05-19-2016, 01:39 AM
As satisfying as staring at the abyss was, she had begun to feel like it was staring back at her, when her eyes wondered upon the corner of the cave’s opening, over to a few flashlights that had been set recently there. They each had shiny silver handles and looked a bit old, but still functional, she assumed; she rose and flexed her stiff joints in the air and felt the wolf in her back stir just slightly, “Oh yeah,” she seemed reminded of the dog’s presence and dropped her bag, “I’ll leave you out here, where it’s safer.”
The prime’s hand fished around for the detonator and its linked other device. She eyed the resting kit, as it was nestled snugly in the bag as though it were still wrapped around its mother’s pelt. Christa looked up at the cave, lifting all of the flashlights, turning one on at the mouth of the cave, and as she dipped below the branch and then set one of them on the ground. After she kept walking in a straight line, lit by the path of the flashlight until it finally faded, she set down another, and continued to create a trail until the fourth was set on the ground. Christa looked up and around the cave, it was pretty well-in, and horribly cold. She could see the misty fog of her breath as it exhaled in stiff pants, and the walls held a dry shine, as the last bit of sleek light shimmered with the movement of the torch she held in hand.
Despite the woman’s fearless backround, her hands were shaking. And with them, the stream of light from the torch, and the shimmering of the pale reflection on the stony walls. There was something so very unnatural about this entire thing, but more so, in the uneasy feeling that stirred the swaying motion of her nauseous stomach. Don’t blink. Christa held her Beretta up with her other hand and continued on the gradual declivity of earth, as she was lead deeper and deeper into the abyss. No matter what was in here, she would fight it, and win. Mornel’s hopes depended on it, and frankly, Christa wanted any monster that scared her this much out of existence.
In the dark, her fears crept up on her, distracting her, gnawing at the bane of her thoughts. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw her hands withered and old, as Mornel’s had been, she shrieked out of shock, and her flashlight clattered to the ground, its steady beam of light, going out at the impact of metal falling upon stone. Christa wished she could see in the dark, instead, she was met with the harsh reality of a blanket of blackness, clouding every inch of her vision. Her other senses, on full alert, filled the gaps of what her sight was missing.
Heavy breaths, the blood flowing quickly in her ears, the crunch of dirt and rock below the toe of her foot. Her head moved as though she were looking over her shoulder, as though forgetting she could not see, and instead angled an ear around the walls that were echoing. She thought she heard something, the soft, soft sound of laughter. It was almost animalistic, sounding like a mouse or a cat, high pitched, as though chirping. Christa fumbled for the flashlight as she bent down, her fingers found it almost instantly, and she played with the on-off switch. It was unresponsive, so she hit the back of the light with her palm, and sparked a fleeting light.
Around her, soundlessly, a swarm of stone statues had gathered. Christa noted their angles, they were aware of her presence, there were three of them in her immediate vicinity, and two more at the deeper dwelling of the cave. She hadn’t even seen them move up on her, nor their figures in the dark distance of the cave. This meant, when they had noticed her, they had flown toward her with immense speed. But statues couldn’t move.
The rogue eyed the hands around the angels’ eyes, which were clasping their cheeks. Christa thought this was a sad scene, but that was until she looked at the last face of the angel closest to her, it was a few feet away from her, and the thing’s expression was no longer mournful, instead... It was the most horrific face on any monster in all the moors. Savage, and even more shocking still, that it donned the form of an angel. Christa pulled out the sheet of paper, careful, like the sign had said, not to blink, and compared the beast on the page with the one standing in front of her. She gulped as she confirmed, undoubtedly, that this is what Mornel had called a reaper.
The light of her flashlight was fluctuating weakly, Christa gasped, what happened when it went out completely? Would the weeping angels manage to haunt ever closer still? It seemed they moved in the dark. Christa blinked, unconsciously, and felt the sharp grip of a stone closing in on her neck. “Shit!” she complained and wriggled herself free, backing away a few inches while the torch flickered in the light. Christa did her best to keep her eyes on them, while she prepared the wires of her bomb. These creatures wouldn’t like it very much, but could she really kill a rock? If the form was all but stone - as the chilled hand around her neck had proven, and she wasn’t eager to go up and touch the one that had a beastly expression, and sharpened teeth, with jaws fixed for her- the thought did ponder, could she even kill it?
Her eyes fell behind the legion that approached her, they were protecting their nest, a bunch of neon-glowing eggs that had been. There was no confirmation that they were the angels’ eggs, but even if they weren’t whatever was in them didn’t look good, and perfectly fit the neck-hair spiking horrors that embodied the Pale Moors. Christa’s light flicked out, as her hands were fondling the last bit of wires, and the timer’s red light illuminated the scene now, casting a daunting shadow along the silvery wall, of the weeping angel’s form. Its grasp, just inches from Christa’s neck again.
Her eyes bulged, nearly out of their sockets, and Christa burst into the air, “You.. You stay away from me you sick creatures!” she said helplessly and began backing away, her feet shuffling into the ground while her eyes fixed on the red-tinged stone statues. The creature’s eyes were wide, and fixed blankly upon her. Christa dwelled too much on them, and tripped over her heel, this time, with the broken eye contact, the angel made a sweeping movement, invisible to Christa’s eyes, until it was trapped in the beam of her sight, and was frozen into stone once more.
“Shit...” Christa wondered how she would manage her way back out of the cave, and had little time to forge a new torch, not to mention, trap the angels inside. Mornel said their weakness was what I’m doing now, looking at them... Maybe if I summon something useful... The Prime wondered how long she could manage to not-blink, while summoning something with Omnillium. It was worth a shot, though, since her other option was blowing the whole cave up, with her inside.
The girl gulped and attempted to summon a very very large mirror (one with enough size to take up a sizable part of the tunnel’s diameter), whilst not looking at the shining, gleaming orb in her palm. She thought not blinking would be easier if fueled by fear, so she took the time to remember every single etching of the angel’s well-chiseled face. Her eyelids wavered, she scowled at the dry air, and would not accept the burning weakness of her tears as they blurred her eyes and with it, the angel’s face. Still, she would not let them close, the warm streams ran down her cheeks while the summoning light filled the room, it was brightest now, and her eyes adjusted only painfully, adding to the burn of her retinas.
It wore sheep’s clothing, while it was really a monster. The crevices that she stared at were tinted with crimson light from her bomb, and the pale light glowed with more strength as it took the form of a large mirror. From behind her shield, the Prime blinked in relief. Maybe that would trap them there, since the front angel’s eyes were open, and the bomb’s light is on, and the back ones should be frozen too, since the front one is looking at them through the reflection of the mirror... It was a quick and desperate deduction, but Christa wanted out of the cave, now, more than ever.
The prime’s hand fished around for the detonator and its linked other device. She eyed the resting kit, as it was nestled snugly in the bag as though it were still wrapped around its mother’s pelt. Christa looked up at the cave, lifting all of the flashlights, turning one on at the mouth of the cave, and as she dipped below the branch and then set one of them on the ground. After she kept walking in a straight line, lit by the path of the flashlight until it finally faded, she set down another, and continued to create a trail until the fourth was set on the ground. Christa looked up and around the cave, it was pretty well-in, and horribly cold. She could see the misty fog of her breath as it exhaled in stiff pants, and the walls held a dry shine, as the last bit of sleek light shimmered with the movement of the torch she held in hand.
Despite the woman’s fearless backround, her hands were shaking. And with them, the stream of light from the torch, and the shimmering of the pale reflection on the stony walls. There was something so very unnatural about this entire thing, but more so, in the uneasy feeling that stirred the swaying motion of her nauseous stomach. Don’t blink. Christa held her Beretta up with her other hand and continued on the gradual declivity of earth, as she was lead deeper and deeper into the abyss. No matter what was in here, she would fight it, and win. Mornel’s hopes depended on it, and frankly, Christa wanted any monster that scared her this much out of existence.
In the dark, her fears crept up on her, distracting her, gnawing at the bane of her thoughts. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw her hands withered and old, as Mornel’s had been, she shrieked out of shock, and her flashlight clattered to the ground, its steady beam of light, going out at the impact of metal falling upon stone. Christa wished she could see in the dark, instead, she was met with the harsh reality of a blanket of blackness, clouding every inch of her vision. Her other senses, on full alert, filled the gaps of what her sight was missing.
Heavy breaths, the blood flowing quickly in her ears, the crunch of dirt and rock below the toe of her foot. Her head moved as though she were looking over her shoulder, as though forgetting she could not see, and instead angled an ear around the walls that were echoing. She thought she heard something, the soft, soft sound of laughter. It was almost animalistic, sounding like a mouse or a cat, high pitched, as though chirping. Christa fumbled for the flashlight as she bent down, her fingers found it almost instantly, and she played with the on-off switch. It was unresponsive, so she hit the back of the light with her palm, and sparked a fleeting light.
Around her, soundlessly, a swarm of stone statues had gathered. Christa noted their angles, they were aware of her presence, there were three of them in her immediate vicinity, and two more at the deeper dwelling of the cave. She hadn’t even seen them move up on her, nor their figures in the dark distance of the cave. This meant, when they had noticed her, they had flown toward her with immense speed. But statues couldn’t move.
The rogue eyed the hands around the angels’ eyes, which were clasping their cheeks. Christa thought this was a sad scene, but that was until she looked at the last face of the angel closest to her, it was a few feet away from her, and the thing’s expression was no longer mournful, instead... It was the most horrific face on any monster in all the moors. Savage, and even more shocking still, that it donned the form of an angel. Christa pulled out the sheet of paper, careful, like the sign had said, not to blink, and compared the beast on the page with the one standing in front of her. She gulped as she confirmed, undoubtedly, that this is what Mornel had called a reaper.
The light of her flashlight was fluctuating weakly, Christa gasped, what happened when it went out completely? Would the weeping angels manage to haunt ever closer still? It seemed they moved in the dark. Christa blinked, unconsciously, and felt the sharp grip of a stone closing in on her neck. “Shit!” she complained and wriggled herself free, backing away a few inches while the torch flickered in the light. Christa did her best to keep her eyes on them, while she prepared the wires of her bomb. These creatures wouldn’t like it very much, but could she really kill a rock? If the form was all but stone - as the chilled hand around her neck had proven, and she wasn’t eager to go up and touch the one that had a beastly expression, and sharpened teeth, with jaws fixed for her- the thought did ponder, could she even kill it?
Her eyes fell behind the legion that approached her, they were protecting their nest, a bunch of neon-glowing eggs that had been. There was no confirmation that they were the angels’ eggs, but even if they weren’t whatever was in them didn’t look good, and perfectly fit the neck-hair spiking horrors that embodied the Pale Moors. Christa’s light flicked out, as her hands were fondling the last bit of wires, and the timer’s red light illuminated the scene now, casting a daunting shadow along the silvery wall, of the weeping angel’s form. Its grasp, just inches from Christa’s neck again.
Her eyes bulged, nearly out of their sockets, and Christa burst into the air, “You.. You stay away from me you sick creatures!” she said helplessly and began backing away, her feet shuffling into the ground while her eyes fixed on the red-tinged stone statues. The creature’s eyes were wide, and fixed blankly upon her. Christa dwelled too much on them, and tripped over her heel, this time, with the broken eye contact, the angel made a sweeping movement, invisible to Christa’s eyes, until it was trapped in the beam of her sight, and was frozen into stone once more.
“Shit...” Christa wondered how she would manage her way back out of the cave, and had little time to forge a new torch, not to mention, trap the angels inside. Mornel said their weakness was what I’m doing now, looking at them... Maybe if I summon something useful... The Prime wondered how long she could manage to not-blink, while summoning something with Omnillium. It was worth a shot, though, since her other option was blowing the whole cave up, with her inside.
The girl gulped and attempted to summon a very very large mirror (one with enough size to take up a sizable part of the tunnel’s diameter), whilst not looking at the shining, gleaming orb in her palm. She thought not blinking would be easier if fueled by fear, so she took the time to remember every single etching of the angel’s well-chiseled face. Her eyelids wavered, she scowled at the dry air, and would not accept the burning weakness of her tears as they blurred her eyes and with it, the angel’s face. Still, she would not let them close, the warm streams ran down her cheeks while the summoning light filled the room, it was brightest now, and her eyes adjusted only painfully, adding to the burn of her retinas.
It wore sheep’s clothing, while it was really a monster. The crevices that she stared at were tinted with crimson light from her bomb, and the pale light glowed with more strength as it took the form of a large mirror. From behind her shield, the Prime blinked in relief. Maybe that would trap them there, since the front angel’s eyes were open, and the bomb’s light is on, and the back ones should be frozen too, since the front one is looking at them through the reflection of the mirror... It was a quick and desperate deduction, but Christa wanted out of the cave, now, more than ever.
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus