OOM - The Labyrinth Part I

[theresnodoor]

There is boredom. There is restlessness. There is anxiety. And there is recklessness. Stages of reactions following the common phrase of There's nothing to do. If left alone for too long, this condition can result in conversation, conflict, experimentation, explosions, discovery, and death.

Among others.

But sometimes, Fate steps in. Someone looks down and notices the ever-increasing stages and says, Hey. That looks kind of dull. Let me help you out there.

The common reaction to such politeness is gratitude.


Well into the stages of boredom, Rachel opens her eyes and finds herself not in her bedroom, her apartment, or even the Bar's couch. Instead of soft fabric, there are hard, rough stones beneath her back. Instead of open space, the walls are close and dingy and the ceiling is low. And when she sits up, sharp and sudden, she is staring out of an archway that leads into the darkest of dark hallways, despite the flickering torch on the wall.

Blue eyes dart in every direction and not a single one of them makes sense - including the other person, crumpled on the stones nearby.

Comments

[theresnodoor]

Right.

Well.

Rachel steps forward and holds her torch to the stumbling, bleeding woman's back.

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo screams profanity, but the Bogart only turns on Rachel now.

[theresnodoor]

But Jo screams. Only Jo. Rachel has just a moment for grim satisfaction before the bleeding, stumbling woman changes shape.

It is short, though it remains on two legs. Two hands, though weak and flimsy, too many joints. The face human-shaped, at least, two eyes though bright green.

But it's skin is dark, almost black, and wrinkled like too much time spent in bathwater. The green of its eyes rings its mouth and the way it moves, body held forward and balanced by its stubby tail, is more bird or dinosaur than human.

And the blood. It kept the blood. Not wounded and clutching, but in splotches over its hands, shining in its grinning mouth.

And it whispers, in a singing, taunting, giggly little voice:

"Found youuuu."

[tobeclosetohim]

And then it's not her mother.
Not her mother. Her mother isn't dying.


The fear still a sharp, fast beating ache.
Whatever it was used her. Her mother.
The air she sucks in is frigid. Livid.





Is something else, talking to Rachel in a taunting voice.




She doesn't hesitate before shooting this time.

[theresnodoor]

The thing made a noise and turned back to her, shifted back into Ellen's face and body - but missing the gaping wound, blood on her hands and in her teeth, lips pulled back in a wicked smile.

And Rachel, who had stumbled back against the wall, hands still trembling, saw that shift.

It wasn't real. If it was real, it wouldn't have shifted back into Ellen's mother.

It's not real.

And with a cry, she grips the torch in both hands and swings hard at the creature's (current) head.

[tobeclosetohim]

It pierces through her into her.

Her mother's face. Wounded.
Guilt. Infuriating guilt.

But it's harder to fire at her mother's face.
Her brain says to shoot, but her finger trembles.

[theresnodoor]

But it wasn't just the fire that struck. It was the torch itself.

Dazed, perhaps, it turns back to Rachel. But it still has Ellen's face, even as it's lower half shifts to the dinosaur legs, the stubby tail protruding toward Jo, too tall and too large and entirely too human.

It's not the Drode but whatever it is got in her head and found what it looked like and taunted her.

There's no time to morph. With another yell, Rachel swings at its head again.

[tobeclosetohim]

Half her mother. Half something entirely else.

Fucking with them. Messing with their minds.
And just what the hell is it for Rachel?


That can wait. When it looks away, she grits her teeth and fires.

[theresnodoor]

If it changes again, Rachel doesn't notice. Before the rifle shot has stopped ringing in the room, the torch comes crashing down onto it again.

[tobeclosetohim]

It shifts. More Ellen. More Drode.

More Ellen. More Drode. More Ellen.

And both of them kept hitting it.

Until it seemed to stagger back confused.

Falling down against the fall, hands human and not.
Dissipating suddenly into silver steam. Rising upward.
Going straight through the ceiling and leaving them alone.

[theresnodoor]

And Rachel froze in mid-swing, staring up as it went.

Anyone with rules about the dead can shove it. Her heart is in her throat and she can't get enough breath, whether she needed either of them ten minutes ago is irrelevant at the moment.

[tobeclosetohim]

There's a lot of gasping going on in the little room.
Jo's hands may not uncurl from the rifle for a long time.





But. She notices it first. There's another noise.

It's like wind? And something else. Falling water?

[theresnodoor]

Rachel is still watching the ceiling, eyes darting across the stones.

Found you.
Found you.

Found youuuuu.

[tobeclosetohim]

Her steps are hard, but quiet. Very precise.
It and her grip are her only left over reactions.


As she's nudging the cabinet door with the tip of the rifle now.

[theresnodoor]

Jo passing her line of vision is the only thing that brings Rachel back. Not the Drode, not Ellen, but something that saw inside them and mimicked it back.

Her grip stays tight on the torch but Rachel swallows hard and looks to the cabinet warily, eyes narrowed.

Only then does the noise register. Wind, water. Outside.

"The exit is in a cupboard?" she demands, somewhat breathlessly.

[tobeclosetohim]

"Unless you want to walk back to beginning"

It's not really a question. Jo finally gets a hand on the door.

The air smells saturated with water even. So, oddly, clean.

[theresnodoor]

"Beginning was a windowless room," Rachel points out in a grumble. She frowns while Jo inspects the cupboard.

"More invitations?"

[tobeclosetohim]

It looked like a tiny passage way.


The other side leading outdoors.
At least bright enough for it.

[theresnodoor]

After a moment, there is a head next to her own, blonde hair trailing on the floor as Rachel leans over enough to peer.

And frown.

"I think I read this book."

[tobeclosetohim]

And a whatever came from it.



"What was it called?"

[theresnodoor]

The whatever hadn't been in the book Rachel read, though. She straightens, still eyeing it, and glances at Jo uneasily. "Through the Looking Glass.

"Any guys with questionable headwear and I'm writing this off as an insane dream."

[tobeclosetohim]

"I see a singing rabbit or smoking caterpillar I'd shoot it, too."


Or maybe not. Stupid Milliway's had it's downsides.
The reluctant to shoot 'sentient' appearing things.




"I'm going in." No warning, no hesitation.
She goes for it. Hating small spaces.

Reminding her of being bait.

[theresnodoor]

Small space that need to be squeezed into, brushing the cabinet on all sides as she works her way through.

Maybe that's why Rachel is a touch ashamed not to have volunteered first, face a little pink.

"Got your back," she says as Jo goes through. She leaves the torch behind and is right on the woman's heels.

[tobeclosetohim]

It's a squeeze.


For a while its like the light never gets closer.



And at the frustrating point of that it suddenly ends.






It isn't outside. It's a cavern.

An insanely high cavern. With a forest.

And a water fall in far distance. All....picturesque.

[theresnodoor]

Rachel, as stated, is on her heels. And really, really not enjoying the journey. Jo gets a light push as the girl comes up behind her because out of that space now, please, yes, thank you.

Only to step bare-footed onto the cavern floor and blink at the beauty around them.

"...okay."