Me. Who wasn't even picked captain of the sports team at school. Who, in the thousands of years I lived as smoke, before Kayley happened to us, well. It isn't that I don't play well with others.
It's more that others don't always want to play with me.
And yet.
Frost. An actual soldier, a sergeant no less, holding rank and natural authority. However, that same training includes following orders from superiors, and apparently she's decided that's. Me?
Melantha. A queen, and it doesn't get much higher in terms of rank then ruling an entire realm. Of as yet unseen spiders and trees yes. But still. However, she isn't often firing on all cylinders, content to follow our. My? Lead.
Ushinatta. Ush. The Dark God tank, despite we've yet to see- having arrived late to the party in Scotland -a true display of power from her, Ush boils over with it. Raw energy I can almost taste, smell. But, she's no leader, has made zero attempt to take point, and like Melantha seems content to follow. Me?
Shit. And crap.
Since when did a scared little Bunny wind up in charge of something this important?
I roll with it though, accepting the mantle, the slow seep of responsibility. At first I'd simply been making suggestions, being helpful, but as I begin to realise I'm being deferred to, checked with before actions are taken. I, rolling my shoulders, with a nod and a grim smile.
I am the Rope Bunny, I can do fucking anything.
Step up to the plate.
In the hanger we get changed. In various fashions.
Melantha flat out refuses, politely of course, to wear trousers. Looking fairly comical zipped into a white and blue camouflage bulky waist length coat, fur lined hood pulled up, mirrored goggles on. Gloves. Nothing but denim shorts and lace up black boots below the waist.
Which is positively sensible compared to Ush, who doesn't really feel the cold anyway. She says. Agreeing to wear a jacket at least she leaves it unzipped, skimpy dress and bare skin for days plainly visible beneath.
Frost goes all the way. Boots swapped for chunkier boots, more grip. Already in trousers she shrugs a white fleece top on over her tee, then the jacket. Hood up, keeping her beret, googles for now loosely hanging around her neck.
And me. Group leader, setting an example. Right?
Well. I do swap my shorts for skinny fit faded blue jeans. I do zip up my jacket, halfway. But I keep my Adidas and wave off the goggles, which mess up my depth perception.
Ishmaels Last Revenge in my right hand. Dawn Overture held low but ready in Frost's trained grip, one finger on the trigger, thumb on the cock. The Sisters snuggled up under Melantha's jacket, sheathed at the small of her back. And Tide Waits for You in Ush's right hand, ready.
"Ready?" Looking from face to face, receiving tight nods, an open smile from Melantha which I can't help but return. Her dragon. Somewhere? Invisible again.
"Right." Beside the door, and she swears there's a corresponding one, close by, inside the research base doing unknown research that Frost's people have identified- using whatever methods they're employing -as the location of Nevermore.
The sixth wand.
"Let's go."
"Yes." Grasping the handle, Melantha pauses, briefly, eyes flickering open/closed like rapid blinking.
Searching?
She opens the door.
Gasping as chest high snow collapses through the opening, pushing her backwards into Frost, who with a soldiers reactions pulls Melantha clear of the miniature avalanche before she can trip.
"Definitely looks right." Ush, grinning, prodding snow with her katana tip.
"Ha." Grinning too, before shaking my head. Mission time. "Frost," waved gesture, "take point. Ush then Melantha. Weapons low." Frost, at the threshold, gives me a tight nod. "Let's not appear too threatening."
Through we go.
Into near blinding white, damn the useless goggles. Everything is snow or ice, with a low cloud filled sky, literally zero blue up there, only adding to the monotone vista.
At least its calm, we haven't walked into the middle of a snowstorm.
Behind us, the door we've come through, is a low rust red dome roofed rectangular building. No visible windows, and only the one other door.
Right next to the one we just came through, a door with no huge mound of snow piled in front.
I'm saying nothing.
We're up against one sheer ice wall of a long canyon, the cut looking only half natural, steadily downwards slopping floor which bends a sharp hairpin right ahead, plunging into an actual all man made looking cave.
A dig site then?
Across from us is a very basic looking lean to, just a roof supported on wooden poles and half built walls, gaps at the top. Inside something resembling a Land Rover but on tracks squats, long flatbed trailer beside it, on the other side various small locked storage bins.
It's. "Quiet."
"Tooooo quiet." Ush teases, turning to flash me a smile as we all form a rough line abreast, looking around.
"Into the cave?"
"Well...." No direction sense from the pulse, of course. I can feel it, nearby, which could be the cave or it could be....
It isn't the small building. Frost and me search, as quietly as we're able given every door hinge squeals and every third floorboard creaks. It's empty, lived in, but empty.
"The cave." Gesturing with my spear point. "Frost first, Melantha, Ush you watch behind."
"And no butt jokes." Wagging a finger as Ush gives me a completely false innocent smile, which brings out my own sharks grin.
Onwards.
Weapons low, but ready. Spear and katana gripped, thumb on the rifles cock mechanism.
And what exactly will an unloaded gun do anyway?
Even Melantha, a Sister held in each hand. Low but ready.
Into the cave, the downward slope increasing, the right turn becoming a left. Branching, except we can see, only just in the gloom separated at sparse intervals by strung up lights and cabling, that one fork ends abruptly.
Whatever they're looking for, it wasn't that way.
Further, down and round.
And then.
Patting Frost on the shoulder, other arm out to catch wandering Melantha, who keeps walking off ahead each time Frost pauses to check something.
Around corners.
Not a care in the world and no thought for stealth.
Frost, pausing, looks round. A darted glance at me.
"Listen." Whispered. Pointing.
We hold our breath.
And.
There, up ahead.
Digging.
Slower, as quiet as we can. Inch by inch, because it could be Parris has beaten us here.
Reaching a sharp blind left, sound loud enough now it must be coming from just around this corner. The insistent clink clink of iron striking hard ice and stone.
Frost, stopped, leaning slowly, rifle leading as she peers along it's length, around the corner. And me, behind, breath held, back flat to the ice wall, Ush beside me posed the same. Her sword and my spear held properly ready now.
Just in case.
"Oh. Hello."
Melantha. Of course, around the corner, causally greeting whomever it is we've just spent an hour creeping up on.
Fucks sake.
Pushing off, stepping around Ush on my tail and Frost, rising, stepping out of cover rifle leveled.
In front of Melantha I see: maybe twenty yards distant, a roughly hacked wall of stone and ice, an old lantern resting beside a clear flask of water, half full, both atop a rock beside which a bag lies open.
Pickaxe leaning against the wall, it's owner: female, late thirties or older, stripped to a vest top and jeans blonde hair plastered to her face.
Already raising, it has to be Nevermore.
Opening my mouth, to shout. I don't have a clue, warning or threat?
She beats me to it.
Sudden blast of power like a wind, whipping across the gap.
Yes, Nevermore is raw power, but like all the wands, if you can will it, do the correct air sketched symbols and make your wish reality.
All the wands are quite capable of binding.
Melantha pitches forward, turning as she does to land on her side and roll, not landing on her face. Dropping the hatchets as she falls, her limbs dragged and forced according to the wand bearers wishes.
Wrists wretched around behind, bound to her waist, whilst legs are hobbled together at ankle and knee.
"No." To Ush, on the verge of charging in. And just to make sure she doesn't I fling some of my own power back across the gap. Catching the lady off guard.
She too falls forwards, limbs pulled and forcibly rearranged into a tight hogtie.
"Damn it." Shaking my head, looking from Melantha to the lady.
This isn't the calm 'let us help you' entrance I'd hoped for.
Kayley in charge? I see none of them is aware of her track record with such operations
And so much for dressing for the weather (in most of their cases)!
RopeBunny wrote: ↑9 months ago
Right next to the one we just came through, a door with no huge mound of snow piled in front.
I'm saying nothing.
RopeBunny wrote: ↑9 months ago
This isn't the calm 'let us help you' entrance I'd hoped for.
Indeed.
Hopefully they can move things in a more positive direction given the poor start - I have a feeling they will need to work together if they want to stop Parris. Of course it might be hard to convince the strange woman that they mean to help...
