what about all those things we said

[boomvox]

Who: Jae, Sunny. Monsters.
What: This is as close to the apocalypse as these versions have ever been - Sunny has good timing, Jae sucks at being a warrior.
Where: Creekside.
When: Towards the end of week 1.
Notes: Making up for failing while on hiatus, HERE'S A MILLION WORDS?
Warnings: Violence, disturbing imagery, tw for claustrophobia + drowning.

Weeks ago, over cocktails, Jae had asserted that if Baedal was an apocalypse, or a militant society, that he'd be useless – he's not a combatant, he's a DJ, he's only got so much rope and it's not going to do a whole lot beyond trip (or hang) himself in a war zone. Well, okay, that's a really mangled metaphor, but the point is: when the world began to fall apart, Jae locked his door and shoved a sofa up against his balcony windows and informed his various gigs he was canceling until further notice. (Everyone was, thankfully, quite understanding – one group hasn't gotten back to him, or anyone; he tries not to think about it.)

Two days go by and it's not eventful – Creekside doesn't get hit very badly right away, but it's not a go-getter area, and businesses stay closed and people mostly stay inside. Hooded wraiths float through the streets and find little in the way of prey, their oppressive aura chasing people indoors with even more certainty. Well, some people. After nightfall crashes and the sound of heavy but not wholly sinister footfalls echo through the neighborhood, and Jae surmises from his the floor in between his bed and the back wall that it must be looters. Baedal isn't so different from other cities, even now.

Hours into nightfall four days after the sky split, the power goes out. Unearthly groans and creaks stream through the air, and the ground trembles with the reverberation of it. People begin to mill about in their homes, and a timid knock brings Jae to his apartment door. The building manager, holding a pale lantern, quietly informs everyone that they all have to go - something is coming up from the river.

A safehouse compound advertised on the PnumeraRed49 cohort courtesy of Jae's downstairs neighbor seems to be their best bet – it's the closest, it's super-enforced, and the populations of his building and the one across the street won't overwhelm their capacity. If they can get there. And, god, that's the kicker; Jae stares down at his CiD and considers calling someone, one of his 'peers', who are out being proactive and helpful (or silent, he wonders – what about – fuck, everything), but then puts it away. He rips the entire chapter of protective spells out of the book Martel made him check out (he'll wince in apology later) and staples the pages together, folds it, sticks it in his jacket pocket. He shows up in the lobby (whispers and coats all around) carrying a box, and teams up with the calmest mother he's ever seen to pass out glowsticks to the kids (and some of the adults). A woman from across the street recognizes him from club fliers and they devise a shaky strategy, being the only two mages in the group (he can't really be calling himself that, can he?). She squeezes his hand near to breaking as they walk, quietly in a clumpy line, the two of them towards the back.

It's slow and terrifying work. Jae and Aria – the other mage, a produce clerk and student – draw lines in the dirt and on the pavement every time they have to stop and take cover. Despite it, they're attacked twice, by hulking, reeking, many-limbed black creatures dripping water and ichor, and by dawn when Jae runs his hand over the asphalt street to make a run, half of it's in blood – not voluntarily. He shakes as he works, and his head feels like it's going to cave in on itself; he barely remembers what he's writing, and he's not good at channeling it like this – he thinks the runes are useless and what's kept the creatures away so far has been the fact that the magic he can't control is still screaming STAY AWAY out into the astral realm. One monster that leaps from the shadows at them curls back immediately, making an unholy shriek, and Jae knows that it's because what happened to it is what happened to the doctors at the facility.

He thinks he should feel something. Surprise, at least, that he doesn't.

The sun comes up, grey and tinted with that unnatural aurora, and it becomes apparent that they're trapped. They're being hunted, and the magic barriers aren't going to hold forever – Jae knows, with an instinct he's never had before, that they aren't going to hold for more than another hour. He doesn't have the energy for much more, and the both of them, Jae and Aria alike, can sense (since when can he sense anything?) something much worse on their heels. Jae feels it like something walking over his grave, dark and familiar. He feels like he might throw up as he tells her what to do, but she listens, and he wonders with a detached underwater sort of feeling if he sounds more sure than he feels.

As Jae walks back the way they came, he pushes the group from him in his mind, like a physical thing – shoving, desperately, forcefully, with everything he has left, motivation and bravery and hope.

The river comes into sight, and Jae just – stops. He's too exhausted, battered, bleeding. The great hulking thinking that's even now moving towards him like a living shadow, black-skinned, covered in eyes and mouths, is too awful to look at. He sits (stumbles) to the ground and draws a circle around himself with his fingers, trying to cast a spell. In his head there's nothing to hold onto – the thing that's been following him, some monster born of his home world fused with the reality-breaking energy of Baedal, creeping after familiar magic to consume, has no emotions to manipulate. Jae raises his hand to his face and bites down in between his thumb and index finger, ripping open skin and coaxing out blood. He holds it up, pointing, almost aimless in his attempt at offensive magic, and he makes a plea in his head, if Shada's listening. Take my blood, just make this thing fuck off--

(At least it's not after the others.)

Comments

[yeouiju]

There are theories that this is the work of the gods, and theories that the gods are trying to stitch reality back together even as it continues to gape open like torn fly screen in a sweltering summer. Neither theory supports the notion that Jae's prayer can go answered or even heard, but in the end, it's the river that catches it and siphons his will through its channel.

It's been a long week. Times like this, Sunny wishes he could do more.

Difficult, to describe what comes careening into the immediate vicinity. Invisible, funneling the air like a tiny, angry wind-storm, tossing river water in diamond-glitter rooster-tails as it wheels around the surface. The monster, of course, has no concern for this at first - it smells Jae's blood and seems less repulsed than it should be about the defensive magic hastily drawn into the ground or that the injury tribute is not for it. Eyes of yellow and red roll in its scattered sockets, one armoured arm levering itself to lurch forward to bring about the other for mauling.

It's more than just collateral water that leaps from the river by the time this third entity has settled somewhere behind Jae. The air ripples and briefly glimmers in barely visible rainbow sheens, and the young magician is deftly avoided even as the brunt of telekinetic force catches the monster in its face. Faces. It staggers back, awkward, suddenly, stupidly confused.

Ridiculous, the impotent sounding pat pat of rubber boot soles on the dirt sounds out, moving away from river shore. Sunny is drenched wet, dark hair clinging to his skull like seal fur, and a hand splays out, every finger stretches, tendons taut beneath his skin. Another shock of magic, this time taking slices of ink-black flesh as if clawed by something larger, multiple whines emitting from the hulking beast, one deafening roar.

Which makes it hard for Jae to hear his name, but it is called out by the other man, concerned; Sunny probably sounds concerned, as it would match his expression around the mouthed syllable.