Christopher "Chris" Perry Halliwell. (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} changethefuture) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} vas_captio_rpg,@ 2009-12-07 04:07:00 |
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Day 30 - Noonish.
Who: Chris and Rose.
What: Even whitelighters lose their way.
Where: Forest due north of the carnival.
When: Day 30 - Noonish.
Rating: PG.
Status: Active.
He woke up shivering and seemingly alone, but it took awhile for Chris to notice that the cage door was wide open and there was no longer anyone patrolling outside of it. If he thought about it, focused the way he was used to, he would have 'felt' that there was no one else around. But he had simply laid there, much as he did the day before, trying to block out the sense that his powers were stripped and he was utterly helpless. He tried to block out everything because while they may have stolen his powers, they couldn't steal what he was. The essence of a whitelighter was carried within him, a being so tied to emotion that their healing power came from love and affection. While he was only half whitelighter he was nearly as in tune with emotions as any other whitelighter; his empathy was not as powerful as an outright empath, but he could feel more than enough. Being trapped in the cage with Tonks, a wounded and hurting witch, made his heart ache as badly as finding that Piper had likely been merely a cruel trick played on him the day before.
When Chris finally moved he found his journal beside him on the cot as if it had been there the whole time, a flicker of anger rising inside him but burning out just as swiftly. He took it with him when he left the cage but made no effort to take a look at the words waiting inside. Sounds were coming from the carnival, uninvited noise, so he sought out the one place he hoped might bring him peace: nature.
He walked straight on through the forest, ignoring scrapes and tugs as the undergrowth thickened, merely walking until he felt like walking no further. Which, after three days of no sustenance, wasn't incredibly far. Slumping down at the base of a large tree, he leaned back against the trunk and stared upward, barely able to make out the cloudy sky between the outstretched branches. That he couldn't feel the Elders, couldn't sense Heaven, meant nothing. Such had been the case since he arrived. But he wasn't ready to see if that also meant his powers were still stripped. That was knowledge he wasn't sure he could handle. Nor was the knowledge that those he had befriended in this place might have been harmed, and so the journal remained stuffed in the back pocket of his jeans.
"What did I do to deserve this? What did anyone here do to deserve this? We're supposed to help people but the pain... it never goes away. Never." Chris began talking quietly, almost to himself, but the words were directed to the heavens. Perhaps those in power had cut him off from that plane but that didn't mean it wasn't still there. There was always a chance that the Elders might hear him, that someone might hear him. Though at the moment? It simply felt good to speak to the sky because it was the first thing to have a sense of familiarity in days. "The sacrifice never ends. Maybe... Maybe Wyatt was right. The battle has gone on forever but it always feels like the dark is winning. They don't care who they kill and we only want to save but what would happen if we're all gone? Selflessness ends in death, and no one can be saved when we're all spirits."
Chris sighed heavily, barely noticing the chill though he shivered. He was so, so tired. And his older brother's voice was in his head, ridiculing him that he would never survive in this prison as clearly, it was all about power and he was too devoted to the cause to seek out power for himself. It pained him to think that after all he had fought for and sacrificed his entire life, Wyatt was quite possibly right.
Who: Chris and Rose.
What: Even whitelighters lose their way.
Where: Forest due north of the carnival.
When: Day 30 - Noonish.
Rating: PG.
Status: Active.
He woke up shivering and seemingly alone, but it took awhile for Chris to notice that the cage door was wide open and there was no longer anyone patrolling outside of it. If he thought about it, focused the way he was used to, he would have 'felt' that there was no one else around. But he had simply laid there, much as he did the day before, trying to block out the sense that his powers were stripped and he was utterly helpless. He tried to block out everything because while they may have stolen his powers, they couldn't steal what he was. The essence of a whitelighter was carried within him, a being so tied to emotion that their healing power came from love and affection. While he was only half whitelighter he was nearly as in tune with emotions as any other whitelighter; his empathy was not as powerful as an outright empath, but he could feel more than enough. Being trapped in the cage with Tonks, a wounded and hurting witch, made his heart ache as badly as finding that Piper had likely been merely a cruel trick played on him the day before.
When Chris finally moved he found his journal beside him on the cot as if it had been there the whole time, a flicker of anger rising inside him but burning out just as swiftly. He took it with him when he left the cage but made no effort to take a look at the words waiting inside. Sounds were coming from the carnival, uninvited noise, so he sought out the one place he hoped might bring him peace: nature.
He walked straight on through the forest, ignoring scrapes and tugs as the undergrowth thickened, merely walking until he felt like walking no further. Which, after three days of no sustenance, wasn't incredibly far. Slumping down at the base of a large tree, he leaned back against the trunk and stared upward, barely able to make out the cloudy sky between the outstretched branches. That he couldn't feel the Elders, couldn't sense Heaven, meant nothing. Such had been the case since he arrived. But he wasn't ready to see if that also meant his powers were still stripped. That was knowledge he wasn't sure he could handle. Nor was the knowledge that those he had befriended in this place might have been harmed, and so the journal remained stuffed in the back pocket of his jeans.
"What did I do to deserve this? What did anyone here do to deserve this? We're supposed to help people but the pain... it never goes away. Never." Chris began talking quietly, almost to himself, but the words were directed to the heavens. Perhaps those in power had cut him off from that plane but that didn't mean it wasn't still there. There was always a chance that the Elders might hear him, that someone might hear him. Though at the moment? It simply felt good to speak to the sky because it was the first thing to have a sense of familiarity in days. "The sacrifice never ends. Maybe... Maybe Wyatt was right. The battle has gone on forever but it always feels like the dark is winning. They don't care who they kill and we only want to save but what would happen if we're all gone? Selflessness ends in death, and no one can be saved when we're all spirits."
Chris sighed heavily, barely noticing the chill though he shivered. He was so, so tired. And his older brother's voice was in his head, ridiculing him that he would never survive in this prison as clearly, it was all about power and he was too devoted to the cause to seek out power for himself. It pained him to think that after all he had fought for and sacrificed his entire life, Wyatt was quite possibly right.