23rd metal . CTS spam

[godsays]

[ It's after Cassel's announcement that Zane can be found in the CTS.

The scene is medieval - or, ancient, anyway. Armor, swords, horses. A battle. As the door out of the CTS closes behind him, they surround him, weapons braced. He blinks back anguished emotion, and tosses back a vial of metals, and touches steel, pewter.

He launches into the air, and the fight begins.

There are hundreds of them, and only one of him: and yet. He slaughters them. He uses the metal they carry to Push and Pull himself; he is always faster, always stronger, and he is the utter picture of grace.

He kills them all.

And when they are dead, the bright green hill of a battlefield strewn with corpses, he goes into the forest. Braces himself against one tree and flings metal at another, a thud-thud of swords, knives, shields whipping and burying themselves into the bark. He Pushes, and Pushes, until finally the tree splinters and collapses, crashing slowly and mightily into the ground.

He keeps destroying the trees, over and over, until someone interrupts - or another army shows up. ]

Comments

[shakenandlimp]

[It's only today Bush feels in any shape to do much but fret in his room, and the very moment he can, he ignores the network to take himself somewhere where he can do something, no matter how illusory, instead of taking himself to task for the fifteenth or sixteenth time.

He interrupts without meaning to, catching only a glimpse of the blasted countryside as the door opens.]

[godsays]

[ Keep lively on your feet, Bush, because there is a mighty splintering sound, the rustle of branches and leaves, and then there's a tree slowly tipping over in your direction. ]

[shakenandlimp]

[Bush is slower than he was as a young man, but no slouch, and he darts out from under the tree with surprising speed-- but if he can manage himself and his leg on the deck of a ship, he can do it on flat ground.]

Holy Peter.

Ahoy out there! I hadn't meant to break in on you.

[godsays]

[ Zane only sees Bush after the tree has hit the ground, and he Pushes off, immediately, leaping in a wide arc (far taller than any human should be able to leap) over the downed tree and landing hard, skidding on the grass. ]

What were you doing there?

[ The question is half-panicked. ]

[shakenandlimp]

[Bush gapes, but manages to get his mouth shut and answer.]

I came to use the CTS. Didn't realize someone was inside. Zane, my Lord, you jump like a rabbit.

[godsays]

I could have hurt you, I wasn't -

[ He turns away, inhaling sharply, and exhaling slowly. ]

It was a steel-jump. I Pushed off of the daggers embedded in the trunk.

[ It's not much of an explanation, he's aware. ]

[shakenandlimp]

[Bush's earnest, craggy face has that certain expression of mild alarm that it often has when something has completely bewildered him on the barge-- lifts, lights, the population of folk not entirely human-- it all causes this faint confusion as he strains through what he doesn't understand.]

I am sorry, lad. I shouldn't have come in if I knew you were... busy.

[He looks at the felled tree.]

But no harm done. I'll wait my turn, if I can just get that tree away from the door.

[onlysurvivor]

[Kelsier's presence in CTS brings with it another army. Two full strength Mistborn bring up the difficulty level. These enemies are bigger, tougher skin, almost like Koloss. Often, CTS will give Kelsier prisoners to rescue in massive battle zones like this. He wonders, only for a second, if CTS will add that in while he's here.

No time to think, he's already being attacked. He Pushes himself into the air, drawing weapons into the air after him. Mid-air, he turns and sends the metal back down into group. ]

[godsays]

[ A handful of coins brings one down, but only barely, and Zane knows he has to redouble his efforts. He springs off from shattered trees and into the next battle, only peripherally conscious of Kelsier's presence, ignoring it except to direct his bloodthirstiness elsewhere. He attacks viciously, up close more often than not, leaning heavily on pewter and steel and slashing with dagger and sword. ]

[onlysurvivor]

[Kelsier is mostly staying out of the fray and out of Zane's way. He's here because he knows CTS will up the difficulty. He'll wait and see if that's enough of a challenge.

If it's not... he'll attack.]

[godsays]

[ This is enough. It's killing one after another that's wearing Zane down - killing again and again and again. He makes it through them all, one at a time, his swordstrokes growing rougher and harder. ]

[onlysurvivor]

[Now that Zane is wearing down, Kelsier moves back into the fighting. Just little Pushes and Pulls here and there. Sending an armored fighter into Zane's path to finish off. He's dodging most of them to leave for Zane but as he gets closer he starts to kill them. One he lands on using their armor as an anchor, silts his throat then Pushes off of him on to a new victim. ]

[godsays]

[ He doesn't know when he starts crying, when his vision starts to blur and he responds more on hearing, instinct, the unwavering blue lines of metal to know where to strike. When the last one is felled, his muscles burning from pewter-suppressed exhaustion, he falls too, dropping the borrowed sword and landing on his knees. He cries, not with the wracking release of sobs, but with the clenched-fist tension of someone who at heart believes that this will make nothing better. ]

[youwillgotohell]

[There is no other army. She doesn't know why she comes here, but for the intuition that this is where she'll find him. Though she sat with her communicator in her room for a while, Morgana could find nothing to say to Cassel, too bitter for congratulations, too distrusting to let herself be pleased he'll stay. Eventually, it occurs to her that Zane will feel this more strongly than she does.

Walking across the battlefield brings unpleasant memories to the fore; when she blinks, she can see Camlann, she can see knights and Saxons both dead and mangled and laying as empty husks. She closes her eyes before she can see Mordred's body. She doesn't want to remember that.

Instead, she follows the noise, until she feels the ground quaking under the collapse of the first tree. Another follows in short order, and she finds him while he's attacking the third.]

Does it help?

[godsays]

[ His eyes are red and tear-stained. He Pushes and Pushes, ripping at the deep roots, feeling the ground twitch and give under the sheer force. The stronger tree, the one he's bracing himself against, shudders. And slowly it splinters, and crashes, and falls.

He is breathing hard, at the end of this one, chest heaving. ]

Better than locking it away.

[youwillgotohell]

[She's careful, stays out of the way. His violence doesn't frighten her, but it does unsettle her. It's nearly an automatic reaction, to raise her hackles and be on alert around someone like this. Someone dangerous.]

Why are you upset with him? [She has to assume, has to assume everything, because she can't put words to how she feels, not yet.]

[godsays]

Because he's walking out a door that I can't even see!

[ His voice is raw and loud, a shout. ]

He's gone, and I'm still here, and I'm not upset at him, I'm afraid I lost him. I'm afraid that I let him go and I'll never get him back.

[youwillgotohell]

[She's never been good at keeping control; she knows he isn't shouting at her, but he is shouting at her, and it makes her hands clench tight together in front of her.]

He said he's staying. You don't trust him?

[godsays]

Of course I trust him. But power changes everything.

[fridgetothefire]

[She doesn't go in. She doesn't know if it would do anything for her, if the disparity would wreck the scenario somehow. She doesn't want to find out. But she waits by the door, legs crossed, eyes closed, waits for him to tire himself out. She feels resentful and angry and uncharitable, and she still wants to help him, even though she probably won't, with the mood she's in. But she can't help it, meddling still seems more palatable than hiding alone doing nothing. So she waits, and meditates on loss.]

[godsays]

[It takes hours.

And when he emerges, his clothes are torn; he is bloodied; he is exhausted.

And he is almost tripping over her before he notices her.]

Anya?

Are you waiting for me?

[fridgetothefire]

[The time has done her good. She feels peaceful in her cold emptiness, like the edgeless expanse of a glacier. She feels still and calm despite her crevasses. Her eyes flutter open, nearly as surprised as he is, and she unfolds smoothly.]

Yes.

Are you going to the infirmary now, or should I patch you up?

[godsays]

I don't need the infirmary. I'm not badly injured.

[And he forces himself, deliberately, to accept.]

...but if you'd like to look at what's there.

[fridgetothefire]

Please.

[Part polite manner of speaking, part acknowledgement that he agrees at least somewhat for her sake. She leads him down the levels to her room, lets him in. It's airy and open, bookshelves along two walls, cape-curtained bed tucked into a recess in the wall, a cozy reading nook before a large bay window. It's all warm colors, greens and blues and the stark red of the cape, yellow flowers and twirling designs hand-painted on her lavender door. There is almost no metal at all, and most of it is all contained in a heavy fingerglass trunk with a few cinderblocks on the lid. She pulls a first aid kit from a drawer under her bed and motions him to the windowseat.]

[godsays]

[He sits, shrugging off the mistcloak first - he's only just started wearing it again - and lets it collapse into a low heap on the floor.]