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Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby Jessari » 06/17/2012 12:16 AM


No matter the time of day, the small church remained swathed in shadows, dwarfed by the large buildings crowding on either side. It was old, its stone construction hinting at an age when the Holy City was nothing more than a collection of dirt roads, a general store, and a blacksmith shop. Times had changed. No one remembered the ancient building, and who could blame them? There were hundreds of modern cathedrals where one could worship the Triumvirate in the comfort of air-conditioning and padded seats.

Despite its appearance, however, the church hadn't remained completely untouched by modern conventions. If one were to walk up the aisle, past the rows of hard benches, past the altar, and tip one of the tarnished candelabras backward, the podium would slide aside, revealing a set of lit steps that led down into something resembling a hospital. Deep within the brightly-lit, clinical hallways was a thick, steel door, locked from the outside.

Behind the door, Ruach dreamed of snow.

She watched through a window as two young children, a boy and a girl, played in snow that rose nearly to their knees. A blond-haired woman was helping them build a snowman, and a soft smile curled Ruach's lips as she watched their efforts. They'd made the middle too big, and as they struggled to lift it atop the bottom snowball, the pink-haired girl lost her balance and fell backward. Ruach straightened, alert with concern, but instead of crying, the girl flopped back and began creating a snow angel. With a shriek of delight, the boy joined her. The blond woman laughed, then looked toward Ruach. Her green eyes danced with joy, and she held out a hand, motioning for Ruach to join them. The window turned into a door, but as Ruach moved to open it, a dark shadow fell upon her, blocking both light and air. Her joy turned to panic as her lungs fought for air...

Ruach bolted upright, gasping as she fought her way out of the sheets that had somehow tangled about her arms and chest. The faces she'd seen in her dream had already begun to vanish as she swung her legs out of bed and stood. Ignoring the wet chill of the floor, and the crunch each of her footsteps made, she crossed the room and turned on the light. The room was spartan, windowless and bare of any furniture besides a small sink, a toilet, and the small cot she'd slept on. Everything was covered in an inch of snow, save for the cot, and in the harsh fluorescent light, she climbed back up and wrapped herself in her only blanket.

It wasn't particularly cold in the room, and even as she watched, the snow began to melt, running into a drain in the middle of her floor. She hugged the blanket tighter about her shoulders however, needing the comfort it provided. She had no idea how long she'd been here; at one time, she'd tried to keep track by making marks on the wall, but the drugs had ruined that plan. There was no telling how many days she'd missed, or if she'd marked multiple times in a day. There were a few words written in large, unsteady letters above the sink, but they were impossible to decipher.

Who were the people in her dream? She closed her eyes, trying to hold onto images that slid further away from her. She thought knew them, or had known them at one time, but all she felt was emptiness, a detachment that denied familiarity. Maybe it had been a movie she'd seen, or a painting. Maybe she was imagining the way the girl's hair would feel beneath her fingers. Hallucinations weren't uncommon, a side-effect of the drugs. But they hadn't given her any injections last night, had they?

The loneliness and uncertainty drove her out of herself, sent her mind in search of others. She briefly touched on the consciousnesses of the attendants, the scientists, the guards who populated the facility; she knew she'd find no solace there. As her brow wrinkled in concentration, her mind stretched beyond the bounds of the facility, wavering timidly into the 'outside'. On a good day, she could feel the minds of passersby. While she couldn't read their thoughts, she could sometimes sense their emotions: playfulness, joy, irritation, anger, love... She'd make up stories for them, who they were, where they were headed, why they were happy or upset. It kept the monotony from driving her truly insane.

Reaching toward the first person she encountered, she received a shock. Familiarity rushed through her in a way she couldn't describe, and for a moment, a face flashed before her eyes. A word formed on her lips. A name? But it was gone before it was fully shaped. The presence was moving away, and even though it was futile, she scrambled out of her bed to press her body to the door. In a panic, she stretched out in a way she'd never done before, touching that familiar presence and communicating with it. Cyar'ika, gaa'tayl! she cried, reaching out for a protector that only her heart remembered.





Cyar'ika, gaa'tayl! = Darling, help!
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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby MillietheWarrior » 06/17/2012 1:16 AM

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As a general rule, people like Dev didn’t get ‘days off.’

So the first time he’d managed to actually get more than two days of rest, he’d hopped at the chance to leave the barracks, and promptly found himself in an unfamiliar city, wandering through unfamiliar streets. He’d dragged out some civvy clothes, which he’d won in a card game (When you had nothing much to bet, you’d bet just about anything you found), and with hands firmly in his pockets, he’d struck out for the nearest urban population and hadn’t looked back. Dragon had been the only one to question where he was going, in his own soft, gentle way, and had expressed his concern that Dev would be out of his element. Dusty, as per his usual boisterous manner, had said to just go out and have fun, and Blue had simply grunted in noncommittal acknowledgement of his outing. So with the blessing (And concern) of his squad, he’d managed to take public transport (Something he was very proud of himself for) without turning any heads or causing any scenes, and had wound up simply walking through the town.

He’d practically window-shopped everywhere (He didn’t really have much money, so he couldn’t afford fancy things; and where would he put them?) but he had stopped to get something cheap, greasy, and ridiculously filling to eat. So with a full belly and a cheerful whistle, he’d set off again and found himself in a part of the city that was relatively devoid of life, and looked more ancient than the wrinkles beside Dusty’s eyes (Which he’d insisted were ‘laugh lines, damn it, not wrinkles!’ But Dev really thought otherwise). Generally, after his squad’s expedition into the zombie infested Nautilus, he tended to stay away from places that were dark, and overall creepy-looking (Sometimes he was forced into places he was not fond of, but he chalked those up to missions and orders and usually scoffed; that had been just great when it came to the Nautilus). So when he found himself in front of a church that looked like it hadn’t really seen any TLC in over fifty years or more, he was a bit dubious about sticking around.

But Dev was nothing if not curious (And stupid, as Blue liked to tell him, but he saw it as ‘hilarious and good-looking’) and he couldn’t help it when said curiosity forced his feet forward to the door. Ever since the ‘Walking Dead’ incident or the ‘what-in-the-hell-did-I-get-myself-into?’ incident, as Dev liked to call it, he’d been a bit jumpy about dark places, creaking things, and shadows. His brothers never made fun of him for it, and he was well aware that they had the same fears (It was why they’d huddled together and decided to purchase a sort of ‘night light’ for the rooms they slept in that was bright enough to illuminate all the dark spots) but still… the creaky church door made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he slipped through, and the fact that there was shadowed, filtered light creeping in through some of the broken, stained glass windows did nothing to assuage the creepy feeling crawling up his spine. Shuddering, he was about to turn right back around and high-tail it out, when the sound of someone’s voice filtered in through the cracks in the walls.

Dev's first impulse was to stifle a very feminine shriek of fear, and his second one was to figure out where the voice had come from. He’d very distinctly heard… “Mando’a?”  he whispered to himself, more perplexed than freaked out at this point. Concerned, confused, and now more than curious, Dev reached into his side jacket, pulling a pistol from the holster that clung close to his body. The small blaster and it’s twin, in the holster on the other side, had been a precaution he was not allowed NOT to take. Quieting his steps, Dev advanced down the aisle, trying to ignore the way the shadows seemed to creep in on him and every little thing looked like it might jump out and grab him. The voice had come from the end of the aisle, somewhere beyond the wall; it had sounded distant and muffled, but it was distinctly Mando’a and he was determined to find it’s cause. “But there’s nothing here,” he whispered, searching the dais and it’s contents for some sort of clue. In the process of moving things, his hand tapped against a candelabra, and the secret door slid aside. Dev stifled a shout of surprise as he leapt back, nearly knocking over the decrepit alter, before he stared into the darkness of the tunnel.

Okay Dev, you can do this, he thought, gulping down his trepidation at the sight of so much darkness and what could possible lay beyond. The thought of grasping, claw-like hands, decrepit, rotting, gnashing teeth, and horrific, guttural moans flashed through his mind, and he very nearly balked and turned around to vacate the church. But curiosity, and the need to find out where the voice had come from spurred him forward. There’s no zombies here. They can’t hurt you anymore. Just stop thinking about it. It’s just a little darkness. He pressed himself against the wall, pressing his back up against what he was sure was a door as he slid down the passageway. He didn’t dare call out too loudly, but instead of using English, he decided it was best to try Mando’a. “Vaii ti gar?” he hissed, his voice hardly above a whisper.  “Ti gar kadala?”

----

Vaii ti gar - Where are you?
Ti gar kadala - Are you wounded/hurt?

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby Jessari » 06/17/2012 10:55 PM

After a brief pause, the presence drew closer. Ruach held still against the door, barely daring to breathe as she marked his progress, as if any motion on her part would break the connection she'd found. She'd been held captive here for what seemed an eternity, suffering through tests that stretched her mind and body to their limits and beyond. It was hard to believe in the potential for escape.

Melting slush clung to her feet, to the hem of her long, white gown, but she took no notice. Ruach had never been very particular about her appearance, at least not that she could recall, and time spent as a test subject had further diminished her interest. Her hair, once long enough to reach halfway down her back, had been chopped short, leaving it in uneven, feathery locks that floated wildly about her face. A scar trailed along one cheekbone, and the skin of her arms was darkened by the shadows of bruises old and new.

Although her body remained still, her mind raced, prodding about in her memories for details concerning the man who was even now approaching the door to her cell. There was nothing. All she had was the moment of recognition, the feeling of familiarity. I called him cyar'ika... Ruach knew what the word meant, but why she'd chosen to apply the term of endearment to the man was beyond her understanding. It was as if her mind was keeping secrets from her. The thought made her uneasy

“Vaii ti gar? Ti gar kadala?”

Fumbling for the unfamiliar method of contact was like trying to tune in a station on an old radio, but she slowed her breathing and forced herself to focus. Ni mirci't! she said, hoping he would hear her as before. Her Mando'a failed her then, so long had it been since she'd spoken it. Please, please let me out! She placed her palms on the thick door, built to withstand the extreme temperatures her captors had known she was capable of inflicting. Please, please, please, she repeated, a silent mantra as she waited for her response. Surely he hadn't come this far only to walk away and leave her alone again.




Ni mirci't! = I am a prisoner!
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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby MillietheWarrior » 06/17/2012 11:20 PM

The voice was closer now, and unmistakably Mando’a. Dev crouched low to the ground, back pressed flush against the door as he held his blaster up at eye level, vertical to his face. The voice sounded so pitiful that it tugged at his heartstrings, but he had to stop and wonder; what kind of church held people captive? Was this some kind of weird cult? Was she a sacrifice or something? Really, at the moment, he didn’t quite care. It didn’t matter to him what they were planning to do to her, because he was going to get her out of this creepy place. He shuddered slightly; shab, he couldn’t even imaging being stuck in a dark cell with no light and creepy noises coming from beyond your door.

Quickly pushing the thought from his mind, he shimmied down the corridor silently, and stopped just at the door the soft voice had come from. Whomever was behind it, they spoke basic as well as Mando’a, so he didn’t have to worry about communication. His Mando’a was good, but it wasn’t the best. Dragon was the best at it in the squad; Blue, Dev, and Dusty were just mediocre, with Dusty being the worst out of all of them (Dev chalked it up to his odd accent). “Don’t worry,” he whispered quietly, daring to turn his back on the hall and the shadows that crept along it. He pressed open hand to the thick door, searching for a weakness. If he had some demolitions, this thing would be gone in an instant. But that would be too loud. He needed to find a quieter way to get her out. He reached into his coat and pulled a dagger from his belt. “Just, uh, stand back and I’ll get you out.”

He holstered his blaster, and then began work on the hinges of the door. He was glad his knife was made of Dura steel, otherwise it wouldn’t have been able to withstand the pressure he was putting on it. He wedged the knife between the door and it’s hinges, and began to pull downward. After a few moments of grunting and strain, the metal began to creek and the screws bolting the door in slowly came undone. With a gasp, the first hinge popped off, and Dev was only just able to grab it before it clanged to the ground. Sighing in relief, he began working on the second one, sweat beading on his brow. He had no idea how long he had until someone decided to wander down this corridor and ultimately blow his cover. After a few more moments of persuading the door hinge to come undone, it finally popped off, and he made a desperate grab for it, letting out a puff of breath as he caught it and set it on the ground.

“Just get away from the door,” he muttered, wedging his knife in the crack between door and wall and hefting. He used his body for leverage as it came off it’s track, and it nearly squashed him with it’s weight as he lifted it away from the cell and balanced it precariously above the ground. With a  grunt, he hefted it against the wall, and stepped back, breathing heavily. “Well, that was-” he began, a cheeky smile on his face as he turned to see the woman he’d just freed. His words died on his tongue and his eyes widened marginally as he stared at her. She  was, he had to admit, one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen. In her white gown, and her short hair, her wide voluminous eyes practically glowing in the dark, Dev had to work very hard to get his mind back on track.

He cleared his throat softly, and held out a hand, looking somewhat awkward and bashful. “Um, uh, I’m Dev, miss. What’s your name? Why are you in here?” he whispered, wondering if she’d even be able to make it out. How long had she been in there? Was she malnourished or sick? She didn’t look too bad (No, she looked very, very good to him). Either way, they needed to get going. “Are you all right?”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby Jessari » 06/18/2012 1:03 AM

Ruach stood aside as requested, nibbling nervously on her lower lip as muffled scrapes came through the door. It was frustrating to be so helpless, to be able to do nothing but stand and wait as the man on the other side of the door worked away.

In reality, the whole process of removing the door had probably taken five minutes. To her, it had seemed like an hour. As the door fell outward, caught at the last moment by her rescuer, Ruach's heart gave a leap of anticipation that her mind couldn't quite comprehend. The man propped the door up, then turned...and as quickly as the emotion had arisen, it disappeared, leaving in its place a disappointment and sadness so profound it brought tears to her eyes. Her shoulders sagged. It's not him, came the thought, followed immediately by the question of who he was supposed to be.

But now wasn't the time to stand here and cry like a ninny. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Ruach stepped forward and took the man's hand. How long had it been since someone had treated her like a true human being? Through the contact with his skin, she spoke her answer into his mind. Discovering she could communicate with someone without touching them was a useful skill, but it was new and unpracticed. There was no way to tell right now how dependable it was.

Ruach, she answered briefly, studying him with curious silver eyes. Although she'd determined Dev wasn't him (whoever 'him' was), his appearance was startlingly familiar. I'm well enough, thanks. The scientists hadn't wanted her infirm, although the different concoctions they'd tried on her hadn't always had pleasant effects, and had kept her well-fed. She was tired, but that had become a natural state of being, and the bruises she shrugged off as inconsequential. Then, feeling like a di'kut for even voicing it, she asked, Do I...do you know me?

While she stood there, her hand still grasping his, a door down the hall opened. Osik. She turned, wild-eyed, every muscle in her body tensing. Kolya, was her first panicked thought, but her tormentor had left days ago with a portion of the guards. Still, the sight of two scientists coming their way wasn't much of a comfort. As they registered what had happened and began to shout for help, Ruach darted the other direction, pulling at Dev's hand. C'mon, run! She didn't know the way out, but she certainly wasn't going to stand there and let herself be caged again.



Osik - Crap
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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby MillietheWarrior » 06/18/2012 1:30 AM

It took Dev a few moments to kick his brain back into proper working order. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d been struck speechless (Frankly, neither could his squad mates) but he decided that now was a very good time to be so. He didn’t want to say something incredibly stupid and make himself look like an idiot. Although all thoughts of making himself look better might have flown out the window with the way he was opening and closing his mouth. Her hand was small in his and too cold to be normal, and Dev glanced down at their joined hands in silent wonder. It was the first time, in his entire life, that he’d ever touched a woman, or vice versa. It was a landmark experience for him, and inside, he did a little dance. He was moving up in the world. Of course, the circumstances were a bit odd, but that didn’t matter. He finally managed to slip the dagger back into it’s sheath, and reached inside his coat to pull out his blaster once again as he gave a little tug on her hand to pull her closer.

When her voice sounded in his mind, he jumped, and looked around wildly. Wait…she hadn’t been speaking the whole time? Her lips hadn’t even moved! She’d been using some kind of weird telepathy thing, and Dev shook off the creepiness of the entire situation. “Ruach,” he repeated quietly, thinking the name was lovely, and that it suited her. Her face was heart shaped, and looked soft to the touch, though a peculiar scar was on the side of her cheek, and he wondered at how she’d received it. He clamped down on the impulse to reach out and see if her face was as smooth as it looked. Now was not the time to lose his head over some pretty woman. It really, really wasn’t. Her question startled him, and Dev shook his head, tugging again on her hand to help her through the threshold and keep her close. “N-no, I don’t think so. I’ve never seen you in my entire life. And I’m pretty sure I’d remember.”

Yeah, he’d remember that face for the rest of his days. If he’d met her before, there was no way he could have forgotten her. Her exclamation surprised him, but before he could ask how she knew Mando’a, the sound of a creaking door down the hall made him jump, and memories of grasping, decaying hands leapt behind his eyes for the briefest of moments before he whirled and pointed his blaster down the hall. He didn’t even get the chance to shout a warning or fire off a shot; she’d tugged his arm so hard that he nearly stumbled and fell. He managed to catch himself, righting himself as he ran alongside her, and then overtook her and pulled her along with him. He darted back the way he came, and found the door closed. Shab, that’s not good, he thought to himself, letting go of her hand to force the door open with his shoulder.

He could hear the sound of footsteps and the shouts of the men behind them, and he managed to get the hidden door forced open enough for the two of them to slip through. “Come on,” he hissed, reaching for her hand and grabbing it again as he tugged her past the alter and down the aisle. The sun was just beginning to set as he burst through the church doors, and tugged her to the side of the decrepit building. Whomever was chasing them would be searching farther away; they wouldn’t expect doubling back to hide near the church. He dragged her along behind him, into a small, barely held together little shed, and yanked the aging door open. He herded her inside, and followed after, drawing his second blaster, and leveling both at the door, just in case. “Just be quiet,” he muttered. “Although doesn’t matter if you can talk in your head. How’d you get in there, in the first place?”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby Jessari » 06/18/2012 2:31 AM

All-in-all, she couldn't blame him for looking at her funny. Normal people could speak aloud without requiring skin-to-skin contact and mind-speech, and she was starting to realize how odd she must look with her hair all mussed and wearing a white gown. Not like she'd had anything else to change into, though. Or a brush. Or toothpaste. She wondered briefly if he regretted sticking his neck out for such a sad-looking waif.

When they burst through the secret door that led into the church, Ruach couldn't quell the choked laugh that bubbled in her throat. All this time, they'd kept her hidden beneath a church? She didn't really know what she'd expected, but a church hadn't been on the list. An old castle, maybe, or a mausoleum. Something much more ominous.

By the time they'd made it into the shed, shivers that had nothing to do with the weather had begun to run through her body. She was so close to freedom, if only they could elude her pursuers for a little while. Footsteps pounded past, and she shrank against Dev. She'd fight them, she'd die before she let them lock her back up.

Ruach rested a trembling hand lightly on his wrist as he covered the door with both guns. I don't remember, she admitted, stealing a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He'd said he didn't recognize her and she believed him, but why did his features strike such a strong cord within her? She knew exactly how it would feel to run her hand through his hair, the feel of stubble beneath her hands if she touched his cheek, how his lips would feel against hers-

She shook her head, interrupting that thought. Maybe there were still some drugs lingering in her system, messing with her head. I don't remember anything about before. Her words were soft, more regretful than sad. I get flashes sometimes, and dreams, but nothing that makes sense. I don't even know how long I've been in there.

Glancing up at him, she said soberly, I've gotten you into trouble. I'm sorry. She squeezed his hand, gave him a small smile. I'm glad you came to my rescue, though. I owe you one?
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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby MillietheWarrior » 06/18/2012 2:57 AM

Dev tensed slightly when the sound of boot steps passed by their door. He didn’t really want to take any chances, so he figured waiting it out would be a good idea. Or at least, waiting for a few more minutes. He didn’t want to chance sneaking a peek out and being caught. That would most certainly make all the caution a moot point. But he holstered one of his blasters, deciding it wouldn’t take long to pull it again if needed. The other he lowered, feeling a gentle touch on his wrist, and kept one eye trained on the door, and one ear trained on the sounds outside. It sounded all quiet, but there was no guarantee it was. Best wait a bit longer. “You don’t remember?” he whispered, his voice hardly audible even to himself.

“How can you not remember?” had they wiped her memory? He’d heard of such things happening, but he’d imagined it was all some kind of tall tale. Dusty had laughed when he’d shown him a holovid about some killer brain monsters that sucked away all your memories, and said that wasn’t possible. And he’d believed the older clone, because in his eyes, Dusty and Blue knew everything. But was it possible that they’d been wrong, and such a thing actually existed? He scratched the back of his head, looking faintly confused and torn. “Can you-can you tell me what it is you’re seeing? Maybe I can help you find out who you were, or where you’re from.” He wasn’t sure how, but maybe his squad would have an idea.

His voice was still hardly above a whisper, and he felt his cheeks heat up with a faint blush when she squeezed his hand. “Uh, it’s-it’s no p-problem,” he stammered out, suddenly bashful. “You don’t owe me anything. Um…uh…I-I should get you somewhere safe. I don’t want them to find you again, after all.” He thought about it, and chewed his lower lip, looking hesitant. “I-I have brothers who can help. Would-would you be adverse to me calling them? They could come here and help me find somewhere safe for you. And-and they’d make sure none of those people could ever find you or hurt you.”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby Jessari » 06/18/2012 9:06 PM

Kolya. The name might as well have been a curse for all the anger that crackled in its harsh syllables. There was fear there too, echoed in the shadows of her eyes, the set of her shoulders. No one else she'd encountered during her imprisonment had caused as much damage as he had. He'd been very...creative.

If you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly what you'd call normal, she said with a wry smile, silver eyes flicking down to where her hand touched his before focusing on the entrance to the shed once more. They wanted to use me as a tool, a weapon, and I guess I wasn't exactly 'compliant' in the beginning. They thought I'd be more agreeable if they let Kolya, their pet mage, mess around with my head. Maybe if I'd been able to think clearly, I'd have been able to fight him, but drugs have a way of lowering your defenses. Most of my memories have been, um, walled off. She shrugged, lifting her chin in a way that hinted at a quiet stubbornness and strength. They never broke me, though. Erasing my past didn't mean erasing my personality, and I don't like being controlled.

There had been times when she'd been close, so close to folding, but despite the odd comfortability she felt with this man, she wasn't comfortable admitting that. She wasn't comfortable admitting it to herself. For once, she was grateful for the necessity of skin contact; it gave her an excuse to stay near him. As much as she liked to think of herself as strong and unbreakable, right now she needed the security of feeling someone close. A heady mix of fear, hope, and pure adrenaline flooded her system, making her feel light-headed.

I don't know that it's anything I can really explain, she said in answer to his next question. I think the memories bleed out into my dreams, but it's hard to remember them when I wake up. A lot of it tends to be feelings. She paused, uncertain whether she should tell him about what she'd felt when she'd touched his mind on the sidewalk. Not now, she decided. Certain situations trigger emotions, she said simply, the lack of an explanation indicating that they usually weren't the happy kind.

As he started stammering over his words, Ruach pulled her attention away from the entrance to gaze wide-eyed at him. Was he... He was embarrassed! She could hardly believe a man of his size could get so muddled so easily. It was rather sweet.

At his suggestion, the small, amused smile faded into a look of concern. The facility hadn't exactly bred trust, and she didn't know his brothers. Well, she didn't actually know him either, but that was different. Completely different. Okay, maybe it wasn't. Her trust in him was based on a bizarre feeling that might or might not be connected to him at all, but to a person hidden behind the curtain of her past. And yet she trusted him without question.

"If you...if you trust them," she said hesitantly, then nodded as if affirming her answer.
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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby MillietheWarrior » 06/21/2012 11:33 PM

“I’m really sorry, ma’am,” Dev whispered softly. “I don’t know who Viktor is. But I have someone who could probably find out.” Dusty was the best hacker he knew; all the clones were, of course, rather good at slicing and dicing into any mainframe they came across, but Dusty was exceptionally good at it. He thought back to their ‘adventure’ on the Nautilus; if it hadn’t been for Dusty, they might not have ever figured out a way out of there. He lowered his gaze from the door just briefly, and met her eyes. “I know what it’s like to be used. My brothers and I won’t let that happen to you again. We’ll help you figure out who you are, and get whatever life you had back. You can count on us.” His words were soft, but filled with a quiet vehemence that told her how earnest he was about it. “It sounds like all’s clear,” he muttered, tearing his gaze away from her and staring at the door. There was no sound or sign of anyone nearby, and Dusty silently wished he had his scanners to be sure.

At least he had his communications device. The mini wrist-comm made a soft beeping sound as he activated it and brought it to his mouth. “This is Beta zero, zero three. Come in Aliit Squad.” There was a faint crackling at the other end, and what sounded suspiciously like grumbling, before a faintly annoyed sounding voice answered. “Cut the osik, Dev. What do you want? Did you get yourself into trouble?” It was Blue, and as he listened, the sergeant made a soft noise in the back of his throat, and sounded like he had just been woken up. “I know we shouldn’t have let you out of our sight. What did you do this time? You didn’t blow something up again? I swear, if we have to do a damage report I’m going to-” He was cut off as Dev hastily placed his hand over the receiver. “Uh, sarge, can you…stop talking for a second?” there was a grouchy sounded growl from the other end, but silence otherwise. “Yeah, thanks. Listen, I have a situation here. And before you say it, no, I didn’t break anything or blow something up. I found this…this place. It’s a bit hard to explain without showing you. But there was this woman being held captive and she needs our help so I was wondering if-”

He wasn’t able to finish, as the comm made a rustling, crackling noise and what sounded like bickering in the background preceded a rather cheerful, heavily accented voice. “Oh ho! You dun went and found yerself a girl, then?” It was Dusty; Dev would know that backwoods cowboy slang anywhere. “Well, you can consider us already on our way. Ain’t no way we’re gonna let you have all the fun. And ahm’ itchin’ to see this here place yer talkin’ bout.” The comm made another rustling sound, and it sounded as though it was being fought over, before a quieter voice replied. “Dev, we’re on our way. I’ve got a lock on your signal. ETA is 20 minutes. What’s the situation?” Thank the Manda for Dragon. The only really smart one of the group, it seemed.

“Possible hostiles, bring your scanners and your weapons, but dress like a civvy. Don’t want to cause any suspicion and I dunno if we wanna let them know if the GAR is involved. Keep your heads up, eyes open. And, uh, I’m in a shed. Beside the building. It’s an old decrepit looking church. Use caution when approaching.” There was a sound on the other end that was in the affirmative. “All right, Dev. Don’t worry. We’ll be there soon. Just hang tight, ner vod.” Then another voice in the background that yelled something suspiciously like ‘I’m the sergeant here, damn it! Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?!’ before the comm clicked off and went silent. Dev scratched the back of his head, turning a sheepish gaze onto the woman beside him. “Sorry about that. They’re…colorful. They’ll be here soon.” His voice was still a whisper as he leaned over and overturned an old crate, dusting it off and indicating that she should sit. “So you don’t have…any memories at all? Nothing to really go on?”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby Jessari » 06/23/2012 12:05 AM

Something in Ruach's chest ached in response to the sincerity of his words. The only concern anyone had ever shown for her had been the type shown by a vet for an ailing pet. Their gentle words were only meant to keep her calm as they ran their tests, but their eyes had been sterile, void of emotion. It had been dehumanizing. Thanks, was all she said, all she could say to his heartfelt offer.

And please, don't call me ma'am. Just Ruach is fine. Otherwise I'll...I'll start calling you 'sir'. It was a feeble attempts at humor, one that fell flat in the silence of the shed. It was a silence that didn't last for long, and Ruach listened, amused despite her concern that Dev's conversation with his brothers might be overheard. As he disclosed their situation, she let go of his hand and paced to the door.

Her bare feet were silent against the dirty concrete. Dev had left the door cracked open, and her fingers trailed lightly along the rough, aged wood as she peered out. The hushed conversation taking place behind her and the pounding of her own heart in her ears were the only sounds. The street outside was empty, devoid of both pedestrians and vehicles, and the shadows had grown even deeper. Were they still out there, searching for her? she wondered. Had they..had they called Kolya yet?

"And ahm’ itchin’ to see this here place yer talkin’ bout.”

Her head whipped around, wisps of dark hair floating about her face as she looked at Dev in stunned disbelief. He wanted to go back in? They had been lucky to have so little trouble getting out, but they'd effectively kicked the hornets' nest. It wouldn't be nearly so simple next time. As he ended the conversation, she slid onto the crate beside him, taking his hand in both of hers and looking up at him with concern. Her skin temperature had dropped in direct response to the anxiety flooding her system, and in the dim streetlight filtering through the crack in the door, her breath seemed to leave her mouth in a shimmering vapor despite the warmth of the night.

You shouldn't do this, you and your brothers. It's not safe. You don't know- She shook her head, unable to find a way to verbalize her fears. When he'd promised to help her, she thought he'd meant he'd hide her. The thought of reentering the facility was repulsive to her, unthinkable.  Not even if it might mean finding information about her past life.
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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby MillietheWarrior » 12/14/2012 4:59 AM

Dev felt a shiver crawl up her spine when she took his hand in hers; her skin was so cold, it was unnatural. Just what sort of experiments had they been performing on her anyway to cause such a thing? Shrugging out of his jacket, he tentatively reached out and placed it over her shoulders, giving her a half-hearted, bashful smile in response as his cheeks warmed at his boldness. “Relax,” he assured, his voice barely above a whisper. He kept his gaze trained on the door, more so to keep from looking at her and being even more embarrassed than he was that because of any actual threat outside. The sliver of light that came through the cracked, warped edges of the wooden doorframe were enough to illuminate his dark skin and brilliant indigo eyes as he glanced at her out of the corner of them.

“We’ve been in plenty of unsafe situations, ma-…I mean, Ruach. We’re no stranger to putting ourselves at risk. And besides, it’s all for a good cause, right? I mean, don’t you want to get back at the people who did this? Don’t you want your memories back? It’s not fair that they can do this to you and get away Scott-free. And what if they did it to someone else?” He finally dared to take his eyes off the door, watching her closely, gauging her for a reaction. “I don’t think you want that. And don’t worry; we’ll do all the hard work. All you gotta do is follow us and we’ll keep you safe.” He gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze as he smiled, eyes crinkling with the motion. He opened his mouth to say something more, looking somewhat unsure of himself, when his comm crackled to life again. “Dev? You there?” Dev immediately fumbled with the comm, bringing it up to speak directly into it and looking vaguely flustered. “Uh, y-yeah, I’m here. Sarge? What’s your ETA?” He cleared his throat, trying to appear calm and professional despite being so befuddled by the woman next to him.

“3 minutes. We’re almost there. But…Dev, there’s a bunch of men roaming the streets, and they don’t look happy. Or civilian. Just what exactly did you say you ’broke into’ again?” Dev scratched the back of his head, sounding nervous when he spoke. “I didn’t…break in. I just, uh, walked in. it wasn’t guarded or anything. Look, sarge, just get here all right?” There was an exasperated sigh (one that sounded well used and well practiced) on the other end of the line. “Fine. I’m sending Dragon on ahead. He can get in and get you guys out to a safer location easier than all of us combined. Just sit tight.” The comm crackled again and went silent, and Dev sat back with a long exhale of air, rubbing one hand through his spiky hair and making it appear more ruffled and unkempt than usual. “They’ll be here soon,” Dev assured Ruach, and clasped his hands together on his knees, having let go of her hand in his haste to answer his comm. “It’s only a matter of time. And Dragon can slip past the guys from this…church-facility-place easily. He’s really good at being sneaky. It’s probably why he always manages to steal my desserts at dinner when I’m not looking.”

Many were the nights that Dev had mourned the loss of his Uj cake; unfortunately, he didn’t have long to mourn his lost sweets, as a shadow fell across the sliver of light in the doorway, plunging them back into relative darkness. In an instant, Dev had pulled his knife, placing it in Ruach’s hand and drawn his blasters, leveling them at the door as he stood and carefully paced forward. There was a rattling at the doorway, as though someone was trying to wedge it open, and it slowly began to creak and groan under the strain, before it carefully swung inward. Dev’s fingers twitched on the triggers of his blasters, and he very nearly blew the person coming through the door to smithereens until a very, very familiar face poked itself around the decrepit slab of wood with a subdued smile.

“Hey there.”

Dev growled and grabbed onto Dragon’s arm, hauling him into the small shed and smacking him upside the head. “You di’kut! I could’ve killed you!” Dragon rubbed the back of his head, scowling at his brother as he did so. “Well, glad you’re happy to see me. Shall I just leave and forget this whole rescue operation entirely?” Dev’s scowl mirrored Dragon’s exactly. “Cheeky jerk. Anyway, Dragon, this is Ruach.” He stepped aside to allow his brother a good view of the woman, and much to his credit, he didn’t seem even half as fazed by her beauty as his brother. Instead of gaping like a fish like Dev had done, he saluted smartly, and smiled gently. “Dragon at your service, ma’am. It’s good to meet you. Are you ready to get out of here?”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby Jessari » 12/16/2012 1:23 AM

A flutter of her eyelashes was the woman's only reaction as the jacket settled about her shoulders. It was difficult to take her eyes off him; even without the strong surge of emotions that accompanied his first appearance, Dev represented security, freedom, hope, all the things she'd been bereft of for so long. It was hard to shake the feeling that, if she lost sight of him for too long, he'd vanish.

"And what if they did it to someone else?"

Her fingers went slack in his, her breath catching in her throat. She did drop her eyes then. As much as she longed for her lost memories, for something to fill the void in the center of her being, she was willing to leave the lab and all its records behind. She needed to put as much distance between herself and this hellhole as she could. It was more than a want or a need; it was an instinctive urge, one that drove her like a cornered animal to scrabble at the nearest window in an attempt to escape. There was nothing inside that would tempt her to return.

But still...

Dev's comm crackled, nearly sending Ruach's heart into her throat. Her eyes darted worriedly toward the door as he scrambled to answer it. The volume was set low enough that she doubted it could be heard outside the shed, but she couldn't help the concern that itched against her skin. Sarge and Dragon. Odd names, she thought distractedly, her mind still wrapped about the dilemma set before her.

As Dev conversed with his brother, she hunched over, tucking her chin as she pulled the jacket more snugly about her slight frame. She wasn't cold, or rather the cold didn't bother her as it did others, but the residual heat from Dev's body was comforting. His scent clung to the fibers as well, a pleasant musk that disturbed her even as she expanded her ribcage in order to breathe it in more deeply. He shouldn't smell that way. His smell, the color of his eyes, the rhythm of his speech, it was all off. It bothered her, though for the life of her she couldn't explain how he should smell or sound. Maybe she was going crazy.

“They’ll be here soon."

Ruach looked up at him, a faint smile easing the tense line of her lips. Maybe you should start eating your dessert first? Listen, she began slowly, rubbing a thumb absently against her index finger, tender and swollen from a minor fracture, I- you're, um. You're right. This needs to stop. I-I don't want to go back in there, but I will. I-

A shadow fell across the door, and Ruach trembled within the oversized jacket like a whipped puppy. In the blink of an eye, Dev was moving toward the mysterious intruder, and she was clutching the hilt of a seriously sharp knife. What did he do for a living that required him to carry a small arsenal on his person? Her heart pounded as the door edged open, the steel blade turning cloudy as frost traveled across its surface. Be careful, she plead silently as Dev inched forward.

Then Dev reached out and pulled the intruder inside. On some level, Ruach realized the familiar way Dev was addressing him meant he was no danger, but she was too preoccupied with his looks to register relief. He looked...just like Dev. The mirror images turned some tumblers in her mind, but solid images stubbornly refused to form. When Dev introduced the newcomer as Dragon, she didn't immediately respond. The moonlight caught her wide, wondering eyes, filling them with silver as she looked first at one brother, then at the other. The scar on her cheek glinted sharply as her head tilted. You-you're twins?
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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby MillietheWarrior » 04/07/2013 10:37 PM

Dragon managed to slant Dev a look that could have counted as 'annoyed,' but instead of commenting to his brother, he turned to Ruach. “Uh, twins might be putting it mildly. I'm guessing Dev didn't explain much about um...who we actually are.” He silently debated on the merits of letting this civilian woman in on a sort of 'secret' but decided it might be best, to avoid anymore awkward questions when Dusty and Blue showed up. “We're not twins. In fact, all of us, Dev, myself, our sergeant and Dusty...we're all clones.”

Dev had moved to stand just to the side of Ruach, glancing at her worriedly, before he decided to pipe up. “Yep, we're clones from the Grand Army. Uh...we'd appreciate it if you kept our involvement quiet, though. We're not really supposed to be doing stuff like this, but once we get you to the Med Center, we can make up some outlandish story to explain why we're bringing you in.”

Dragon rolled his eyes at Dev's rather 'simple' explanation, but nodded along. “You can trust us, ma'am. We're the good guys.” With Dev nodding emphatically in agreement, Dragon turned back around to the door, peering through the crack to determine whether it was safe or not. The commlink on his wrist crackled to life, and the familiar sound of his sergeant's voice filled the small space.

“Dev? Dragon? Is the target secure?”

“Roger that, sir,” Dragon responded, glancing bemusedly over at Dev and Ruach, the former of who had gently taken Ruach's arm in his hand and was holding it tightly, as if afraid she might get lost in the small, cramped space; Dragon knew he was only preparing for whatever mad dash they might have to make to safety, and his hand on her arm was Dev's anchor, something that might mean the difference between life and death for Ruach.

“Good lads. We're going to provide a distraction. So get ready to run in T-minus 3...2...1...”

“What's the distraction?” Dev hissed, but a resounding, deafening boom was their only answer, and Dev's grip on Ruach's arm tightened almost painfully as the small shed rocked and creaked in the wake of the blast.

“That'll be it,” Dragon muttered, slamming the door open. “Let's bang out.”

Even under pressure, Dev decided, Dragon was as calm and cool as ever. But when wasn't he? The slightly older clone had been through a whole hell of a lot more than most of his brothers. Brushing the thought aside, Dev chanced a look at Ruach, hoping to convey 'reassuring and confident' in nothing but a look, and tugged on her arm, running after his brother as Dragon dashed out of the small shack. They rounded the corner, and they were surprised, and very amused, in the clones' cases, to see a smoking crater in the middle of the street and nearly eleven stunned bodies lying in various states of disarray all over the ground. “Um...” Dev managed, pausing only long enough in his mad dash to observe the chaos. “When they say distraction...”

“Dev! Move your shebs!”

Giving a little start, Dev tugged again on Ruach's arm, dragging her after him at a breakneck pace. They darted and wove through old, dilapidated houses, following Dragon's seemingly random trail until they slid under a fence and stopped, panting and slightly winded, in the backyard of a house greatly in need of some TLC. A speeder was parked there, hovering just over the grass, and leaning against it, looking rather smug, was Blue and Dusty.

“Howdy!” the tech-man of the group cried, waving a hand from his seat in the pilot's chair of the speeder. “Good to see you all made it out alive. Did you like our little 'distraction'?”

“I didn't think you'd blow up half the block,” Dev muttered, gently leading Ruach towards the speeder. “Ruach, this is my sergeant, Blue-” He indicated the clone who had a dark blue streak in his hair. “-and the engineer behind that ridiculously over-the-top explosion, Dusty.”

Blue, for his part, inclined his head almost regally as Dragon hopped into the back of the speeder. “Nice to meet you, miss Ruach,” Blue greeted, though his face was set in a grim line as he opened the speeder door for her and Dev carefully climbed in the back seat beside Dragon, patting the seat beside him for the woman to take. “Now that we're all clear, you can give us a little bit of an explanation about what exactly is going on here, and why it was necessary to call in our entire squad for...a civilian job.” He cast a distasteful look in Dev's direction, and the other clone had the good grace to look slightly sheepish. “Miss Ruach, if you don't mind explaining to me exactly what the facility was that was holding you, and who exactly was in charge of it, I'd be much obliged. It isn't often that we get involved in things like this, and I'd like a very good reason for all of this hassle.”

I love adventurous tales like that. That uplifting feeling that comes from seeing unknown lands and the knowledge that you came across—nothing can replace it! It opens a path from which self-confidence, experience, and important friendships—from the sharing of life or death situations—are born! But hearing it just isn’t the same. I want to create my own magnificent story!



A great adventure!


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Re: Crying in the Chapel (Millie and I)

Postby Jessari » 05/08/2013 7:55 PM

Clones. Of course. I-I think I knew that.

Ruach repeated the word in her head as her eyes flicked back and forth between Dev and Dragon, a puzzled frown on her face. There was a memory there - she could feel it in the back of her brain, scratching at the walls Kolya had built to keep her closed off from anything that could strengthen her spirit, her ability to rebel against him. The walls had been built to last, however, and despite her struggles, she wasn't strong enough to break through and claim the memory. Her fingers tightened about the knife as her forehead creased in frustration.

She gave a quick, understanding nod at Dev's request. Considering the risks they were taking to get her out, keeping silent about their presence here was the very least she could do. Besides, who would she tell? She swallowed hard when Dev mentioned the Med Center, paling just a bit. What exactly did that involve? she wondered. Now wasn't the time to protest, she sensed, so she kept her mouth shut and shifted her balance to the balls of her feet as Dev took her arm.

When the explosion came, she didn't so much as whimper, although she pressed herself tightly against Dev's side. He would protect her, she knew instinctively, against whatever came their way. A moment later, she found herself pulled along, her legs churning in an effort to keep pace with the two men. Like Dev, she gaped at the scene awaiting them around the corner, but her reaction wasn't so light as amusement. Although some of the stunned people were unknown to her, she recognized several of them. Although Kolya would have torn apart anyone who dared to mistreat her (that right belonged to him alone), the calm, cold detachment with which they treated her had injured her just as much as any physical strike would have.

Even before Dragon's voice sparked Dev back into motion, Ruach was tugging at his hand, desperate to be on the move. The pace the two men set was hard, making her legs and lungs ache, but it still wasn't fast enough to suit her. She desired freedom more than she desired air, craved it like an addict burning for a fix. She stumbled a few times, would have fallen if not for Dev's support, and nearly lost the knife during her scramble beneath the fence, but every step further lessened the chance that the facility's security would be able to recapture her.

Ruach hesitated as they rounded the corner, froze until she realized the men in the speeder were more Clones and not Kolya's men. After that, she didn't need Dev's encouragement to approach and enter the speeder. She nodded to each man at Dev's introductions, sparing a small, timid smile for Dusty - she dearly hoped his distraction had done more than simply stun some of the men lying in the street. When Blue began to speak, however, her lips pressed tight. He wouldn't...abandon her here, would he? He didn't sound happy to be involved, not that she could blame him, and as Dev's superior he could override any objections Dev might raise.

Dark hair brushed across her forehead in uneven locks as she shook her head vehemently. We're not 'in the clear', she protested, straightening in her seat. They weren't prepared for this, but it won't take them long to recover, and when they do, they'll send more after me, and not all of them will be human. The next wave of pursuers would be harder to evade, and the further she and the Clones got from the facility, the better. I-I'll tell you what I know, but we need to move. Now. She cast a pleading glance at the driver, Dusty, hoping he liked speed as much as he did loud noises. But would their leader agree? From the tone in his voice, she wasn't sure, and she wasn't willing to take any chances right now.

In desperation, she reached down and pulled up the sleeve of Dev's jacket, revealing her arm up to the elbow. Thin scars marked her skin, some old and faded, others pink and fresh. Kolya erased the worst of the damage he inflicted, but always allowed a little of his work to remain as a reminder of their times together. Her wrist was circled with scar tissue from the restraints on the torture chair, and bruises darkened her forearm. Ruach took care to keep her palm down. The scars she wanted to keep secret were the ones on the inside of her wrists.

Please, she murmured in their minds, her gaze touching Blue's just briefly before she ducked her head. This might not be a military job, but it isn't a game, either. Please, just take me away from here. She tugged the sleeve back down and kept her eyes focused on her fists, afraid to look at any of them and see suspicion or judgement in their eyes.
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