Where chaos stops and more chaos ensues. Where Filia plays the electric keyboard.
Where anything goes.
-//o_O\\7 *Home of the Awful, Mediocre and Pathetic* -//u_u\\7
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Where chaos stops and more chaos ensues. Where Filia plays the electric keyboard. Where anything goes. -//o_O\\7 *Home of the Awful, Mediocre and Pathetic* -//u_u\\7 |
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Thursday, February 05, 2004 - The Wayward, Part IV - From quite some distance away, it looked like a marsh of some sort, blackened and filled with the twisting fingers of rotting trees. With my consistently changing angle, the occasional glint of sunlight off its surface gave credibility as to the presence of some layer of water on its surface. Like a real piece of bogland, it even had a cloud of miasma of some sort hanging over it like mist over an evaporating pond, or insects gleefully humming above carrion. I dashed in front of my untalkative companion to get a better look, to see if there was anyone living near there who could provide some form of assistance. However, it became increasingly obvious that it was no force of nature that had created this piece of wasted land. What I thought was the murky pitch of swamp gradualy revealed jagged edges, and it was then that I realised I was in truth heading towards the blackened ruins of some newly-destroyed building, though the cause of its recent annihilation was not immediately obvious. Hmph. My guess had most ironically proven correct, it indeed was two of some unit of distance to a settlement, unfortunately, it was one that just recently had the civilisation blasted out of it. How sick. There went my last hope of getting help, or, possibly ever returning home again. Well, that wasn't true, because I could just walk right back to the farm near the cliff and ask my way around, but people tend to exaggerate when they are dejected. I folded my arms and turned back to face that erratic creature, who, on second thought, did not seem to be guided by anything else other than the road. So much for homing instincts, I smirked cynically, as the hooded being simply brushed to my side before returning to its previous path, just as it did before. And for the umpteenth time, I stood still and watched it edge onwards in that snail's pace it seemed to find all too comfortable, my eyes following it as it descended the rest of the hill and reached the level ground once more. But still, as I pondered, wasn't it suspicious that a magnificent mansion or complex of some kind ... presuming that it looked magnificent, would be effaced from the earth so utterly not too long before I arrived? Not that I had anything to do with it, of course, since I didn't know it existed, but wouldn't there be anyone investigating the ruins of a place that was just newly destroyed? Wouldn't there be a rescue party or something to search for survivors, or perhaps to salvage whatever little was left of whatever activity was carried out there. As if to answer my suspicions, or my helpless plea for salvation from the deepest recesses of my heart, the joyful whinny of a domesticated horse let loose to roam sounded from somewhere before me. Continuing on that path which had alternately brought hope and snatched it before it could be received, my eyes focussed on a brown figure frolicking in the distance ... and a wooden contraption that seemed out of place either among the rolling plains of grass or the blackened ruins of annihilation. A horse and carriage ... so there was someone there after all. Perhaps, just as 'light years' is a description of distance rather than time, the markings on the roadstone indicated not the distance to the place but the time to travel to it. It was probably something similar to two minutes ... on a horse. Following the creature at my own pace, which was not very much faster than it's own (embarrassingly enough), it took me ten times that duration to see the happy horse nibbling the grass in the wild plains, and the carriage near to it. It was newly-polished and parts of it were waxed so meticulously they gleamed in the sunlight, a welcome sign showing that it was one that had been maintained and was in recent use. And then I came to the wreckage itself. Like the gateway to a dimension of destruction, all that remained of the wall the road led up to was the brick arch of what was once a doorway. The door itself lay in shards just before the entrance, offering little other than evidence to determine whether the building had exploded or imploded. I took a few steps until I was just in front of the doorway, so that I would be ready to jump back should it choose to collapse on me, and took a better look at the debris and rubble that recently constituted a magnificent institution of some sort. I say "institution", because from what the building contained, it was clear that it was not an ordinary dwelling or commercial complex of any kind. The floor was littered with glass, near several collapsed instruments that looked like chambers of some sort. There also seemed to be a great amount of destroyed desks about the place, the wooden ones having crumbled into splinters and sawdust, the metal ones either dismantled or warped into hideous shapes. Most glaringly of all were a large number of white laboratory uniforms scattered around, with white coats, white hoods and even white trousers and boots. Those coats ... so familiar ... they reminded me of ... I turned about, and almost fell backwards when I caught sight of my taciturn companion behind me ... not out of the surprise of merely seeing it, but seeing it remain still just behind me. The only time I had seen it appear to demand such a response out of me was back at the cliff, where in some kind of fair deal it shocked me nearly enough to fall off the cliff, then dropped a fairly valuable-looking ring as compensation. And now there it was, just standing, presumably just staring at me. At least it wasn't hostile, seeing as to how I had my back for it for more than five minutes, yet it did not take the opportunity to pounce upon me in my inattentiveness. So ... it brought me here, back to where it came from. I guess I cannot doubt those homing instincts now. But why me, and what for? Was I the nearest person available? Wasn't there already someone else here, scanning the ruins for survivors or salvaging them for saleables? Speaking of "someone else", it would be a good idea if I had the assistance of someone else to find out just where I was, and what I came to be doing here. "Er ... hello?" I began timorously, before raising my voice as my confidence (in my voice, not in my sense of direction) began to build, "Hello? Is anybody there? Can anyone hear me?" No response, just as if I had attempted to talk to my non-conversational leader-turned-follower. Testing my courage a bit more, I stepped forward, under and through the arch, and into the slight mist that hung over the ruins of the laboratory. "Hey! I'm calling for you, here! Could you respond, please? Oh, damn it, say something!" I yelled, trying to constrict my throat so I wouldn't inhale so much of the perhaps insidiously toxic air. Not being able to hold my breath for that long, I needed to go back out again to get some fresher air. I turned behind ... "Uwaa!!" And there that creature was again, right behind me like a persistent (and very silent) dog. Now, it was following my lead in wherever I chose to go. Not that I really minded now, since it didn't hinder me much (when I was the leader) and it could prove potentially useful in case I got into trouble, but still ... there is no need to surprise me like that! It was too late, however, as in my shock I took a deep breath of the hazy miasma ... and found it perfectly breatheable. Maybe it was just what it looked like, mist, steam, water vapour. It was time to get some bearings, however, and from inside the wrecked building I caught sight of what looked like a small room or container which seemed to have survived the blast. It was quite a little distance away, though still within the perimeter of the wreckage, and judging from its colour and its durability looked like it was made of thick metal or some other very tough material. Perhaps whoever was investigating this accident was searching inside the only room left standing, or even worse, maybe that person lived and worked here, and was forced to return to the only room remaining. But still, it was the best place to start searching, and, glancing behind me to notice how the creature kept in pace behind me in its own leisurely fashion, worked my way through the rubble to what looked like the door of the room, careful not to let the hem of my dress get caught on the odd piece of twisted metal, broken rubble or ruptured glass. Hmm ... locked in a most mysterious fashion. The door, made of that self-same metal as the room, would not be pushed or pulled, and even the doorknob refused to turn at all, though ...? Perhaps there was another entrance. "Stay here ..." I told the creature behind me as I rounded the corner of the room, half-thinking that it would listen seeing as to how it had begun to follow me, but with my common sense telling me not to expect any change in its behaviour. Perhaps there was another way in, or perhaps it was not worth going in at all seeing as to how it could also be a maximum-security safe or a refrigeration unit, the contents of which would not be particularly useful to me at this point in time. A floor of shattered glass greeted me as I turned to the wall just to the left of the locked doorway. There being too many shards of glass it was unlikely that it used to be merely a window, and my suspicions were confirmed when I saw a massive gap in the wall, with a circular section of smashed glass separating me from the inside of the room. Perhaps protected by the powerfully reinforced walls of the room, this chamber had not been as utterly smashed as the others throughout the building but was only shattered in its middle, the pieces of glass remaining pointing toward each other like transparent teeth in a maw, or stalacties and stalagmites in an icy cave. To attempt to enter, of course, would mean immediate laceration and a slow and painful death from loss of blood, and I did not intend to break the remaining glass down with either my bare hands, which was utter stupidity, my booted feet which I was not sure could endure the razor-sharp edges of the glass or with something large and heavy on the ground, which I did not think I could lift and I had no intention of touching with my bare hands either. But I could see inside, and that being the only option available I squinte with all my might in the gap between the glass reaching for each other between the floor and the ceiling. The interior of this metal room seemed to have survived the disaster, since it looked only as disorganised as might be humanly possible without the help of heavy explosives. More surprisingly, however, were the contents of this room ... a wooden desk like any other found outside the room, with a sturdy wooden chair to match. A small metal cabinet was grafted to the wall just above it, its doors closed. A wastepaper basket had been knocked over by the blast, and its contents, many crumpled balls of paper, were scattered around the floor together with several loose sheets as well. A small wooden clock at the back of the table, which did not appear to be moving and the time on which I could not discern. On the table were more things of interest. Occupying most of the table were sheets of paper, some blank and others with scrawlings on them unreadable from my current postion. Some paper files were stacked in a corner of the desk, and were used to a certain extent. A shade that looked like a table lamp stood beside them, and at the base of the shade there was a small and flat brown box that looked like a tape recorder or an answering machine. Most prominently, however, leaning against the wall, in the centre of the desk, there stood a picture frame, and from it gazed the visage of the previous owner of the room. I squinted more furiously. Someone ... someone whose cheeks were pale, yet radiated the irresistable charm of youth. Someone whose shining eyes and well-trimmed eyelashes gazed enchantingly at its beholder. Someone whose rosy red lips glimmered like an apple of lust. Someone whose vibrant and rolling silvery hair was parted meticulously, fell gracefully over her ears and past her shoulders in an argentine cascade. Someone ... who? "Who's there?" a sharp, brash voice called out from not too far behind me. It was that someone who I had originally been searching for, who now turned out to be an irritant and a distraction from a newfound mystery. Someone whose presence at this time could not find any worse welcome. "Who are you? You are trespassing on private property! State your identity and your purpose!" The voice rang out from much less further behind me. Heavy footsteps seemed to resound across the blasted landscape and into my ears. Warily, I turned about to face its source. Take your pick and hammer away. 19. They saw me. Let's hit the nail on the head. 20. I'd better bolt for it, or I'll be screwed. - This is so mechanical, whatever this message says should have been drilled into you by now ... - posted by Charlotte | 3:49 pm
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Disclaimer : The Slayers and Filia Ul Copt and all images thereof are the property of Hajime Kanzaka and Rui Araizumi. I don't own any of them, although if I had a choice I would want Filia ... ~//n_n\\7 |
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