The Rising Son
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jigglypuff69
- Level 18 Elite
- Posts: 7584
Re: The Rising Son
Cornellia slows down a bit and begins to bounce slightly. "Where are they? Hurry, hurry!", she quietly wills the group that was hopefully behind them. She turns tot eh man that followed, "We cannot be the only ones left?"
I am the voice of Never Never Land, the innocence of every man, I am the empty crib of Peter Pan. A silent kite against the blue, blue sky, every chimney every moonlit sight. I am the story that will read you real, every memory that you hold dear...
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MadVlat
- Level 17 Elite
- Posts: 6867
Re: The Rising Son
12:34 AM, Janurary 2nd, 2008
Two figures appear at the entrance of the alleyway. Their forms shrouded in smoke. Where only minutes ago the chorus had began their exit from the wreckage of the square. Nikolai slows then stops taking refuge in the shadow of a green dumpster. Its paint flaking away where rust now shows and its contents mounded above its heavy lid. With a concerted effort the Nosferatu narrows his mind and imposes his will upon the entry way. The two men converse between themselves for what seems like an eternity before turning and disappearing into the brick yard once more. The charred remnants of a cigarette filter dropping to the ground at Nikolai's feet.
Meanwhile, at the far end of the narrow causeway a slightly shaken Leonid finds what he is looking for and begins to descend, stopping upon the second step. He turns to the others in a calm but urgent voice and utters, "this way!". Then moves to disappear into the underground pedestrian thoroughfare.
The others in different states of injury and mind still lag slightly behind. Tamara her leg still meshing itself rides upon the shoulder of Alexandr unceremoniously, though with some effort and a severe limp she would be capable of now moving of her own volition. Cornellia and her faithful hound look back upon their path, the childlike kindred almost willing others to follow with a questioning glance on her young face.
Leonid turns and descends into the dimly lit hollow...
Two figures appear at the entrance of the alleyway. Their forms shrouded in smoke. Where only minutes ago the chorus had began their exit from the wreckage of the square. Nikolai slows then stops taking refuge in the shadow of a green dumpster. Its paint flaking away where rust now shows and its contents mounded above its heavy lid. With a concerted effort the Nosferatu narrows his mind and imposes his will upon the entry way. The two men converse between themselves for what seems like an eternity before turning and disappearing into the brick yard once more. The charred remnants of a cigarette filter dropping to the ground at Nikolai's feet.
The others in different states of injury and mind still lag slightly behind. Tamara her leg still meshing itself rides upon the shoulder of Alexandr unceremoniously, though with some effort and a severe limp she would be capable of now moving of her own volition. Cornellia and her faithful hound look back upon their path, the childlike kindred almost willing others to follow with a questioning glance on her young face.
Leonid turns and descends into the dimly lit hollow...
...And the stone of the earth and the wind in the sky bowed before the wisdom of the Ancient One...
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EvilMonkey
- Level 12
- Posts: 1332
Re: The Rising Son
He moves back to the crowd and speaks in a hushed but commanding tone; "Keep moving everyone. They won't be able to follow us." Taking a slow, deep breath he begins moving again with the small crowd of kindred. The hood of his sweatshirt once again obscuring his face.
Here, you hold this jar of acid and the rattlesnake. I've got to hop on the unicycle and get this chainsaw revved up.
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DoomulusPrime
- Level 12
- Posts: 1005
Re: The Rising Son
"Hmph," replies Leonid in a grunt as he takes the last few steps down into the pedestrian walkway. He moves in a brisk walk, an artifact from the days when he still had to conserve his energy as much as possible. Highly conscious of the deplorable state of his clothes, he frowns and resigns himself that any night-time walkers on this small stretch will have likely seen too much simply by virtue of being there. He pats the small revolver in his shoulder holster and silently says a prayer in hopes that the weapon was not hit by a piece of errant flak in the explosion.
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Illeveun
- Level 12
- Posts: 1014
Re: The Rising Son
Alexsandr, in response to Tamara, says, "Sanctum, eh? Well, that's a nice turn of events. But, a bomb, really? Shit. Someone must be determined." He hears Cornellia's question as well, and can only assume that it was directed at him. "I am not sure. I came somewhat late, by myself, heard all of the action, and then found you. So, I'm a little confused as well."
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jigglypuff69
- Level 18 Elite
- Posts: 7584
Re: The Rising Son
"We must keep moving and hope the others follow. The man went down the stairs, let's go!" She looks back one more time and then goes off down the stairs, her hound closely following. Cornellia looks up to the others, "By the way, I'm Cornellia and this is Nikoli."
I am the voice of Never Never Land, the innocence of every man, I am the empty crib of Peter Pan. A silent kite against the blue, blue sky, every chimney every moonlit sight. I am the story that will read you real, every memory that you hold dear...
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Apoctheosis
- Level 4
- Posts: 242
Re: The Rising Son
Tamara stays on Alexsandr's back, knowing that she would severely slow down the rest of them if she tried to walk by herself. She continues healing herself, but stays silent, only speaking when it is necessary.
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MadVlat
- Level 17 Elite
- Posts: 6867
Re: The Rising Son
12:36 AM, Janurary 2nd, 2008
The last of the coeterie enter the causeway just as a parade of emergency vechicles roar past the far end of the alley. Their destination obvious as heavy smoke pours up and between the buildings surrounding the square. After descending down two flights of broken up concrete steps the chorus finds themselves immersed in an entirely different world. A world that those above rarely acknowledge let alone delve into. A place the tourists were never meant to witness.
As the members gather together at the base of the steps, their eyes and ears slowly adjust to the dim light and hushed tones of the tunnel. The walls that line the thoroughfare bare little of the paint that at one time covered them, many of the chips now lying upon the cold floor. Miniture turrents of water stream down the steel supports and culminate in great puddles at their bases. A series of ancient overhead lights barely serve to illuminate the kindred as muffled sirens pass overhead.
However, it is not the surroundings that cast a minor sense of foreboding upon the group. That purpose is left to the denizens of the darkened passage. Here gather those who's purposes are unknown. Directly ahead dampened but heavy cardboard boxes line the left hand wall, their occupants currently gathered about an old steel drum that flickers orange with the flames of a small fire. The mens eyes staring blankly in your direction. Their trance like effects broken by the echoing of an empty bottle from beyond the last visage of light ahead. Somewhere in the near distance other voices and sounds can be heard, as the burning barrels contents are first smelled...
The last of the coeterie enter the causeway just as a parade of emergency vechicles roar past the far end of the alley. Their destination obvious as heavy smoke pours up and between the buildings surrounding the square. After descending down two flights of broken up concrete steps the chorus finds themselves immersed in an entirely different world. A world that those above rarely acknowledge let alone delve into. A place the tourists were never meant to witness.
As the members gather together at the base of the steps, their eyes and ears slowly adjust to the dim light and hushed tones of the tunnel. The walls that line the thoroughfare bare little of the paint that at one time covered them, many of the chips now lying upon the cold floor. Miniture turrents of water stream down the steel supports and culminate in great puddles at their bases. A series of ancient overhead lights barely serve to illuminate the kindred as muffled sirens pass overhead.
However, it is not the surroundings that cast a minor sense of foreboding upon the group. That purpose is left to the denizens of the darkened passage. Here gather those who's purposes are unknown. Directly ahead dampened but heavy cardboard boxes line the left hand wall, their occupants currently gathered about an old steel drum that flickers orange with the flames of a small fire. The mens eyes staring blankly in your direction. Their trance like effects broken by the echoing of an empty bottle from beyond the last visage of light ahead. Somewhere in the near distance other voices and sounds can be heard, as the burning barrels contents are first smelled...
...And the stone of the earth and the wind in the sky bowed before the wisdom of the Ancient One...