((A few little shorts I've written and exchanged with other Roleplayer's whenever I've felt particularly inspired write. This are meant to provide little glimpses into Vizage life, her emotions, and general state of mind at times. Much of it is rough, and its all terribly short, but enjoy none-the-less!))
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Half-Life
The internal circuits and lights of the pod flashed. Faint sickly illumination caught in the viscous fluid holding her in place. Her hair danced in the substance, her skin sleek, and devoid of all pallor, as the pod rocket gently from some outside turmoil. Her unconscious form twitched sending formless ripples through the interior. Jerking in the fetal position her fingers and toes squeezed tight, brow furrowing, and teeth grinding. Her entire body tensing tight in its pod suit as the pod rocked again.
Hanging in place she resembled more a freakish marionette than anything else. Large obsidian interface cables protruding from in between the jutting disc's of her spinal column. With the chaos outside finally subsiding, a stillness hung in the air. The muffled drones and thumping overcome by the deafening silence of the Capsule.
So she hung, unborn, floating inside. Her hair bouncing and battling against the ripples giving the illusion of life to her still form. Synapses fired as he vessel lurched home, the sound of the engine spooling a faint rumble as her legs twitched. Her long, slender legs, pulled tight to her chest, protecting her, making her small so she can hide, like her tiny craft. Her body only relaxing as crafts camera's spied the safety of her station. The station bays looming overhead casting pitch shadows along the myriad of station lights and blinking guide-tracks.
Being severed from the Capsule was always traumatic to her. Like having limbs ripped off to a cacophony of applause, like breaching the chrysalis she became something different. The sounds as the fluid spilled free deafened her, grinding steel, welding sparks, sirens, and loudspeakers murmuring unintelligible commands all inside the ponderous station bays. Icy blue eyes blinking and straining against the brackish buzzing lights as a mechanism lowers her from the pod. A short drop and a thump echoes as the machine unceremoniously dumps her to the cold catwalk floor. Like a used up prom date she whimpers and gasps trying to gather her senses. The interfacing cables hiss and begin popping out of her spine, long three inch spikes sliding free as hydraulic pressure pops them free of her. Another whimper, as her body jerks and coils, the cables popping free, each one a new amputation as sensation leaves her body.
Coughing and coiling, still choking on the stale recycled station air she simply lays there. On her knees, coiling forward resting on her elbows. Back arched as Pod fluid dripped from her still rattling frame. Trying to gather herself a couple more blinks and she reached out for the walkways railing with a shaking hand. The deafening sounds finally unjarbling themselves, the haze in her eyes clearing as she stood.
Taking her first steps, all over again.
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Running
She woke slowly at first. Hazy blinking and soft exhales as she twists between tangled sheets. Balled up in her arms she stirs, desperately seeking to be lulled back to sleep. In sleep she was free. Her subconscious formed a levee against her waking mind. Against the slow crawl she felt inside. In sleep she was safe from this, random senseless dreams devoid of meaning, while the nightmares waited for daylight.
Her pace quickened when sleep was no longer an option. Her body unwilling to let her escape back into the quiet she instead is forced to move, to think, to act constantly. Forever she must keep herself preoccupied, her mind enumerating the upcoming events. Meetings, paperwork, deliveries, transfers, conferences, anything, and everything. Lest she let the crawling in. The slow ache that her mind settles upon. Her neutral.
Moving throughout the small quarters in a rapid fashion, she blinks away the sleep in her eyes. A toothbrush hanging from her mouth as she throws a blouse on and continues to brush. Her mind keeping equal pace. Wiggling into a pencil skirts she looks over the days itinerary a final time before returning to the bathroom to rinse.
A momentary glance in the mirror is all it takes, a long enough pause, a thoughtless second, and the ache takes hold. Impossible to notice at first it sucks the air from her lungs slowly, her hand trembles. She wretches silently, but nothing happens, she cannot out it. Like a disease it clings to her...
In a small bathroom, she finds herself lost in a mire of her own making. Eyeliner running down her cheek as she tries in vain to apply her morning makeup.
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Atra
She paused, holding her breath as the elevator rose ever skyward. An expansive glittering black sky before her as she rocketed up the Gallente Station. The expanse before her endless, twinkling beams of light cast by ships and suns casting rays of chromatic beauty across the station, piercing the glass of the tiny elevator she rode. She blinked, her lips parted in silent contrition as she surrendered to the vastness before her. She pressed her prothesis to the glass as waves of stations lights passed before her eyes. Feeling nothing, she smiled her head bowing as the beams of light bounced off her cheek, sparkling in her sapphire eyes.
She had found solipsism in this moment. A peaceful knowing, her minute scale gave her a small comfort. The elevator slowed as her stop neared. In these seconds when she felt the inertia slow, when the passing of lights because less and less frequent she felt remorse. Wishing the ride would just last a few seconds longer. That she could be silent, encased in that glass elevator with just the view for seconds more.
As the elevator stopped, she lingered. Hand still pressed to the glass she held her other hand across her chest tightly, squeezing as if to hold herself back for the edge she peered out into. The door hissed behind her as the cessation of momentum send a rush through her lithe frame. Suddenly her space was no longer her own, nearby voices echoed in the tiny glass compartment. A man cleared his throat impatiently.
She pulled away from the window slowly, her prosthetic fingers lingered as the palm fled, finally following in tow. Pulled tightly to her chest as she smile weakly at the patrons that had filled the elevator. Pushing past them she stepped free.
"Excuse me..."
She squeaked, barely audible over the ongoing conversation as she slipped past. Taking one last chance she peered back, through the quirked brows of curious onlookers and into the glitter sky before her.
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((Thats all for now. More to come. I will make edits cleaning this up as I go. As I said its pretty rough.))
Author
Topic: Little Pieces (Read 626 times)