Hollow Hush Of Trees
Who: Mitochondria Aya, Eve, and pretty much anyone who responded to Eve’s post if you feel like it.
What: Time to take down that annoying bitch in the Eastern District before she attempts to lay waste to the rest of the city.
Where: Manhattan ruins in the Eastern District.
When: Late Sunday Night.
Warnings: Death. Explosions. More death. Chances of ( Read more... )
What: Time to take down that annoying bitch in the Eastern District before she attempts to lay waste to the rest of the city.
Where: Manhattan ruins in the Eastern District.
When: Late Sunday Night.
Warnings: Death. Explosions. More death. Chances of ( Read more... )
Comments 13
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Feel free to post in separate threads if this becomes a clusterfuck.]
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"The first strike appears to have been successful," he said aloud, addressing the girl he carried on his back. He knew they had to take Aya out from afar. Now he just had to analyze how to approach the situation. He wanted to keep Eve as far from the danger as possible. But according to the girl, she was the only one who could stop Aya. Batman understood, but he would keep the girl away until Aya was significantly weakened, at least.
Batman looked on from his safe location. He couldn't stay there any longer. Not when he could do something. He spoke to Eve again. "I need you to stay here."
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He blinked at her words of caution. For all she was doing, she was still a child- a child who had been forced to grow too quickly. That was no foreign concept to him.
"I will," he replied. It was time to get moving, now that he could somehow feel the cover Eve was granting. He turned and, keeping his sights on their target, moved into the shadows.
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Wiping her mouth and the tiny beads of sweat from her brow, Eve made her way through the blanketing darkness --slow and steady - counting her steps as if the closing distance depended on it.
Is that a star?
It was closer now-- the voice-concerned and confused. The intensity of it hurt her ears. It slid across her skin like an icy blanket, a sharp set of finger nails shredding her spine into papery shreds. She almost wanted to discard the glass shard nestled into the back pocket of her jeans. But she had a responsibility. Many lives were at stake.
Lives? What about her life?
Eve still was not used to this place, and she was beginning to doubt whether she ever would be… even if she’d started to meet people she’d one day like to call friends. Yet it was so...nice was the first word that came to mind. It was nice in that way that there had been people, living people; people that she was now and always, ready to fight for.
Mom? Swallowing down the bile in her throat, an intangible fury gnawing at her stomach, she stalked ( ... )
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The only option she had left now had been to retreat. Find some place. Any place. Away from the bombing and the wave of attacks. Away from people who she had tried and tried and could not kill for whatever reason. Her deteriorating body and wouldn’t hold out for much longer. Her paces had already begun to stumble as she bolted through the streets.
If she tried changing forms now, she might not last much longer. Whatever it was about this place, this city, it was slowly and agonizingly killing her. Something here wanted her dead. And there could only be one force with enough will strong enough that wanted to see her that way.
What more, she could hear a voice calling for her. It was a voice similar to the one that called for her twelve years ago, that simmered ever since the night at the opera house until it was brought to a full boil. When this host had killed Mitochondria Eve, killed her child, pushing those limits...
The more you use ( ... )
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Eve was trying to be slow, steady, calculated -- like the tortoise in the fable her father used to read her. But right now she felt more familiar with the hare; impatient, ready to jump out all guns blazing, and it bothered her to no end. With little hesitation she glared at the older woman, nostrils flaring and eyes flashing angrily. She was daring Aya to say something, do something, anything that would break the reverie and signal her chance to act. It was then she realised the irony. They were at a stand still. Once again, they were facing off against each other, and she was damn pissed at the world for it.
Time to think…
“Is this another one of your tricks?”
Clenching her hand in a little fist, she continued to edge her way through the dimly lit rubble, listening, looking, straining to discern the energies coming from the distance.
Time to… evolve?Images flooded to the surface. Ridiculously powerful tendrils of energy wrapping themselves around her friends, her family, flames that ( ... )
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