[Ami] Letting It Loose (tag Scott, open)
May. 30th, 2006 08:36 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
fikgirl.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
crossing_lostrpAmi and Scott are coming from here.
Scott's words, meant to offer comfort, did very little in that vein. He didn't understand – he couldn't possibly understand – how her thoughts and feelings made her feel; how wrong she felt and how wrong it felt to think such things. She'd never in her life wished someone dead – other than Masters and Carlson – she hadn't even wished Richard dead for his part in that, but here she was, engineered right down to her DNA to be peaceful and she wanted to see Amanda punished.
She wanted the woman to suffer like George must have.
Everything was wrong. Right now, even Scott felt wrong to her, so cold and so detatched without the affection and warmth she was used to feeling from him.
This place was wrong. It and everything and everyone in it was screwed up and wouldn't it have been so much better if she'd just died in the crash? Then she wouldn't have to be here, dealing with blow after blow, crises after crises; plagued by monsters in the jungle and monsters on the beach. At least the ones in the jungle didn't pretend to be human, not like the ones on the beach.
None of it made sense. None of it was right and all of it was wrong. Hideously, horribly, terribly wrong. So wrong that she could feel it in her bones moving beneath the sand, trying to move into her body, into her blood and corrupt her.
It was all wrong.
A wind whipped up around her, blowing sand. Gently at first, then gaining strength and momentum, tiny clouds of dust billowing up around their feet, growing larger and larger, pulling driftwood and sea weed, rocks and stones, flinging them outward and spinning them upwards as the maelstrom of sand grew. Near and far, tent flaps and shelter flaps began to move and sway, stirring in the wind that came from every direction. Fruit floated into the air, tossed there and caught by unseen hands and the ground beneath their feet began to tremble ever so slightly.
[OOC: Yes, that is more than a wee bit of uncontrolled telekinesis. And any similarity to X3 is purely coincidental; Ami's ability, when unchecked like this is actually canon. At 14 or 15 she teleported two fellow Tomorrow People, the blanket they were lying on, shook the house to the foundations and did a lovely job of rearranging objects and furniture in the process.]
Scott's words, meant to offer comfort, did very little in that vein. He didn't understand – he couldn't possibly understand – how her thoughts and feelings made her feel; how wrong she felt and how wrong it felt to think such things. She'd never in her life wished someone dead – other than Masters and Carlson – she hadn't even wished Richard dead for his part in that, but here she was, engineered right down to her DNA to be peaceful and she wanted to see Amanda punished.
She wanted the woman to suffer like George must have.
Everything was wrong. Right now, even Scott felt wrong to her, so cold and so detatched without the affection and warmth she was used to feeling from him.
This place was wrong. It and everything and everyone in it was screwed up and wouldn't it have been so much better if she'd just died in the crash? Then she wouldn't have to be here, dealing with blow after blow, crises after crises; plagued by monsters in the jungle and monsters on the beach. At least the ones in the jungle didn't pretend to be human, not like the ones on the beach.
None of it made sense. None of it was right and all of it was wrong. Hideously, horribly, terribly wrong. So wrong that she could feel it in her bones moving beneath the sand, trying to move into her body, into her blood and corrupt her.
It was all wrong.
A wind whipped up around her, blowing sand. Gently at first, then gaining strength and momentum, tiny clouds of dust billowing up around their feet, growing larger and larger, pulling driftwood and sea weed, rocks and stones, flinging them outward and spinning them upwards as the maelstrom of sand grew. Near and far, tent flaps and shelter flaps began to move and sway, stirring in the wind that came from every direction. Fruit floated into the air, tossed there and caught by unseen hands and the ground beneath their feet began to tremble ever so slightly.
[OOC: Yes, that is more than a wee bit of uncontrolled telekinesis. And any similarity to X3 is purely coincidental; Ami's ability, when unchecked like this is actually canon. At 14 or 15 she teleported two fellow Tomorrow People, the blanket they were lying on, shook the house to the foundations and did a lovely job of rearranging objects and furniture in the process.]
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[Carlos] Making their escape (tag George, open)
Date: 2006-06-01 08:32 pm (UTC)George grinned a little. "And do what?"
Carlos chuckled somewhat self-deprecatingly. "Well, once the adrenaline overload stops fouling my stomach, I figured on taking it out on you in the nicest way possible."
"Oo! Huh. Shit! I hate my job sometimes."
Carlos smiled weakly. "Yeah, well, I need to walk some of this shit off anyway." He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, then redonned boots and socks and started working on tying their belongings to his back again.