Dreampost. - After returning from Battle Royale.
After being sent to the clinics, fed and dealt with by Eiko, she's sedated, and she might very well sleep for a while, at least.
Either way.
She dreams.
She dreams of blackness.
She kneels in the spotlight. Cybernetic, tired, wings draped over herself. She stares at one hand idly, the metal glinting in the light.
"Do you fear death, Arabelle Kintotech?" It's her own voice but more cruel, harsher, from a figure that stands tall, scaled, barnacled, wings of massive sails and rigging, arms of metal from ship's hulls and chains from anchors. Ripped and fallen, immortal as the sea (Come, now, whenever you hear that phrase, do you not associate it with Davy Jones?). She stepped forward, sailing wings moving heavily with her motion, flapping.
"N-no. I don't." The normal one scrambles back, wings draped over herself, staring at the oceanic horror that is herself.
"Or do you fear losing our individuality to the machine?" White, pale, black bodyarmor and extensive cybernetics, reinforcements over the wing-joints, and one normal, human eye. "Because we think you do." Her voice, mechanical, cold, harsh. A laser targeting system on one side of her head. The Borg.
Arabelle made a strangled sound and backed away from this one as well, staring.
She ran into someone.
Tall, blonde, human. Much like herself of now, but older, "Or do you fear that which you may become, the leader, the one they all look up to?" She asked, a little harshly.
"No, god no." Arabelle the Original moved back again, staring at all three. "I don't. I really don't."
The immortal one of the sold soul spoke again, shifting her weight, arms creaking low and metallic, "You died, you have been given a second chance, and yet you fear this new life, do you not, Arabelle?"
"... I died." The original states again, "I was blind-sided, there was nothing I could do!"
"But you feared it, Goldenwing. You couldn't stop it." She makes another step towards, "You have always feared it since then."
"Yea, but didn't you? Isn't that why you're.."
"But then you fear for our individuality, Goldenwing." The Borg one spoke up again, emotionless voice cutting through the silence harshly, "Fearing becoming that which we can never be."
"I'm not her." Original Arabelle spoke up again, "I can't be."
"Then why do you fear becoming what you're supposed to?" Future then spoke, shifting her position as well.
"I.. don't know."
"Or do you know, and you fear admitting it?" The Arabelle-of-the-Dutchman spoke again.
"...."
"Too proud to admit it, Goldenwing?"
"...I-don't know. Seriously. I don't know. Just leading them scares the hell out of me. I'm responsible for their lives, not just my own."
"Then perhaps you do understand us. Understand your fears, Goldenwing. Only then will you overcome them."
"..."
And just with that, they were gone.
She woke up, sudden and sitting up in the bed in the clinics, eyes wide before realizing where she was. She takes a couple of sharp breaths before making a noise and lying back down.
((Open for visitors, Arabelle's at the clinics))
Either way.
She dreams.
She dreams of blackness.
She kneels in the spotlight. Cybernetic, tired, wings draped over herself. She stares at one hand idly, the metal glinting in the light.
"Do you fear death, Arabelle Kintotech?" It's her own voice but more cruel, harsher, from a figure that stands tall, scaled, barnacled, wings of massive sails and rigging, arms of metal from ship's hulls and chains from anchors. Ripped and fallen, immortal as the sea (Come, now, whenever you hear that phrase, do you not associate it with Davy Jones?). She stepped forward, sailing wings moving heavily with her motion, flapping.
"N-no. I don't." The normal one scrambles back, wings draped over herself, staring at the oceanic horror that is herself.
"Or do you fear losing our individuality to the machine?" White, pale, black bodyarmor and extensive cybernetics, reinforcements over the wing-joints, and one normal, human eye. "Because we think you do." Her voice, mechanical, cold, harsh. A laser targeting system on one side of her head. The Borg.
Arabelle made a strangled sound and backed away from this one as well, staring.
She ran into someone.
Tall, blonde, human. Much like herself of now, but older, "Or do you fear that which you may become, the leader, the one they all look up to?" She asked, a little harshly.
"No, god no." Arabelle the Original moved back again, staring at all three. "I don't. I really don't."
The immortal one of the sold soul spoke again, shifting her weight, arms creaking low and metallic, "You died, you have been given a second chance, and yet you fear this new life, do you not, Arabelle?"
"... I died." The original states again, "I was blind-sided, there was nothing I could do!"
"But you feared it, Goldenwing. You couldn't stop it." She makes another step towards, "You have always feared it since then."
"Yea, but didn't you? Isn't that why you're.."
"But then you fear for our individuality, Goldenwing." The Borg one spoke up again, emotionless voice cutting through the silence harshly, "Fearing becoming that which we can never be."
"I'm not her." Original Arabelle spoke up again, "I can't be."
"Then why do you fear becoming what you're supposed to?" Future then spoke, shifting her position as well.
"I.. don't know."
"Or do you know, and you fear admitting it?" The Arabelle-of-the-Dutchman spoke again.
"...."
"Too proud to admit it, Goldenwing?"
"...I-don't know. Seriously. I don't know. Just leading them scares the hell out of me. I'm responsible for their lives, not just my own."
"Then perhaps you do understand us. Understand your fears, Goldenwing. Only then will you overcome them."
"..."
And just with that, they were gone.
She woke up, sudden and sitting up in the bed in the clinics, eyes wide before realizing where she was. She takes a couple of sharp breaths before making a noise and lying back down.
((Open for visitors, Arabelle's at the clinics))