In a cataclysm known as the Nightfall, the worlds were almost completely destroyed by a harrowing surge of darkness.
In the shadows of the ensuing chaos a new group has taken shape. Led by an Aegyl named Kalos, the 11th Hour touts an esoteric knowledge of how to combat the darkness and restore the worlds. They might be the worlds’ best chance at survival; but nobody really knows enough about them to confirm or deny their claims.
On the brink of collapse, the universe holds its breath in anticipation. Of restoration? Of destruction? It is up to individuals like yourself to decide.
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Post by qwertyuiopaz on Apr 20, 2010 15:58:04 GMT -4
WARNING
A flash of red flooded the cramped personal-space-travel device provided so generously by Lady Octonomy's School for the Afflicted, constricting the velvet boy's sleep until it faded away into annoyed alertness. It was awfully shaky, Desya was thankful that he didn't need to eat. He knew he would be throwing up right about now if he was normal. But that was just the thing, he wasn't normal. A freak, a weirdo, anything synonymous to that was a perfect describer for him.
WARNING, APPROACHING LAND AT -ERROR, CONTACT HELP-
Wonderful. A glance at his speedometer confirmed it; the blasted thing was broken, just as broken as the radio. Why did he have to grab the one that didn't happen to work? Out of the hundreds of personal little ships, he picked the one faulty piece of junk of the bunch. At least it was filled with fuel, and the meter for that was working. It looked about three quarters full, still. Impressive. At least he didn't have a gas guzzler on his hands.
The thing was shaking violently, as if the obnoxious, red light didn't wake him up the first time it assaulted his eyelids. He was about to stab the thing with his ice pick, but that would probably cause a whole jubilee of issues. At this rate, it would shut off the motor and detach the wings. Arching his neck to get a view downward, he found himself heading at an angle to a beach. Great, a freaking beach? Where it was normal to get into only a bathing suit and take to the waters? Perfect. He hoped he'd land in sand, the angle he was going at confirmed this in no time. Combined with the speed, maybe he'd get lucky and have a nice landing. Swallowing hard and gripping the hand rests as tight as he possibly could, he shut his eyes and hoped for the best.
Destination reached, location -ERROR, SEE NAVIGATIONAL SYSTEM-
He opened one eye wearily, then the next. He was buried in sand. Maybe that was the issue? Unknown to him, the back set of wings stuck out of the sand. Unbuckling the belt that kept him strapped in, he fiddles with a couple of devices. The navigation system was working, thankfully, but coming up with errors all over the place. Perhaps space was miscalculated or something? He had one little thing, one tiny little almost insignificant thing going for him. It wasn't enough.
Feeling sorry for himself didn't help how he was stuck in sand. He figured he could engage it in submarine mode to try to look above, maybe use the internal microphone to contact someone. Flipping a switch, the thing vibrated for a second or two and stopped. A familiar red message flashed to him via the main screen.
-ERROR, NOT SUBMERGED IN WATER-
Oh, wasn't this just wonderful. Swearing to himself, he heard something fall behind him. The microphone. It was unlocked! Swiveling behind him, he picked it up and put it back in the correct place, pushing it up through the sand. The looker-thing was... Well, nowhere to be found. Sighing, he pressed a button on the microphone, holding it as he spoke.
"Is there anyone who can hear me?" he asked, "I'm a little stuck and some help would be great. All I'll need you to do is clean some of the sand off of the top so the door can do the rest. To communicate back to me, just press the button on the receiver and talk. Please, if anybody can hear me, I need help." Taking the pressure off of his button, he waited. How would they take to his appearance? If it was anything like back home, then... Well, he was done for.
Just then, the girl's attention was torn away as soon as something in the sky caught her attention. Watching it, her lips parted slightly as she noticed that it was a ship. A ship that was apparently coming from another world.
"No way..." she breathed. Watching as the ship crashed right into Play Island. The shockwave of the landing made the waves splash around her ankles more violently than just the subtle flow that was usually there and just like that, Ikari was off for the dock. Riku could scold her later for using his boat, that was for sure, but since he wasn't here and she wanted to be seeing what was up, that was exactly what she was going to do.
Jumping into the small structure, Ikari immediately grabbed the oars and started rowing to the island. It didn't help that the water was still a little choppy from the landing, but that didn't matter. She was going to be getting to that island, and she was going to see what or who was piloting that ship -- and why they were just dumb enough to aim it straight into an island of all things.
As the boat reached the shores of Play Island, Ikari hastily jumped out and then dragged the boat up further so it didn't wash away. After doing as such, she jogged to where the ship landed and then inspected the area around it. She wasn't exactly sure what to be making of the situation at this point in time -- heads or tails, the two sides looked pretty much the same to her at the moment.
Pacing around, that's when she heard something.
"Is there anyone who can hear me?"
She blinked.
"I'm a little stuck and some help would be great. All I'll need you to do is clean some of the sand off of the top so the door can do the rest. To communicate back to me, just press the button on the receiver and talk. Please, if anybody can hear me, I need help."
Walking over, Ikari placed her gloved hands against the surface of the ship and looked around. Where was this 'receiver' that she was supposed to be seeing? Ah, whatever... might as well do what the guy said if she can't exactly be talking back to him. So... with that sentiment in mind, Ikari gave a somewhat irritable sigh and started digging at the sand.
Post by qwertyuiopaz on Apr 20, 2010 16:35:16 GMT -4
"This sucks, this sucks, this sucks on ice," he sighed, absently pressing the 'open hatch' button to open the door. Hopefully someone heard him and was attempting to dig him out, but he had gotten no answer. He could be wasting his time. That would be such an idiotic move on his part. He could survive probably much longer than any human could down here, but that didn't mean he wanted to.
He removed his scarf and his jacket, revealing only his neck. He figured he could risk that much. Hah. Yeah, if someone was even up there. After a few more tries, all in vain, he stopped and leaned back in his chair, hopeless. There was nothing he could be looking forward to besides getting out, and that didn't seem like it was going to be happening. He had to try anything. Pressing all of the form changing buttons, a grand total of three, he found that they all resulted in the same thing: a slight rumble, and the sound of failure in the form of silence.
He turned and held the microphone again. What could be the problem? For one, people could be scared. He knew he would be if some ship just crashed right into your hometown. Or island, whatever. There could simply be nobody there. Or, maybe, there was someone there and they were just the silent type or something. He had to address all of those. He spun the volume wheel down a bit just in case there was someone approaching it and tried it again.
"If there's anybody out there, I need help. Don't be scared, I'm just a person-" Mutated afflicted freak- "who needs help. If there's anybody there, please, just push the button beneath the receiver and talk into it. The button's just below the tip of the receiver." Unknown to him, the receiver on his end was just as broken as the navigation system and his radio.
He stopped pressing that button and began the tortuously repetitive poking of the door hatch opener. Error, too much weight on door, he knew. There was always too much freaking weight on the stupid door. Closing his eyes, he breathed slower in an attempt to calm himself. It worked, and he found himself pressing the button in time with his breathing. Sub-conscious OCD? Perhaps. He absently fiddled with his scarf in his other hand. Unable to decide if that was an action of boredom or nervousness, he decided that it would be both.
Was that a beep? The same beep that happened just before-
Tightening his grip around the scarf, the door began opening very slowly, shifting the sand around it. He climbed up on the chair, mortified at the amount of sand leaking into his ship. He quickly fumbled with the thing, wrapping it around his neck just in time for the sunlight to burst through rather gloriously. He squinted, shielding the sun with his arm.
"Thank you, thank you, I didn't know how long I'd be down there. The microphone wasn't too loud, was it?" he said rather quietly, but this was his normal voice. All he could hope for now was a nice person. He hopped out of the ship, back onto land. Strangely, the beach seemed rather... Empty. Maybe he just got lucky. Still, he needed a shovel to get his ship out of this. That, and to know where he was.
Backing up several paces and bracing herself just in case, Ikari looked to the rather... covered up person that emerged from the ship. She blinked a couple of times and then just gave a somewhat skeptical look as she started to relax and fold her arms over her chest.
"Thank you, thank you, I didn't know how long I'd be down there. The microphone wasn't too loud, was it?"
A slight chuckle escaped from Ikari's lips.
"No... not at all. Not when you're used to louder..." Ikari replied, arcing a brow somewhat. "You're all right, though, right? Mean... the crash didn't look that bad, but it still doesn't negate the fact that it still happened...."
Post by qwertyuiopaz on May 22, 2010 11:53:59 GMT -4
Desya nodded.
"Mm, I'm... fine, thank you." It was difficult to think, even for a second, that someone was worried about him. Someone actually cared for the first time in a long time. When you were one of the Afflicted, you didn't have time to stop and care for another human being. They all had a secret, unspoken code. If one of us goes down, it's no big loss. If a million of us go down, it's no big loss. Whatever happens, you have to keep moving and unless the person is abandoned, help nobody. Sure, the kids at the school were taught better, and they did help others once in a while, but it was somewhat unheard of outside that one sanctuary.
The world he lived in was vicious. Death wasn't frightful, wasn't rare. Desya was used to it. Being killed violently wouldn't have scared him, but being trapped under sand... That would mean he would be trapped forever. Not having to eat, drink... Well, that wouldn't be fun. He would have gone crazy, trying to get someone's attention every single day of his life and failing... No, he got this person's attention within the first hour, at least. It was fine. He was fine. She was fine. Everything was fine, and this world seemed to be great and free of hate.
"Um, so, I... Kind of don't know where I am. The GPS failed, the radio failed... Uh, would you mind telling me?" he asked, trying to be as polite as he could. He left the option open for her to refuse him, as that would have happened in his old world. He wasn't sure of the customs here. Maybe, when signaling forgiveness, they bowed or something. He didn't bow, of course, he figured that his asking where they were signified that he didn't know anything about this place either. After all, the name was generally the first thing someone ever learned about somewhere else. This place shouldn't be any different.
