Erik Lehnsherr (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
morethanhuman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
all_inclusive2015-04-14 01:23 pm
morethanhuman) wrote in all_inclusive2015-04-14 01:23 pm
choosing the impossible
In the dark, Erik ran, the sounds of skittering and and an eerie humming echoing, ambient, in the air around him. They didn't wear metal, any of them, except the ones who carried knives— but they didn't need knives to hurt, to kill. He'd seen that firsthand.
He rounded a corner into a long gallery space, one entire wall made of glass, an arresting view of the city's grandeur and the vastness of the ocean that surrounded it. Even after weeks of this, living in the half-light of flares and sputtering neon, it still caught at him— he was under water, miles from the sun or a breath of fresh air. Like the vastness of space outside his window on the Proserpina, the ocean was endless, and he was stuck in this tomb of a city trying like hell to find his way out. Looking out over the city with fish swimming like flocks of birds between the skyscrapers, Erik spared a thought to wish he could have visited it in its heyday.
Those seconds of distraction cost him. A splicer dropped in front of him, startling a shout from him as he reeled back, jerking himself out of reach as it swiped at him with something— not metal, glass perhaps?— he felt the pull on his upper arm, then the burn as the pain set in. Almost too fast to track, another one skittered out from the shadows, and Erik could hear the hyena laugh that signaled another wasn't far off. Fuck. Where was the goddamned door, anyway? He'd been working for an eternity to make his way back here, and he was so close—
"Find a better hiding place, monster," the one in front of him hissed, its teeth bared in an insane grin, and Erik didn't waste another second before lashing out. A cloud of slender blades hovered by his left shoulder like a wizard's familiar; his left hand shot out and the blades flew, zipping through the air like hornets to pierce the splicer's flesh, burrowing in and through and out, only to twist midair and come back for more.
Ignoring the screams, Erik gestured with his other hand to the hulking splicer advancing on him from the right. Lightning arced from his palm, tracing a parabola between him and his attacker, the purple light illuminating his own fierce satisfaction at the sight of the splicer writhing in agony. The swarm of blades finished their bloody work just in time for Erik to turn, wild-eyed, as the third splicer dropped to the ground behind him. His pulse was racing, the taste of ozone in his mouth, and he threw both his hands out in front of him, metal and electricity flying free.
Three splicers lay dead at his feet. His arm throbbing, blood seeping through his sweater, Erik reoriented himself and headed toward the bathysphere station. The door wasn't far— he'd be home before he knew it... as long as there were no more nasty surprises.
[Find him in Rapture during or after the splicers attack, or once he's come back through the door. He's singed and filthy and bleeding from a long cut on his left bicep. He's injected himself with the Electro Bolt plasmid, which gives him the ability to electrically charge or shock things at will. For those who see him regularly, he's been stuck in Rapture for over a month.]
He rounded a corner into a long gallery space, one entire wall made of glass, an arresting view of the city's grandeur and the vastness of the ocean that surrounded it. Even after weeks of this, living in the half-light of flares and sputtering neon, it still caught at him— he was under water, miles from the sun or a breath of fresh air. Like the vastness of space outside his window on the Proserpina, the ocean was endless, and he was stuck in this tomb of a city trying like hell to find his way out. Looking out over the city with fish swimming like flocks of birds between the skyscrapers, Erik spared a thought to wish he could have visited it in its heyday.
Those seconds of distraction cost him. A splicer dropped in front of him, startling a shout from him as he reeled back, jerking himself out of reach as it swiped at him with something— not metal, glass perhaps?— he felt the pull on his upper arm, then the burn as the pain set in. Almost too fast to track, another one skittered out from the shadows, and Erik could hear the hyena laugh that signaled another wasn't far off. Fuck. Where was the goddamned door, anyway? He'd been working for an eternity to make his way back here, and he was so close—
"Find a better hiding place, monster," the one in front of him hissed, its teeth bared in an insane grin, and Erik didn't waste another second before lashing out. A cloud of slender blades hovered by his left shoulder like a wizard's familiar; his left hand shot out and the blades flew, zipping through the air like hornets to pierce the splicer's flesh, burrowing in and through and out, only to twist midair and come back for more.
Ignoring the screams, Erik gestured with his other hand to the hulking splicer advancing on him from the right. Lightning arced from his palm, tracing a parabola between him and his attacker, the purple light illuminating his own fierce satisfaction at the sight of the splicer writhing in agony. The swarm of blades finished their bloody work just in time for Erik to turn, wild-eyed, as the third splicer dropped to the ground behind him. His pulse was racing, the taste of ozone in his mouth, and he threw both his hands out in front of him, metal and electricity flying free.
Three splicers lay dead at his feet. His arm throbbing, blood seeping through his sweater, Erik reoriented himself and headed toward the bathysphere station. The door wasn't far— he'd be home before he knew it... as long as there were no more nasty surprises.
[Find him in Rapture during or after the splicers attack, or once he's come back through the door. He's singed and filthy and bleeding from a long cut on his left bicep. He's injected himself with the Electro Bolt plasmid, which gives him the ability to electrically charge or shock things at will. For those who see him regularly, he's been stuck in Rapture for over a month.]
no subject
"We can go forward toward this bathysphere. Once we get out of here, you need to rest." Jaenelle's tone is stern because while Erik is an adult and a powerful one, from what she can tell, she's a Queen and a Healer. "Conserve your strength. I can handle things if we run into trouble."
no subject
It was dark, and she was still shit at making lights without blowing things up, so Erik let a little of his new ability out, a blue haze that clung to his fingertips and gave them just enough light to see by. "They come from above, sometimes," he said. "I'll watch above and behind if you take care of whatever's ahead."
no subject
"If I had time, I would weave an illusion web to trap them in but anything I could do on the fly might be unpredictable and ineffective. We'll just keep trying to move forward," she says.
Jaenelle cocks her head and looks at his hand, admiring the haze. "How are you doing that, Erik?"
no subject
To one side a hallway opened up, the glass ceiling offering them a watery view of neon and fish, and another splicer skittering toward them. "On your left," Erik barked, lightning shooting from his palm just a second too late to catch the thing before it leapt straight at them.
no subject
"You attack, I'll heal," Jaenelle decides. Healing comes much more naturally to her than any sort of combat magic and she thinks Erik is more than capable of handling himself when it comes to the latter. She's always been a Queen and a Healer first; it's only because of circumstances that she's learned to weave webs and make poisons. Jaenelle likes the excitement but not at the cost of friends, so she wants out sooner rather than later.
She moves behind him, adopting a defensive position. "Keep pressing forward?"
no subject
The next half hour was more of the same— splicers quickly dispatched by Erik's blades or his electricity, their path detouring around collapsed hallways, periodic glances over his shoulder to catch Jaenelle's profile backlit in the flickering neon. At last they turned a corner and the door to the bathysphere station loomed before them, and Erik couldn't keep back a fervent muttered "Yes!" as they started toward it.
Inside, he pulled the levers to make the thing start its shaky ascent, and he slumped against the wall, heaving the first deep breath (it seemed) he'd taken in weeks. His hands were shaking; the Electro-Bolt left him that way sometimes. Clenching them into fists, he looked up at Jaenelle, who looked disheveled but defiant, ready for whatever still stood between them and the door. He was immensely grateful for her— but the words to say so eluded him, so he settled instead on, "How the hell did you end up here?"
no subject
"I found the door after I wove the web. It was sort of difficult, since I didn't have any of your blood to use as a focus."