A Better Understanding [closed, contains Nightmare Plot oddness]
Aeneas the blue-striped alien was looking decidedly confident as he marched towards the bright pink bus parked in the City. Well, for somebody who should be suffering from the afflictions of recent dreams, of social reclusion, of mild depression…
But that was just the thing, wasn’t it? Aeneas didn’t suffer from any of those things-rather, he ( Read more... )
”Alchemy…”
Yes, Alchemy. It was something that the good Doctor Palor Drake was obsessed with at a young age, and something he often ranted about when he cared for Aeneas during the first few months of his recovery. To be able to control the very atoms that composed all matter in the universe and meld them at will…it was a daunting task, clearly impossible with any technology Drake could fathom, but he still dreamt of it. Oh, if he ever woke up-if he had even been saved in the first place-imagine his happiness should Aeneas meld thin air into gold! And the alien would introduce Drake to Matt and Will, and he would study their abilities with Stacy’s advanced lab equipment, and then he would finally create a device that could mimic their powers and accomplish his childhood dream…
Aeneas abruptly snapped out of his daze when he felt a sudden draining of newfound power escaping through his foot. Dragging his limb out of the water had left a few droplets suspended in the air longer than they should’ve been before rejoining their molecularly polar brethren.
He was still gazing at the pool. “How…how long would it take one to learn a second element?”
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"The mental disciplines are usually easy to focus on with a single element first, but in time, you'll be able to try the very basic spells in the first five elements. If you want, I can also find the practice wands and see if you can give it a try. I also should be able to find a beginners textbook in Taranee's room too."
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…No, no. Aeneas had to be patient. He’d waited longer for more important things; he was still waiting for his blocked memories to show up, after all. Not much else could trump that in the patience department. Until then, Aeneas resolved himself to learn what magic he could and to master it as well as time allotted-not for himself. He had to remind himself of that. This was, front and foremost, for Matt and the other magic users’ sakes.
’Cause if you can’t beat ‘em…
“I will learn at whatever pace you decide is most beneficial,” the alien blinked a concerned smile onto his brow, “I do not wish to stress either of us, especially yourself.”
He was going to kick himself for asking this.
“It is the dreams, is it not? You look exhausted.”
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He eyed Aeneas and swore he could see double. "... you don't mind if I stagger past you bud and return us to the main hall? I'm about ready to collapse and my caffeine rush has completely died on me. I'll set you up with textbooks and practical exercises first before I pass out."
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“…Yes, the textbooks,” Aeneas nodded, thinking of a good way to express this, “I can get Will to bring them to me later. Do you need to go down to Medbay?”
Hello, new topic!
“And I do not mean for just rest. Do you know of Doctor Jean Grey? She is telepathic-perhaps she can help protect you while you get some proper sleep? I can escort you.”
For once, Aeneas wasn’t budging. It wasn’t a demanding request, at least not in the way the alien had phrased it, but it was still one that he was ready to enforce with persistent nudges and steering.
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He chuckled mirthlessly. "I've got my psychic shielding to max already. But the lack of sleep has played hell with my sanity. I think I've just dipped under the MSR of function right now. That's Minimal Sanity Requirement by the way. Once I'm coherent enough I can seek out Dr. Grey and get her to reinforce my shields."
It wasn't like Matt appreciated the gesture, he was touched and he could feel the worry pouring off Aeneas. He was justifiably concerned for his friend and Matt had to agree that going to Dr. Grey would probably help with his magic-based shields.
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“Then we can go there later,” he purred firmly (if it was possible for a purr to sound ‘firm’), placing a webbed hand on Matt’s back to steer him towards a proper sleeping surface, “You need to get actual rest before your body makes you. I will stay nearby and make sure to wake you if you show signs of the Nightmare King’s manipulation.”
Because a short nap broken by a bad dream was better than no nap at all.
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The door swished open to his room, where his guitar and several sets of clothing lay. Rein's bag was to the side and the young man faceplanted abruptly into the bed.
With a muffled groan, Matt proclaimed "I can't feel my legs. Hoist my lower half into bed bud?"
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“You have gotten yourself into one mess,” he rumbled under his breath, carefully rolling his friend onto the plushy bed. Aeneas’s undersized arms were just as weak as they looked-and Matt was more muscular than he was expecting-so this was no easy task.
“Now sleep. I’ll stay here.”
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He curled up next to the bed like an overgrown cat, lower half curled into a tight ball around his torso, arms and muzzle resting on the sheets, rumbling purr easing Matt into a more comfortable slumber. Some time passed before Aeneas began to ponder just how much rest the average human required each night. This creature needed only a few hours, spread out in sporadic naps, sometimes getting two or three in when it got dark; from what he understood, however, humans were primarily diurnal and could sleep nigh eight hours at a time. If this young male’s exhaustion was any indicator, he’d probably be asleep even longer.
This was going to be a looooong guarding session.
Aeneas got to meditating, solidifying the sensations associated with his newfound powers. His eyes squinted shut as he searched for the shifting tide, the ebb and flow that aligned with his erratic pulse and his thoughts. When he found it, Aeneas concentrated on controlling how much energy he could release at once, and where it went, localizing his abilities to his hands or feet or tail. Every once in a while some might’ve escaped, perhaps making some nearby glass of water quiver ominously, but otherwise Aeneas was doing a good job.
Such a good job, in fact, that he hardly noticed when his simple meditation turned into a trance, and trance into coma. It wasn’t until colors started swimming across his eyelids that Aeneas realized he was asleep.
He was on the bridge of a small ship, standing behind the navigator’s chair with a wrench and a few greasy rags. His surroundings were crystal clear-everything from the control panel to the crew to the cloudy blue atmosphere outside the panoramic window-and everything was familiar.
The interior was definitely that of a diplomatic cruiser, and a high-tech one at that. The large, light blue male creature from Aeneas’s last dream was hooked up to the control system via a mental link, which was wireless, allowing for him to walk around as he pleased. However, something was definitely troubling him; he was planted inside his seat, webbed hands tightly gripping the loosely-fitting supports until the veins in his hairless arms popped from underneath the skin, and his glassy eyes were wide, dilated with nerves. Purple gills inside his opaque feathers pulsed with a rapid, erratic beat.
Aeneas was smiling. He raised the wrench-
-And gave his fellow alien a pat on the shoulder, scaring him out of his pelt.
“Easy brother,” trilled Aeneas reassuringly, “We’ve made it this far. Thessaly has taught you well.”
The male nodded, breathing heavily out of his slits and frayed feathers. “Yes, I-I suppose you are right.”
“Perhaps you should walk around, get some sustenance. I made gardenfruit.”
His small hand was still on the other’s shoulder. Pondering, eyes fixed on the panoramic window, the male was obviously hesitant to move.
“Hesiod. Dearest.”
The all-too-familiar shape of dark blue, black stripes, and aqua eyes peered into the bridge from crew quarters.
“The gardenfruit is amazing and you need to unwind. Get out of that seat before I make you.”
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He already knew it could easily fit around his neck.
She shut the door behind him, and the two shared a long, thoughtful glance. To a vocal creature this constant shifting of gazes, narrowing of eyes, and subtle stretching of auricles would be meaningless and odd to watch; in reality, their expressions spoke volumes. It was a secret communication, and temporary at best, for they had work to do.
“Auto-pilot,” Thessaly clicked, hurrying for the control panel, “Do it now.”
And Aeneas made it so, manually going to work on the navigation controls with quick fingers and programming skills far out of his known range, but not without a quick glare at the female. Something wasn’t right here.
“I thought we were going to tell him,” Aeneas hummed, continuing to type. The string of code ripped through security like so many wet pieces of paper, and the ship lurched as it was pulled from Hesiod’s control. Within several moments the male was pounding on the door, trilling loudly through the metal plating with curses that didn’t require a translator to understand. “We agreed that he could help us negotiate, provide some extra power behind the two of us as we stated our-“
“-Claims, yes, claims,” Thessaly flicked her tail absently, watching as they ascended into the exosphere. Below them was the surface of a small planet; just over the horizon were two tiny moons, smaller orbiting around the larger. The central star must’ve been behind them, for they were clearly lit in the inky darkness of space.
“Dear, this is much more than either of you were expecting. You should be lucky that I let you know this much.”
Aeneas felt his feathers and ears flush. Indignity this strong was something he’d never felt before, and its overwhelming power was almost frightening.
“Then perhaps now would be a good time to elaborate.”
Within an instant her jaws were hovering over the base of his neck. Corrosive spit trickled down Aeneas’s thick fur, slowly burning through the layers, and heat seared his auricles. He instinctively tightened his shoulders.
“You are in no position to be negotiating information from me. Keep typing, get us lower into the atmosphere. We’ll be joined soon.”
He paused, confusion replacing his shame. “…There are others involved in the Aeneas Project?”
…
“No,” Thessaly hissed, annoyed, “There is no Aeneas Project. At least, not when we’re finished here.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. Even his past personality was unable to respond, too scared to act (or too obedient)-and, just as Thessaly said, new dots appeared on the radar. They were moving in quickly.
“There they are.” She moved away from the chair, leaving Aeneas with pulsing veins and shallow breath and swimming eyes. He didn’t know what was going on. There were others involved in this-others that Aeneas never knew of or heard of-others that he couldn’t trust.
But…but he could trust Thessaly. He loved Thessaly.
A loud -BANG- from outside, and the ship rumbled dangerously. Pressure sensors went off across the board. Aeneas’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the seat’s handles.
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Thessaly was in as much of (if not more) a panic than Aeneas was, staggering across the bridge with wide eyes and flared feathers. “This is all going according to plan. Everything is working out perfectly. Get us deeper into the atmosphere, act like we’re trying to avoid them-“
Two more ships came, closely followed by two more rounds. Aeneas evaded one but the other hit cleanly, shearing off the cargo hold behind the ship. The power went out. Hesiod was kicking the doors, claws scratching against metal.
“So this was your plan?” Aeneas screeched, jumping out of his chair, “This was it, all along? Some half-baked suicide mission? Why did this have to involve us? You could have obtained a private cruiser, snuck past the borders-“
“If I can’t have one of you then I can’t have either!” Thessaly roared, and threw herself at Aeneas.
Her powerful mandibles closed around his throat faster than he could react, cutting cleanly through his layers of fur and into muscle, paralyzing his shoulders. Her tail swept underneath his legs; she dragged his limp body effortlessly into the air, using only her jaws, and flung him across the bridge. Various obstacles found their way into his path before he came to a crashing stop against the opposite wall, collapsing in a heap on the floor.
More shots hit. The program, unfinished, soon failed, and Hesiod regained control of navigation. The ship plummeted through the clouds, others hot on their tail.
“Get in the escape pod.”
Thessaly was standing over him, blood dripping from her massive jaws. When Aeneas didn’t comply, she pulled him up by the waist. He screeched, pain shooting through his abdomen as he lost feeling of the floor, and she threw him again. Aeneas’s form was like a bloody ragdoll while he sailed through the ship’s blinking emergency lights.
“If you’re so desperate to live, then get in the escape pod!” Thessaly demanded, eyes darting towards the cracked panoramic window. Land shrouded in the darkness of night unfolded below them like a model landscape.
Aeneas almost complied. Almost. But despite her betrayal, despite her scathing words and powerful violence, he couldn’t leave her…just…
“…No, you.”
“This is none of your concern!” Thessaly charged forward in blind rage and panic, standing over him once again, “This isn’t for the betterment of everyone, this is for me! So stay out of it! Get in the escape pod!”
“…No. I…I love you. Please. Let me s…stay.”
She grabbed him by the scruff and shook. One of his back legs flopped lifelessly behind him, but he didn’t care. Pain was obsolete at this point.
“Forget-EVERYTHING!” she tossed him into the pressure hatch door, “Forget me! Forget the project! Forget the plan, forget the program, forget those long rituals and the grooming we stole-it never happened! None of this did! I never happened! You never happened! JUST FORGET IT!”
The fifth or sixth slam into the broken door yielded the metal plating just enough for Thessaly to shove Aeneas inside. As he slowly uncurled, head swimming and muscles writhing, the pod abruptly detached. The diplomatic cruiser disappeared in a flash of compressed steam and burning fuel.
Weakly he called out over the overwhelming noise of reentry, “But I-I love-I-Wai-“
The pod was blindsided by a rogue piece of shrapnel. The cockpit collapsed violently, everything went dark, then suddenly bright, then very dark and quiet again…
The creature lay writhing on the ground, bleeding out slowly from unknown wounds and gasping for air. His eyes were open, but rolled in the back of his head, lids fluttering spasmodically as he seized at the bottom of the bed.
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With a startled jerk, he rolled over, gasping for air as he looked over at his bleeding friend. "Slag," growled Matt, unable to formulate a response.
"Hang on bud," said Matt as he got out of bed and knelt down next to his friend. Clasping his hands, Matt searched his memory for some kind of focus through the bleary haze of sleep and the stabbing of Aeneas' pain and frustration driving through his shields at such a close range. A magic circle appeared under him and Aeneas and he muttered, "O brilliant angels, grant us your favor! Nurse!"
Magic poured from Matt's frame, twisting around in a green-yellow energy as he started to feed the healing spell into his friend. "You okay Ani?" he inquired, light floating upwards as he continued to maintain the spell.
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Matt’s spell worked well enough to wake him from his dream-induced coma and heal most of the wounds that were starting to appear from the crash itself-gaping lacerations, shattered ribs all along his torso and abdomen, multiple internal injuries-but a good majority remained along with the clear memory and mental scarring. Aeneas could still see the scene play out in front of his eyes, could still feel the spit dribbling down his neck. And, worst of all, he could smell his own blood pooling on the floor of the bus.
He wasn’t bleeding out too terribly, which should’ve come as a surprise to any creature with a cardiovascular system even remotely resembling a human’s. His blood was also something of an oddity; it was red, sure, but it was more on the florescent side, and extremely gooey, like paste. Clotting was quick to set in, helped by Matt’s healing spell and Aeneas’s matted fur.
Matt.
The fact that the previous traumatizing vision was an uncovered memory did not immediately register to him at first. The alien had a secondary panic attack as his mind temporarily meshed the two realities together; he frantically staggered to his feet, eyes wide with terror and confusion once they located their human target. One of his back legs was obviously broken, making this task exponentially more difficult.
“Are you okay?” Aeneas rasped, apparently oblivious to both Matt's question and his own misgivings.
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Reaching out, he grabbed his comm ring from the bedside stand. "That okay with you?"
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