Chapter 21
- Location
- Somewhere in South America
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Climbing
It's nearly outstanding how fast environments seem to change, when separated by a monumental wall. Even the dampness of the air seemed to change. The choking smoke of the city was replaced with the slightly sweet, almost tangy smell of the pines. Before heading for the city, I had no clue there would be any pines around here, and I progressed through the dead limbs of the trees I reckoned that perhaps, there weren't any pines before the collapse. Some parts of the world already had a problem with invasive trees back home, and if this was a sort of approximation of the future, then it was no doubt that without proper culling of the population, it would have boomed.
I carve my own trail amongst the trees, having painted a map on the PDA as I went along, trying to keep a distance from where I had initially seen the two taken. Taken Minotaur are invisible, I had known that, but I did not expect them to be as persistent as to chase me all the way down. If I kept my guard up, then I would remain free of a chase when I climbed back up. Coming upon a similar ledge to which I had originally fallen from, I dig my hands and feet into the earth to avoid sliding down as I overcome this minor obstacle.
A strong gust of wind causes the trees to sway, more audibly than anything else, but I still pay close attention to my surroundings to make sure nothing is trailing after me, so far.
…
I'm clear.
I continue my uphill stroll at a reasonable pace, I assume, for someone with a broken leg. I'm not really sure it would count as broken, however. There's no pieces missing, and while it might be badly cracked, it hurt surprisingly little. Mind me, it still hurt like a bitch, but I still remember vividly having strained my leg muscles a surprising amount of times while I was still human, and I had to admit, that hurt more.
I come upon a clearing. The grass is yellow, and tentatively spreads out under the trees somewhat, but it's of surprisingly little size, when compared to the grass growing free from the tree's shade. 'This would have made for a nice little campsite', I reckoned, 'but I can't stop now'. And so the little clearing, with its un-obscured view of the sky, with clouds that looked like tendrils of white smoke, was left behind once more.
The next thing I came across, that somehow broke the monotony of the woods, was a fallen tree, resting between those of its more livelier, and leafier, kind. My mind quickly drifts back to the saying of "If a tree falls in the middle of the woods, and there's no one around to hear it, does it makes a sound?" I reckon it did, long ago, when it was not hollow. I go around it, as I'm not going to risk tearing a bigger hole into the backpack than it already has.
Soon enough, the monotony returns, and while I don't resent the woods, I already wish for some change. My mind keeps me company, and while nothing interesting is going on, and there are no footsteps that are not mine, I begin trying to remember… anything really. Songs, treks I had participated on before I landed here, short stories, long stories, maybe some more of the lore… anything, really. I was especially interested in the lore, because, if I was being honest, I really didn't delve deep into it, back home. I should maybe take some notes on what I already knew, just to preserve the knowledge I already had. It should help me, should I forget.
For the first time in what seems forever, I meet myself with an insect. A pesky little thing: a mosquito. I reckoned I wouldn't have to deal with things like these buggers since I no longer had blood, but it most likely had smelled something, if it was still roaming around. Swatting him would do no good, it was too small and too fast. I could try, but the chance of only exacerbating my pre-existing arm and shoulder pain. So just waving it away would have to do, if it still roamed around after some time.
But if their insects around, that was good, was it not? Insects meant that there would be no taken around here, no mirages to draw my attention, and as I absentmindedly swung around my arm, due to the arrival of the mosquito cloud this one must have belonged to, not too long ago, but the trek upwards continues, in spite of the sky darkening in response to incoming clouds, mainly due to the very real possibility of getting jumped by one of those taken minotaurs once more, but also due to the very real possibilities of a Cabal hit squad searching the area for what they assume to be a full Eliksni incursion. I wanted to be off-planet by then, if at all possible.
The shadows in the forest look darker. Checking the map for any indication, I fear I might have gotten lost.
My legs ache, my left thigh really hurts, my back feels like it has been twisted into an accordion, and my arms, the ones that actually work, instead of being tiny stumps reaching for the air, are pulled by an invisible weight, even when I let the shotgun sit on the ground to allow them to rest. Eventually, upon finding a good enough rock upon which to sit on, I repeat the action of letting the shotgun off to aside to rest, letting my hand fly through the air warding off the insects from my face.
After experiencing some taken, I rather admit that this is better than… them.
The first raindrops begin hitting the ground, but I really don't mind. It might soothe the pain, for once.
I remove the backpack and carefully let it rest besides the light blue shotgun. For good measure, I stuff the PDA inside as well.
The lone droplets begin falling with more frequency, and the environment loses colour, somewhat. Must be the night-vision acting up due to the rain clouds overhead, and the afternoon finally changing the colour of the sky.
I can't write. The book isn't here. Even if it was, the pages that I had written on had been ripped out. Might be for the best, a fresh start. Some pages had random writings that I couldn't really understand, but I reckon it is High Speak, or the language of some extinct house. It looks like Eliksni, but even if some letters are there, there's others which I don't know the meaning off. Some words while familiar were not what I reckon how they were written. It almost felt like trying to understand Portuguese. It was familiar, but not quite.
I… I miss my cats.
It's a weird thing to think about, especially when I should be focusing on the things I wanted to keep, but I really didn't want to forget my cats. I remembered their names, how they behaved, how their fur felt between my hands. I remember sleeping with them, one comfortably curled up on my chest, another cutting off the blood flow from one of my legs. This had changed when Sassy stayed with my parents. It would have been two months, I reckon, since I had gone with patch to the apartment to study. She was going back with me next month, when my dad came over to visit.
I really miss those dumb cats. I hope they're all right.
The drizzle grows in intensity.
My mouth feels dry. And not because it lacks saliva, I reckon. It's one taste I've been missing for one day so far.
It's Ether. I want some.
It's more like I crave ether. It makes sense, I reckon. I do not know what it is that originally got Eliksni hooked to Ether… but I craved it too now. My mind flashes to the lessons we had on addiction, and the Dopamine-Pleasure cycle.
With the coming of the rain, most insects had gone away. It meant my only way of knowing if any of the Taken were nearby had disappeared, in less than an instant. My body complains as I pick the backpack, and then the shotgun. I mostly ignore the pings of pain that shoot up whenever I walk, or stand up, but it was getting harder. If Eliksni had any sort of adrenaline, this was the evidence. With some hesitation, I resume my walk upwards once more.
The path doesn't take long before it becomes muddy. The rain… it severely messes up with the night-vision. The trees look less like trees and more like foreboding, black obelisks with outreaching arms. They sort of meld with one another in the distance, but gain features as I approach them. They're harder than what could be expected to be seen, but this in general, seems like a downgrade for normal vision.
With some focusing, I can, by will switch back to regular old "Visible Light" vision. I should mess with this when I'm mostly free. It's not much of an improvement, but it sure helps.
Safe to say, the rain could also obscure my footsteps, but I doubt the Minotaurs would have the same visibility problem as I had in this moment. The dark and the rain did not mix well, even as a human. While the wet clothes did drag me down, I'm glad to know that the cold also lowered inflammation some for this body, as well.
A tree branch falls behind me.
I begin running without looking to see what it was. It's better to run than to question at this point. I questioned myself on the knowledge of a Rorschach lizard earlier, and I won't make that same mistake again.
The rain grows heavier, colder. My running remains the same, even if I make constant stops due to my broken leg. The soaked clothes… it's holding me down. The cold didn't bother me earlier, but perhaps wearing four pairs of shirts was not the wisest choice. I got carried away.
Hiding behind a tree, I listen. I listen for anything that might break the monotony of the water drops impacting the ground. I listen for anything that might be a threat.
Dusk is slowly giving away tonight. The night-vision returns, unprompted this time.
It's always when I blink when the change happens. Never when I have my eyes open. I don't dismiss it, this time. The dark is swallowing the woods. As someone who has gotten lost in the woods at night, without night vision, I know how dark the forest gets, how uncaring it behaves towards everything and everyone. It was not welcoming, like a house, but it also lacked the foreboding nature of a poorly kept home. A forest just was.
I let the backpack slide towards the muddy ground, and I remove the poncho, before tossing the shirts to aside. The poncho, however, goes back on. I'm not tossing it away over some rain, it held sentimental value at this point. I had no clue why, but I really liked ponchos. And for the pants, they were staying on. Pants are good no matter what species you are. Unless, of course, you can't wear pants.
I quickly picked up the scavenged supplies and the shotgun and looked around once more. My vision could, at most, see twenty meters ahead, and not very well with the rain, it muddled everything to a degree, and while closer objects still possessed things like textures, defined shapes, and the such, further objects just devolved in a nearly pitch-black mess.
I'm not sure what I'm seeing at some distance, however. It's definitely glowing, much brighter than anything had any right to be. It extends it's tendrils, caressing any tree that it dares approach. And, most surprisingly, it doesn't seem to notice me.
While keeping it under close watch, I begin continuing the climb through the region of scarcer trees. The edge of the woods. What was to follow, should I be caught, would be a chase through the un-stable mountainous ground, under heavy rain.
Reminds me of home.
Fortunately, whatever that was did not seem to spot me, and I'm free, once more, it would seem.
I recognised this place…
It was the rock face I had initially looked down from, after I began my downwards climb.
It was clearly high, and climbing during the rain was a pretty bad idea, but It allowed me to know something:
I was close.
It's nearly outstanding how fast environments seem to change, when separated by a monumental wall. Even the dampness of the air seemed to change. The choking smoke of the city was replaced with the slightly sweet, almost tangy smell of the pines. Before heading for the city, I had no clue there would be any pines around here, and I progressed through the dead limbs of the trees I reckoned that perhaps, there weren't any pines before the collapse. Some parts of the world already had a problem with invasive trees back home, and if this was a sort of approximation of the future, then it was no doubt that without proper culling of the population, it would have boomed.
I carve my own trail amongst the trees, having painted a map on the PDA as I went along, trying to keep a distance from where I had initially seen the two taken. Taken Minotaur are invisible, I had known that, but I did not expect them to be as persistent as to chase me all the way down. If I kept my guard up, then I would remain free of a chase when I climbed back up. Coming upon a similar ledge to which I had originally fallen from, I dig my hands and feet into the earth to avoid sliding down as I overcome this minor obstacle.
A strong gust of wind causes the trees to sway, more audibly than anything else, but I still pay close attention to my surroundings to make sure nothing is trailing after me, so far.
…
I'm clear.
I continue my uphill stroll at a reasonable pace, I assume, for someone with a broken leg. I'm not really sure it would count as broken, however. There's no pieces missing, and while it might be badly cracked, it hurt surprisingly little. Mind me, it still hurt like a bitch, but I still remember vividly having strained my leg muscles a surprising amount of times while I was still human, and I had to admit, that hurt more.
I come upon a clearing. The grass is yellow, and tentatively spreads out under the trees somewhat, but it's of surprisingly little size, when compared to the grass growing free from the tree's shade. 'This would have made for a nice little campsite', I reckoned, 'but I can't stop now'. And so the little clearing, with its un-obscured view of the sky, with clouds that looked like tendrils of white smoke, was left behind once more.
The next thing I came across, that somehow broke the monotony of the woods, was a fallen tree, resting between those of its more livelier, and leafier, kind. My mind quickly drifts back to the saying of "If a tree falls in the middle of the woods, and there's no one around to hear it, does it makes a sound?" I reckon it did, long ago, when it was not hollow. I go around it, as I'm not going to risk tearing a bigger hole into the backpack than it already has.
Soon enough, the monotony returns, and while I don't resent the woods, I already wish for some change. My mind keeps me company, and while nothing interesting is going on, and there are no footsteps that are not mine, I begin trying to remember… anything really. Songs, treks I had participated on before I landed here, short stories, long stories, maybe some more of the lore… anything, really. I was especially interested in the lore, because, if I was being honest, I really didn't delve deep into it, back home. I should maybe take some notes on what I already knew, just to preserve the knowledge I already had. It should help me, should I forget.
For the first time in what seems forever, I meet myself with an insect. A pesky little thing: a mosquito. I reckoned I wouldn't have to deal with things like these buggers since I no longer had blood, but it most likely had smelled something, if it was still roaming around. Swatting him would do no good, it was too small and too fast. I could try, but the chance of only exacerbating my pre-existing arm and shoulder pain. So just waving it away would have to do, if it still roamed around after some time.
But if their insects around, that was good, was it not? Insects meant that there would be no taken around here, no mirages to draw my attention, and as I absentmindedly swung around my arm, due to the arrival of the mosquito cloud this one must have belonged to, not too long ago, but the trek upwards continues, in spite of the sky darkening in response to incoming clouds, mainly due to the very real possibility of getting jumped by one of those taken minotaurs once more, but also due to the very real possibilities of a Cabal hit squad searching the area for what they assume to be a full Eliksni incursion. I wanted to be off-planet by then, if at all possible.
The shadows in the forest look darker. Checking the map for any indication, I fear I might have gotten lost.
My legs ache, my left thigh really hurts, my back feels like it has been twisted into an accordion, and my arms, the ones that actually work, instead of being tiny stumps reaching for the air, are pulled by an invisible weight, even when I let the shotgun sit on the ground to allow them to rest. Eventually, upon finding a good enough rock upon which to sit on, I repeat the action of letting the shotgun off to aside to rest, letting my hand fly through the air warding off the insects from my face.
After experiencing some taken, I rather admit that this is better than… them.
The first raindrops begin hitting the ground, but I really don't mind. It might soothe the pain, for once.
I remove the backpack and carefully let it rest besides the light blue shotgun. For good measure, I stuff the PDA inside as well.
The lone droplets begin falling with more frequency, and the environment loses colour, somewhat. Must be the night-vision acting up due to the rain clouds overhead, and the afternoon finally changing the colour of the sky.
I can't write. The book isn't here. Even if it was, the pages that I had written on had been ripped out. Might be for the best, a fresh start. Some pages had random writings that I couldn't really understand, but I reckon it is High Speak, or the language of some extinct house. It looks like Eliksni, but even if some letters are there, there's others which I don't know the meaning off. Some words while familiar were not what I reckon how they were written. It almost felt like trying to understand Portuguese. It was familiar, but not quite.
I… I miss my cats.
It's a weird thing to think about, especially when I should be focusing on the things I wanted to keep, but I really didn't want to forget my cats. I remembered their names, how they behaved, how their fur felt between my hands. I remember sleeping with them, one comfortably curled up on my chest, another cutting off the blood flow from one of my legs. This had changed when Sassy stayed with my parents. It would have been two months, I reckon, since I had gone with patch to the apartment to study. She was going back with me next month, when my dad came over to visit.
I really miss those dumb cats. I hope they're all right.
The drizzle grows in intensity.
My mouth feels dry. And not because it lacks saliva, I reckon. It's one taste I've been missing for one day so far.
It's Ether. I want some.
It's more like I crave ether. It makes sense, I reckon. I do not know what it is that originally got Eliksni hooked to Ether… but I craved it too now. My mind flashes to the lessons we had on addiction, and the Dopamine-Pleasure cycle.
With the coming of the rain, most insects had gone away. It meant my only way of knowing if any of the Taken were nearby had disappeared, in less than an instant. My body complains as I pick the backpack, and then the shotgun. I mostly ignore the pings of pain that shoot up whenever I walk, or stand up, but it was getting harder. If Eliksni had any sort of adrenaline, this was the evidence. With some hesitation, I resume my walk upwards once more.
The path doesn't take long before it becomes muddy. The rain… it severely messes up with the night-vision. The trees look less like trees and more like foreboding, black obelisks with outreaching arms. They sort of meld with one another in the distance, but gain features as I approach them. They're harder than what could be expected to be seen, but this in general, seems like a downgrade for normal vision.
With some focusing, I can, by will switch back to regular old "Visible Light" vision. I should mess with this when I'm mostly free. It's not much of an improvement, but it sure helps.
Safe to say, the rain could also obscure my footsteps, but I doubt the Minotaurs would have the same visibility problem as I had in this moment. The dark and the rain did not mix well, even as a human. While the wet clothes did drag me down, I'm glad to know that the cold also lowered inflammation some for this body, as well.
A tree branch falls behind me.
I begin running without looking to see what it was. It's better to run than to question at this point. I questioned myself on the knowledge of a Rorschach lizard earlier, and I won't make that same mistake again.
The rain grows heavier, colder. My running remains the same, even if I make constant stops due to my broken leg. The soaked clothes… it's holding me down. The cold didn't bother me earlier, but perhaps wearing four pairs of shirts was not the wisest choice. I got carried away.
Hiding behind a tree, I listen. I listen for anything that might break the monotony of the water drops impacting the ground. I listen for anything that might be a threat.
Dusk is slowly giving away tonight. The night-vision returns, unprompted this time.
It's always when I blink when the change happens. Never when I have my eyes open. I don't dismiss it, this time. The dark is swallowing the woods. As someone who has gotten lost in the woods at night, without night vision, I know how dark the forest gets, how uncaring it behaves towards everything and everyone. It was not welcoming, like a house, but it also lacked the foreboding nature of a poorly kept home. A forest just was.
I let the backpack slide towards the muddy ground, and I remove the poncho, before tossing the shirts to aside. The poncho, however, goes back on. I'm not tossing it away over some rain, it held sentimental value at this point. I had no clue why, but I really liked ponchos. And for the pants, they were staying on. Pants are good no matter what species you are. Unless, of course, you can't wear pants.
I quickly picked up the scavenged supplies and the shotgun and looked around once more. My vision could, at most, see twenty meters ahead, and not very well with the rain, it muddled everything to a degree, and while closer objects still possessed things like textures, defined shapes, and the such, further objects just devolved in a nearly pitch-black mess.
I'm not sure what I'm seeing at some distance, however. It's definitely glowing, much brighter than anything had any right to be. It extends it's tendrils, caressing any tree that it dares approach. And, most surprisingly, it doesn't seem to notice me.
While keeping it under close watch, I begin continuing the climb through the region of scarcer trees. The edge of the woods. What was to follow, should I be caught, would be a chase through the un-stable mountainous ground, under heavy rain.
Reminds me of home.
Fortunately, whatever that was did not seem to spot me, and I'm free, once more, it would seem.
I recognised this place…
It was the rock face I had initially looked down from, after I began my downwards climb.
It was clearly high, and climbing during the rain was a pretty bad idea, but It allowed me to know something:
I was close.
