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Post by Starlight Pilgrim on Sept 12, 2021 7:05:48 GMT -7
FLORA
Flora was confused... was she seeing things? Everything was... wrong. Everything was off. Illyana did not look right, and this Earthen angel was claiming that she was Pixie. Yet why would Pixie claim that she loved her? The two had known each other only since this morning, and she had been replaced by Magik in the hot springs. Still... Illyana was fully embracing the idea of "Darkchylde" with that appearance. The deep red skin, the sunken eyes, the sharp teeth.
Was Flora tripping? Perhaps those plants that she had absorbed when she landed here were having an effect on her. She really felt as though she was seeing things. Still... the words the two of them were saying were making a sort of sense, but not. Again, why would Megan yell that she loved her? But the words the Earthen angel was flinging back at Magik really seemed to be affecting her in some way. It was enraging her.
Though she had her sword out and ready, lashed around her hand ready to attack, she couldn't bring herself to attack just yet. The two of them seemed to be in their own little dramatic play, sword fight raging in the clearing. "Stop it, both of you!" she said, softly. "STOP IT!" She said, louder this time, and the earth was rent when she stomped her foot, with two trees shooting up from it. Both trees were the alien sort she had created just moments ago, their branches becoming free-flowing tendrils that tried to lash out and grab both opponents, their strength measuring in tons, but delicate enough to only try to grab and hold and not squeeze, lashing around wrists, ankles and waists.
She fell to her knees as she did this, looking almost sick for a moment. She felt dizzy and nauseous. Something was nagging at her. Something about the two of them, but she couldn't figure out what it was. Why would they attack one another? Both seemed rather eager to kill the other, a far departure from what she knew earlier. She looked up at their angry faces, to see if she had, indeed, grabbed them, if only for a moment.
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Post by Judi Strange on Sept 19, 2021 6:39:21 GMT -7
"Some things exist only to burn..."
The branches grew, wrapping both in their embrace as Flora sought to diffuse the moment. “Flora please, it’s this place, it makes us what we really-” The thought would go unsaid, as graphically the Soul sword erupted through the Golems face as it cried out in agony! As it fell forward all the beautiful colors in it went to gray, and it began to lose cohesion, integrity. Behind it was a disc, just large enough for the sword.
Looking to Illyana the hooded New Mutant was retracting the blade form a similar disc beneath it, perhaps it was a trick of the light but you thought you could see a cruel smile. “Flora, enough with the tree.” she said sternly as the hooded visage turned to you. “We have too much to do for this, release me...now.” The last word frigid.
The Golem reached for you as the rot, the gray worked it’s way up it’s arm. “I forgive Illyana Rasputina, but not you. Flora, it’s ..a..mon..” with that, whatever the angelic earth being was; or more to the point who, it mattered little it was undone by the burning purity of the gleaming blade of the Soul Sword.
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Post by Starlight Pilgrim on Dec 6, 2021 14:46:19 GMT -7
FLORA
The stunned mutant girl watched as the forest golem's face--perhaps Pixie's--began to fade in color, shrivel and turn to dust. A wind, cut and sharpened by the strange, alien trees cut off a swath of the face, and then carried the rest of the dust away. Her eyes carried along with the dust as long as she could track it, but eventually her gaze flitted back to the Darkchylde being held by the branches.
She released her, the alien tree branches beginning to uncurl from around her. "I'm... sorry. I... this place. It's so overwhelming. I don't know what's real and what's..." She trailed off, looking back onto the ground where the remains of the body were, now only a few spread out piles of ash.
The last words of the golem made her shiver to herself, and she looked up into the eyes of the Darkchylde. The green mutant girl pushed herself to her feet, finally. "We... should keep going," she says. She hoped that all would be revealed in its time. That couldn't have been the real Pixie, right? Megan had to be okay. She had to be. She would deal with the monster... somehow... if she needed to.
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Post by Judi Strange on Dec 8, 2021 14:39:26 GMT -7
"There are no Snowflakes in Hell..."
The two moved onward, Under the deepest blue to tempest kissed vermilion cosmic sky they continued onward. Nothing more was said of what happened, if that could have been Pixie. If it was, then what? Another X-man for the monument in Limbo? As the pair moved up a rise, the grass so cool, so soft the X-man held up a pale hand to get her to stop.
There were two discoveries in that gesture, the first being the reason for her halting their progress. A settlement, in the middle of all this wonderment lay as if plucked out of time and space itself structures from antiquity. 18th century buildings of wood and shale in very deliberate styles. Some of these structures were capped with the telling rounded so called “onion domes” that offered an identity if not to the maker, to a culture it had been mirrored from.
The second discovery, this one more immediate, and worrisome perhaps for the plant girl of Earth. The hand they held aloft to halt their progress; it was so pallid it was white with a gray undertone. The thin fingers ended in clawed nails that did not look very human, possibly not even alive. “This is impossible, the odds are incredible.” came the soft, if slightly rasping voice form under the dark cloak. “I do not think I need to say what we are looking at; the big question is how; I doubt it was Megan.”
She moved to the lip of the hill to look down at the people coming and going, they seemed very much the image of idyllic humans of a bygone era, dress wise and manners it might as well be plucked out of Russian antiquity. “I do feel the great dome, that is the seat of power here, I can feel it’s Magic… It’s, twisted in on itself feeding, becoming, permeating every single inch of this place.” The hood looked back to Flora. “If there is an answer, and end of it will be in there where the power comes from... I feel it deep inside.
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Post by Starlight Pilgrim on Jan 1, 2022 18:41:18 GMT -7
FLORA
They walked through the woods, and, even after what happened, Flora couldn't help but see the beauty in much of the alien landscape. Her mind kept going back, however. It couldn't have really been Pixie, could it? Megan would not have... well, how well did she really know Megan, anyway? How much did she know Magik? She had known both of them for less than a day... or has it been longer? Shorter? Her stay in Limbo, her stay in this alien landscape... everything seemed to be ebbing, flowing, and fleeting.
Her biggest concern, more immediate than the repercussions of who had recently died, was the demonic being that she followed so blindly. Who was this, really? Had she really been flirting with this creature? It was attractive, in its own way, but it was like forbidden fruit. Forbidden not only because it had knowledge, of a sort, that one should not know, but because it was deadly if one wanted to live a long and healthy life.
She brushed her fingers over the long, luminescent grasses that came up almost chest high in places, and paused when the Darkchylde raised her pale claws. She did not want to know, anymore, how those long claws would feel against her skin. There was something more to her, something... not right. She got the feeling of... withering off of her. Maybe it was the spores of this world filling her, making her think strange things. Perhaps she was being paranoid. Her gaze left the Darkchylde and fell onto the village below, her eyes widening slightly.
"How could there be other humans here? I expected something like... I don't know, humanoids I guess, but... they look just like us. Well... humans. From over a hundred years ago." She follows her haze to the largest onion dome. "Maybe some kind of weird space-time rip? Maybe they needed Megan to, I dunno, power it in some way? The Victoriana and the fauna don't really... mesh well together in my head..." She thought about that for a moment, and reached over to touch the nearby trees.
Her eyes filmed over, going a solid green shade, as she... communicated?... with the tree. She shudders. "So much... strangeness. Not pain, but... twisting. Magic. Something about it feels familiar. Like smelling your favorite meal, smelling that secret ingredient that makes it stand out... I don't know," she said, pulling her hand away. "I think it was... forced to grow, in a way. It feels like..." She looks around.
"All of it. All of it feels like Megan."
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Post by Judi Strange on Jan 2, 2022 2:47:30 GMT -7
"There are no Snowflakes in Hell..."
Despite the insane probabilities, both saw indeed, people, relics out of time in this odd impossible landscape of color, the rough monstrous voice form under the hood that hid any glimpses of the girl, or possibly beast therein offered a soft, rasping reply. “Humans breed, if you find one anywhere. It will find a way to make more of them; Consuming everything in their path.” She leaned against a tree, the light from high above angles to offers scant moments of seeing the lower quadrant of her face which looked withered, dry and cracked. As she spoke sharp razor teeth glinted in the hard light, the rest of her featured devoured by the hoods shadow.
“It is clearly a hostile, vampiric realm, I can feel it and yet it has done nothing to you, that is the mystery.” She lifted a deathly pale hand clad in scorched metal and flexed it as she uttered a subversion and twisted form of Enochian words buried under her breath. A harsh feel of being studied, invaded by the dark magic of Limbo’s mistress ran through Flora then, pulling prodding seeking enlightenment. “I can sense nothing, no reason you are unaffiliated. But, as we are here, it would seem the answer lays downward, near the center of town- I too feel Megan in everything, every blade of grass and fetid sunbeam radiates with her life force.”
“We shall investigate, if it is feeding on Megan, it will learn nothing takes what is mine without bleeding for it.” She offered at last, pushing form the tree, she removed the gauntlet to have better dexterity for this casting. “First a disguise, so we can move to the center undetected- If there is magic at the heart of this, I will learn of it as we save my disciple.” The sensation of the invasive examination turned a soft, warmer almost with an intoxicating pleasing sensation as the young mutants physicality altered. The felt change far far deeper than a simple illusion.
There, as the sensations, of the spell faded both laid transformed. Illyana for her part looked quite normal again, wearing something akin to what the so called humans below wore, Flora for her part looked down to very normal looking hands, though her proportions, seemed off. She was human, but not exactly herself as a human someone else. Yana offered a half smirk “This will suffice, but we should hurry, even now I can feel this place bleeding off the spell.” After a lingering moment examining her work, she turned her gaze downward and began to descend into the valley that looked as if time itself had forgotten it’s very existence.
As if to prove her very point as she went Flora could see near the base of her neck a deep bruise, an unhealthy, sickly purple like a wound that had not broken the surface, Perhaps Illyana or rather The Darkchylde was correct, perhaps this realm was trying to undo her, and yet... why not Flora herself.
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Post by Starlight Pilgrim on Jan 2, 2022 8:57:02 GMT -7
FLORA
Flora started as she came back to herself. Her realization that everything felt like Megan made her begin to think. "I... suppose that's one way to think of humans. It's kind of a sad way, though, isn't it? They're people, not locusts... but... I suppose they might have some similarities as a group. Individual people are fine, though, on the most part." Well, there was the sort of scum who preyed on the weak, like those who came after her father. She had heard that some mutants hated humans, but was Illyana one of those? Maybe the stress of the situation was starting to get to the Russian.
"A hostile, vampiric realm? What do you mean? This place has been beautiful, and vibrant, and..." She trailed off, and finally took a good look at the parts of her that she could see at the bottom of the hood. "... is that what's been happening to you this whole time? It's been feeding off of you? Could this have to do with magic? The... Force, not you. It's draining Megan, using her as a battery to make itself grow more quickly, and now has begun to do the same to you. Or... maybe we're somehow inside of Megan? Such a weird thought, but... as for why I'm thriving, I don't know," she admits, looking down on the people again.
"Do you think it has to do with the magic you used to take those pieces of history to Limbo? Seems somehow similar, at least to my non-magical eyes."
Still, it made her feel a little better, in a way. At least about the creature back in the forest. Did that mean that Megan herself, while suffusing the place with life, was not actually dead? But perhaps expressing herself in its life?
She looked up when the suggestion of disguises was brought up, but before she could argue, she felt the invasive spell beginning to change her. She groaned softly, reaching up to touch the changing form, her eyes widening when she saw the human flesh tones once again. Tears came to her eyes; she looked normal again. Though she didn't know how she looked as a whole, something felt... wrong? Off? About it. She wasn't herself, but Illyana didn't know what she looked like as a person; but the idea was to not look like herself, human or not, right? The twinkle in Illyana's eye gave her cause for concern, but she had no way to see herself just yet. Maybe Flora looked like someone Illyana knew. She worked the thick, wild chestnut hair. It was pretty, but already hard to work with.
Flora plucked her fingers at the heavy dress she wore. "I can't believe women used to have to wear stuff like this," she muttered. "I bet a man designed it to keep us down." She inhaled, as best she could with the corset digging into her waist, and exhaled. "I'm ready to go," she say, taking a few tentative steps in the solid boots. She already missed being barefoot, but the mission was of greater import. Their time was limited.
What was happening to Illyana? Was this realm changing her? Both of them? She reached down to the earthen floor and crafted a long, thorned whip that looked like a simple rose while she carried it in her hair, and followed her down the hill, and into the fire. Was Pixie somehow protecting her? Or trying to undo Magik? Why, in either case? Or was there more to it?
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Post by Judi Strange on Jan 5, 2022 9:06:09 GMT -7
"There are no Snowflakes in Hell..."
The hood tilted, and the thin lips pulled into a masked cruel smile. “How would the flora see them, eveyone thinks they are the apex predator until they aren't.” She asked, “All existence is struggle in the circle of life, we rise and fall- if we are lucky we rise once more beyond such cycles.” The disguise having worked it’s arts she started to raise her hood, but passed to drink in the warmth, the scents that alluded to home, the pets it all smelled so very perfect. “It is, utterly perfect.” She offered without much more explanation, she could smell Lake Baikal, knew if she found it it would be the deepest of blues untouched and perfect. This world, what she had seen of it smelled, felt like Siberia even as it was somehow killing her, but by bit. Even now she could feel it pulling at her, like trying to pull a loose string on a poppet in folk magic.
Why not she mused, in some ways was she still that, a poppet that Apocalypse has made? If it were her, she would have raised a weapon, one that at the right time would fall in line and cut the throats of any who opposed her. By the time anyone knew it would be too late, no telepath could read her mind, what if she herself did not truly know it?
She looked over at the visage she had remade Flora into, a painful sting that she would need to get used to- why not use the resources at hand, perhaps she had no need of the other any longer, perhaps this would suffice until she grew bored of it all together. “I have crafted you into an image, one that if Megan is alive, is thinking she’d respond well enough in seeing, she may be angry with me, but you’ll get me close enough to see this ended."
The hood raised, the bright cold blue eyes stared out form its protective shadows. This was not Siberia, this was no where near Lake Baikal where she spoke to old Gods, this was a place masking as a friend to kill her; not unlike other places she thought was her home. “It is eating me it seems, even now despite what I have done I have no beating heart, I am a decaying corpse using a good deal of magic to hold together."
"Your notion has not eluded me, that it feeds off magic itself, but there is other matters at play, despite my resurrection..I am far from dead, yet it renders me so perhaps seeking my final destruction. Megan is not capable of such art, not in her heart.”
As the moved onward, down to the village she mused the question, it on the surface seemed similar but was not infernal. Its matrix, its structure while mystic, felt more animistic than ritual. “I will not rule it out but it feels more, primitive like a kind of Shamanism for lack of a proper explanation. Wild, free and instinctive rather than directed that I can see, or as I know it, if any of the natives approach, if we are to remain covert none of those must get to close or touch me, I assure you under the spell- I am still very dead.”
Entering the large wooden gates, the pair were immediately seen, observed but hoods up and the spell kept it more curious glances at the outsiders. It was, after all likely everyone knew everyone here and even if they were not a girl made of plants and, well.. an undead demon they would still garner suspicion. Illyana knew it would be so, her culture could be very in group or tribe compared to the easy going Western ones, these people certainly looked the part- Slavic features, mannerisms good enough to make her a touch homesick.
For her part as they moved on, Illyana seemed to be making a beeline to a structure that as far as Flora knew of the locale was a church. A large, towering structure that was as humble as it was ornate in scope. Comprised of wood, many floors that stood leagues over the rest of the wooden structures. Illyana frowned slightly, not all together comfortable if the structure was actually holy in such a place. “Be ready for anything, I have no idea what that truly is…” her words were honest, direct and to the point. She found it hard to believe the word of any God could find it way to such a place let alone that one.
 
She crossed the street cloak flowing after her as all eyes were on the pair, she was undoubtable ready and able to cut down anything that stood in her way, her true soul have proved that much earlier. If this realm, this place sought to take form her and end her life.
God or not..she would leave it a cinder if she must. However, what gave her pause was not the eyes of the many, the threat of a God high above.. It seemed to be a single, solitary statue in the center of the round about. Chipped cut dark stone in a city of wood, it seemed simple and very much a product of Russian art of its time. Crude, but she knew the face, well enough she stopped at its base and looked up from under the shadows of the hood. it was much younger than she had seen in a photo from that day, much so then the body she had seeing the last, but the traits were unmistakable.
“George Ivanovich Gurdjieff…impossible..”
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Post by Starlight Pilgrim on Jan 17, 2022 6:19:24 GMT -7
FLORA
Flora did not understand what the situation was, not fully, but she could tell it had to be some kind of trap. The amount of honey that was being glazed to attracted Illyana Rasputina seemed to be in excess. A floral bouquet meant to calm even the fiercest of bees? The look on the blond woman's face was that of a little girl returning home, and finding it to be exactly as she expected. But this seemed like an impossibility; Though she may have studied it, it seemed impossible to her that Magik could have experienced anything about this era of Russia; unless she was much, much older than Flora thought. How many rings would one find inside of Illyana Rasputina if you cut her open?
Her own appearance at the moment was also something that concerned Veronica. The way that Magik's piercing eyes kept drifting back to her was amusing, in a way; validating in another. But this wasn't her own face she was wearing, was it? Who was it that would bring Illyana's softening gaze time and time again? She felt like she could even get Illyana to kiss her again, if she looked like this, but who would that hurt more in the end? Herself, or Illyana? She nodded her understanding at the explanation of who it was, even if it did not explain exactly who.
She followed her and listened to her theories. "You don't think it's someone deliberately trying to lure us in, then? It's merely a... defense mechanism? A venus fly trap waiting to close its jaws on us?" Yeah, yeah, another flower analogy, but it was the closest thing she knew. "This is just the fruity scent, and it's waiting to see how much we struggle?" That didn't explain where Megan was, however. Or what they had done to her.
The church looked beautiful, if... overbearing and creepy in a way. It had a feeling of terminus about it. The last stop on a spiritual journey. "Is this really how they build their churches? Seems excessive. Is it that many floors, or is it all open inside?"
She stayed next to Illyana, watching the people around them, examining them for human behavior; or the lack thereof. She didn't want to use her powers; what would be the point of the disguises then? But she would move in front of the blond woman anyway, just in case any tried to get close. She didn't notice the shock on Illyana's face, as she was busy scanning the area when they approached the statue. "Who's that?" She asked, curious.
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Post by Judi Strange on Jan 17, 2022 15:47:30 GMT -7
"There are no Snowflakes in Hell..."
Moving in front go the Slavic mutant Veronica could see the curiosity in the pale blue eyes as she looked up at the statue. "He was a radical thinker in the old days, a a Russian philosopher, mystic, spiritual teacher- musician he was in many schools of thought." The eyes veering down and there was an almost painful recognition on them as she registered the face Veronica wore in disguise. The looked back up as she continued.
"I read him as a child in Limbo, Belasco had his books in my library. He taught that most humans do not possess a unified consciousness and thus live their lives in a state of hypnotic "waking sleep" and we're prisoners of it, or at least most are... he is long dead, this, all of this is impossible without some from of trickery."
She allows herself another look at the image that broke her great, what was cheeky seemed a poor idea "Come along Kitty," she said sardonically as she moved downward to the church, as foreboding and looming as it was, it was still beautiful and of her people and her past. "I feel Megan is inside, and such...great power.. rests with her."
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Post by Starlight Pilgrim on Jan 17, 2022 16:23:01 GMT -7
FLORA
She adjusted her hood, hiding her features deeper in shadows as she examined the statue, listening to her explanation of who he was. "So what you're telling me is that a lot of this must have come from your head in some way. It's appealing to some part of you, perhaps a younger part of you that still dreamed of what people, real people, could've been like while you were... being tutored by this Belasco guy?" What a strange name.
"So this guy taught that humans, what, like, follow some connected inner voice that gives them a sense of purpose? Maybe they're using Megan for that inner voice, then. Maybe she's somehow... directing them, or maybe protecting them? It seems to be from inside of your head, but at the same time, keeping you from getting inside. Or maybe just the Darkchylde part of you. Man, this is really existential, I can't imagine how it's making you feel."
"Kitty?" She asked, a little under her breath as she began to follow the witch towards the great Church. "Am I her cat now?"
It was an interesting experience, but she most felt like she was at a Renaissance Faire, while wearing one of the costumes, while the "actors" went about their work trying to make the place feel alive. How alive was it? She moved to Illyana's side, neither behind nor in front now, and still kept a watch to make sure no one touched her.
She put her hand to the door as they approached the church, and began to pull it open.
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Post by Judi Strange on Feb 9, 2023 5:20:05 GMT -7
"There are no Snowflakes in Hell..."
The wood creaked as old wood does, a simple thing but one that stood out in this odd realm of color and antiquity. Inside the scenes were assailed but a strong incense ad some other note that teased the palette, something the sweet ritual incense was masking but failing in places and moments. “Possibly,” was all the Demonic Slavic Sorceress would allow, perhaps there was more she would say but she looked down and on the hooded robe a speck of dark rich blood pattered. She lifted her hand into the darkened hood to find it was not alone, her skin burned with a dry, yet opened wound that caused her to bare her teeth. Under it, more and more she resembled less the maiden and more the beat that ate such things awaiting a hero to slay it.
“Thinker yes, but was seen in a very poor light and driven off as his power- as his influence grew to rival his..”Betters” as it was said then. George Ivanovich Gurdjieff, I see no reason I would think of a man beyond the academic, his power was nothing compared to mine.” The latter hissed as an edge of annoyance and temper was riding just beneath the surface of the instruction, perhaps inward- as much as outward this place was causing her to lose hold to the dark soul within.”He spoke often of seeking to wake up, to see the truth that most living things blind themselves to, only then could you perhaps be freed from this self deception of “unified consciousness and thus be transformed through intense effort or experience.”
As the pair moved through the old temple, shadows against the old world magnificence of the structure she paused and raised a clawed hand, the skin did look a bit mottled, perhaps rotten or twisted. “This way, down the stairs I sense her..and smell..her blood.” It was said with cool matter of factness as she disappeared into the inky darkness of the stairwell. No more was offered on the "Kitty" comment, at least to Flora herself- Illyana however, felt a pang at it- an echo of what was before and likely as much dust as her relations with Piotr.
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Post by Starlight Pilgrim on Feb 10, 2023 14:26:37 GMT -7
FLORA
Flora was having trouble thinking of herself in the same way that she used to. Perhaps it was from being in this place, and the Limbo before it, but she was beginning to forget herself as Veronica, as Ronnie, and only as Flora. And even that was beginning to feel like it wasn't... enough. Was there something else she would end up calling herself before too long, if she kept spending so much time with Magik? The Sorceress Supreme of Limbo did not seem to be doing well herself, and Flora began to worry if she was going to follow down the same path soon enough.
Still... She felt more powerful here. She was not having the same trouble as the Russian. The place was making her feel more and more relaxed about herself, about who she was and what she could do. Perhaps almost too much? The temple, the one they were in right now, was probably the only place she had felt truly uncomfortable in this world.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked, looking at the woman's cracking skin. "Perhaps I could grow some aloe, or... something that would help soothe the pain away?" She wanted to help her, but... was it Magik? Was it Illyana, or just this Darkchylde being that was a husk of her normal self? A dark shadow? A dark reflection?
Her gaze followed down the twisting stairway going down, and she hesitated. Was she really going to do this? Well, why not... she had to save Megan, and possibly Illyana along the way. That was what being a heroine was all about, right? Except it wasn't just that. They were truly her friends, and she had to help them. "Please be alright, Megan," she murmured to herself. "We're on the way."
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Post by Judi Strange on Feb 12, 2023 5:06:32 GMT -7
"There are no Snowflakes in Hell..."
As the pair moved deep into the darkness of the rough constructed stairwell the rich metallic tang of Megans blood filled Illyana’s senses, it hung heavy in the air in a way that implied whatever had befallen her pupil had not been the kindest of fates. The realm, this place and mores in this recreation of an old Slavic Temple out her on edge as they proceeded don into it’s labyrinthine depths.
When the new X-baby had offered help it almost brought a cruel snicker from the fallen X-man. Not because she could not, as the lattice of wounds and blood seemed to be getting worse, but rather that this offer should come from one of Pixies friends; a girl she barely knew when her very own flesh and blood had always betrayed her. Her heart was bitter and not simply for hr time as the monster of Apocalypse, no, this was genuine hatred and rage. Mikhail- her brother had seen fit to hasten her end Wirth the Legacy Virus and her so called “good brother” Piotr could not be bothered to even be at her side when she faced final death, nor Kitty for that matter- it seemed all she dared to let in were monsters ultimately and she died cast off while their worlds went on with nary a moment to even mourn her. Ironic now that it was Pixies little friend who possibly, perhaps out of well reasoned fear should to sooth her- if only to save her own skin.
“нет” she declined curtly, the pin (and it was an exquisite one) kept her focussed, kept not only Illyana herself going but also helped focus the monster inside her. Ion reality, since this realm, this place she was becoming more and more unsure if there was a difference since the resurrection, did En Saba Nur- the so called “Forever Walker” only bring back part of her soul if any at all; was such a thing possible? From under the hood the Rotting Sorceress Supreme of Limbo heralded them onward.
At the base of the stairs she gestured to the other side of the door and waved her little helper forward with a clawed, tethered beastly hand. “Give me your hand- there are two on the other side of this entrance, let us surprise them.” There was, at least of Flora may well note a certain- malevolence to her husky, raspy tone. Offering the clawed hand, the other son grew and was covered by scorched dark other plate that seemed silver underneath are the pitted burned plate that covered fingertip to shoulder.
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Post by Starlight Pilgrim on Feb 22, 2023 9:07:25 GMT -7
FLORA
Magik was... well, not beginning to scare her. She had started to scare her a long time ago. Was it a long time ago, or just... a day or two ago? This realm, Limbo, all seemed very strange to her. Time seemed malleable. A mere concept instead of a hard rule of life. Would she--if she in fact survived this--find herself even in her own time when she finally returned to Earth, or find that years had passed? Or mere seconds? Could she see anything the same after all she had experienced in here?
No, but Magik, Illyana Rasputina, was deeply unsettling her more and more. She seemed to be losing her humanity right here, in front of her, what little she seemed to have left. It was everything Flora could do to not just wrap the woman up in vines and try to keep her bound. "Why don't we try something else?" She asked, and kneeled down on the floor.
There was potential for plant life anywhere if you knew where to look. And this realm seemed to have a lot of it. Even down here... or perhaps especially so. She could reach into the earth and find the hidden roots, the hidden fungus, the fonts of life waiting for another age. She didn't know how she knew these things, but beneath the man made structures, there was always nature, waiting patiently to creep in, to retake what was once belonged to the Earth, capital E.
"Instead of barging in, guns blazing, let me see what's inside, see if we can't stop them before that..."
She would reach deep into the earth and shivered as she put some of her own life force into the plant life. She could almost... hear the plants, calling for her, crying for her. 'Mother! She feeds us! Gives us life! Please mother, more, give us more!'. Flora shivered at that; that was new. The plants quickly would try to grow into the fortress, seeking every crack and crevice that they could, trying to break into the other room so she could sense what else was in there. A slow, subtle growth underfoot.
With another burst of life, another burst of energy and life from herself, she tried to entrap those she sensed inside in binding vines. Enough to trap, but not enough to crush. "I think... we can enter now," she says, a little out of breath. Her green is now darker, as though some of the life inside of her had been drained. "Please, don't just go in sword swinging."
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