watashinonamaewa: (065)
cibo . blame! ([personal profile] watashinonamaewa) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2012-10-28 02:12 pm
Entry tags:

put the mask back on, put the mask back on

CHARACTERS: Oct. 27-Nov. 1: Open. (End of Nov. 1: Rey&Cibo, AM&Cibo.)
LOCATION: Gardens, mostly. Then wandering around the ship.
WARNINGS: Nov.1: General needle/blood draw warning.
SUMMARY: Oct. 27-30: Cibo will be in the gardens with her coelacanth after she finds she's been locked out of her room.
Oct. 31-Nov. 1: She finds her mask. Shit goes down.
NOTES: After the mods announcement, I decided to quietly leave this active considering not too many are involved with it already. And I will be sure to be more gradual next time I want to do something with the mask! It was a common misunderstanding from what I saw, so I'll know for next time I plan. :)

October 27-30 — Gardens
It was cold and dark. A combination that Cibo learned to dislike when compared to the relatively warm atmosphere of her room. And the thought didn't quite come to her to look at the communications device before she started out of her room and to the oxygen gardens to check on Dhomochevsky. It was much later that she learned her room was locked and there was no way of re-entering — device, cables, and prod still locked inside.

(She'll be sitting calmly next to Dhomochevsky's stream, if you want to meet with her.)

October 31 — Gardens/Wandering
When Cibo arrived on the third day, she found the rows of masks just outside of everyone's doors. (Some had already been taken, of course.) And when she looked ahead and saw her own, her feet stopped in place. The face of what she feared most — just sitting there. Harmless, though, as she could see it wasn't attached to the body of a Safeguard.

Cautiously, she approached it and brought it into her hands, examining it closely to make sure it was nothing to be concerned about. After a brief glance down both directions of the hall, she decided to place it against her face. It fit so smoothly. So frighteningly well that she almost immediately removed it.

Her door still wouldn't open. With the mask nervously in hand, she proceeded back to stay with Dhomochevsky. But having the mask so near her, almost watching her, she couldn't help but to try it on just a few more times. Each experience a little more strange than the last...

November 1 — Wandering
With the power of the ship returned to normal, Cibo finally felt more comfortable to walk around the ship; to return to her room for her communicator. But by that point, the mask had become part of her. There wouldn't be a moment that her hand wasn't touching it. Eventually, it was no where but against the skin of her face. Staring through it without emotion, with only a single craving. A craving that buried itself deep into her mind.

Find humans. Find the net terminal gene.

But how else was she supposed to do that without Killy's help? Blood. She would test the blood and search for the gene that way. So, with access to the medical bay and science department, she collected a small arsenal of syringes and began to wander the halls rather aimlessly. Anyone she would come across became of interest to her and an immediate target for the needles held within her hands.

[ ooc: This first experience with her mask leads into Cibo's memory corruption which will last until the next jump (if anyone wants to be a part of that, let me know), so the mask will be tucked away until she remembers it or is reminded of it. And I do plan to do more with it later on! ]
circumitus: Take control of me and wipe away my fears... (i'm a broken doll; you're the puppeteer)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-10-29 02:00 am (UTC)(link)
Rey didn't have friends. Does she ever?

She remembered the Watcher. His knives gashing into her face. Leaving her blood-torn, hole in her head, in the open under the burning sun. She remembered the feeling of life fleeting from her body, again and again and again.

It repeats.

At first, it seemed like a dream. The sound of her name echoed into the voice of another.

Piece Q-056.

They call her the Salamander. The soldier's ghost story.

Only she was not armed with fire, though the ground turned hot beneath her feet. Every heavy step she took, she did not even try to hide the fact that the her footfalls landed with a loud thud. More so than a woman of her stature merited.

Not fire, but a piece of broken glass. Shattered from bathroom mirrors; she clutched a shard in her bloody grip.

A pure-white visage masked her face. Black eyes, red streams, the hint of a smile...

Subject does not talk. He calls her an angel. He speaks her name through the cracks. She hates his face. She hates it when he talks to her. Puts his hand through her golden hair. Whispers to her, Come away with me.

Her vice grip wrapped around the glass. She hated that face even more -- the one looking at her right then. Her jaw tightened. Rey slept. The Salamander stared back through the porcelain face with a faint satisfaction.

It's found you.
circumitus: that's because you have standards... and i have a thing for guys that give me free drugs. (my dad brought home flowers)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-10-29 04:07 am (UTC)(link)

The word is like knives. It's stabbed through the veins and won't let go.

Her head flinched, twitched away for a brief second, before turning back towards Cibo once again. The thing where Rey should be, the monster, peered through, seeing the other woman in the mask.

What it saw was another enemy. Something that it could riddle with holes. Watch burn and burn for warmth by the bonfire. The stench of burning hair and flesh didn't even register on its list of prospects. Because she is the Salamander, the war-torn disaster.

Be careful what you wish for.

Again, she did not speak when addressed. Only stalked closer to Cibo when summoned, the sharp edge of the glass (all the edges are sharp) ready.
circumitus: Captain Morgan didnt let me down when i stand up it feels like the world is trying to hand me rainbows. (i hate your face)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-10-29 07:47 am (UTC)(link)
She travels the mountains alone. Each time she closes her eyes, the afterimage of rotting faces with flies and worms gathering in gaping wounds sears onto her lids. She knows them all by their faces, but not their names.

Their names are not worth bringing to mind again. They are, after all, just numbers.

She blinked.

The Salamander behind the mask flinched, sprung at the slightest sign of advance movement speeding towards her. Despite her heavy weight, and the manner in which her body treaded heavily across the ground, she moved with experience. A soldier in a place where it was kill or be killed. There was no such thing as compromises.

Her attention was drawn to the spark at the end of that prod, then back to Cibo at her movements.

She had fought people like this. She had killed people like this. People who were better than this.

The monster snarls and crawls; whimpering; hungry.

She could perhaps take a hit or two. If nothing else, the electric jolt may prove itself to be sobering. Blood dribbled down her arm as she reeled back to take a swing towards Cibo's jugular...

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-11-03 11:26 pm (UTC)(link)
Rey may have been heavy, almost unmovable. But that wasn't entirely true.

Point in case: The heavier they were, the harder they fell. And Rey tumbled with a great force, almost feeling herself shatter as she hit the floor.

She didn't. Somehow, she was all together, not in pieces. No matter how much she felt as though she were falling apart, and the only way to keep herself together was to kill and kill and kill...

This was not permitted, however. Not now. Right now, she had a woman with a needle on top of her. And in seconds, she felt that sting in her arm to deepen her frustration.

A yell escaped from the unchanging mask in Rey's attempts to hurl Cibo from on top of her, whether she filled the vial of the syringe or not.
circumitus: 'Cause it makes him feel like a fish. (says he likes to get high and swim)

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-11-09 08:34 am (UTC)(link)
They always try to run.

She was prey now. It was easier for the Salamander to see that. Nothing more than a walking meat-muscle with a bullseye planted on her spine. When Cibo began to flee, she was quick to scramble onto her feet.

Cibo had taken something from her. Getting it back was not so much an issue, but snapping her neck would be. Quick and easy.

She wanted it badly.

When Cibo ran, the Salamander followed not far behind in a predatory bolt.

[personal profile] circumitus 2012-11-23 08:31 am (UTC)(link)
There was always something about the smell. Perhaps it was the adrenal rush that coursed through their veins that gave the fear away -- something deeper than just sweat and exertion. It was like an animal, aware that it was being hunted.

This was no place for guns and knives. Not when the furnace burned in her gut and surfaced over her skin, hot and fiery. She remembers the wildfire that cannot be tamed, and she keeps running.

She reached out. With a lash of her hand, she went to seize the prey's shoulder, from where all that rush of fear just brimmed off of.