| ( contants & variables ) || ❝ the only thing different, the only thing new... ❞ |
[13 Nov 2013|06:16pm] |
I've got these little things, she's got you...
Elizabeth tilted her head back. Blue eyes slid to the side as the haunting melody echoed over the speakers to Rapture Records. The shopkeeper had no idea who she was. That was to be expected, given he wasn't the one she accused of stealing rings from dead bodies. If he did or didn't wasn't the point. This Rapture, like so many others, was different in subtle ways. Plasmids were the name of the game but they weren't named Vigors. As far as she could tell? This Rapture was free of Zachary Comstock and anything that man may have brought with him through the tears.
The cigarette rolled between her fingers as she listened in on the conversations. People were in a panic. It was January 3rd, 1959. The mysterious man named Atlas, although he wasn't much of a mystery to Elizabeth, had led the riots through Rapture. Kashmir Restaurant had been hit the hardest and the high society was scrambling to keep themselves safe from the inevitable.
'We're all buried at sea.'
As much as Elizabeth hated Comstock? He was right about that. They were buried. She was simply taking a moment to herself before continuing on her hunt. The Luteces were helping in their ever annoying way, but they had all shared a mission to stop every Zachary Comstock. Andrew Ryan and Atlas were lucky not to be versions of that man.
She took a long drag from her cigarette before flicking it onto the ground and putting it out.
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| ( to be named ) || ❝ i want to believe in someone, i want to believe in somethin. ❞ |
[24 Oct 2013|03:19pm] |
The one thing Elizabeth hated was the dreams. Dreams twisted memories by adding in fears and personal doubts. There were some nights her dreams were happy, and others were horrible reminders of what had happened. The dreams where she was caught in a loop over and over again of having to face what was chosen, the baptism... they were moments Elizabeth wanted to forget but knew she couldn't.
She walked quietly through the old styled Japanese house, setting to sit down on the porch that faced the gate. She hugged herself, and thought it was time for her to move on. While it was very kind of Watanuki to offer her a place to stay while she decided on the fact if she should have her wish granted? Elizabeth couldn't take the hospitality knowing she couldn't have what she wished for. Her father had to remain the way he was, otherwise Columbia and the nightmare would return. Elizabeth knew it was his wish to set her free--but was freedom worth the price he paid when she was alone? It was something she had yet to answer.
Elizabeth looked up at the starry sky. It was time to go.
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| on the way to a smile || ❝ the price of freedom. ❞ |
[02 Oct 2013|10:17pm] |
"Hey! Be careful! We're wounded here!"
"How about you be drivin' out in this weather then, kid?!"
Zack gave an irritated sigh, blowing the long bang out of his face. The rain was coming down steadily and had been since their confrontation outside Midgar. Honestly? Zack was amazed they got out of it alive. He had always planned on Cloud getting out okay, but he didn't have the greatest hopes for himself. Then Cloud crawled over to him and Zack knew he couldn't give up. It had almost been a year since Cloud had moved at all, and now he was crawling? Yeah. He couldn't give up! Aerith was waiting.
The truck came to a stop and Zack tapped the back glass of the cab to raise his hand in thanks. He pushed himself up on one knee, turning to his best friend that was beside him. Cloud was sort of there at times, but not really. He raised a hand and ruffled the man's blond hair, sending water drops everywhere.
"End of the line, Cloud. Come on."
Zack eased himself off the truck and turned to Cloud. With two strong arms out, he helped the man off the truck. The tires revved and sent muddy water all over the two of them as it took off. It didn't bother the former 1st Class SOLDIER. What did bother him was the fresh blood he could feel leaking out of his side when he moved to help Cloud. He pretended it wasn't there so Cloud wouldn't notice, if the man came to. Draping one arm of Cloud's over his shoulder, Zack helped him over to the steps of the Sector 5 Church and eased him down. Then, he let himself collapse against the steps, leaning his head back against the stone entrance into the broken building.
A few minutes after sitting there, Zack began to talk. "Did I ever actually tell you about Aerith?" His mako-blue eyes rolled up to look at Cloud. He was pretty sure the kid listened even though he didn't react much. He sucked in a deep breath from the pain of the wound. "I fell into her church and she yelled at me for stepping on her flowers. I sort of built her flower wagons so she could sell them to people. You can't believe it, right? Me? Building a flower wagon? Don't laugh, because I did, and I was damn good at it."
That deep breath exhaled as he laid his head back completely against the stone stairs and his eyes closed with a smile. He wasn't going to think that maybe Aerith had no desire to see him. Five years, eighty-nine letters? She had every right to be pissed at him! But, seeing that face was the one thing besides Cloud that kept him going. He had to try! If it didn't work? At least he died trying like a real hero.
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| ( to be named ) || ❝ i take it in but don’t look down, 'cause i'm on top of the world. ❞ |
[19 Jun 2013|11:57pm] |
Every Starfleet officer knew the risks whenever they attended an away mission. Anywhere from being out of contact with the ship, to being separated, to injury or death. Every person who participated in it took it very seriously. Carol admired her teammates whenever they went. She even admired Captain Kirk for having the guts to attend an away mission with his crew. Most captains would stick to the bridge and simply wait for the information. It was completely unorthadox, which was what Jim Kirk tended to be.
"Honestly, Captain, I'm fine." Carol insisted.
Their away team was under attack. She and one of the other crew members managed to hold off the locals until the Enterprise beamed them up. It didn't do much to help her arm. She was fairly certain she had sprained her elbow and perhaps broken her wrist. It ached, but it certainly didn't hurt as much as Khan breaking her leg over a year ago.
"You might be fine, but that doesn't mean our doctor is going to agree." Kirk said in a hushed voice.
Carol honestly did not understand why Kirk had decided on escorting her to Sickbay. It was almost as if he knew something she didn't. He almost looked as if he was dreading meeting with Dr. McCoy.
"I can take myself to Sickbay." Carol sighed. "You don't need to make sure I get there safely. I'm not a child."
"He can be." Kirk said in that tone that would end the conversation.
The pair walked into Sickbay. Carol as gently cradling her arm, still carrying her tricorder over her shoulder. Kirk glanced around and spotted McCoy. He then gave a gentle pat to Carol's back and whispered a "Good luck" before turning and darting out of the room. If she hadn't known any better, Carol would think he was almost terrified of Dr. McCoy's reaction to her minor injury. Which was completely absurd. It was just a small injury.
Carol shook her head and walked over to one of the empty beds. She sat down and crossed her ankles, simply waiting for an attending physician to see to her.
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| ( to be named ) || ❝ time's on our side, c'mon and take me for a ride. ❞ |
[06 May 2013|11:50pm] |
[ How do you tell your alien driver that you know something you shouldn't? Should you just be blunt about it and tell him out right? Or, maybe lead into it a little? He'd be suspicious though. Wouldn't he? He's already suspicious - watching every little thing she does as if it's a clue to something bigger. Maybe it is.
She had died twice. Who does that?
It didn't come back fast. More like really slow. After she saw that picture of that governess that looked so much like her. It was her. But it couldn't have been her. But it was. Then, a few days later, when she stepped into the pool on the TARDIS? She remembered what he told her. It seemed like a dream. Probably because she had dozed off in the chair with the book she had at the time. Some adventure of Sherlock Holmes.
In her dream the Doctor said that she had died twice. Once in a Dalek Asylum, helping him escape. Then again in Victorian London. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't scared. Who wouldn't be scared to learn that they had died twice?
Now she wants to know why. Except she has the tiny problem of telling him that she remembers him saying something he didn't really say. But he did say it. Ugh. Time travel.
With something vaguely like a plan in mind, Clara steps into the console room of the TARDIS. She crosses her arms after putting her tea cup on the console, announcing her presence. She'll apologize to the mean old cow of a ship later. ]
Doctor?
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| ( to be named ) || ❝ you're the only one I ever believed in, the answer that could never be found. ❞ |
[04 May 2013|12:24am] |
THIS CONTAINS IRON-MAN 3 SPOILERS.
( Read more... )
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| ( contants & variables ) || ❝ found the place to rest my head, never let me go, never let me go. ❞ |
[19 Apr 2013|12:51am] |
January 2nd, 1913.
[ continued from here. ]
At least she was helpful in some way. Elizabeth felt completely useless in the state she was in. Even though she could barely move? It wasn't just that. It was the fact that she felt vulnerable. No matter how many jackets she wore, or how close she was to him? It felt like at any moment she would crumble into a thousand pieces. She would simply sit amongst all the broken pieces that made her who and what she was and be unable to put them together. Elizabeth was walking on the edge of a knife and she knew it. How did someone stop themselves from falling off the edge?
"Cannons... Wounded Knee." she said softly to herself. Then she frowned. "I've missed everything, Booker."
Birthday parties, Thanksgiving, New Years parties, even Christmas Day. All of the stories and songs that were about the times when families came together to celebrate something good? She never had those. Songbird would bring her presents, but that wasn't the same. There wasn't someone there to wrap their arms around her and spin her around so that her hair flowed behind her. No one was there to hug her and say "Happy Birthday" or "Merry Christmas, Elizabeth." Yes, she was missing those moments that everyone disregarded.
( Read more... )
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| ( contants & variables ) || ❝ there's nowhere to hide, here comes the rising tide. ❞ |
[18 Apr 2013|03:19pm] |
October 16th, 1909.
Robert Lutece had never been a man of religion. That was fair enough to say, and quite an obvious statement. He was a man of science. To him, religion could never explain the greatness of the universe around him. Saying it was simply a mystery that only God could understand made him scoff. Not that he spoke ill of religion or thought wrong of those who did believe. Everyone found answers in their own ways. His way had been learning that it was possible to make an atom suspend in space. Gravity did not apply to it.
How ironic that in the neighboring timeline, another version of himself had found the the same fact of nature. A woman, no less. Thus began their conversations through "the wall" as they called it. One turn led to another and within a few years, the woman that was also himself had found a way to make The Lutece Field into the Lutece Tear. They would be able to meet.
If asked, Robert would not be able to explain what drove him to meet himself. Perhaps it was the need to have someone understand while his fellow scientists scoffed at his discoveries. Or, perhaps, it was simply the drive to want to prove them wrong. The idea of Rosalind Lutece stepping through the doorway to introduce her to the others had once been a tempting thought. A desire, no less. Until he found himself inside the mess of her benefactor: Zachary Comstock. Bring him the daughter of a man named Booker DeWitt and step across the doorway with all of them. It sounded so simple until it actually came down to it.
( Read more... )
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