eight ❅ spam

[bothfoulandfair]

[May 9th, Spam for Dillon and Morgana]

[The Barge shakes and trembles, and when she opens her eyes, tries to pick herself off the floor, she's still the same.

Well. Almost, because the one important difference makes itself painfully obvious as soon as she reaches out to grip her bookcase, planning on lifting herself up, only to feel the familiar tug of magic and stare, wide eyed and terrified as the entire thing ices over.

Her powers are back. Her powers are back, and they're strong, and the terror that grips her has nothing to do with being on another Barge, with finding out what exactly that's going to mean, or anything else.

Her powers are back, and she still has no idea how to control them.]

Dillon! [She shrieks before remembering what everyone had said, what Morgana had warned her about. There's a very good chance her warden won't be the man she knows at all, and she clamps her hands over her mouth, as if that's going to take back what she'd said.

It takes several minutes, but somehow, she manages to get her gloves on and creep into the hallway. Ice fans out under her feet, but it's subtle, almost unnoticeable, and she doesn't know what she's doing or where she thinks she's going, but she needs help, needs someone who's going to be able to fix this, and she thinks of Morgana, how the other inmate is more likely to be a kinder version of herself or the same woman she's gotten to know on the real ship.

Maybe she can help now.]

[May 10th, Spam for Scorpius]

[Choking back panic is not an uncommon state for her to be in, but in the past, the fear has been fleeting, swept aside by guilt and desperation and depression and loneliness and in one glorious instant by complete and utter joy, because she's been able to retreat and regroup and figure out how to move forward.

This is different. This is a constant, strangling terror that threatens to burst out at any moment, and if she lets it, she has no idea what's going to happen. None.

But she thinks maybe, maybe she can do this.

And then the ship crashes.

So she's already fraying at the edges, walking one of the hallways and trying to find someone, anyone, any familiar face or reassuring presence that can help anchor her here, keep her control from splintering further.

Or maybe she just needs to get back to her room.]

[May 10th through Event End, Open Spam]

[She's out of control.

It's all happening again, and she can't do anything to stop it. It's like trying to hold back a tidal wave with your bare hands, and it's so much easier - so much easier - to just give in, to just feel it rip out and spill over everything

The worst part is? It feels good.

But she's icing over the remains of the ship, and she knows people will hate her for it. Will be frightened and angry and murderous, and she can't be here when they come for her. She's afraid, she doesn't want to die again.

So she does the one thing she can: she runs.

Ice and snow follows her like a virus, spreading out over the terrain, blasting it bare and leaving a trail for anyone who wants to to follow.

They'll need to hurry, though. The radius is expanding rapidly, eating up the clear path and creating a wide expanse of quasi eternal winter.]

Comments

[keeps_a_cool_head]

[Scorpius knows he is going to die soon. All through the last week he's been fighting, struggling to maintain the agony inside his head as his genetics work to cook him alive. Should he not find a way to cool himself down, should his warden still refuse to provide him the necessary tools for survival, he will die.

Over and over and over again.

He's not afraid of the wardens, and he's not afraid of death. He loathes them, everything around him, and is resolved to see this through and survive. Meditation helps in part, but eventually his temper spikes and he loses focus.

And this is when he spots Elsa.

Scorpius is clutching onto the wall to steady himself after the crash, not knowing what's happened but figuring it secondary to the continuation of his life. He watches Elsa travel down the hall, entranced by her energy signature. By all accounts, someone with that sort of chill stored within them should be dead. But somehow her chemistry keeps it all aligned.

It's perfect.]

Elsa.

[bothfoulandfair]

[It's a familiar voice, one she hasn't not enjoyed talking to in her time here, but when she turns, she knows something is already wrong.

What that is, she couldn't say, and honestly, she's more concerned about herself right now, about the danger she poses to everyone.]

Stay away, [It's a warning, but not a threat. She might not know how she feels about Scorpius on the normal Barge, and she doesn't know what his counterpart here is like, but she knows she doesn't want to hurt anyone else, doesn't want her control to shatter entirely.

Even if she knows it's a losing battle. It's just a matter of time.]

[keeps_a_cool_head]

[While they've never truly traveled in the same circles - Scorpius being entirely preoccupied with his warden and with scientifically leveraging his way off the Barge - he's come to appreciate the talent and beauty inherent in Elsa's heat signature. She's unmistakably human, but a constant coldness surrounds her. A temperature he's constantly in desperate need of.

He doesn't want to scare her off, and remains precisely where he is, to begin with. No sense frightening her more than she is]

Are you hurt?

[bothfoulandfair]

No. [She's not hurt, not even close. She feels good, completely out of control, but she knows how this can be addictive, just letting go and allowing her powers to do what they've always wanted.

But that doesn't change that she knows what this means around other people.]

Just, please, stay away. I don't want to hurt anyone!

[keeps_a_cool_head]

[Scorpius doesn't stay away. On the contrary, he edges closer to her, his head tilted just so in curiosity]

How would you hurt me?

[youwillgotohell]

[A shiver creeps up her spine, and she can tell it's unnatural because a moment ago she was perfectly warm, hot if anything. She was standing on the stairs, staring at the section closed off floors, knowing that her room was down there just out of reach. It's childish, she knows, the urge to sleep in her own bed, and take comfort in her own room.

She's been moving about instead, sleeping on Dean's shoulder to keep him company, staying in Risen's room, but for the most part, she hasn't been sleeping. Rationally, Morgana knows that this absurd desire is likely due to exhaustion. Emotionally, she wants to collapse into her bed and sleep for a day. She knows she can't.

Letting loose a resigned breath, she notices the temperature drop and spins, taking the stairs up slowly.]

Queen Elsa?

[She's wary. What could she be after now?]

[bothfoulandfair]

Morgana? [She turns quickly, flinches as more ice splatters on the wall and starts to grow, fanning out and crystallizing, coating the light fixtures and the ceiling.

She gathers her skirts in her hands - for some reason, they don't freeze, they never seem to - and hurries towards her voice, racing towards her as soon as she sees her, apparently completely unconcerned (or at least too distracted to care) that she might not be who she's expecting to find.]

I need your help, please. [Now that she's stopped, the ring of ice around her feet only starts to grow, creeping over the floor and up the walls.]

I don't know what's happening to me, I don't want them back!

[youwillgotohell]

[The ice practically precedes her, and Morgana is shivering by the time she's caught sight of the white haired woman. It's so - strange to see her like this, scared and begging for help, and if she was a crueler woman, she might feel a certain smugness over it. She's not a crueler woman.

Instinctually, she reaches out for Elsa's arm, to give her a steadying presence.]

Your magic? I don't understand. [Her brow is furrowed: when had Elsa ever lost them?]

[bothfoulandfair]

[And immediately, Elsa yanks her arm away before Morgana has a chance to touch her. She knows what that's going to mean, and she can't risk that, won't do that to someone else.]

I can't control it, I don't want them- [She digs her fingers into her hairline, tugs at her hair, tries to pull in a breath.] I don't belong here. You said you would try to help me.

[youwillgotohell]

[Morgana doesn't pursue, just draws her hand back, holding it up in a placating gesture before dropping it to her side. It's what Elsa says next that strikes Morgana: I don't belong here. Her breath catches, and she can't stop herself from leaning forward, though she doesn't try to touch the ice queen again.]

You're from the other Barge?

Post-crash.

[darknessb4me]

[Arthas crouches to examine the trail of frost and tugs on its lattice lightly, trying to unweave it with his own knowledge of ice magic.

Loki? No, he was a showoff but never this gifted. But a lesser god, perhaps? Too new to know that running is useless? Ice magic is high-strung, it's common enough for even him to lose control sometimes. This is either the work of someone who knows themselves and their magic well enough to unleash or rein it in effortlessly or...

Regardless of the result of his experimental spell-prodding, he presses an sphere of pristine, glasslike ice into being between his hands.]

Follow it, [He tells the orb. A deep crack forms, like the slit pupil of a cat's eye, and when released the orb takes flight, seeing and searching for the source of the growing winter.

Arthas himself turns to the Barge. This will all have to go.]

[bothfoulandfair]

[Elsa keeps running, and for the time being, it seems as if she's not being followed. It's a relief and it isn't, but it mostly is, if she's really being honest, so she just heads away from the city and the downed ship and keeps moving.

She hasn't noticed she's being followed. Not yet, anyway.]

[darknessb4me]

[The little eye is quick, and catches up to her after enough floating. It doesn't tire, after all. Running away. But from what?

It shoots ahead to catch her attention, just over her shoulder but a bit out of arm's reach.]

[bothfoulandfair]

[She startles and stops, staring at it with a combination of curiosity and confusion.

And fear. Lots of fear.]

What are you?

[darknessb4me]

[The fact is that it's an eye, not a mouth, and can't really answer on its own.

Somewhere else, Arthas is frustrated. His magic is more suited to just killing people, not explaining things to them. Like the fact that he's not trying to kill them.

The orb floats a short distance away, close to the ground, and starts tracing in her snow with a weak beam of arcane energy: S-A-F-E.

Then it settles down next to the word. Look. See?]

[orderfromchaos]

[Her door isn't hard to get through - the lock is just regular metal tumblrs, and one good jolt with the heel of his palm sends them clicking into place. He lets the door swing open and leans in the threshold without entering. The Snow Queen reminds him of Michael, of Lourdes. He respects her domain.]

You called, your majesty?

[There's something sleeker about him now, playful and mean. All his awkward, tender compassion is gone, but at least he likes her - or he did. One good look at her and his eyebrows rise. So, the rumors of infiltrators were true.]

[bothfoulandfair]

[She realizes immediately what a huge mistake she's made. She can't hurt Dillon - he's told her that a million times - and there's nothing stopping him from hurting her, if he decides to.

And he knows. He knows she's not the same.]

I-

I'm sorry, [She says, trying to school her voice, her expression, the hurricane she feels fluttering in her chest.] I was just. Startled. I'm sorry.

[orderfromchaos]

[He laughs - not free but easy, a little sharp and askew, but at least it reaches his eyes.]

Are you a queen or a mouse? Stop apologizing.

[bothfoulandfair]

Right. [Elsa takes a breath, tightening her grip. She can do this. She can do this. Conceal it, don't feel it. Don't let it show.]

Thank you for coming.

[orderfromchaos]

Oh, sure. It's neighborly.

[The twist of his smile is still a little off, a little cold. But the meanness in it isn't for her, really - more for the concept of neighborliness in general.]

Listen, you can blast the place if you want, she would. No one will catch you out on that account.

[Spam]

[la_belle_rogue]

[She left the ship because she could. It was amazing. She'd lived in a prison for so long, both while alive and dead, she had forgotten what it was like to see grass, trees. She didn't care that it wasn't Earth. It wasn't any place with walls either.

She reaches out and touches the bark of a tree. Her gloves cover everything except the palm of her hands, and she doesn't take them off. It's just how she experiences the world, through a thin veil of cloth.

And then suddenly the tree starts to gather frost on it's bark, and the air grows chilly. She's confused for a moment, and watches as ice starts to rapidly swallow up the tree at it's roots. She only just manages to put the pieces together in time to throw herself away from the tree before the ice freezes her to it. She staggers and falls to the ground with her own rushed momentum, right in the runner's path.]

[Spam]

[bothfoulandfair]

[Elsa crashes into her with about as much grace and dignity as a bird shot down by a hunter, and it's only because she's so afraid of hurting anyone else that she has the presence of mind to throw herself away from whoever it is she's run into.

She doesn't get up again, just stays down there on all fours and heaves out desperate, winded sobs.

She can't do this. She can't do this. She hates her powers more than ever in this moment, and she doesn't know what to do, how to move forward, how she's ever supposed to accept this as a part of herself.

Maybe whoever this is will kill her, and then she can be free.

It's a desperate, panicked thought, but there it is.]

[Spam]

[la_belle_rogue]

[Legacy ends up in a sprawl, but she doesn't just stay down. She can't. She's not wired that way. She pushes herself up, and takes a look at what- or rather who, ran into her.

She eyes the downed woman, and thinks vaguely that she probably know her name. She hasn't touched this person yet, but still, she probably knows the name anyway. She just...has a lot on her mind. And in her mind. In a very literal sense.

Picking herself up, she walks through crunching grass to kneel beside the pale woman.]

Hey, if you're not too bad hurt, maybe throttle back the frost a bit, huh?

[Spam]

[bothfoulandfair]

[Elsa doesn't even have the energy to shrink away when the other woman - Rogue, she realizes when she hears her voice - comes closer. Everything feels heavy and numb and distant, and her powers are still thundering out of her. She can't hold them in any more than she can hold in her sobs.

Rogue's asking her to do something impossible, and so she finally just shakes her head.]

I can't.

[Spam]

[la_belle_rogue]

[Legacy considers that statement only for a moment. She'd told Winchester that she didn't want to be involved. Not to fight, not to help. But the main reason she hasn't already graduated with that kind of attitude is because she can only maintain it when she's alone. If she's faced with someone that needs help, she might think about walking away, but she won't. She can't.

She holds out her hand. It's glove covered all the way up to her shoulder, but over her palm is a cut out, so her skin is exposed.]

Gimme yer hand. Ah can help.