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Post by Deleted on Sept 15, 2013 23:34:42 GMT
| It is precisely 11:52 PM, and Minzhe crouches in an alleyway and listens to footsteps receding. He isn't a sociable man, but he has his friends and he has his late-night meetings. He has his business and it runs smoothly.
He stands up. It's drizzling, and he wonders if it'll storm. He's always had a fondness for thunderstorms, for lightning and its unpredictability. He doesn't understand its patterns any more than he understands the patterns of other people.
But thunderstorms aren't quite so enjoyable in the thick of one, and he should be home. His footsteps echo against the pavement as he leaves the alleyway, into the streets, lined with towering industrial buildings, warehouses. He's waited long enough and his friend is nowhere in sight.
Both hands are in his pockets, and a stun gun is in the left.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 16, 2013 0:09:10 GMT
Stiles had learned very quickly that patrols were not something that he'd expect to be normal. Between the usual weirdness of this town and the people he had run into, he had less and less hope of being able to have a normal night. Then again, his idea of a normal night was being able to sit in the squad car and read comic books and be completely undisturbed - but then again when did that ever actually happen?
He could answer that. Never.
So instead he chose to park the car and go on a bit of a walk. It wasn't like he was far away anyway, just go around the block and scope out for possible shady activity going on. Nothing big.
Then again, that seemed to be a pipe dream as he watched someone leave an alley way. It looked suspicious, but Stiles couldn't arrest someone because his gut said to. Instead he followed at a distance, tailing the black haired man. Kid. Person. Civilian with a hat. LAIKA OF GS! |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 16, 2013 1:05:44 GMT
| A car door slammed, his fingers tensed around the contoured plastic of the handle. His shoulders were hunched, his lower face buried beneath a scarf. It made him look suspicious, but it made him feel safe. He wove through the allies along a familiar route.
Foosteps behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder. Minzhe's eyes narrowed as he scanned the streets - there wasn't anyone around the industrial district this late at night, not usually, but tonight there was. He was at a distance and he was a stranger.
Minzhe stopped, turned. Watched silently. A fear had begun to burrow into his bones, shake his limbs.
| @stiles |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 23, 2013 0:24:13 GMT
If it weren't nighttime and if Stiles were one of those freaky super observant people, he might have noticed the way Minzhe's demeanor changed completely the moment Stiles decided to tail him. He might have noticed the tensing, the obvious signs that this guy was either doing something bad or was a seriously jumpy fellow.
Stiles hoped it was the latter.
He made an attempt to look like he didn't notice the way Hat-man ( that's what Stiles decided to dub him for now ) turned around to glance at him, tried to look like he was just an average civilian with average civilian duties to do at night. Then again, he probably looked like a criminal all in his own, and he wondered what gave him the brilliant idea of going after this guy. Stiles found himself frowning to himself, completely unaware that he had stopped dead in his tracks when Minzhe had stopped as well.
Oops.
"Is something wrong, sir?" LAIKA OF GS! |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 23, 2013 16:04:35 GMT
| The police car was out of his sight, but the man had followed his pace so closely that he had stopped along with Minzhe. He always seemed to get the feeling that he was being followed, but now he very well might have been, and none too subtly.
His pursuer was young looking, though probably stronger and fitter than Minzhe. But that was why he carried a weapon, the pad of his thumb tracing the handle as if to soothe himself. Nobody who followed him could mean well. People never meant well for Minzhe.
His jaw had locked, and he didn't answer. He just stared with wide eyes and raspy breaths hissing between his clenched teeth.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 24, 2013 23:19:28 GMT
Well, Stiles wasn't sure what he was expecting when Minzhe just stared back at him, showing no sign that he even so much as heard what Stiles had said. So he repeated himself. "Are you okay, sir?" At this point, the concern in his eyes should have been entirely real, because usually he'd have gotten a response by now.
He silently wondered if he was in as much danger as he felt like he was in. Probably.
"I-I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." To help with the anxiety that was starting to build up, Stiles pretended that he was talking to his younger sister who would do the same thing. Except when she did it, she looked more pouty and less threatening. LAIKA OF GS! |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 26, 2013 16:12:22 GMT
Instances where he found humans interesting were always where there were tears in the works. A clog that clogged up. A well that dried up. Screams of pain and anguish and laughter. For as long as they fought beasts and killed, they ripped each other apart too, cold hard and ruthless. It was easy to say that part was his favourite. Humans had it in them to tear themselves to shreds, and every moment was worth watching, worth observing, worth contaminating. For all beings were destined to fall into his hands; so why not make it sooner? Why not indeed. Telling the signs of a well established prequel was one of many of his skills. So he appeared, festering his form the voids in the air to appear dangling down from clouds that were far too low, far too black. But that was just a moment's notice. He was now amongst the two men, one more pitied than the other, but one was destined for greater power, perhaps. He'd make a bigger bang if Abyss was involved in this fair game. "I don't think—" He began in a disturbingly low voice, tapping into the depths of both consciences, but speaking only to the fairer haired man. "You can help this gentleman with anything."@minzhe @stiles |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 27, 2013 2:10:43 GMT
| Things were so very simple for Minzhe. Or rather, they were terribly complicated, and he boxed them away as cleanly and simply as he could. Black or white, flight or fight. This was grey.
The man who had appeared – he was dangerous, as all people seemed to Minzhe. He seemed especially dangerous, otherworldly, but there was something else, something that seemed to put a different part of Minzhe at ease. The way that he spoke for him.
He was still tensed, he was still taking a slow step back, eyes flicking between the two of them, knuckles white, and heart hammering.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 27, 2013 3:05:03 GMT
Professionalism be damned, Stiles jumped like a cat when the man suddenly appeared by him. Especially when he started speaking, because Stile's mind started running a mile a minute and he wasn't sure what was happening anymore.
Instead his eyebrows furrowed. "I think I probably can't either," he muttered, frowning to himself as he instead turned to the man next to him. "But what about you?" His suspicion levels were an all-time high today, he noted, as he cast a glance to Minzhe who continued backing away.
Stiles wasn't going to stop him if he left. LAIKA OF GS! |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 28, 2013 16:04:03 GMT
As if he'd ever admit to warming up to the idea of these idiotic creatures; but oh dear, he was falling into this game terribly well. Breaking, tearing limbs, shattering bones, and those what do they call them? Dreams? Hopes? Something or other, something he couldn't really understand. None of those things mattered when they come to him. They couldn't ever remember a single one of those things, only a terrible pain and suffering with no break in between. It was sweeter that way, no doubt. "No need to be wary,"He spoke to the man backing away. "But yes, I am otherworldly and dangerous, by your standards. Your senses don't betray you, I'm marveled, they've not dulled and I can tell— you've very much paid the price for that."Why, he was talkative today, wasn't he? Call it a gift. Instead, he chose to ignore the other man with a frown, instead squeezing the air out of his lungs until there'd be seconds until death was on his door, and then he released the grasp he had on the organs. "That's a good enough answer for scum." His voice was booming in the fair haired man's mind, disrupting thoughts and wavelengths. It was like the haunting narration in a horror movie short. No one was in a position to question him. What a laughable attempt. "But I still think it's a good idea for both of you to get to know each other." He spoke openly this time, dusting his hands of imaginary dirt. Minzhe and Stiles now have access to each other's every thought, and every feeling from this moment on. Be careless, and you may end up showing a little more than you've bargained for, because Abyss has opened the doors to your memories, and if you leave that door open for too long— well.@minzhe @stiles |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 28, 2013 21:37:16 GMT
| Minzhe had a scientific mind - sums and formulas being easier to understand than people were - but somehow the existence of the otherwordly didn't come as too great a shock. Most people seemed like a different species than Minzhe anyways. He was perceptive, and he was being paid a compliment for it, though he hardly glowed with the praise. The man - not quite a man, even - was dangerous.
His eyes widened, a current of thoughts hitting him like an electric shock, and he was conscious of his own memories pulled out into the stream. It wasn't a neat road between them, no clear division in the directions things moved. They swirled like an impossible river, eddies and undertows and waves crashing right into each other.
It was dyed red with blood, because Minzhe's memories had a lot of blood. Blood on his hands, his blood on the hands of others, gouged eyes and gutted cats, fountains and emptied cadavers. | |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 29, 2013 18:34:12 GMT
He was completely ready to leave this strange scene before things started getting even weirder. To be honest, all Stiles wanted right now was to curl up and forget about everything, because having people randomly appear from darkness was something that he really wasn't prepared to deal with. Ever.
Of course, nothing went as Stiles wanted it to go. Before he could even so much as think about really leaving like he really wanted to, any and all oxygen in his lungs was gone, and like a fish out of water he collapsed in on himself. After what felt like forever, his gasping for air managed to be successful, and before too long he was able to push himself back on his feet. The name of scum went unnoticed to him as Stiles brushed off his shirt.
Before he could turn down the notion of getting to know Minzhe better, Stiles felt like he was suddenly hit by a train. A rushing, red train that was more disturbing than he could have ever imagined. He hoped that his own thoughts - that this was seriously screwed up - weren't a part of whatever was happening too. LAIKA OF GS! |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 9, 2013 17:09:43 GMT
Abyss was never satisfied.
Satisfaction to humans was already an abstract concept; a theory, a ideology, a reflection of a mirror with shattered innards. If that was the case for humans, Abyss's insatiability would suppress the random clouds of concepts fogging up the mind. There was always room for improvement, and better was a term to be beaten.
Perhaps there was more credit to be offered to the man with the festering mind; the brown haired man still showed no signs of breaking. Far from pleased, Abyss frowned instead, immediately transporting the two into a dimension devoid of all light. Whether or not it was real or imaginary, it was hard to tell, as it had the fuzzed out images of a dream, and the stark detail of reality.
With a flick of his hand, he willed the dark dreams in both to stand upright and sing for his attention.
Abyss has conjured Minzhe and Stiles' worst nightmares into horrifyingly real pictures. A background is also painted into the setting, giving the nightmare a three dimensional feel. Introduce your character's worst nightmare in your next post.
Reminder: Abyss' last order is still in play, even if your characters are seemingly apart from each other.
@minzhe @stiles
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Post by Deleted on Oct 15, 2013 1:21:54 GMT
| When Minzhe was eight years old, playing with his cousins, they held his head under the water until his vision tunneled and his knees were scraped raw against the rocks. It was a small creek, a tributary, and the river that ran into it was the scene of a police investigation a week later, when a car filled with passengers was driven right to the bottom of it.
Perhaps that’s why she was in the water; what was left of her – a corpse. Minzhe could count the days from death all too accurately, but he wasn't counting for this body. He was recognizing. The body had just begun to grow bloated and blued, but he could still see Fangyin's features on it, her clothes, her hair sleek and dark and flowing with the current while the rest of her was caught on something that kept her from drifting downstream and out of his sight.
Minzhe was repulsed, his jaw was tightened, but he didn't back away. A corpse was a corpse and he wasn't afraid of what it was, just of how it had ended up as one. He crouched by the water – the weapon was still in his hand, and it dropped into the water because he didn't care, he watched it sink. Then he looked back at her, his sister, and he reached for her hand. | |
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Post by Deleted on Nov 18, 2013 4:01:32 GMT
A stone was stuck in his throat, and letting himself get a glimpse down, Stiles found that he was standing in front of a podium. Looking back up, he found that he wasn't just standing in front of a classroom of ordinary children - it was everyone he could have possible let down. There were a few children, blurred faces that he wasn't entirely sure he recognized, and then scattered about there were his family. A disappointed mother and father up front.
Disappointed. Naturally. That's how they always were, disappointed with their son that didn't have a silver tongue, their son that didn't want the family business. Their son the cop. For some reason, they repeated that - an echo of cop scoffed around like it was an insult.
Did they want him to speak? Tell a story? Speak publicly? Stiles froze. Froze and his mind blanked and he felt his palms start to go sweaty. What was he going to talk about? What if the kids started to laugh? They always did.
He opened his mouth to say something, and the chorus of laughter started almost immediately. LAIKA OF GS! |
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