NIGHTMARE PLOT: BATTLE LOG

[these_balls]

Who: Nightmare Plot participants!
Where: THE BASEMENT (dun dun dunnnnn)
When: Wednesday, October 30
Summary: IT'S NOT CHERNOBOG. But you still have to fight it.
Rating: PG-13 in general; please mark threads that go higher accordingly!
Log:





YOU ARE HERE. IT LOOKS LIKE THIS. YOU'RE FIGHTING THIS. (IT'S NOT CHERNOBOG.)

ALSO, MOOD MUSIC.


KEY:

• RED areas are inaccessible regions! This time, characters have a little less discretion in what they perceive as the reason for the inaccessibility; it'll either be something like a broken or crumbling wall, a locked door, an archway overgrown with dangerous-looking vines, thick fog, or something else of that nature!

• The GREEN area is the set of stairs you used to get down here in the first place! Again, this is here so you know where your starting point is in relation to everything else.

~

☆ THE NUMBER TO MEET OR BEAT IS 55 PARTICIPANTS ☆.

REMEMBER: IF YOUR CHARACTER DOES NOT POST TO THE BOSSFIGHT LOG AT LEAST ONCE
(AS A TOP-LEVEL COMMENT OR IN RESPONSE TO SOMEONE ELSE'S TOP-LEVEL COMMENT)
BEFORE 7:00 AM EST on OCTOBER 31, THEY WILL NOT COUNT TOWARD THE 55-PARTICIPANT GOAL!

~

QUICK LINKS

THE BOSSFIGHT INFOPOST | QUESTIONS FOR MODS | SUPERPOWERS REQUEST THREAD | BOSSFIGHT PARTICIPATION CHECK-IN

Comments

[doitrockapella]

[It's impossible to miss the sound of that blast; wide and shifting though it might be, this is an enclosed chamber, and Carmen's spending roughly as much time staying out of the way of friendly fire here as she is at avoiding the enemies themselves. By and large, she's been doing all right with it, given the general weirdness of people all around her drawing swords out of thin air and turning into giant robots and throwing all manner of elemental energy at the massive shadow monster in their midst. But there's something about an explosion that draws her attention like a signal — some innate reflex that demands she pay attention to this sound, this threat.

She's mid-swing on her grappling hook when she starts to look around for the originator of that blast, and it doesn't take her long to pick out Nietzsche on the Escher ledge, hands aloft and head back and laughing.

The words that come to mind are ones she would never be able to repeat aloud on children's educational television.

Her first priority, of course, is to get the blazes out of his way; that's just sheer common sense, and if he's going to be blasting, she wants to be well outside the reach of it. But as she alights on a platform of her own and stands there (oddly, sideways on the wall, feeling a bit like a fly with the way she can perch there with such ease) watching him, she finds herself pausing — not moving to stop him, not yet. Just watching.

If this is his alchemy, what he's doing here, like this...

It catches in her throat that there's something beautiful in it. Something savage, cruel, and beautiful.

And it's important, somehow, that she watch. That she understand. She may never get the chance to see him like this again — lit up with blue energy in his hands and fire in his eyes.

Считаете ли вы, живы, Nietzsche?

A sensible person would run from a man like this. But she can't; she's got to get up there, stop him, something. Whether that's for his sake or everyone else's, she doesn't know.

Her monsters have all been creatures of fire, and this is another. But this time, she's drawn in, just as she somehow unconsciously knew she'd be — again, as always, a moth to the flame.]

[explosivecombat]

[Even though he may not seem terribly lucid, just by looking at him, that doesn't change the fact that he's almost always overly aware of his surroundings, even in circumstances like this; he senses her approach before he sees it, and even when he does see it there's still something unfocused in his gaze when he looks at her, a light laugh behind his words when he speaks.]

I didn't take you to be the sort to stay for the battle, Locke.

[doitrockapella]

[It's telling — and everyone concerned would probably agree that it's also entirely sensible, really — that when he turns his gaze on her, there's a moment when her instincts scream at her to run.

But it only lasts a moment.

She doesn't always know what's good for her, after all.]

I don't like letting other people fight mine for me, Nietzsche.

[explosivecombat]

Something we have in common, then - although it's been a while since I've experienced a battlefield quite this challenging.

[He shifts a bit, holding one of his hands out toward her, palm facing outward; it's scarred a bit, pale remnants of that time that Fullmetal had sliced his hand open still visible beneath the array, but the actual circle remains unbroken.]

You've shown me the arrays you've designed; it's about time you saw mine.

[doitrockapella]

[So that's why he wears his gloves, she thinks in a flash of revelation. It's strange to see his hands bare — almost as strange as going without her own gloves, really — and the bold lines of the array cutting across his palm suddenly manage to drive home the reality of everything he's told her up until now, about alchemy and his world and the things he's done with it.

It's more than just lines on a page, words on a screen. It's real, and powerful, and as dangerous as he is.

And yet it occurs to her, despite that, that this isn't the same as that night in Goldenrod. It looks like it, certainly — his mania, her anxiety, the potential for collateral damage all around. Then, she'd had the right to talk him down. But is it really the same thing now?

Whether she likes it or not, this is war. Pretending it isn't would be self-centered and naive. And as loath as she might be to choke back her lofty moral superiority...they've remarked before, time and again, that she has no right to interfere. Not in this. Not when it's something she can't possibly understand.

She breathes.]

This isn't exactly what I would've called an ideal time for a lesson, teacher.

[She inclines her head in the direction of the monster.]

Can you stop that thing?

[explosivecombat]

[He just kind of smiles at that, really.]

I've been tasked with destroying cities on my own, in the past. So perhaps I can.

Whether I can do it without leveling this entire area is another story, however.

[He looks at her then; though he's still giving her that strangely dissonant smile, his gaze seems to have cleared up a little, at least.]

I'm fairly sure that neither of us want that, do we?

[doitrockapella]

[She doesn't bother to answer that question, not this time. The answer goes without saying, really; they both already know it, and she wouldn't be who she is if she suggested anything different, anyway.]

Then what are you going to do?

[explosivecombat]

[And while he doesn't laugh this time, he does look quite like he's tempted to.]

What choice do I have? Clearly standing around doing nothing isn't an option.

[doitrockapella]

[You know, all those times when she was so convinced she wanted to see what he was like when he's actually enjoying himself are suddenly starting to feel like classic examples of be careful what you wish for...]

There have to be more options besides leveling the building or standing around doing nothing.

[explosivecombat]

Don't worry, Locke, I'll leave the building standing, along with the others in it.

Assuming they don't get in my way, of course.

[doitrockapella]

"The others" doesn't cover you and me.

[explosivecombat]

Do you really think I'm that self-sacrificing?

[doitrockapella]

If your orders were to to stop it?

[explosivecombat]

My orders involve protecting my superior officer. I can't very well do that if I'm dead and he knows it.

[doitrockapella]

That still doesn't cover me.

[But there's something in the way she says it that's just slightly too cavalier to support the implication that she's really concerned, on that particular point. Even here in the middle of the chaos, there's a certain rhythm and tempo to their exchanges; that response is simply the next link in a well-traveled chain.]

[explosivecombat]

I have more faith in you than that.

[doitrockapella]

I don't want to die.

[It comes out quieter than she'd intended, but the surprise doesn't show on her face.]

[explosivecombat]

You're not going to.

[It slides out in Drachman, far more easily than it should.]

[doitrockapella]

[And again, she's quiet a minute, dwelling both on the sound of the unforced vowels and on the meaning that follows along behind them. It's hard to place, really, what it is she's just seen; it's not the fact that some of the mania seems to have faded from his demeanor, or the proof that he's not so far gone that he won't remember to speak Drachman to her. Or maybe it's a little of both, combined together into something else entirely — something that's brought back the simple recognition that he doesn't lie to her, and when he's given his word, he doesn't go back on it.

Even in this chaos, even with alchemy at his fingertips, even high on power and the thunder of battle, he's still Nietzsche. There's still...something.

Whether or not she's afraid of what he can do, she doesn't have to be afraid of him.]

You know what they'll say about you.

[Before she can think better of it, she darts forward, catching hold of the folds of his scarf just long enough to land a kiss on the corner of his mouth, and yet she doesn't stop moving, even then; as quick as she's there, she's gone, taking the last few steps to the edge of the ledge at full tilt and pivoting on the last so she careens over backwards with the ease and fearlessness of someone who's made that same dive a thousand times before.]