Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Andromeda

Xander Mavros

Guest
"We'll always be in here," the ghastly chorus retorted in kind.

It was all that needed saying, but what the words spoken had conceded, quite literally offered no further intrigue to the haruspex Mistress that sat lost in this solitary forest. But, take no heed to trails left cold and abandoned. Had [member="Matsu Xiangu"] wished it, this mind could effortlessly bend beneath the whim of her curiosity.

Up somewhere, where canopy evaporated to the dark gloom of a cloud-washed sky, two toned lightning forked, instead of thunder, a repeating chime. A sound of alarm resounding endlessly, heard through Xander's ears, Matsu undoubtedly would recognize it as the simple notification that a Containment Team had been notified to enter, isolate, and cleanse the dangerous Insects from the Examination Observatory beside their bodies.

Naturally the Skeleton, which had been left looking polished and gleaming, as well as severed slabs of fleshy meat, would be preserved and kept aside for the foul Mentalist to examine and reflect over in private - the sad fate of many lost souls from this section of The Unit. The rest of the room would be scrubbed and steamed, left spotless and ready for the next damned soul to enter and learn by what cruel end they would fall victim to.

In the name of Science and Macabre Curiosity, there were no stones worth leaving unturned. No line that could be stepped over too far. No morals where the deathly gasp of progress could yawn.

But, what happened outside the things that transpired behind the blue eyes, pale and crisp as the shallows of Corlass, left dazed and locked shut under dark curtains. All of that appeared to be of a far less interesting nature than the fragmented and mutilated mind the Necromancer had infested.

It was in here that emotion seemed to oscillate more furiously than the bursting of a Star. In here where the desire for dark, depraved, self-destruction fed by the unrestrained addiction of chemicals, pain, suffering and curiosity churned more wickedly than the greedily consuming jaws of Black Holes that stretched light and matter in to thin, ropy, intestines for their toothless mouths to feast on.

The very nature of Xander's Brain seemed at odds. An evil unlike the template that so numerously populated the Galaxy, an ethic for work that was matched only by the hedonist desire to taste flesh on his tongue and ride hatred in to the sinful spaces between thighs and crevasses. But he varied broadly. He spoke no singular language of desirous hunger or ambition.

Xander wanted all things.

Which had been exactly what the man had told Matsu not that long prior.

That moss, blood red beneath her, it moved and wriggled. A million, billion, trillion worms that writhed like fingers and stroked her crossed legs. The trees quivered again, needles and water weeping from places high above as Xander again moved beneath the actual woman that had pinned him to the floor.

"He's a poison. . . " Said the figure before her, shrouded in the snowy glow of static that illuminated all space it's white globe could touch, save for the face of this thing before her. We're poison. You're poison. The whispers, the breathed from behind every tree. The cacophony grasping around the static edges of the shimmering light, projecting inward painfully. "Terrible things. ." Ugly. You're so ugly! The noise of the CRT television began to grow, louder and louder until it was almost unbearable to listen to.

"Let's do terrible, gruesome. . wonderful things. . . "
 
She wouldn’t pretend to know everything. In fact, she hoped she didn’t. For one, assuming there was no knowledge left to discover was dangerously arrogant. Assuming there were no surprises left in the galaxy was asking for a fatal one to find one’s door. And though she was devoid of emotions meant to keep feeble humans out of harm’s way, she was at least pragmatic enough to have lived as long as she had. But secondly - and more importantly - knowing everything would be dreadfully boring.

Matsu wasn’t sure what to make of this place.

There hadn’t ever been anything quite like it, and she doubted there would be again. There was some part of her desirous of the urge to explore deeper, move outside the dense woods and see what formed the landscape further on. The thick dark between mossy trees begged questions. The static on the monitor gleamed on the whites of her eyes as she rolled them in sockets to peer in to it, waiting for something to walk out. But it only beckoned, promising something new. She watched as that thing in the moss swelled, shark-like and retreating, as it’s shoulder blades swayed back and forth and it disappeared in to that black off to some other patch. Perhaps the place it slept when she wasn’t disturbing sanctuary.

Rolling her eyes forward again, she stared at the back of the woman’s head.

The hum of the static was becoming nearly unbearable. It did not drill so much as crash, a deafening hush, a clear monotony. Grey and black fought each other on the screen, though a flash of purple drilled through with brilliant green caught her eye every once in a while the longer she stared. The louder it got the more it seemed to suggest. (Mine. Miiiiiiiine. Wake up and hurt him. Would be easy. Would be very easy. No one else can have this thing. Put him somewhere no one will ever find him. Bury him. No don’t bury him. Bury him and you’ll only want to dig him up and see what happened. Wake him up. Peel back the skin. Peel it. Take it off. Peel him. Take skin. Peel take. Take...skin...peel...mine…)

Let's do terrible, gruesome. . wonderful things. . .

She barely heard it over the roar of static.
Shhhhhhhhhhh……
“Let’s,” she murmured back, unheard over the static, before stepping out.
hhhhhhhhhhhh……
She opened her eyes.

A mist of chemicals meant to subdue both subject and insect was hazy in the skeleton’s cage as it hissed out of small holes along the edges of the floor, reminiscent of TV static.

(Peel back the skin. Take it off.)

She unraveled from where she’d ended up on him, finding her limbs as she stood. For a moment she might even have looked tall as she stared down at him, irises slowly swirling.

What a trip.

“I’ll have someone clear the rooms and offices on this level. You can have what you want. You’ll start tonight.”

[member="Xander Mavros"]​
 

Xander Mavros

Guest
More to explore? She was right, probably more right than she ever had been about anyone. Maybe. But actually probably not, she had many relationships with significant meanings that could lend thought that she knew the intimate workings to many of the Galaxy's most notorious - and certainly would not have stuck around if their pools were as shallow as puddles on concrete.

But Xander held many shades, that dark forest was but one thing in an entire setting of unique scenery that sheltered his mind. A bleak, cheerless place filled with his foreboding and sorrow. That sad place he hid adrift the countless pines, perhaps forever meant to wander around lonely and left out.

But there were indeed more evil places too, more colorful settings.

Hazy places of purples and reds and pinks and neon of all assortment. Psychedelically prismatic rainbows twirling like a kaleidoscopic summer night. Bell bottoms and tie-dyed, the type of heavy metal glam that whispered from open garages and across carnival fairgrounds. Those groovy places that were constructed from his bottomless addiction to the Habit and Trip.

The place where the more relateable, although entirely more eccentric side of Xander managed to generally find himself.

But, another day, another time. . . perhaps. [member="Matsu Xiangu"] seemed to have found her fill for the evening. Or had at least realized what exactly she had needed to finally, definitively, regard him as someone worthy of further studying - or, more importantly, hiring.

The conscious grasp of his body returned to him, something not entirely unlike the Nod of some really Vein-y drugs he'd tried in the past. . . few hours. Was he satisfied with what had just happened? Not exactly. Not as he laid there on his back gazing upwards at her as the construction of her usual small frame found itself lifting in to the sky so high from this place on the floor it looked as though she could pierce the clouds - were their any, that was.

Xander stayed there for a number of moments, the hisssssss of steam and bite of insecticide on his nostrils wafting from below ventilation ducts grooved in to the floor and piped down through grates that edged the fine block work he rested on. Carefully the Scientist rose, his body numb and unsure, weightless from the drugs, confused from her sudden intrusion.

Taking a moment he used the murky light from the steamed up Observatory to twist his right arm and pull on his shirt with his left hand, examining a hole in the elbow of the very cheap button down and a pooled rivulet of crimson that had soaked through the fabric where he must have landed on the concrete when she forced him to the floor. This high, he couldn't feel the sting, but there was a very tense feeling in the muscles and tendons that operated his clenching fist as he shunted his gaze from the wound towards the swirling pattern of Matsu's eyes.

Every part of him wanted to grab her by the throat and choke that look off from her face - his darkness suddenly slightly more present at the forefront of his mind. But he was a master of altering and switching his composure, and a smart man to boot.

A dead Scientist cannot very well carry out many experiments.

"The abberations and horrors that are going to be made here. . . . " He paused, offering only a small smile and a very callous squint of his eyes. She could fill in the blank herself. For they would be gruesome pair.
 

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