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Tweak says, "Herr Hofrat!"

poeticmisery (poeticmisery) wrote in mirage_rpg,
@ 2008-07-13 20:49:00

Entry tags:

arrival, clark kent, complete, day 7, golem

Crash landing on an alien world...
Who? Clark Kent & OTA
Where? The desert outside the resort
When? Sunrise
What? Clark's Arrival
Rating? PG
Status: Complete

The cave air was cool, which distracted greatly from the sun that was still warm from the last days of summer, not yet truly gotten into the fall. It was harvest season, and most of the farm boys within the state of Kansas were busy doing chores around their family farms to make sure that the harvest got out on time. Then again, most farm boys couldn't do the work that would take 10 men an hour in under thirty seconds. Which was why perhaps this particular farm boy could spend his time lurking about in ancient Indian caves instead of doing the work that most of the others were doing before harvest time. Given his heritage, however, it would not be surprising if the raven haired young man actually would have been willing to do extra work to come down here, to see, to breathe in the very atmosphere of something that might spur even the faintest memory of that which might be considered 'home'.

Breathing in softly, he ran his fingers across the ancient cave paintings that adorned the walls, staring at them calmly, his blue eyes piercing into them as if to unlock their very secrets with a stare. But as usual nothing came from his staring, the secrets of the caves, the secrets of his heritage, remained a mystery even to himself. Taking in a slow breath he began to turn towards home when something curious happened, out of the corner of his eye he noticed something, a chip in the rock, a passage way he'd never seen before.

With a quiet glance over his shoulder and a soft breath, the steel blue eyed youth boldly walked up towards the cavern as one to whom fear has very little meaning or sway, and taking a slow quiet breath gently began to tread into the blackness, and yet his hand had reached no farther than to grip a wall when he felt it... a pull, something unnatural seeming to suck him into the darkness. With a grimace he 'pulled' back, eager to free himself from whatever it happened to be that had a hold of him. Was this a trap that had been laid for him by his biological father, or some ability that had been granted through mutation, the youth's mind raced as he pulled...

Only to get pulled back harder. The tugging match only went on for a moment, perhaps even then because whatever it was that had been pulling on him did not realize the force it would take, or perhaps because that was the way it wished to claim him. But whether through surprise or foreshadowing blackness swallowed the youth even as his hands groped for walls that soon disappeared. And in the indian caves in the small town of Kansas, the darkness vanished, like a shadow before a sunrise, leaving no trace of where it had come.

The youth, on the other hand, found himself plummetting, and his body froze. He had a terrible fear of heights, and he was falling from a great distance now, plummeting towards the earth like a bomb yearning for impact. He, on the other hand, did not wish any impact whatsoever, and his arms flailed as he sought to fly like a bird, or jet off, the way the 'other' him knew how to. But he knew none of the secrets of his heritage, held none of the mysteries that might have allowed him to escape the grasp of whatever passed for gravity in this foreign place. And with a loud hollar, suddenly he landed, causing the sand beneath him to splash high into the sky like water after someone flops into a pool.

But even the impact did not slow the momentum he'd been given, perhaps a punishment, Clark pondered in a fleeting moment before impact, for resisting whatever it was that had tried to grab him. The sand shredded his shirt as he landed and skid in a streaking line across the desert sand, tiny particles easily rending his clothes in ways they could not touch his skin. Daring to struggle against it and stand only caused him to tumble head over heels until finally at last he came to a halt at the steps of a building, the ONLY building, he realized, for as far as he could see.

Jeans ripped and shirt literally a mass of hanging rags about his perfect muscles, the Last Son of Krypton staggered to his feet, even as the key indicating room A166 began to glow... Turning behind him, he could see in the white sand that there was no trace of where he'd even come from, what direction he might head to get back to the place he'd been before...

For better or worse, Clark Kent was now 'home'.

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poeticmisery
2008-07-15 09:33 pm UTC (link)

Clark stared at the key in his hand warily, as if it might be made of meteor rock as he was lead to his room, now and again sparing an icy glare at the golem which treaded with a carelessness that was neither happy nor sad, but betrayed it's nature as a tool, which was why Clark was not still attempting to pummel it. He might as well smash his fists into the ground in the hopes of hurting the planet itself, for all the good it would do him. Still, it was hard not to at least some show of dislike towards that which sought to keep you here. If all could be believed from the plaque, it was for little more than the amusement of the very planet itself, something that Clark would fight tooth and nail, that was sure.

Fortunately the walk was quick, and soon he was standing in front of his cell... er... room. Staring at the key for a moment he sighed and opened the door. The room seemed normal enough, but as soon as he walked into it it suddenly began to morph and rearrange, stretching beyond it's own boundaries, the wood slowly wearing as the faint smell of animals became apparent, and hay began to fall lightly from the sky. It was... home, in a word. There was his father's tractor which hadn't really worked, the set of tools that he used to work on farm equipment... it was an exact replica of where he wanted to be in the world...

Down to the upstairs, where he'd used to look across the way at Lana's house.

Clark closed his eyes, and the room shuddered all at once. After all, the heart of a boy is fickle, and would one really want their prison to look exactly like home? Hearing the noise Clark's blue eyes stared into the blackness the room was fast becoming as the air around the barn began to chill sharply... then without warning a sharp spike of ice slammed through the dirt floor of the barn, splintering wood as it went, then another, then another. Where the roof was broken only pale lifeless sky was revealed and soon that was covered in a dome of ice.

As the youth dared to step into the room the floor solidified beneath him, cold and hard, a pathway of ice slowly leading from the doorway into the crystaline cavern, a place that had once filled Clark's heart with as much dread as it did wonder. It reeked of his father, and yet even as Clark stepped inside of it he knew that this was not where he really was. Something inside of him had sung in joy at the Fortress of Solitude when he'd first set foot in it, this to him was... just a place.

Idly Clark wondered at what had become his room and turned to the golem that was beside him. "If I changed my mind again, would this room change again?" Clark asked, even though he doubted that he would... this place seemed oddly fitting. A home that was not home, an alien world that he had never known, a place meant to steal his thoughts away from his actual home, yet the one place that he would never actually feel comfortable in. And that edge of discomfort kept him from relaxing, from thinking he might stay here... for truly, the Last Son of Krypton still planned to escape...

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mirage_npc
2008-07-16 10:15 am UTC (link)

The golem stayed outside the room while Clark ventured in. And it seemed not in the least bit fazed by what was occuring in the room. Rooms changed all the time, according to the whims of it's occupant.

When Clark turned to him and posed the question, the golem merely nodded. Still expressionless, the golem waited for further questions. There were usually more questions, but they weren't the yes or no type of questions. For that, Clark would have to seek out another victim of the planet's whims.

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poeticmisery
2008-07-16 07:24 pm UTC (link)

Clark slowly walked up to a large stand that held sparkling crystals within it, wondering what might happen in this place if he were to touch one of them. This place was, in a sense, the place of his ancestors, even if it was simply an illusion to pacify him. Was it realistic enough that it held the same power as the true Fortress of Solitude? If that were the case then escaping from this place might be possible...

But as the golem walked in unperturbed Clark felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. No, he doubted Jor-El would willingly allow another to enter this place, especially one whom he considered an intruder. At best this was meant to... appeal to some part of him, whatever secrets it might hold would more likely be falsifications than real answers. This room was merely something to pacify him, Clark began to realize, and wondered how many others had gotten their hearts desire of rooms in a place such as this? Again, a part of him longed for the calm of a farm again, but he refused to give into the image... if this were a prison for him, let it take the shape of the same prison that plagued him on earth: his heritage.

Turning to look at the golem who looked at him expectantly he shook his head slowly. "You can go." he muttered, not giving any requests of the servile creature. While a part of him strove for company, whatever he desired in companionship could not be satisfied by an unfeeling creature such as the avatars of his hosts...

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