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

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo would not call that lovely.
Having it happen slower, in full light.
A full light coming from god knows where.


That makes it creepier. Makes trained impulses stronger.

But that noise, the one she can hear now, is getting stronger, too.

[theresnodoor]

At least it doesn't take long. In less than a minute, a large bald eagle is on the ground beside Jo. Massive wings spread and pump hard to get her off the ground.

It is... well. 'Ungainly' would be a very kind word for it.

But she makes it, wings flapping, up in the air, heading for the trees. <I want to see where we a->

The buzzing increases suddenly, a sound so sharp it almost snaps and something small and gently glowing seems to go through the eagle's tail feathers, making it falter.

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo doesn't mind the bird. Or the flying.
As much as the sudden break off in words.



"What the hell." Squinting at the light.
Aiming even though she couldn't shoot.

Not that close to Rachel.

[theresnodoor]

It didn't hurt. It stung. Sharp and painful, less like a sting and more like a stab with something terribly sharp, terribly thin.

Flapping her great wings hard, Rachel tries to adjust for the bent tail feathers. But so much of flying depends on every single feather she has. <Something hit me!>

Another high-pitched buzz and three more pass in front of them. One tiny glowing light narrowly misses Rachel's wing. Another narrowly misses Jo's nose.

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo is watching Rachel so close.
Trying to aim at the tiny balls of light.

She didn't notice the one near her. Until it was on her.
Trying to snag past her nose. Almost like a burning heat.

She jumped back, eyes widening as she saw how many there were.

[theresnodoor]

Enough to make a cloud of light, buzzing down that sunlit lane.

An eagle in flight is a graceful creature, but under the tree line in a forest not twenty feet from the ground is not their best playing field.

<Augh!>

And that last sting struck home, sending the eagle spinning, careening to the ground, one wing flapping uselessly.

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo missed that last part.

She was jumping and skittering every time one of those things touched her. Swearing. Trying to bat them off with the riffle of the bag, neither of which really was helping. They moved too fast.

And each time they crossed her skin it was like being stabbed.

[theresnodoor]

Too small, too fast to be seen. Rachel can almost hear Marco shouting that it's insane, killer lightning bugs.

Almost. Amid sharp bursts of searing pain and the ground rushing up at her. At least, until she hits it with a dull thud, dazed and demorphing, stumbling to a crawl with still-forming limbs.

<Run!>

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo hates running. Jo hates retreat.




But she's hating the stabbing more.


She take only a second, and she is. Running. Stopping only long enough to dip and grab Rachel's arm. Nails digging into her skin to drag her up and pull her forward, as the lights swarm. Crashing pains will have to wait.

Running now. Through the trees, branches wiping past her. Trying to push past the white darts of light keeping up with her. The sound of them following. The slap of her feet and the absolute unknown she's running into.

[theresnodoor]

Toes that end in talons and arms covered in feathers, Rachel runs as best she can with Jo's help, until she's stable and steady and running at Jo's side. But the lights seem to keep pace with them with no trouble at all and every sting multiplies the hurts of the last. Between pain and breathlessness, there's no space for cries. Just the pounding of running footsteps, through bramble and bush and branch, fleeing for their lives.

But up ahead, another sound, past the buzzing and the zapping.

Running water.

[tobeclosetohim]

Pain blurs. Each new slice. Wince.
But never cutting her skin open.

She isn't bleeding.


It's almost like welts.
Almost like electrical shock--


"In the water!" She screamed.
It's a theory and it might not work.
But the running wasn't working either.

[theresnodoor]

Running. Not just retreating from an enemy, but retreating from the unknown, running for their lives against... what?

Bugs?

When Jo screams, Rachel nearly collides with her on the path, not registering the direction of the water, what Jo wants, what she means. But she knows almost any insect will stay in the air if you jump into water.

She only hopes it isn't a stream, vaulting over a fallen log and running for the sound, roaring louder and louder as they approach.

[tobeclosetohim]

There's jumping. And trying to smack a light.
Which just means her shoulder and hand get it.


It keeps getting louder. It really shouldn't. Couldn't.


"Fucking hell." Isn't winded. But wants to be.

They're at the top of cliff. Somehow.
Racing to where water is falling off.

[theresnodoor]

And wings won't save anyone. But waterfall? Means water at the bottom.

"Fuck," Rachel agrees in a quiet gasp, and a light darts in, stabs at her neck. She growls in pain and doesn't slow her pace.

Water rushing and boiling together, throwing up freezing cold spray.

And she doesn't even want to think about how far the drop to the pool below is.

[tobeclosetohim]

Screwed if they do. Screwed if they don't.


"Try not to think about it." They're Jo's only words.


Because she never pauses. Feet slapping the ground.
Racing for the edge of the cliff. Getting stung the whole way.

[theresnodoor]

It's the weirdest thing Jo's said all day.

Pain on her arms, her legs, her exposed back. The edge of the cliff gets closer, the water gets louder. It won't be the first fall she's taken since Milliways. It won't even be the first cliff she's willingly jumped from.

Rachel's scream as she launches herself as far from the edge as possible isn't fear. It's anger, as the zaps continue.

And as the wind hits her face and her body plummets, it's equal parts exhilaration.

[tobeclosetohim]

If she looks, if she thinks about this.
She'll hesitate. Jo doesn't look.

One moment there's ground.







And then she's in the air.

Moving so fast the air whistles.








Before slamming water like its cement.

[theresnodoor]

There are some sensations you simply don't get used to.

Any air she'd taken in before hitting the water is lost between the pressure, the shock of cold. Rachel spreads her arms, kicks hard and reaches out, bursts into the surface for a gasping gulp of oxygen.

She's stung twice on the face before she ducks back beneath the surface.

Morph, her mind demands, and her tired body begins to respond.

[tobeclosetohim]

The lungs burn. First air, and then water.
She didn't mean to swallow. Coughing is worse.



All of her body is screaming.

Struggling against the heavy current.
The pounding water. The fire in her chest.

Breaking the surface. For light to swarm her face.
Sending her back under with the smallest hasty gasp.

[theresnodoor]

Her face pushes out. Her legs melt together. Skin turns rubbery, sleek and gray.

Dolphins need to breathe. Just not as much.

Shortly, there is a heavy, solid shape brushing up against Jo's side, a sleek dorsal fin close by. <Grab on.>

Though where they can go, other than 'away from what's directly above them,' isn't clear just yet.

[tobeclosetohim]

Jo knows she'll be out of air in seconds.

That was hardly enough.



Only desperation is keeping her from coughing.
Though not coughing is horribly hard.
Hard enough it's nauseating.
Her heart is racing.


She can't focus on the words she hears.
Not really. But she throws herself toward the shape.
More of a flail, toward and at, than a solid movement.

[theresnodoor]

<The fin. Grab the fin. And keep your legs away from my tail.>

Though how much of that Jo can follow right now is debatable. Rachel would rather not have to be responsible for breaking her leg.

She sends out a burst of clicks as Jo flails at her back and the image that comes back is horribly distorted by the churning water just ahead. But there might, might, be space behind the fall.

[tobeclosetohim]

Everything is becoming a throbbing sensation.

Words. Feeling. The water. Her skin.



Holding on at all once she is.
Turning her hands into vices.


She won't. She won't pass out.

[theresnodoor]

That? Seriously? Would be great.

Great.

The distance isn't far and the dolphin is powerful. What takes time is making sure Jo has a secure enough hold not to fall off. And finding the right depth to go under the fall without crushing them both.

But there is a back side to it, open space that only barely fits the dolphin, and a sheer rock face that climbs up to the surface. Behind the falls.

Rachel rockets up without a second's hesitation, until her back breaks into the air, spouting water.

[tobeclosetohim]

She can't tell.


If she's coughing.
Or gasping. Or retching.


All she knows is there is air.


Air. Bluring her sight.
Loosing her limbs.


In her lungs. Air.
Forcing the water out.