The Magnificent Seven: Artemis
Dec. 2nd, 2008 10:44 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsEmma is watchful. Emma finds a target.
It was almost unnoticeable. The behavior of the guards surrounding the guest house didn't alter dramatically; there were no outbursts, no sudden, aggressive behavior. But as the morning wore on, they were increasingly restless - hands going to their weapons more than they should be, too many conversations being carried on in low voices. The fact that their country was being invaded might have accounted for it. But there were a few too many hostile looks directed at the guest house, instead of outwards at a world that had suddenly become dangerous. There was an undercurrent, that someone who looked very carefully might see.
Or even just someone who had levels of perception available to them that the ordinary person didn't.
The clue came from the Astral Plane in the end. The feel of it against her perceptions had left Emma vaguely nauseous but she had refused to withdraw into her own head, not willing to lose contact with the additional perspective it gave her, leaving herself peculiarly sensitised to each roil and lash in the Plane. It did not take long to realise that the increasingly overt, misplaced aggression of the guards was corresponding to a rise in the turmoil of the Plane.
For a short while, Emma considered reporting her suspicions to T'Challa, but realised there was little point. Whoever was undermining the loyalty of his guards was working in a way that the King would have no capacity to assess or combat. So she sent a message through one of the attendants who was not affected by the increased aggression, informing T'Challa that she needed some time in her room and was not to be disturbed, before retreating behind her locked door.
The first step onto the Plane was enough to drive the nausea spiking through her, but she fought it down and opened her telepathic eyes onto a strangely altered landscape. It took only a few moments for Emma to adjust to the strangely off angles and colours that existed in the psychic landscape that represented Wakanda. Carefully she wrapped telepathic light around herself, becoming invisible to other psychic eyes and then settled herself into watching the points of light that were her representation of the minds of the guards, ignoring those who pulsed steadily for those who roiled strangely.
It was an exercise in patience but it was rewarded at last when she saw the dark mass of another mind approach and push against the roiling points of light, twisting them into new fervour. Emma knew that, back in the compound, the same guards would be muttering more strongly, pushing towards a fever-pitch of betrayal. Holding her shields tight, Emma drifted forward, close enough to identify the astral traveller's form.
Apparently, Tara Trask had decided to take on another assassination.
Rather than step straight out and inform T'Challa of what was going on, Emma waited for Trask's next move, reviewing the files she had read about the lecturer and mutant. It did not take long for Emma to realise that the information about Trask's inability to direct affect or control the minds of others was true. Trask's form bumped against the minds of the guards, seeming to push them into new shapes rather than altering them directly, and she took far longer about the task than Emma would have taken using her own telepathy.
The psychic journey became painful long before it was completed, but the information Emma gained as she went was enough, just, to make up for the tedium. It was Trask's influence that was driving the rebellion, pushing against the fears the soldiers had of mutants in charge, enhanced by the example of Apocalypse, and now she was doing the same to T'Challa's bodyguard. It was the certain knowledge of Trask's physical location, finally, that made up for having to spend so long on the malformed Plane.
Emma withdrew quietly from the Plane, taking only moments to adjust to the passage of time in the physical world, the slant of light telling her that it was now mid-morning. She took a few moments to assess the minds of the guards, confirming those who were starting to think of rebellion, confirming that there was time before any plans would come to fruition.
She found the same messenger, got him to bring T'Challa to her, explaining what she had found to the King, providing him with a list of guards to place in confinement for now, as well as a list of her requirements for travel and bodyguards.
Faintly bewildered by the speed of events, T'Challa demanded to know the reason for Emma's travel.
The smile she bestowed him was not in any way reassuring. "Oh my dear," she said and her smile sharpened further. "Tara Trask needs a spanking and I do so very love to administer my spankings in person."
It was almost unnoticeable. The behavior of the guards surrounding the guest house didn't alter dramatically; there were no outbursts, no sudden, aggressive behavior. But as the morning wore on, they were increasingly restless - hands going to their weapons more than they should be, too many conversations being carried on in low voices. The fact that their country was being invaded might have accounted for it. But there were a few too many hostile looks directed at the guest house, instead of outwards at a world that had suddenly become dangerous. There was an undercurrent, that someone who looked very carefully might see.
Or even just someone who had levels of perception available to them that the ordinary person didn't.
The clue came from the Astral Plane in the end. The feel of it against her perceptions had left Emma vaguely nauseous but she had refused to withdraw into her own head, not willing to lose contact with the additional perspective it gave her, leaving herself peculiarly sensitised to each roil and lash in the Plane. It did not take long to realise that the increasingly overt, misplaced aggression of the guards was corresponding to a rise in the turmoil of the Plane.
For a short while, Emma considered reporting her suspicions to T'Challa, but realised there was little point. Whoever was undermining the loyalty of his guards was working in a way that the King would have no capacity to assess or combat. So she sent a message through one of the attendants who was not affected by the increased aggression, informing T'Challa that she needed some time in her room and was not to be disturbed, before retreating behind her locked door.
The first step onto the Plane was enough to drive the nausea spiking through her, but she fought it down and opened her telepathic eyes onto a strangely altered landscape. It took only a few moments for Emma to adjust to the strangely off angles and colours that existed in the psychic landscape that represented Wakanda. Carefully she wrapped telepathic light around herself, becoming invisible to other psychic eyes and then settled herself into watching the points of light that were her representation of the minds of the guards, ignoring those who pulsed steadily for those who roiled strangely.
It was an exercise in patience but it was rewarded at last when she saw the dark mass of another mind approach and push against the roiling points of light, twisting them into new fervour. Emma knew that, back in the compound, the same guards would be muttering more strongly, pushing towards a fever-pitch of betrayal. Holding her shields tight, Emma drifted forward, close enough to identify the astral traveller's form.
Apparently, Tara Trask had decided to take on another assassination.
Rather than step straight out and inform T'Challa of what was going on, Emma waited for Trask's next move, reviewing the files she had read about the lecturer and mutant. It did not take long for Emma to realise that the information about Trask's inability to direct affect or control the minds of others was true. Trask's form bumped against the minds of the guards, seeming to push them into new shapes rather than altering them directly, and she took far longer about the task than Emma would have taken using her own telepathy.
The psychic journey became painful long before it was completed, but the information Emma gained as she went was enough, just, to make up for the tedium. It was Trask's influence that was driving the rebellion, pushing against the fears the soldiers had of mutants in charge, enhanced by the example of Apocalypse, and now she was doing the same to T'Challa's bodyguard. It was the certain knowledge of Trask's physical location, finally, that made up for having to spend so long on the malformed Plane.
Emma withdrew quietly from the Plane, taking only moments to adjust to the passage of time in the physical world, the slant of light telling her that it was now mid-morning. She took a few moments to assess the minds of the guards, confirming those who were starting to think of rebellion, confirming that there was time before any plans would come to fruition.
She found the same messenger, got him to bring T'Challa to her, explaining what she had found to the King, providing him with a list of guards to place in confinement for now, as well as a list of her requirements for travel and bodyguards.
Faintly bewildered by the speed of events, T'Challa demanded to know the reason for Emma's travel.
The smile she bestowed him was not in any way reassuring. "Oh my dear," she said and her smile sharpened further. "Tara Trask needs a spanking and I do so very love to administer my spankings in person."
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