Saga ~ Whispers of Wire ~ Dear Diary Challegen 2011, OCs, completed 12/14

Bio-engineering yes, that can be scary giving unwanted results.

But she is OK now I hope

 

He ruffles my hair and laughs.
Then they are gone again.

Let me ruffle your hair for the update!

 

Yep, now she's okay, earlybird. Though bioengineering is a dangerous job in her time. She should ahve stayed with Enviromental Studies...

Aaaah, no, Azure! Meine Frisur!!!!

---

[u]35.) 19 BBY[/u]


Now Mereel visits more often than Kom'rk. On a purely productive scale this is sensible. He knows a lot about bioengineering and he's been at it only so very shortly. I am amazed each time he returns and has puzzled something together I have been puzzling over for months. It might have frustrated the scientist in me if my interest in the project had not been so very personal. As long as it gets solved, I do not care who does it. The sooner the better.

"This is the right track," he points at a sequence. "We will combine it with the recessive traits at Nine-A."

"Did Fourteen-B get ruled out already?" I want to know. Parts of the research have been outsourced. Partly to get more opinions, partly to speed up the process. Sometimes, I wonder if they forget to tell me things. But usually it is not things I need to know. Sometimes it worries me that there are things I don't need to know.

?Not yet, but it doesn't look promising.? Mereel calls up a few charts and we look at them in disappointed silence. ?Kom'rk will be back soon,? he says into the silence. ?Things might get a little hasty soon after that.?

I do not ask. But I will save progress even more often, secure it in triplicate. Stash it away in places strong enough to survive the destruction of Ketaris. I make sure the data will be useful even after that and should the incident include my own death. They need the data more than me.

Except maybe Kom'rk who holds on to me like a drowning man surfacing from another nightmare I cannot keep away. But his smile when he finds me at the end of the terror tells me that it is more than he expected. I run my fingers along his temples. I cradle his head to my chest. I recite the progress we made. Until we all asleep again and only the greying morning disturbs the silence.

?Not much longer.? He kisses me goodbye and I am thinking of a small place on a faraway planet, snow-covered and ready to take me in again. Sometimes Kom'rk calls from there and I see the walls of Kyrimorut behind him and all is well. This is what I am working for.

I smile and can laugh with him. Sometimes people pass in the background, there was a clone shaky on his legs, a woman at his side. Kal passing with thunder on his face or a spring in his step. And the black one, Vau, not reacting to my waving and little smile of thanks. He's not social, Kom'rk shrugs. That's okay. I don't think many of us are.

Mereel sure is and his voice can chatter away a day on Ketaris, talking about everything he can tell and never slipping a single word he mustn't. ?Good job, [i]vod'ika[/i].? He slips the latest update into one of his many pockets. ?This is something we have been looking for.?

I am happy. We are making progress. And he keeps assuring me, as Kom'rk does, that it won't be much longer. I keep the laboratory in order. I am ready to leave on a call.

 

36.) 19 BBY



The call never comes. I stand in the laboratory with another disappointment on my hands and face. I close the last of the datastorages and stare at my failure that is growing too fast. Much too fast, always too fast.

The door opens and a group of t-visors appear. Only when I realise those are not the right colours, do I look again. No, those are not my vode. Blasters are pointed at me, a crimson armour takes the lead. I grab a datacard, almost invisibly, sneakily and try to hide it. It is precious. It contains white noise and red herrings, artfully compiled by Mereel. Mereel, who should be standing in that door poking good-natured fun at Kom'rk who was still hunting prey hidden too obviously somewhere.

The leader sees it and I can feel his gaze on my hand through the helmet. He has found what he was looking for, all of it. I do not smile. I keep my face unmoved. Mereel will not come. But when he does, he will find the last data safe and secure. I do not smile. I face the crimson leader and wait.

"We are here to bring you to your new laboratories," he says. "Your research here is done."

I look at them and around. I am far from done here and we all know it. "Did Murtode send you?" I want to know.

He snorts. "Murtode is but an henchman. We have orders from his boss. So pack up kid. We're leaving."

"I am not." I cross my arms in front of me. "I am not finished here and I am not leaving."

"Do you like being alive?" He threatens. "Because then you better do what we say."

"If I am dead, I can't work at all," I counter. "It's a risk I am willing to take."

He seems surprised. Maybe he didn't expect much of an opposition. But his helmet does not scare me. With a shrug he fires into the main computer. The screen breaks and sparks sizzle through the room. He fires again and the processors stop. "Oops."

I spit and manage to hit his visor dead centre.

Slowly he levels his blaster at me. "Order form the boss. You work for him - or you stay with us for a while - until you do."

"You cannot afford my kind of accommodation," I state. I will not be moved. If they insist, they need to do their dirty work themselves. Not that they have a problem with that. There is a soft click and the world explodes in blue fire.

 

Slowly he levels his blaster at me. "Order form the boss. You work for him - or you stay with us for a while - until you do."

"You cannot afford my kind of accommodation," I state. I will not be moved. If they insist, they need to do their dirty work themselves. Not that they have a problem with that. There is a soft click and the world explodes in blue fire.


Spicey!

 

a cliffie

Like her resistance

 

Chicken Masala a la Tera, Azure?

I can be evil, earlybird.
And she has grown since this started. And she has a Null ARC. Somewhere.

---

[u]37.) 19 BBY[/u]

When I wake up, I am not in my laboratory anymore. I could be anywhere; a small room with no windows can be found everywhere. My hands are tied before me, but the cuffs are tight and allow for no real movement. When I try, they cut into the skin. I bleed. Nothing new there.

Nothing happens for a long while. Is it night? Is everybody asleep but me? Or are they just biding their time? I cannot know. There is no light from the outside. I can never know. And I must not believe what they tell me either. The truth has to be inside me. There is no other truth, nothing real but what I brought with me.

I can wait. I keep still and make no fuss. Let them think me meek. I am not thirteen anymore. I close my eyes again and begin the long wait. It is said to be the hardest part, to wait until something, most likely dreadful, happens to you. I never thought so. I think the most dreadful part is when something dreadful actually happens and there is no place inside your head to hide. I make space. I empty out corners of it that went unused for a long time.

I put memories of Kom'rk into the nooks and niches. I place trust there, and the knowledge of all the results I had in my head and the experiments that were running and how much time it would take to repeat and where my documentations ends and if Kom'rk will find the files. If the Ketaris is still there he will find them.

He's Kom'rk, I trust him.
I love him.

And then there's Mereel. He is more into the matter than me even. He will work something out. He will stop the ageing. Even if I won't make it back again, they will have their triumph in the end. This I must believe. I did all I could. This is not about me. They will get along just fine without me. This might just be the end. I will wait. They have nothing to threaten me with, because I know it all already.

Still, they talk, they taunt. They destroyed all the samples and experiments. I want to scream hot anger at them, but I show nothing. If I show them where it hurt, they will only prod harder. So I let them talk and I let them threaten and listen to their demands and say no word. This is my head and there is no space inside of it for them.

They try to make some space. With words first, but those words have no power over me. I would laugh, but why show them anything? Don't let it show. Let nothing show. Let them talk. Then they turn to beating space into my head, cutting and bleeding it. But those are pains I know. They don't scare me.

Murtode seems to be out of the equation completely. His name is never mentioned. They talk of their boss, the real and only power in the galaxy. He wants my work, my research, my compliance. Well, no, sir. I respectfully decline to be manhandles into that box. Been there, done that. Kill me, if you must, but don't expect me to cooperate to my imprisonment again. I don't care if the cage is golden and life carefree.

I close my eyes and think of Kom'rk. Some things they cannot take away. You just have to know it.

There is a surprised exclamation as they finally venture into more physical attacks and rip my shirt off. I straighten up and as one of them spins me around. I come within inches of his visor before I catch myself. I stand, staring at him, raising my chin a little higher. I know them. I know all they can do to me. A predatory smile creeps onto my lips.

 

He wants my work, my research, my compliance. Well, no, sir. I respectfully decline to be manhandles into that box. Been there, done that. Kill me, if you must, but don't expect me to cooperate to my imprisonment again. I don't care if the cage is golden and life carefree.

Now I understand why you made a lot of research for that. Well done, hon. And yes we have a chicken Massala receipt here at home. We can cook some when you come to visit us.

 

what are they doing to her she should fight back

 

I like to found on my fics on good research, Azure. I am not abvoe just ignoring science, if it fits my needs, though.

What do you think they will do, earlybird? And what can she do against them?

---

[u]38.) 19 BBY[/u]



My hands are cuffed behind my back, pulled into a tight, painful angle. I would still smile like a wolf if my lip was not burst, swollen and crusted with blood. No, they did not like that. But they are holding back. I don't know why and I am not sure I am grateful. The worst fear is the fear of fear.

My head is pulled up and find myself staring up into the visor of that crimson armour. It would be more intimidating if there was no black smile on my heart. But there is and the crimson stays a colour on plates that have taken a wrong turn.

"Aruetii," I spit at him.

The back of his hand catches me across the face. Another of the easier pains as skin rips and a wet trickle starts down my face. I'll live. And they won't. But they don't know it yet.

They still have not touched me. Oh, they beat me and repeatedly and with quite some enthusiasm, but they do not lay their hands on me. I wonder what they are waiting for.

 

Wow a few sentences gathered, but possessing absolute clarity and dark beauty.

 

Thank you, Azure.

---

[u]39.) 19 BBY[/u]



They try to hurt me here and now, but that doesn't really work. They are preceptive enough to realise that. And they watch out for the little signs, the way I wince when New Crimson approaches just after another beating. They see my back and far back.

They try to hurt me in the past now, dropping words of putrid red and calling for me in the language of deluge.

"[i]K'olar[/i]."

I cannot allow them the power over me but the big pains show my small reactions. He laughs because he knows he found a way to creep back under my shell. His gloved hands hold my face painfully tight. "[i]Ner cuy[/i]."

The smile of the wolf is gone and I cannot find it anymore.

"[i]Shi sirbu haar miit[/i]," he taunts me, but I know it is a lie. If I say yes they will not let me go, they will just let me work. I don't even know if they will stop the pain. I do not need to be whole to work, I need my head and fingers, but that is all.

New Crimson decides the time to wait was over. It is not as if there was much of a shirt left over to start with. But he loosens the cuffs a little, pries my arms apart so he can appreciate the thing on my back fully. I dare not roll my relieved shoulders. He outlines the thing on my back with a gloved finger humming to himself.

"I have leave to do to you whatever necessary to ensure your compliance," he purrs into my ear.

I wonder if he feels at least slightly inconvenienced. My face lies against the cold permacrete floor and he has to crouch beside me, bending his head all the way down to bring me those news that are none.

I feel the outline on my back and the soft clicking of a vibro knife springing from a knuckle plate. For a moment it hums against my skin, only a threat. But he pushes one hand under me and the tiny space between blade and skin is closed. I would feel the pain of it if I could, but small pains crawl down my chest. The crimson is flowing from my back which doesn't make sense because his fingers squeeze at the front. As I open my mouth it is flooded and I cannot breathe but gasp.

"I don't mind if you don't make it easy," he hums still. "I prefer this a lot to you sitting before some screen being all useful to somebody else."

 

Wow, dark stuff, hon, but brilliantly written. You truly did your research. And you twist the words like a knife into me. As a story teller you are so powerful.



I cannot wait to feed you with pancakes and other sweet stuff when you are here.



And I have been working on your request, so don´t be ´blue´ that you did not see anything on-line yet. I want to see your face when you get here to meet me & my husband. Hoping that my art attempts will not let you down.

 

will she escape all that's hurting her?

Powerful updates

 

Oh, my research did not yet come to bear, Azure.

In the end, probably, earlybird.

---

[u]40.) 19 BBY[/u]



New Crimson is still mostly threatening. Yes, he is playing the game of the red pains, but he is just pretending. His hands imply and so does his leer, but he never takes off a single bit of clothing. I am not sure this reassures me. Maybe he is just biding his time. Maybe he is trying to lull me into a false sense of security. Maybe it is not important at all.

I lie on my stomach, always on my stomach now because my back becomes encrusted with the ground if I lie on it and I black out if they pry me loose. Sometimes I approve because the stink and pain make me faint. That is nice. Though they probably don't just stop when I black out. My back feels flayed and splintered, savaged and mauled. Sometimes that is nice, too because I can't concentrate on the crimson threats.

Threats, threats and more words. Words dripping of crimson. Even behind closed eyes I can see them hovering over me ready to pounce. I have forgotten time again, he is an elusive one. By now they realised they'll have to really break me, if they want anything. I am not sure they have the permission to do that. They waver, they try and then pull back from the edge of scattering as if afraid of the consequences.

So I endure. Sometimes I cannot remember why. Pinpoints of black hover at the edge of my vision, and darkness waits at the corners of consciousness. It is important and sometimes I know the name of the night waiting for me. He is elusive too, even though I tried to anchor him in the dark and hidden places of my soul.

This is taking too long. I am not that strong. I don't feel strong at all. Have I not been here before? I cannot live two years like this again. I want to give up. What else can I do? Holding on to only black wire vanishing into the night - how can it save me? But it is taut and keeps me taut, coiled somewhere deep inside where they cannot reach, but neither can I.

They still try to get me to work. Why? Why? Why? Shouldn't they give up? Who is pushing them to such deeds? Who scares them too much to go all the way or simply stop. I close my eyes because I cannot find an answer and the questions are easier to ignore in the darkness of my head.

 

Hum, somehow I am very worried that our doors do not have any locks. Will I be okay when you visit?



I am counting the days now. It would be bad if I would lose track of time like your prisoner does. Another dark yet brilliant update. I can feel the despair and pain dripping out of it.

 

Poor diarist.

But she is still able to write and I hope she escapes

 

Two more days until I'm at your door, Azure. Adn no lock nor bar will keep me out.

If she doesn't escape, there's still some Nulls out there looking for her, earlybird .

---

[u] Kom'rk[/u]

"Since you have perfect recall, I have to make sure, I only give you good memories - memories worth having." She is dead serious about it despite the enormous grin on her face. And considering the memories since then - yes definitely making sure.

But I like this one.

That thin slice of person lying on top of me radiating happiness. Her chin propped up on those tiny fists of hers that rest on my chest, and such a smile. Her dark eyes light up, turning almost translucent; like expensive tea in even more expensive china. I like how happy she is.

Her skin is cool against mine. If I want to feel her chest rise and fall with her breathing, I have to hold her very tight. She is a tiny bit of person. When I saw her on the Jubilee Wheel for the first time, I wondered what Kal'buir wanted with such a kid. Her size always makes her seem impossibly young.

The night of thousand words - I might not have asked her, if she had not, for all in the galaxy, looked like a lost child. Sitting on the floor of my room and wiping her blood from it; thinking nothing about having her shoulder dislocated talking about small pains much worse.

I don't touch on that memory. It is painful, more so now that I am not looking at her as a tortured child anymore. [i]Those bastards almost took her apart. [/i]I tighten my hold on her, almost able to cover the small of her back with one hand. She smiles and snuggles up to me, placing her cheek against my chest.

I lay my other hand around her neck. Slim like the rest of her, I could snap it between my fingers. She doesn't care. She rubs her cheek against me, stretches out to try the impossible and touch her toes against mine. Maybe she truly is the younger of us two, her first thirteen years lost and another two wasted. Or she is just making sure again.

It is the memory I draw upon when I realise ? again - that she is not there. It is the memory that I call upon knowing we didn't find her yet. It is the memory I keep as a promise of the future when all other thought is centred around the a storm of violent revenge, blood drenched dreams of splintering bones, frayed flesh and broken limbs. Because we [i]will [/i]find her and then -

But I like this one.
That tiny slice of person smiling down on me with my whole future in her eyes.

 

fond memories of the past

And yes looking forward to that Halloween meeting

 

Best kind of memory to have, earlybird. Especially if you remember everything. All the time. >.<

---

[u]40.) 19 BBY[/u]


I do not bleed. I hurt all over, but I do not bleed. This is on purpose. There is only a thin layer separating the outside from me. Me, an accumulation of hard and pointy bits embedded in a lot of squishy pulp. Pulp even more squishy now, pushed and shoved around inside this breakable gauze in ways it wasn't supposed to.

The translucent skin turns opaque, dark, blue, purple, sore to any touch, sensitive, delicate, damageable. With thin fingers they stir patterns into the yielding surface, pushing the pain around.

?Solus miit,? he taunts. ?Shi solus miit.?

The black smile is purple, dark and bruised and there is one word in my mind but it is not making much sense. Gauntlet. My eyes find it, crimson on brown. It is not making sense and his fingers push pain around on my bubbled skin.

?Ner cuy.? The whisper pins me to the floor as he scrutinises my fingers diligently. He knows I need them should I break, but damage doesn't have to be permanent.

?You have such pretty eyes. You should not hide them behind those lashes.? Small pains fill my face and don't make sense overall, they should be too small to matter.

?Naas ven'haa'tayli gemas olar.? I can hear the smile in his hum. And I have too much hair, but not much longer. I didn't care I had hair on my arms. I wish I still didn't. Like long pins inserted backwards. One after another. He's right because nobody sees that hair.

I stretch my arm and wonder why there is so much darkness but no gauntlet to protect it. But why should there be one? I have forgotten. I stare in stupid wonder. There is something I have forgotten. I think.

 

I stretch my arm and wonder why there is so much darkness but no gauntlet to protect it. But why should there be one? I have forgotten. I stare in stupid wonder. There is something I have forgotten. I think.

There are goosebumps all over my skin after that update of yours. You simply draw the reader into her dark abyss.



You are a miracle. Good luck with your NaNo plans!

 

Well, NaNo is not an option anymore, Azure.
But I am having fun with the story I write instead, so all is good.

---

[u]40.) 19 BBY[/u]

I bleed blue pain. It has taken rather long, not sure how long, but any time seems long when spent in pain. So I bleed. It is a slow and sticky process, I can feel myself smear all over the ground. I didn't know one could extend like that.

But slowly the soft pain on my separating layer is opened, bit by bit and never so much that all of my consciousness could escape through it. I watch the dark gunk that was me once. I feel the barbs of fire stuck into my skin, hooked and pulled taut, pulled taut and then pulled taut until something rips. That tends to be me, I think.

Crimson watches with interest. I am like the experiments I conducted, on the other side of the glass, looking out of the putrid petri dish of my life. His vibro knife hums, like an angry bee humming me into an uneasy sleep that is a painful nightmare.

Dark crumbly pearls drop from my body and catch attention. The knife hums them into pieces, friable bits of former female. His glance rests on me.

?Solus miit,? he repeats. ?Shi solus miit.?

I have no word for him. My mouth is dry; it tastes of blood, so how can it be so dry? When I try to close my eyes, he pries the lids open.

"[i]Haa'tayli ni[/i]," he says and something rears up to cast him onto the ground. There are hands all over my skin, painfully impressing the shape of hands into me. I cannot stop them. I cannot stop me. The ground stops me.

He lifts my skin where the blue pain left sticky traces. His fingers probe my inside. They make space that where no space should be. But he places a shard of himself in it, a small splinter of metal, a tiny chip of the armour, a small crimson pain where no crimson pains should be able to reach.

?Pearls grow from dirt. Stupid mussels can do that, so can you, right??

I can see the white growing, small bumps of white where the purple had been.

?Solus miit,? he repeats. ?Shi solus miit.?

I know that word. It surrounds me slowly, hovering over me in red slices, cutting into my limbs like a thin cord of crimson glass, leaving lines all over my skin.

Aaray.

One word. But it is enough.

The split purple smile fades into forbidden crimson and I smile no more.

I wonder if there is something I forgot. Then I forget about it under the imminence of the one word, circling me on crimson wings.

 

You really make me itchy and scared by just reading that, hon.



I hope your NaNo project goes as well as this fanfic here!

 

NaNo is scrapped. Fanfic is in beta-phase. I am crazy.
All as it should be, Azure.

---

[u]40.) 19BBY[/u]


I am the pain that tortures me. That I should still be here, that I should not have given up. I don't remember what that means, but it sounds promising. Give up. I have nothing to give, they have taken it all.

They break open the white, the pearls of pain, and empty their contents over me, over the floor, over their laughter. I know the skirting knife and the more I think about it, the less it is used. They come to an end. Or maybe I do. Could we ever agree on something?

He speaks in the crimson language, but I am too bound and broken to do anything. So I just let the red-hot words rip over me. They leave blazing trails on what is left of me. I know I am still here. Who else would feel this? So I must be here still. I think I am waiting for something. I can't remember what. What would a piece of pain wait for?

Obliteration.

Nothingness.

Black ? something.

Maybe it will come to me again and then I will remember how to give up and what that means. I think I can still wait. To wait is just to be here and feel the pain and know I am still here to feel it, waiting for something that I can only know when it happens.

So I feel the pain and I wait. I watch their colours come and go. The pain only comes, it never goes. I wonder if one crimson intrusion would not be a blessing, snuffing out what is left to wait, because I know that it would be the last, the one unbearable invasion. The end. But it is the one irruption that doesn't happen. Everything else on me feels more than ruptured, breached, pierced.

A black spear driving through my memories and dark light showing who I am. I cannot stand it.

 

Wow. Dark powerful words once more. Sucking me into the story and her despair. You are wonderful.