alonimi - Las Ballenas

Testing Limits [Closed]

Sun, 09 Apr 2017 21:19:25 +0000

Iara watched the sun as it set for the fifth time since she'd begun this particular experiment, the sky awash is pinkish-orange tones she found particularly pleasing. She felt the slightest hint of a breeze brush against her skin - the oppressive heat of the day was giving way again to cooler temperatures. Unfortunately, the pounding ache in her skull showed to sign of lessening, and as she walked she felt the near-constant dizziness of the past two days turning to something altogether more like vertigo. With a small sigh, she decided it was time for another break. She sat down where she stood, long past caring to be particular about such things, and tucked her one knee under her chin. She licked her lips, dry and cracked, though the the gesture brought no relief - her tongue felt equally dry. She closed her eyes for a moment, listened to the too-rapid flutter of her heartbeat beneath her ribs.

In retrospect, it had probably been a rather unwise idea, but Iara had always been impulsive, prone to a certain kind of recklessness. It was not, she thought, self-destructiveness that drove her, however, not really. She did not have active abilities, ones that were immediately useful in and out of a fight like those of others like her she'd glimpsed - the man with laser fingers, the girl with the telekinesis, a man she who could shift into a wolf. No, her abilities were passive, of no direct use when faced with a threat but for the fact that she could throw herself at that threat recklessly. To do that, she needed to know just how much she could withstand, what she could survive; too much of what little the woman knew about her abilities had come to her by way of sudden, unpleasant surprises. It made sense, she thought, to learn what she could in a controlled way - thus, over time, a series of experiments.

Iara had noticed that there was something about eating and drinking, that she got hungry and thirsty but that there seemed to be something off about her need for these things - situations where she'd had to do without for a day or two here and there and seemed less affected than she'd once been. She'd already learned that she could do without oxygen, at least for a while (and god she hoped she'd never need to fill her lungs with water again because the body's reaction to drowning was so, so unpleasant), so it was not really out there to wonder about her limits, how long she could do without water, food. The desert surrounding Las Ballenas seemed a good a place as any to test this - if she stayed her for any length of time she'd no doubt have reason to venture into it, if only because she preferred confrontations (which she seemed to find herself in far too often these days, but so it goes) away from possible witnesses and bystanders, and this way she would know how long she could go, if necessary. Preparing for the worse and whatnot.

Iara had taken an early morning bus to the outskirts of town and then walked, wearing a bright turquoise dress and dark tights, her hair tied back loosely. She brought nothing with her - she had few enough possessions, these days, and deemed it safer to leave those in a rented locker at the bus station. After a time she'd left the roadside and walked deeper into the desert, where no one was likely to see her and ask if she needed assistance, or question what she was doing. At first it had been almost pleasant to just walk, letting her mind go where it might. The desert here was so much different than that in Australia - the ground paler, less red, and the brush and cacti here were distinct. Nonetheless it brought back memories, nostalgia. She'd been nineteen, a bit skinnier and far less cautious, determined to hitchhike from Sydney to Darwin. She remembered gazing out at the outback from the window of and talking to Al, who'd told her about his mob, the Arrernte people, and had given her a ride all the way to Alice Springs...

The following days were far less pleasant - she quickly forgot about hunger but the thirst, the bloody thirst was so intense, and more than once she found herself staring at a cactus, knowing there was likely some water inside but no, this was an experiment, she needed to see how long she could go with nothing, out here in the heat. The headache had started sometime during the second day and by the third it felt like a mallet constantly pounding into her skull somewhere behind her eyes. She gave up on keeping track of time, noting only sunrise and sunsets, napping when she could, forcing herself to walk despite the ache in her muscles because if this was a real situation, she'd need to know how long she could walk.

Now, the sun was setting for a fifth time, and she sat in the sand, listening to her heart beating wildly, far too fast. She'd done her research on dehydration beforehand - that she was still alive, still conscious and able to walk after five days in the intense heat proved that this, too, fell under the umbrella of ways her abilities made her very, very hard to kill. She'd tried to gauge how badly off she was - she felt like shit, but then, she had for days. It was getting hard to think, to focus on anything for long, but she hadn't yet hallucinated anything. Earlier that day, when the heat had still been intense and she sat in the hot sand, knowing she was no longer sweating as she had the days before, Iara had decided that perhaps this was enough. She knew she could go at least five days in fairly extreme conditions, which meant longer in better circumstances, and she no doubt already looked and smelled like shit five days in wandering in the same clothes outdoors; she'd need energy to get back to the city, get her stuff, find a cheap motel that would give a room to someone who hadn't bathed for five days. Some time later, after forcing herself up and walking again, she'd realized she no longer had any idea which direction the road had been in - at some point, she'd grown disoriented enough to lose all sense of direction.

The sky grew darker, and the dizziness did not seem to abate this time, even sitting down. Iara considered that she was an idiot, and really should have brought a phone if only for the gps. "Bloody hell," she whispered, throat hoarse. It looked like she might learn a bit more about how slow it took her to die of dehydration than she'd planned. Unless she didn't die and just...stayed in this half-dead shit state hardly able to walk but unable to die, and wasn't that a horrifying thought, but not altogether out of the question. "Fuck," the muttered again, and closed her eyes.

A few moments later, she opened them, the sound of movement nearby drawing her attention. She turned, and saw a coyote standing near some brush, a few meters away. She'd heard the howling of coyotes at night, but this was the first time she'd seen one, and so close by at that. "Hey," she said, mustering a small smile. The coyote stared at her, though it did not react to her greeting. She watched it watch her, several long moments before it turned back and scampered away. She sighed, and shifted so that she was laying down, back against the ground, and closed her eyes. Her head hurt too much to sleep, but perhaps she'd be able to...think of something, if she rested her eyes for a bit.

In Search of Succor [Closed]

Wed, 05 Apr 2017 20:14:19 +0000

The streetlight flashed as it changed from green to red. Iara stared at the empty intersection for several moments before this registered. With a slight shake of her head, she forced herself to move forward, biting her lip slightly - the movement brought a new jolt of pain radiating down from her right shoulder and collarbone. No matter - she had to keep walking while it was still dark. With that thought she glanced up - the first rays of dawn were just starting to pierce through the darkness of the night sky, the sun itself still tucked away beyond the visible horizon. The streets were all but empty at this hour, but they wouldn't remain so for much longer, and that, Iara knew, would likely be a problem if she were still out.

The creature she'd followed out into the desert had turned to be rather...more than she'd expected. Not human, perhaps created or altered by some, but - she could ponder the details later, perhaps. It had been fast, with bladed claws that seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. The first time she'd allowed it to strike her, making no effort to dodge or duck despite the force behind the blow. Blades, bullets - such things were inconsequential, ordinarily. A miscalculation, this time - the thing was indeed unnatural, as much as she was. It's blades had cut into her flesh. It'd seemed confused, for a moment, as though it had expected to slice right through her. A few moments later it struck again, raking across her arm as she blocked more vulnerable parts of her body. She'd picked up quite a bit about combat, this last year or so, but she was no expert - stronger than someone her size should be but only somewhat so. Fortunately, her hunch about the creature's weak point had proved correct.

Afterwards, she'd spared a few moments of energy idly wishing she knew someone who could...examine such things, someone who knew science shit and could figure out what the creature was, but she'd have to content herself with the knowledge that the creature would not be preying on anyone else.

Iara did not remember much of the walk back from the desert, the transition to the outskirts of the city. She'd lost her shoes, at some point, perhaps during the fight, or after. No matter - nothing she walked on would so much as leave a scratch on the soles of her feet. Her clothes - black tights and a simple dark blue tunic dress - were soaked with blood from her injuries. The week-old gash across her stomach had opened up again too, at some point, adding to the mess. She knew how she looked, knew what would happen when people started to wake up and someone saw her. She couldn't deal with emergency services, not when she had no papers, no legal identity in this country, an accent (albeit mostly Australian). Not when a damn hospital couldn't do a bloody thing anyway, for her.

She needed to get back to her motel room. She had a first aid kit there, a cheap thing picked up from a CVS but she'd make do. Had to. Getting hurt was such a bitch when it did happen. She passed a bus stop, eyed the bench there longingly but no, keep walking. She wasn't even sure if she could die of exsanguination, not that she was bleeding that badly. Just, tired. Her thoughts were growing disjointed. She glanced up again at streaks of light in the sky as she turned a corner into a narrower street. Probably best to start avoiding busier ones, she decided.

After School Special [Closed]

Sun, 02 Apr 2017 09:58:05 +0000

☙ Teacher's Pet ❧

The Fox and the Hound [Closed]

Sun, 26 Mar 2017 21:47:52 +0000

Three-Card Monte [Closed]

Thu, 15 Sep 2016 03:32:07 +0000

The Spider & The Fly [Closed]

Thu, 10 Mar 2016 03:14:50 +0000

SciFi & Chill [Closed]

Thu, 28 Jan 2016 06:20:18 +0000

“Mom, I dunno. Alright? Can’t you email it to me? Maybe I can check off the ones I’ll go to for sure?”

Now was really not the time to be having this conversation.

Desmond sighed—loudly—as his mother shot of a list of events she wanted him to be around for over the headset settled over his ears. This naturally didn’t count holidays; there were always two of each of those: one for the family and one for the public. And his parents were nothing without their public events. They loved the attention, the cameras, all of it. The funny part was, they were pretty much the same people in front of the camera as they were behind it—genuinely too nice to be real. Some people thought so, but Desmond knew better. Their kindness was almost naiveté in neon Hollywood colors. At times, it was annoying, that brilliance—especially when it came from his mother.

“You have to come to the spring celebration! I miss you, Dezzy! So does your father.”

“I’m not a kid anymore. I can’t just drop everything and go to Hollywood for a weekend,” he shot back seriously as he flickered with a few dials on the ship’s panel. “I’m sorry. I have work and responsibilities. I know you get that, Mom.” Yes, this was definitely not the time to be having the chat, less than five minutes away from docking and waiting for Dudley to get off work.

“Of course I do! What do you take me for?” She huffed loudly. “I just miss my only son... He’s too busy saving the world to make time for me anymore.”

Desmond laughed this time, knowing she was teasing him. “S’not true, mom.” He said this as he sat back and allowed the auto controls to take over the docking and landing procedure. Really. He wasn’t that important. At best, an over-glorified handyman. Which was totally fine. He liked his life. But he couldn’t completely ignore his mother either. “Look, send me the list. I’ll figure it out. Promise. Alright?”

“Alright... Just be safe. You’re the only one I’ve got. I love you.”

“Love you, too,” he told her just before she hung up—still huffing. He pulled the headset off to hang around his neck along with his goggles and brushed a hand through his brown untame strands. Three years had gone by since he’d fled the coop and his mother still had empty nest syndrome.

“She’s gonna drive me crazy,” he muttered as he leaned back in his seat and rubbed his eyes with one hand, fingers then pinching the bridge of his nose. “Plumb fucking crazy...”

But, phonecalls from his mother aside... he wasn’t feeling half bad. He’d even dressed down: jeans, blue t-shirt with a Blue Beetle insignia on it, his boots, and a brown leather bomber jacket. And a belt; though, he’d left the t-shirt untucked. Which had done nothing for his nerves. He always tucked in his shirt.

He reached for his phone when it occurred to him that he hadn’t given Dudley his phone number. He sighed—again—and knocked his knuckles against his forehead a few times. “Not your brightest moment, Desmond Du Blanc. Not at all.”

Las Ballenas Setting Notes

Sun, 07 Dec 2014 18:42:45 +0000