The Ship Called The Styx

[Ruins]

Lord Curze glared back, not cowed in the least; in fact, he was amused that this little human woman would dare cheek a Primarch such as himself. It was all he could do not to laugh. He would have no trouble killing her, if the worst came to the worst- the only problems he might have were with Lord and the prickling of his long-buried conscience.

 

"And I am the Night Haunter, the fear of a hundred sectors and the nightmare of whole species! Your boast is nothing to me- I killed my first criminal at the age where you were first learning to speak; I raised myself in the gutters and alleys of the fiercest Hive Planet where the sun never rose, and even as a child the whole of Nostramo trembled at the mention of my name. I made them obey every law without even showing my face... And this was a place where most would rather slit their own throats than live on another day." he said, smiling grimly and absent-mindedly flexing his three-centimetre claws. "I'm sure if you could see or heard of the things I have- the metal-spiders of the planet Murder, the xenos slavers of Barberus who poisoned a whole planet, the chest-bursting parasites of the Prometheus system, the pathetic mutants who used to be the Dhal race, or the torture-masters of the Dark Eldar who wear the flayed skins of their innocent victims- I'm sure not even you would be so loving to any alien. Or maybe if you'd had visions like I have every night, visions of a future where a whole race of xenos had overwhelmed the galaxy, devouring all that it came across without mercy or even the faintest hint of emotion. Their name will be the Tyranids, and not even Father will be able to stop them."

 

For a second there was a blaze in his eyes, a fire like rage or even madness; then it all shut down and he turned away from Shepard, suddenly distant and apathetic. His face was almost expressionless, yet bleak and almost depressed. "But who cares?" he sighed, his voice heavy and leaden.

 

"It is the past, another world. We are dead. None of this matters now..." he sighed, closing his eyes briefly, then staring out over the grey waters and watching the two little figures as they clung to the floating table he'd provided. "There are others in the water. We had better wait for them to arrive before I explain our mission."

[Dr. Paine]

Shepard listened to Curze's little tirade, but with little interest... at least, until he brought up the things, 'Tyrinads'? The way he described them, they sounded more than a little familiar.

 

"We... called them 'Reapers'," Shepard said, her voice soft. "They came from outside the galaxy. Every 50,000 years, they would destroy all advanced organic life, and either turn the highest race into another Reaper, or simply render the organics down to their core components and re-purpose them as they saw fit. They did this for billions of years, longer than anyone could properly even imagine. And I killed them. Wiped out every single one, and it only happened because the races of the galaxy actually cut their crap and worked together.

 

"I'm not saying there weren't bad aliens, I killed plenty of them and humans. But I just want to say, it seems quite short-sighted to exterminate all alien life just because some were hostile."

 

Shepard grew quiet, turning to look where Curze looked. "... you are right though. We're all dead, and this... I doubt this was the Sea I was promised. The past doesn't mean much now."

[Ruins]

"I saw it all."

 

Lord Curze leant on the railing, his head in his slightly trembling hands and his back firmly to Shepard; he looked smaller than his usual seven and a bit feet, and somehow... Not defeated, not yet; still, every muscle was tensed under his armour, his fists clenched and his shoulders hunched, and it was as if his body were screaming 'Go away. Don't touch me. Go away'. It was as if every fibre and tendon in him was shaking with the effort it was taking him not to scream. He ran a clawed hand through his long hair, staring unseeingly out at the waves as if there were some picture or vision playing out on the grey waters that only he could see.

 

"I saw it all, the whole stinking, horrible mess. I saw Father cut down one of his own sons, years before it happened. I saw myself die at his own orders... And nobody believed me. I even saw that you would come, all of you." he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. "I told my own brother, and he thought I was lying. They all thought I was mad, you know. Just some monster who killed, killed, killed all the time. They never listened. They were all so bright and noble and loved, whereas I... They called me Konrad the Crazed, Konrad the Monster. So I betrayed them, my Father and brothers and all of humanity. Turned to Chaos, along with all the others who had come to hate the Imperium. We killed... so many people, in so many horrible ways. I can still hear them scream sometimes, when it's quiet... Perhaps they were right about me. Maybe I am mad..."

 

He laughed humourlessly, then paused. "That's why I'm here. Why you are here. To make amends for everything. We trapped ourselves here, on the Sea between the worlds, chained ourselves to this ship with our own guilt. This is our only chance to move on... If we- somehow- make amends for the pain, we'll be free." he said quietly, then turned to look briefly at Shepard with those hollow, dark eyes. "So the past matters, and it doesn't matter. We may hate each other, but... I am the captain, you are the crew. And we're all prisoners."

 

((And now, I'm gonna let someone else post. ))

Edited April 29, 2012 by Ruins

[Silver_Voices]

The girl's eyes shined in the darkness, her fire reigniting inside herself. Her strength was returning, now that she was able to escape from the watery grave. She glanced between Commander Adrian Shepard II and Lord Konrad Curze. Rather important people, it seemed, obviously higher ranked than herself. She remained silent, the respectful thing to do, until someone addressed her. But the night was still cold, and she shivered. She let a small layer of flames ripple across her arms, evaporating the droplets in a cloud of steam that swirled around to join the fog. She shuddered once then took a deep breath, more relaxed. She listened to the the conversation, waiting for someone to speak to her.

 

((You guys go all out on your posts, don't you? o.o I should probably try to step it up or something.))

[Packgoater]

Fallion paused; he hadn't thought she'd ask. He had expected her to not even listen, but it seemed she had. He seemed to sigh, pale face slightly filled with grief. He looked at the girl for a moment before opening his mouth to speak.

 

"The prince? He asked for a cake," he murmured, voice slightly cracking. If you could see his pupils they would be far off, not even focused on anything. He slowly turned back to her for a moment before propelling the floating log to the ship. He was fortunate that the sea was pulling him towards the large rig. Because his attention on reality was limited; all he was focused on was clinging to the board.

 

The boy is sitting. He is eager. His face is happy and excited. It is his birthday today. He is getting cake. His first cake had peanuts, so he asked his parents to take it back a few minutes ago. His parents will be arriving soon, and then there will be cake, and then there will be presents. Because, you know, cake comes before the presents. It is starting to be a long time now. Like every other kid, a small amount of worry is boiling up inside, but he presses it down, because he hears a doorbell. He has never been so quick to react. He runs and flies to the door, opens it wide to the face of his grandmother who lives down the street. She was coming for cake? He thought she was sick. What a great surprise! She is frowning. No, as he looks closer, she is crying. Crying is bad, it means she is sad. She is coming and squeezing and saying she's sorry. Her heart sounds funny, fast and irregular. And then she speaks. He doesn't hear the first time, or the second. Or the third, for that matter. But he isn't smiling anymore. He sits, or rather falls. He is sad. Devastated. Disbelieving. His fingers twist the carpet, his eyes lock on his grandmother's, asking if she is lying. She just holds him. Cradles him. He doesn't cry. It's not because he doesn't understand, because he does. But at that moment, he simply is incapable of believing it.

 

Fallion gripped the rope hanging off the side with one of his pale hands, the other helping him tread water. He figured the girl was capable of getting up herself. And then he started climbing up, not sure who he was going to meet, but knowing that he would be safer up here than in the water. Looking around, he saw to women and another man. Cocking his head, he looked at the man, who was very tall and hunched over currently. Strange. He had come across as confident, as a leader. Now he was hunching over, his body language telling Fallion to go away. But Fallion would not, because away would be into the depths of the sea.

 

"I am Fallion. I believe you asked me to rescue the lady down there?" he muttered after awkwardly clearing his throat. He didn't want to be obnoxious, but he didn't want to just stand there, either. Looking around, he found one of the women seemed to be able to summon fire unto herself. Interesting. Fallion himself didn't have any skills quite like that because, you see, he was human. The only mystical skill he had was making himself look like someone else of his imagination. This was only because, in the sea, his appearance was rather his perception of himself. As he had virtually no perception of himself, he could imagine the canvas that was his body to look like anything he pleased. So it was based more on logic, rather than on magical powers of another land. Because Fallion was killed on the planet Earth, in the United States, during the year 2012. There wasn't anything magical about that time.

[Ruins]

Lord Curze didn't react to the xenos's words and, for a second, it seemed as if he hadn't heard Fallion- his mind was elsewhere, years in the past and thousands of miles away in another universe. Then he seemed to come back to reality and turned around to face the new crewmember, straightening up from his hunched-up position as he did so. His face was paler than usual and almost devoid of all expression; only a tightness around his pure black eyes and the grim set of his mouth hinted at deep feels of anger and despair. The Primarch's gaze was unflinching and uncomfortably like if he were dissecting the blank-faced man with his eyes.

 

"Welcome to the Styx, Fallion, if I am not telling a lie by welcoming you to such a place." he said, brushing rotten wood chips off the spiky-armoured forearm; the railing wasn't in the best condition. The Primarch gestured to the others, the two women. "Before we go below so you can change your wet clothing so as not to die of hypothermia and I can debrief you on your mission, I think introductions should be made. I am Lord Konrad Curze, the Night Haunter, the Primarch of the Night Lords Legion and captain of this ship. The warrior with the scars is Commander Adrian Shepard II, Human Systems Alliance, commander of the SSV Normandy and Council Spectre... The other's name I don't know. Now- I shan't bother sugarcoating this, it's never been my way- what exactly are you?"

[Packgoater]

"I- I'm human? Do you not see? Pale, though. I don't recall being this pale back... there. In fact, I saw myself distinctly darker," Fallion replied, his porcelain brow knitting, first in confusion and then changing to awe. Because, you see, he had pulled his glove off and now his skin was darkening to his original color -making it the color he perceived it as. It was the color of someone whom was originally pale, but had spent a good bit of time in the sun. He flexed his hand, which looked normal enough. It was rough, wide and strong, with delicate fingers of a painter or artist, but the lacking the calluses of such. His fingernails now had color, and his face, though still the same shape as before, now was the same color as his hands.

 

"I- don't know how I did that. It looks like my skin again. And... I'm human. I always have been. Always! I'm not anything else," he hissed, but it seemed to be more to himself than anyone else, and his eyes seemed locked onto his hand. When he looked up at the man, it was with certain wariness. Was this man going to tell him he was insane like all the others? Fallion knew that face wasn't his. He wasn't crazy. No. Not ever. Everything he did made sense. Everything. No one seemed to understand...

 

"No, honey, this is you. Can't you see? That face, that face is yours,' the woman says, holding him, pointing at the mirror. Staring right back at Fallion is a boy of roughly fourteen. He is what you might call handsome. He is blonde, short haired, blue eyed. He looks like a kid that might go into the military when he is older. He looks like this kind of kid. Fallion does not see that face as his. It simply isn't. The face Fallion pictures moving when he speaks is not this one. No, this is not his face. Though he moves his mouth when Fallion does, it is more like a mask. It is not him.

"No, no it isn't. My face doesn't look like that. That's not my face."

"Yes, it is. See, it smiles when you do. What is the face you see?"

"My face? I don't have one."

[Ruins]

"You don't have a face."

 

This was stated bluntly, not with any intent to upset or offended but with the certain brutal honesty that came with knowing most people weren't going to enjoy your company, whatever you did to try and avoid that- after a while, the disliked party simply gave up and accepted the status-quo. They from then on acted as their own rules and the demands of their own consciences, with no eye to the path of popular action or opinion. Lord Curze never expected at any point for his crew to like him; he would be as honest as he could with them, he would keep them safe and not drive them too much like slaves, but being friends? That wasn't so much not an option he had rejected as an option that had never occurred to him in the first place. He'd have been stunned if any one of them had actually tried to be any closer to him than captain and crew.

 

"You are now the rough colour of a human, yes, although that it no marker,"- He gestured with his own ghostly-pale hand to his almost bone-white face -"and the manner in which you change like a chameleon simply makes me less likely to believe your assertions. I have seen anyone do that while not under the influence of the more advanced stealth techniques. Your eyes are as dark as mine are, but you are not of my Night Lords Legion, so this is no gene-seed effect. Futhermore, you have no features to speak of. No eyelashes or eyebrows. No hair. No wrinkles or spots or any other mark to show you apart from a living china doll... That isn't what you are, is it?"

 

The last question had a tinge of worry in it. Dolls were always worrying- giant ones especially- but held an extra layer of unnatural feeling for someone who grew up without toys or dolls, only seeing one for the first time when they were well into adulthood. Having seen his first doll collection, Curze had become convinced that the room was full of the corpses of beautiful toddlers, arranged like trophies, and almost murdered their owner before the situation could be explained.

Edited April 30, 2012 by Ruins

[Fortune86]

A cake? What was so difficult about obtaining a cake? Odette did not understand. If the Prince had asked for a Star Rose or a Unicorn's Song then she could understand the wizard's displeasure, but surely a cake was no great task?

 

Filling her mind with thoughts of cakes and the pale man's story to drown out her brother's words Odette climbed up the rope and onto the ship after her rescuer. Dripping wet she heaved herself onto the deck and looked around, kneeling down on the floor with her silver hair plastered to her. There was another man waiting for them up here, completely dry. By the looks of it he had been on the ship a while.

 

The pale man and the taller armoured man were talking, so Odette huddled beside the rail, trying to make sense of what was going on around her.

 

((Sorry for the crap post T-T))

[Packgoater]

"I-I... I am human. I was born in the United States. My parents died in a car accident. I know I have no face -someone finally understands. Someone... I- I do have a mask, though. It can be anything -everything, I think. Before it wasn't like this. But," here Fallion took out a blade, as if on a whim, "if I look, I think... Ah, yes, I can paint my mask," he finished, his brows knitting as he concentrated. Slowly in the cavities that previously represented eyes, he painted a deep blue color, the color of the sea around him. His nose became slightly crooked, his teeth slightly irregular in shape. These were the features he had appreciated on the faces of others. He had appreciated the quirks. Of course, he wasn't actually painting; the perception of his own face was just shifting slightly, creating the features of another. And finally, he looked fairly human, pale in skin color with deep eyes.

 

"I just can paint my mask. I'm human."

 

Fallion looks at the other boy, uncertainty clearly written in his face. The other boy seems to sigh, then walks over to Fallion and puts an arm around his shoulders.

"Look, Fall, no one will know it is you. With these clothes, you will be a mere shadow. And this mask," here the boy taps a blank mask, "will be your true savior."

"My savior?"

"It will cover your face, hide it from the cops."

"I-I don't have a face."

"Fine. It will be a face for you. It will be your identity."

 

 

[Dr. Paine]

"Ah... just Adrian, please. Or Shepard, everyone used to call me that anyway," Adrian said as Curze introduced her to the latest people who'd been rescued. She was silent as Curze and the pale man (who seemed to just have... no face, or close to no face, it was incredibly unsettling) talked. She spared only a brief glance at the other person who'd come aboard, a pale girl with silvery hair... nothing too strikingly unusual about her, really.

 

The pale man spoke again, bringing Adrian's attention back to him and Curze. Something about... 'painting his mask'? Before she could open her mouth to ask, the pale man demonstrated, changing the blank whiteness into... an oddly pale (well, like she was one to talk, many people had been unnerved by her own chalky complexion) but otherwise unremarkable human face.

 

"How do you do that?!" she blurted out, taking a step back in shock.

[Ruins]

Lord Curze was equally stunned by the xeno's- or, if his claims to humanity were to be believed, other man's- change, but his response was more... battle-orientated; he took out a knife of his own, pointing it straight towards the faceless man. For Fallion's seeming ability to change his appearance on a whim, coupled with his casual unsheathing of a blade, had given credence to a slight suspicion that had been stewing at the back of the Primarch's mind and made him sure that he'd found out the truth about him. This realisation of the other's possible true identity sent shock and anger through his system, dulled as they were by the blanket of tired apathy that had once again settled onto him. 'This... again. But why is he here? Did... someone send him after me- and how?'

 

"I was right. I knew that shape-changing of yours was something to do with stealth techniques... You're a Calladeus assassin, aren't you? And don't try to deny it- I know your type's work." he said, sighing. To underline his words, Curze tugged the cloak away from his neck with his free hand, exposing the harsh red line that was the unmistakable mark left by the throat-slitting that killed him. After a second he spoke again, his voice more heavy and resigned than angry. 'Here we go again', it seemed to say; somehow even the blade pointing directly at Fallion's internal organs seemed half-hearted, as if he wouldn't really bothered enough to even try and kill him, even if the need should come up.

 

"Now, did Father send you- or was it one of those reprehensible toadies that delude themselves into thinking they're doing his work? You'd think they'd be contented with killing me once, but apparently not... Or did you get here under your own steam, regretful of a lifetime of cold-blooded killing? Because, unless you're some type of human I've never encountered before, that's the only explanation I can think of."

 

A slight laugh followed Curze's words, seeming to emanate from the stairs vanishing below deck; then a smooth voice on the edge of hearing, seeming to arrive straight at the brain without passing through the ears first, spoke. Poor Konrad... Despite all he's seen, he's still as stuck in the past as the first day he arrived- always trying to play every game with the rules he knows... Typical human. I could almost pity them, I really could.

 

Curze gritted his teeth, ignoring the use of his first name. "Lord. You finally speak."

 

Well, they all look so interesting... I couldn't bare to wait for you to introduce us. I just had to meet them for myself!

[Silver_Voices]

The girl stood to attention and looked around, but couldn't find the source of the voice. She looked around at everyone else, then back to herself, her flames flickering slightly. She extinguished them and glanced up again, considering the voice's words. They did look interesting. It was like nothing else she'd ever seen back on earth. But of course, she hadn't seen much of her home world. She wrung her saturated hair out, shifting her weight from one leg to the other every few seconds. She wasn't exactly sure what was going on, so she waited for someone to update her.

[Fortune86]

Odette looked around when she heard a voice she could not trace the source of. For one fearful moment she thought it may be some further torture of her brother's, but it appeared that the other people on the deck had heard it as well. She pulled herself to her feet and looked over the railing at the ocean below. A faint memory stirred and something she had heard long ago in her childhood surfaced.

 

"This is the Sea of Fate" she stated, not looking for any confirmation. "We are truely cursed."

[Dr. Paine]

"Sea of Fate?" Adrian asked, looking over at the silver-haired girl, her brow furrowed in confusion. "So... you actually have an idea of where we are then, huh?" she asked, looking over the railing at the black waters below.

 

Her attention shifted at the sound of the strange voice, and Shepard unconsciously took a hard stance, the brilliant violet-blue sparks of biotic energy surrounding her, with a large swirl of white energy gathering at her right hand. A voice like that, just whispering at the edge of consciousness, the only thing she could associate it with was Reaper indoctrination processes, wasn't that how it was described?

 

"What are you?" she said in a challenging tone, looking around for the source of the voice. She jerked her head towards Curze when he spoke, saying something about a... a Lord? Still, Adrian remained tense, ready for any sign of action.

[Ruins]

No need to worry, my dear, I'm on your side... I'm the head of this little operation, you see. The hand behind the hand, you could say. purred the mysterious voice smoothly and soothingly, it's tone practically oozing trustworthiness- or trying to give the impression that it did, anyway. But as it continued there was also a trace of condescending sarcasm in it's tone, too. But I'll let Konrad explain, seeing as you to seem to have taken to each other so well...

 

Not shifting his knife from where it was pointed at Fallion's insides, Curze wasn't sure who he was more worried about/annoyed at: Lord's constant snide remarks or the resurgence of the Commander's psyker powers. Rolling his eyes- not that anyone could tell, given their all-black colouration- he tried to find away to explain their current situation that every one of his crew members would understand. "Yes, we are on the Sea of Fate. For those of you not aware, there are many planes of existence- or dimensions or universes, call them what you will- in the multiverse. Normally they are kept separate and unaware of each other's existence, but the Sea is an exception; it links many different worlds together, allowing anyone with a ship to sail from one world to the next almost easily." he explained, pausing slightly to let everyone catch up. Only a few seconds, though- if they couldn't understand, it was their fault.

 

"Though I was the first to find the Styx, Lord was the one who brought me here. No, before you ask I do not know what he is or what he looks like. But I do know that he is the only one who can allow us to move on from the Sea- whether it's back to the worlds that we used to live in or to whatever passes for an afterlife in our universe is apparently entirely up to us. All we have to do is absolve ourselves of our sins and free ourselves from the guilt we carry by saving others." The Primarch really did stop that time, sighing as he remembered all that he regretted- he had been on the ship a long time to get this far, and had a feeling that he would be sailing the Styx a long time before he finally forgave himself.

 

Or, more specifically, by following my orders and becoming my little crime-fighting team. A evil-slaying band of brothers... Or would sisters be more appropriate, given the gender ratio?

[Packgoater]

"I- well, I suppose I look at the mask, and envision how I want it to be. Rather, how I think it is. I couldn't do this back where I lived before. No, before I had the mask... but it was just a mask, I guess," he replied to the pale-faced girl, shrugging. But suddenly there was a weapon pointed at him, pointed to his gut. Fallion's features were now shocked and slightly afraid. Why had this man done this? Why was he angry at Fallion? He hadn't done anything, not really. And slowly he looked down, saw the weapon in his hand. Of course. The man must've thought he was drawing it on them. Now he understood, even though he found the man's logic rather faulty; if he had wanted to hurt any of them, he wouldn't have saved the other girl's life, and he certainly would have made his move by now.

 

"A what? What are you even talking about? Like I told you, I'm just painting a mask. It's nothing special. I bet you could paint yours if you had one and if you tried. My type? My work? You... You're mistaking me for someone else. Yes, I killed before, but I'm just as new to your type as you are to mine. I didn't kill you. I've never heard of this 'Father,' or whatnot. I couldn't do this before. I-I just figured that out now. I had a feeling about it, like I knew I could do it, or something. These things, my weapons, they're from before. I killed with blades. I was a serial killer, not an assassin," Fallion said quickly, backing away from the other man, sheathing his weapon and drawing his hands up to show he wasn't a threat. And suddenly, a voice appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

 

"Sea of Fate? So... We're dead, then? I mean, I guess I figured as such, as most don't live after death row. In fact, I've never heard of anyone living after death row. I don't know, I just figured... Maybe I had gotten lucky. So let me get this straight, we do good deeds and then, once we've repented, we get to go back and live again? Or go to an afterlife? So we have an option of starting over or going on to a new life after our death, where we also might meet those we had killed? I think I'll take starting anew, once the time comes," he mused, crossing his arms and rocking back and forth on his heels, head slightly tilted, face inquisitive.

[Silver_Voices]

"All we have to do is absolve ourselves of our sins and free ourselves from the guilt we carry by saving others."

 

The girl took a shaky breath at this. Absolve ourselves of our sins? She was sure she would never be able to do that. The pain she had caused so many people, even in ignorance, was still there. She'd never be able to forgive herself for that. The deaths she'd instigated, the murders... The lives cut short, she couldn't just let that go. Free ourselves from the guilt... The doctor... He had been so kind. And she had killed him. Savagely ripped him apart as if she were an animal. She'd never be able to...

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the voice again, and she once more searched for the source of the voice to no avail. Confusion dug into her mind. She didn't understand most of what was going on or what was being said.

 

Or, more specifically, by following my orders and becoming my little crime-fighting team. A evil-slaying band of brothers... Or would sisters be more appropriate, given the gender ratio?

 

She blinked a few times. Fighting against evil? She might as well fight herself. But... it sounded like something she could do. She might as well make up for her years as a villain and become a hero for once.

 

"So... We're dead, then?"

 

She turned towards the faceless man, this thought slightly new to her. She raised her hand to her chest, just below her collar bone, and felt an upraised line. A scar. So, she really had done it. She had thought maybe it was a dream. The memory flashed in front of her eyes. White walls, stained with red hand prints; smudged with the struggle and despair. The bodies laying around, all in white lab coats. She remembered kicking one aside, on with the search of finding more. There's no more, none living who remain. Besides myself... In her head the image of herself holding a long bladed knife came forward, and it started the play back. She took a deep breath and dismissed the memory before the mini-her on the screen had a chance to plunge the blade into her heart.

 

"So let me get this straight, we do good deeds and then, once we've repented, we get to go back and live again? Or go to an afterlife? So we have an option of starting over or going on to a new life after our death, where we also might meet those we had killed? I think I'll take starting anew, once the time comes,"

 

She almost laughed bitterly. He thinks, huh? Well, I'm sure I wouldn't want to go back. Being dead there is how I want it. I would rather not go back. She blinked at a thought. Would that doctor be in the afterlife? Would we be able to be reunited? She subconsciously made a tiny waving motion with her hand, as if waving the thought away. He'd never want to see me ever again, I suppose. I... I had promised him, and I broke that promise, starting with him. She sighed, disappointed with her life and herself.

 

((mehehehe. Lookit my long post. :3))

Edited May 2, 2012 by Silver_Voices

[Dr. Paine]

"I'm supposed to forgive myself for... genocide, then?" Shepard said, the biotic flare slowly fading as her stance relaxed, though she still looked ready to strike at any moment. She shook her head and sighed softly, trying to just absorb it all.

 

"And... go back? We can come back to life?" she said, looking around at the others, as if they might have more answers. "What, like... reincarnation? Geez, maybe the salarians had it right after all," she murmured, closing her eyes. Another thought hit her at that moment, though she didn't voice it. What if... what if they came across others she had known? Someone she had killed, or worse, died under her command?

 

She sighed softly, trying to calm herself, simply listening as the others talked.

[Fortune86]

Odette watched and listened with a blank face. She could not return to her own world, not as long as her brother went unchallenged in his rampage of destruction. She would be trapped here, forever, unable to move on.

 

"I can not go home" she admitted. "My brother devoured me and absorbed part of my soul. I can not exist there while he has possession of it."

 

Her voice was calm but carried a hint of sadness. Not being able to move past this world sentenced her to an eternity of listening to her brother's murders. Being part fey he would have had a greatly extended life span to begin with, but now what he had absorbed her powers along with several others he was practically immortal, and unstoppable.

 

Odette bowed her head, her still damp silver hair cascading past her face and hiding it from view. Even if she could return home, would she be welcome? It was because of her actions that Ingway was as he is now. Who in their right mind would welcome her, when she was responsible for the plague of death Ingway was spreading?

[Ruins]

((Kinda sorta reserving post until after I do some urgent stuff.

 

EDIT: Derp. Sorry, guys. Total block here. *facedesk*))

Edited May 3, 2012 by Ruins

[Fortune86]

((*gives Ruins a cookie*

 

That's okay, we all have moments like that. I've had several lately ))

[Ruins]

((Aaaaw, Jesus. Not this again. I'm not gonna let this die on me... Even if I'm feeling like I'm dying. (Awful cold that's got to my eyes and throat.) So, this is gonna be bare bones. No padding. Bleh.

 

BTW, thanks Fortune. :3))

 

"Reincarnation? In a way, yes. I will not deceive you and pretend to be an expert on the matter. After all, I had always counted on the Imperial Truth that all superstition or religion, talk of gods and souls and the like, were so much nonsense- although lately, both before and after my death, I have had cause to seriously doubt my former beliefs." replied Curze solemnly. Why did you lie to us all, Father? Did you really think so little of your own sons? he thought to himself. Daemons and gods and Chaos- you denied it all and kept us in the dark for reasons only you know, and it was foolish. Yes, you- Immortal Emperor of Mankind- were a fool and you paid the price. You thought just because a child didn't know of the existence of germs, they'd somehow never catch a disease. All you did was make us weaker when we did catch the infection. If you'd just told the truth, Lorgar would probably never have betrayed you, I'd still be alive, and we'd still be... family. As much as we were before, anyway.

 

Lord's voice jolted the Primarch out of his little daydream. You do know it's possible to step back into your lives, darlings, as a past you? Rather like that human 'movie' Butterfly Effect, if I remember rightly... Was that the right one? Nver mind. Either way, you're going to have to earn your ticket home, which you're not going to do by standing around chatting. Time to move on, Konrad?

 

"He's right." Curze admitted, the begrudging tone evident in his voice; evidently he'd been rubbed up the wrong way somewhat. "You're all soaked the bone; you're no use to anyone if you all catch chills and have to lie around moaning while I complete the missions for you, especially not yourself. There are addiquite supplies of spare clothing and weapons in the lower decks for you to all change- and food, too, since none of you look like the type of troops I'm used to commanding and in good need of toughening up. To quote an ancient Terrian general 'I have no idea what effect you'll have on the enemy, but my God you scare me.'" he added dryly. He had found the phrase in a book of warfare on-board ship some time ago, and it had just been begging to be used since then.

[Fortune86]

((Don't look at me. I'm still struggling to get rid of my own cold. I've been left with a nasty cough for about three weeks now.

 

According to the Radio, that means lung cancer D:))

 

Odette had no interest in food or weapons, but a change of clothes seemed like a good idea. She was also intrigued by these missions that the mysterious voice mentioned. If she could stay busy and her mind focused on other matters, she could keep her brother's voice at bay. She had lost so much already, but she was determined to keep her sanity.

 

Turning away from the group Odette headed towards the door she was guessing led down to the decks below. Opening it she found a flight of stairs and began to descend downwards.

 

((Can you give us any clues about the layout Ruins???

[Packgoater]

((I'm sick with bronchitis. D: Not to mention the schoolwork that is flooding me... I'll try to get a post up later.))