Dead Man's Tracks
13th of March 2007 A.D.
You sigh and turn away.
Is this wisdom, knowing how to pick my battles, you wonder,
or is my heart hardening against the horrors of the world that I would leave these people shrouded by fomori curse?
The wind that howls over ice and stone only to meet the -ha!- warmer air over the ocean offers no answer, but you will have to make due. Turning along the line you had discovered the trail is clear to see, a line of murk that does not deviate from its almost mathematical precision as if the one who drew it cares naught for stone or crevice... nor, you soon discover for the sea. This is an island after all, but the line of fraying darkness that only you can see cuts across the water as easily as it had land. On and on, into the teeth of the killing frost, not snow, as you had half expected, the air here is dry and what ice crystals cut against your cheek are stirred up from the ground are thrown up by the wind that cuts across your path. A few years ago, another, younger Molly Carpenter which now seems so very far away had noted in a report on Scott's Antarctic expedition that it had been rather silly of them to risk to much simply to say they reached the South Pole when there's nothing to see here, and nothing ever could be. So it seems at first, for half hour, then one hour and then two, but then, driven perhaps by the sameness of the journey which alone of all its perils your power does nothing to alleviate, you begin to find some beauty in the white shroud of ice over bare stone which more and more peeks out as you head towards the mountains.
Until at last you see a moving speck up ahead, helpful that he had kept the straight path, you note, already marshaling your arguments for why he should at least here you out and then with a suddenness that can only be magic the dot
vanishes into thin air, like a mirage at the edge of vision.
Bullshit. Times like this you wish you could curse without feeling guilty. With little else to go by you head to where the dot had been, where the trail of residual essence still leads.
Good thing he can't wipe his tracks at least.
It just stops at the point where you had seen him vanish and none of your senses can make sense of it. Had he teleported away like Olivia could do? Parted the veil into the Nevernever? Or as you had been shielded from the attention of the scientists back at the base was he now shielded from yours.
The thought of being compelled to overlook something sends outrage and worry roiling in your stomach. After all what better position to start an ambush?
If he had teleported it has to be pretty far away where as if he slipped across the veil... would be a damn waste of a Gate to just hop to the other side, but you can follow. Opening your mouth to call out you stop to wonder what one would even call to someone who had given up their name.
Ah, heck with etiquette.
"It's really cold and really boring out here! Would be nice if anyone who may or may not be hiding under a rock showed themselves so we could talk and then I can go back to that base and kick some scaly fomori ass!"
"What...?" An oddly rough voice asks in faintly accented English. You turn and see... skin pale, lips blue, one eye lid frozen in place. Being polite you'd say the otherwise handsome young man you had seen in those pictures looks cold. More truthfully he looks dead. "What. Are. You, Doing.
Here?"
The words have enough of the weight of a command, but not the touch of compulsion thankfully.
"Looking for you," you reply honestly as you consider the more wide ranging reply to come.
"Why?"
[] Imply that you are here to fight Fomori, it's at least half true, you are planning to do so
[] Be straightforward in your intent, you are here to check up on him and his newfound cosmic power over death to make sure things don't go bad for... everyone everywhere truth be told.
[] Write in
OOC: And here we see other people using perfect effects on you, in this case Splinter in the Mind's Eye. Also an Abyssal who did not luck out on the pretty privilege. They either have appearance 3+... or they look like corpses.