[OOC: Because canon powers are suppressed at first, Havoc's Contractor nature is being held back, and she is currently in her more emotionally capable Regressor state (for now). I would like her to be taken by Kenoma, plz and thank you!]
01 ☄ THE LIGHT AT THE CENTER
[She had expected the nothing of death, the freedom from fear and pain. More importantly... she had expected to escape the pulse of her messier code, calling out to her from Hell's Gate in the hypnotic, powerful pull of Havoc... Havoc... Havoc...
But instead she is walking, slow and disoriented in a space that feels like every sky in the universe has collided and mixed above, below, and all around her. If she looks for it, will she find the false star that had ruled her life since all of the colors had drained out of her world to be replaced by the cold rationality of a Contractor? Would she find Hei's, hopefully still glowing somewhere in the night?
The light calls to her instead. It is warm and soft, the opposite of Hell's Gate and the cold, rain-soaked concrete she last remembered. The fragments of life that flicker into existance around her are... not so many in number. She had been through the Memory Extractor far too many times for that. There is no childhood home, no parents' faces, no happy birthdays, no flying kites, or school days. But there are confused, muddled recollections of deep jungles, blood in her mouth, rubble where buildings once stood, and Contractors gasping for breath before their vessels burst. There are quiet days in the countryside, the smiling faces of children tugging at her apron, old hands that show her how to shuck the harvest. There are run-down apartments, grunts and rancid breath, money on bedsides, and days spent in hiding.
And there is the Gate, her powers surging back with Lancelnopt Synchrotron radiation glowing in her eyes. Running. Rain.
But there is no glow now, when she meets the gaze of another lost in this sea of stars and memory. Just a pair of dull green eyes set in the face of a woman who wonders how it is she is still alive... and more importantly, if she deserved to stay that way.]
02 ☄ REBIRTH
[Hazy. Slow. Her eyes flutter but refuse to open, and her mind refuses to focus. She remmebered it was raining. Or maybe it had rained. The scent of it had filled her nostrils. Wet concrete. Diluted blood. The stench of abandoned homes and lives some ten years past.
The last moments on her world came back in pieces, but not in the right order. The pull of Hell's Gate. Hei's hands, clutching her face, telling her she didn't need to kill again, that she could live. Laura's children, laughing as they chased each other through the yard. Hei breaking her fingers. The taste of fried rice. A child's dead body at her feet. Rain. Standing on the edge of the abyss with blood-stained memories and radiation lighting up her eyes. Running. Bursts of pain as something, one, two, three somethings lanced through her chest. The cries of jungle birds as a blazing light raced toward her. Her eyes flutter again.
She inhales, and a clotted mess of old blood sticks in her throat. No, it's not blood, it's something else. Something that reminds her to wake up, to move, to gradually push her way out of the tight, warm comfort of whatever held her. Why wasn't she cold? Why didn't it hurt, the spears of ice that should be lancing through her chest? She doesn't know... and so she moves, presses, stretches-
Until a woman spills out onto the floor of the Shrine of the Innocent. She is malnourished and unhealthily thin, what would be vibrant red hair and emerald eyes dulled by neglect, with three large scars on both the front and back of her narrow, bony chest. The small hands that struggle to pick herself off the damp ground are shaky, two of the fingers painfully crooked... and she fails at the first effort to stand, collapsing back onto her knees in an undignified sprawl. Nestled between her clavicles in the dip between is a blood red, drop-shaped crystal.
And as her mind begins to process what is happening and where she is, as it finally catches up and realizes that the call of Hell's Gate has finally gone quiet... the only thing she wonders feels too good to be true. Had she truly escaped it?]
03 ☄ RETURNED (KENOMA)
[No. She hadn't.
On one of the stone slabs surrounding the Regent's lodestone, a small, frail woman dressed in the simple white shift of a new initiate lays on her back, one hand clutching so tight at the fabric of her gown that it shakes with the effort, beads of cold sweat staining her skin as she struggles in stillness against the forces at war in her body. Black ooze seeps out from around the shard at the base of her throat, drips out of an ear, but perhaps more strangely...
She's glowing. Or rather, flickering, like a light switch being flicked on and off in slow bursts. An eerie red glow is born and then fades in her eyes, a strange neon blue light seems to suffuse her silhouette and then be extinguished... and a more observant person might notice that the dying of those lights is tied directly to how she squeezes at the fistful of robe in her hand, using the pain of two broken fingers to focus.
If she didn't... She didn't want to back there. She didn't want to be a Contractor again. She didn't wan't to be Havoc anymore. But there is no relief from the black sludge that had been poured down her throat, there is only-
Her other hand desperately reaches to cling to the leg of whoever walks close enough by. Her mouth opens, but her throat is too tight, and she only mouths the words at first, more an exhale than a voice.]
Please--
[But she gathers it, brow furrowing, forcing herself to get it out, to beg and to plead for just one thing-]
Havoc | Darker than Black | Innocent
01 ☄ THE LIGHT AT THE CENTER
[She had expected the nothing of death, the freedom from fear and pain. More importantly... she had expected to escape the pulse of her messier code, calling out to her from Hell's Gate in the hypnotic, powerful pull of Havoc... Havoc... Havoc...
But instead she is walking, slow and disoriented in a space that feels like every sky in the universe has collided and mixed above, below, and all around her. If she looks for it, will she find the false star that had ruled her life since all of the colors had drained out of her world to be replaced by the cold rationality of a Contractor? Would she find Hei's, hopefully still glowing somewhere in the night?
The light calls to her instead. It is warm and soft, the opposite of Hell's Gate and the cold, rain-soaked concrete she last remembered. The fragments of life that flicker into existance around her are... not so many in number. She had been through the Memory Extractor far too many times for that. There is no childhood home, no parents' faces, no happy birthdays, no flying kites, or school days. But there are confused, muddled recollections of deep jungles, blood in her mouth, rubble where buildings once stood, and Contractors gasping for breath before their vessels burst. There are quiet days in the countryside, the smiling faces of children tugging at her apron, old hands that show her how to shuck the harvest. There are run-down apartments, grunts and rancid breath, money on bedsides, and days spent in hiding.
And there is the Gate, her powers surging back with Lancelnopt Synchrotron radiation glowing in her eyes. Running. Rain.
But there is no glow now, when she meets the gaze of another lost in this sea of stars and memory. Just a pair of dull green eyes set in the face of a woman who wonders how it is she is still alive... and more importantly, if she deserved to stay that way.]
02 ☄ REBIRTH
[Hazy. Slow. Her eyes flutter but refuse to open, and her mind refuses to focus. She remmebered it was raining. Or maybe it had rained. The scent of it had filled her nostrils. Wet concrete. Diluted blood. The stench of abandoned homes and lives some ten years past.
The last moments on her world came back in pieces, but not in the right order. The pull of Hell's Gate. Hei's hands, clutching her face, telling her she didn't need to kill again, that she could live. Laura's children, laughing as they chased each other through the yard. Hei breaking her fingers. The taste of fried rice. A child's dead body at her feet. Rain. Standing on the edge of the abyss with blood-stained memories and radiation lighting up her eyes. Running. Bursts of pain as something, one, two, three somethings lanced through her chest. The cries of jungle birds as a blazing light raced toward her. Her eyes flutter again.
She inhales, and a clotted mess of old blood sticks in her throat. No, it's not blood, it's something else. Something that reminds her to wake up, to move, to gradually push her way out of the tight, warm comfort of whatever held her. Why wasn't she cold? Why didn't it hurt, the spears of ice that should be lancing through her chest? She doesn't know... and so she moves, presses, stretches-
Until a woman spills out onto the floor of the Shrine of the Innocent. She is malnourished and unhealthily thin, what would be vibrant red hair and emerald eyes dulled by neglect, with three large scars on both the front and back of her narrow, bony chest. The small hands that struggle to pick herself off the damp ground are shaky, two of the fingers painfully crooked... and she fails at the first effort to stand, collapsing back onto her knees in an undignified sprawl. Nestled between her clavicles in the dip between is a blood red, drop-shaped crystal.
And as her mind begins to process what is happening and where she is, as it finally catches up and realizes that the call of Hell's Gate has finally gone quiet... the only thing she wonders feels too good to be true. Had she truly escaped it?]
03 ☄ RETURNED (KENOMA)
[No. She hadn't.
On one of the stone slabs surrounding the Regent's lodestone, a small, frail woman dressed in the simple white shift of a new initiate lays on her back, one hand clutching so tight at the fabric of her gown that it shakes with the effort, beads of cold sweat staining her skin as she struggles in stillness against the forces at war in her body. Black ooze seeps out from around the shard at the base of her throat, drips out of an ear, but perhaps more strangely...
She's glowing. Or rather, flickering, like a light switch being flicked on and off in slow bursts. An eerie red glow is born and then fades in her eyes, a strange neon blue light seems to suffuse her silhouette and then be extinguished... and a more observant person might notice that the dying of those lights is tied directly to how she squeezes at the fistful of robe in her hand, using the pain of two broken fingers to focus.
If she didn't... She didn't want to back there. She didn't want to be a Contractor again. She didn't wan't to be Havoc anymore. But there is no relief from the black sludge that had been poured down her throat, there is only-
Her other hand desperately reaches to cling to the leg of whoever walks close enough by. Her mouth opens, but her throat is too tight, and she only mouths the words at first, more an exhale than a voice.]
Please--
[But she gathers it, brow furrowing, forcing herself to get it out, to beg and to plead for just one thing-]
Please kill me...
[Before she wasn't "me" anymore.]