his skin. It doesn't get rid of the way his head feels like it's full of cotton, but it helps, and besides. It is hot as hell out here.

"What - why are there drones?"

Edited 2014-12-03 18:03 (UTC)

Riccin drops them, and ze hits the ground with a bounce that leaves zim staggering. But that's okay, because ze's on zir feet, and already spinning, trying to find the best route to escape.

Where did they leave the sewer grate?

The others are talking, but right now, Hinnom doesn't care. Castor's circling them, peering at each in turn, and the information he's rattling off is what ze's got to pay attention to. They're still a few blocks over, clearing out the last of the communal hivestems. The neighborhood back there is completely locked down, and they've probably only got a minute or two before the groundsmen start moving over here to start rounding up the kids in the street.

Kids like them.

"These two will be fine." He's been looking over Marduk and Riccin, and yeah, Hinnom wasn't worried about Mardie: she's like, working for the fishheads, so the drones'll probably just pat her on the head and give her a piece of sugared grub leg. And Riccin's practically the size of a drone by themselves, so they can't be worried.

Castor's looking at Pheres, now, leaning in close enough that Pheres shifts. Flatscans can't see ghosts as much than specs, but sometimes they can feel their auras. "This one's cullbait," Castor announces. "Bring him along."

Hinnom puffs out their cheeks, but there's no time to protest, and Pheres might be old as fuck, but he isn't big: anywhere they can squeeze, he should be able to fit, too, so ze darts over and grabs his free hand.

"They're doing a culling sweep," ze says, and gives his arm a yank. If only ze was bigger, ze'd just haul him, like Riccin did. "Come on come on come on! We've gotta go!"

And how the fuck does the kid know that?

But the daytime is quiet. A little too quiet, maybe, and Riccin frowns, looking around. Sure enough, there's kids at the windows of their hivestem, their curtains open and outlines blurred behind the tinted glass. They're not looking down at them, though.

Their faces are angled up, towards the next block over.

"Hold it," Riccin says, irritable. The kid is acting like this is a fucking emergency, but none of them are cullbait: they're wearing the Shepherd's symbol, emblazoned bold as brass on the back of their suncloak, and Marduk seems like the sort of dumbass that could rattle off her imperial signature in her sleep. "It's a culling sweep. So what?"

Oh. A culling sweep.

She's been in those once or twice, when she slept off-grounds for a night. Drones came into the hivestem and collected all the residents, straight in a line, and did a health inspection for blood abnormalities, any incurable communicative diseases.. anything that might warrant a culling, so their apartment block could be freed for a new, healthier child.

At the time, it was terrifying. The air had been thick with fear pheromones, and the sound of children weeping: she had watched one child culled in front of them, and then watched her moirail demand the same.

(The drone had done it, under code five hundred and eighty two. Marduk had looked it up, afterwards, and all of the rest of the culling qualifications, just in case.)

But now...

They're all healthy. No blood aberrations, no disease: she might wonder about Hinnom, the way that they live in the sewer, but ze spends too much time with her. She'd have noticed if ze was sick, or sported any unusual mutations.

"Culling sweeps are a perfectly normal and routine part of the day," she says, trying to sound soothing. Ze's practically vibrating with anxiety, and the way fear pheromones that are coming off of zim in waves is making her horns ache. "I've been in several, and come out fine. There's nothing to be worried about."

It's a culling sweep.

Well. Now he's wide awake.

Andrenaline is cutting through the fog of his brain like a knife through a page: one minute, he's still foggy-minded, and the next, his thoughts feel like they're crystal clear and entirely too sharp in their clarity. His bloodpusher feels like it's going to climb out of his throat, and he abandons Marduk in favor of following Hinnom.

The air stinks of fear pheromones, and part of it's coming from him. He's never been in a culling sweep before, and he's not about to start now. He and Sipara have worked too hard to keep him alive to get culled by a bloody drone, of all things - lobotomised soldiers, barely sentient, barely trolls. Better to have been culled by a person than to die like that.

"You two can participate, then," he snaps. "I'm not. Goodbye!"

Edited 2014-12-03 18:34 (UTC)

Oh, fuck that. After they just went through all this bullshit to fetch him, Riccin's not about to let Pheres take off with some kid with a drone phobia.

They stalk forward until they're close enough to grab him, and then they do, one hand wrapping around the top of a horn. thank fuck for gloves, because they can feel the heat of the cuff even through the leather.

"Stop being such a chicken shit," they order. "The fuck you think they're going to do, they see your candy-ass trying to hide out a sweep?"

He's not a blood mutant: his cheeks are ruddy enough, it's clear he's maroon. And his clothes under the sun cloak aren't hiding anything, so there's nothing for him to worry about.

The yellowblood is another story, but Riccin doesn't care about the pipsqueak. They can be Marduk's problem.

Hinnom started moving as soon as Pheres was free, and so he's hurrying after the wriggler when his world goes abruptly off-balance. There's a hand on his horn. There's a hand on his fucking horn.

He hisses at Riccin, showing his teeth, and jerks his head, hard. "Get off of me," he demands, and then again: "Right now!"

He doesn't have the weight to out and out wrest free. But he does have one thing on his side, and that's agitation. Drowsing had reduced the sparks to essentially glitter on the base of his horns, shiny but harmless, but the abrupt spike of aggression starts them up again, and he forces them stronger, pushing at his aura until his head is ringing and the air is crackling.

He can't jump, not with a hand on his horn, but he can burn the hell out of their hand.

Pheres pulls free from her and is stepping after Hinnom before she can even react. "Goodbye!" he calls over his shoulder, waspish, like he thinks they're the ones being foolish.

"You can't outrun a culling sweep," she says, and the fear is rubbing off. She feels sick to her stomach, and grateful when Riccin moves to intercept them: they're going to get themselves culled, trying to escape. That's how you die. "You'll be fine! You'll both be fine, just --"

The world goes bright, bleaching out, and she thinks lightning must've struck, because the air feels heavy with something. Then the colour comes inching back, and she realises it's just Pheres, sparking like when she first saw him.

It's worse now, though, and the sparks are bright enough that it hurts to look at them. The first flare was the worst, and it's already dying down, like he can't quite sustain.. whatever it is that he's trying to do. "Please stop," she hisses, glancing towards the distance. She can hear something buzzing. If the drones arrive and find them all fighting...

She isn't sure what'll happen. But it'll probably be bad.

He'd snapped at them a few times online, but Riccin had figured he was all talk: after all, it's easy to play tough when you don't have to back it up.

But no, he's bearing his teeth at her and hissing like he's going to bite. His teeth are nubby, though, with none of the care or polish that he's obviously put into his horns. Those fuckers wouldn't even break flesh.

It's pathetic as hell, and they have to marvel at the display. He's as threatening as a wet baby meowbeast. Are they supposed to be scared?

He jerks his head to try and get free, and they tighten their grip on the horn. "Get off of me," he demands, his voice frantic, and he must still be drunk as fuck, because he should be grateful. They're keeping his chump-ass from getting culled, and they're tempted to tell him that.

Instead, they just turn, their grip slipping onto the cuff proper, and later, they'll reflect that's what saves them from their hand getting completely fucking scorched.

The build-up of psionic aura is abrupt: Pheres has been sparking away steadily this entire time, a tiny-ass blip on the radar of their attention, and they barely notice when it starts to amp up. But then it keeps going, until the air is suddenly thick with the glowing sparks, the initial surge bright enough that it's hard to see.

The honey's still in his system. They're directionless: whatever his ability is, because by now they're fucking sure it isn't standard telekinesis, he's not using it right now. He's just pumping energy into his aura and putting on a lightshow, because the sparks are rippling across his horns and snapping like bands off into the air, but they're not going anywhere. They get little more than a few inches away from him before fading out entirely.

They might not be getting far, but they fucking sting. The initial surge hits the metal and bounces, but Riccin can still feel the heat output through their glove: if it'd hit their skin, they might've actually gotten burned. The sparks after that are too weak to do more than sting, brief taps of heat that die off just as the feeling registers, and they tighten their grip as he loses energy. Lucky for him they're wearing gloves, or they'd have claws inch-deep in his horns.

He tried to fucking zap them. Ungrateful bastard.

"You done yet?" they snap. "Because if you're going to keep that shit up, you won't have to worry about the fucking drones."

Their telekinesis only works at a distance, but Pheres is tiny as fuck: they don't need powers to beat some sense into him, if it comes to that.

Edited 2014-12-03 19:12 (UTC)

Once, when he was young and translating a book of old myths, Pheres read about one of the very old creation myths, written back before the Tyrian bloodline gained their stranglehold on the throne and the Empire, back long before the first Cuckoo had crawled from the brooding caverns and marvelled at the colour of the sky.

It had been written by jadebloods, back in the days when each caste lived separate in vast, communal hives, and it had said that when the first eggs were sculpted, out of clay and grass and smoke, all trolls had been hatched with black eyes, the better to see in the gloom of the night.

It was only when a greenblood had cut her hand while sculpting and blood had mixed into the clay that the first jadeblood had hatched: a jadeblood, with jade eyes as pale as her blood, eyes that made her strain at night, but made her the first troll to be able to see, and walk in the light of the day.

(He doesn't remember the rest, much to his regret: it was one of the first books he'd done, staying up all day with a dictionary and a pen, and he hadn't known to make himself a copy.)

(He'd tried to buy it back, sweeps later, when he'd had caegars to spare and was feeling nostalgic, only to find the owner had been culled for owning propaganda.)

As a wriggler, he'd thought it was an excellent tale.

As an adult, all he can think is that it was complete hoofbeastshit. His eyes are as pale as they get, and the light of his psionics feels like a punch to the snout, even behind the tinted gloom of the glasses.

He's not blinded, but his eyes are watering as the sparks die down. He can't keep it up, even if he wanted to: his horns ring like he's struck them against a wall, and Riccin's hand is still curled tight around one.

They have the audacity to ask him if he's done yet.

"You're going to get me killed," he says, distraught. There's a buzzing in the distance: he feels it more like a weight in his bones than a sound, and he needs to flee.

Edited 2014-12-03 19:31 (UTC)

"I should've told you to leave them," Castor says, stricken. He's playing with something around his throat: the curlicue twine of silver metal was his symbol, probably, when he was alive."I'm sorry."

Ze're fucked. He doesn't have to say anything: ze can hear the buzzing of the drones, and ze feels like crying. Ze're fucked, and ze're going to die.

Ze wishes Castor wasn't dead, because ze really wants a hug right now. Zir throat hitches and ze whines, as zir centispidermom stirs from her sleep and starts worriedly twining up zir throat.

Edited 2014-12-03 19:35 (UTC)

[=> pheres: win this years darwin award] [actually] [just] [take all of them.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

[this is why OA has no quadrants] [how much of a douchebag can you even BE]

no subject

no subject