Collective Soul: Lingering Touches
Dec. 18th, 2023 12:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsSharon experiences something out of the ordinary while exploring Terry’s office.
Sharon was, technically, permitted to be in the suite. In addition to the regularly stocked fridge, her visitation rights with Toothless and Lightning McQueen had been firmly established. It was perhaps less allowable for her to be in Terry's room specifically, but the door had been left open. Around a cat that was as good as an invitation. And a cat was what she was at a moment; for some reason people seemed less upset to discover her in questionable locations when she wasn't 6' tall.
The first order of business was obviously to roll around in any errant laundry that was available, but after that it was back to investigating. The desk was the first order of business. A new day planner was already nestled snugly beneath that of the current year, and there was what a proud child of the digital age like Sharon thought to be an excessive number of pens and highlighters. Perhaps they were to correspond with whomever was still sending Terry the physical mail stacked neatly in the corner of the desk. The flowers and Cadbury chocolates didn't appeal, but there were a few cloth samples that needed a gentle chew.
Sharon absolutely did not open the drawer on the right-hand side of the desk. Actually opening things would have been invasive, particularly once she did not discover it contained several ciphered letters. These she did not puzzle over for several minutes before deciding to revisit the matter at a later date.
As Sharon gave the desk a final once-over to see if anything else needed a good mouthing she noticed a gleam from behind the flowers. It was a shard of crystal, curiously free of inclusions. A paperweight, maybe.
It was shiny. Sharon reached out to touch it.
The world went white, and she was not herself.
***
Breathe in slowly. Make it deep. Appreciate the moment.
Fill the core, let the energy in you return to the earth. Empty yourself through each chakra. Find the center.
The vision began in darkness, but there were sensations that were entirely human. Arms outstretched. Limber muscles relaxed. The internal monologue was hazy, like music from a well played track, but the feeling… contentment. Calm.
It was then that the darkness retreated, and the chaos of the situation reasserted itself. An impossible number of purple portals opened and shut in random sequence, lit from the inside by glowing dark energy that bounced between them like a retro arcade game.
In the center of the field, a figure sat against a sea of darkness.
There was no adrenaline spike. A little fear, but mostly… purpose.
With another centering breath, the world in the memory twisted as its owner flipped through a spinning, sharp portal. A jump, a bend, nothing but impossible, lucky grace that took them from a sea upon the night to a burning city to a field of floating rocks on the edge of the destruction of the universe. Move. React. Jump, twist. Flow. Let the universe guide you.
Closer. Landing in a wide crouch, they were back with the laser webs and the lonely figure. There was a voice, and it rang in the way that only happens in one’s own head. “Blink! St–”
A roll. Another flash and they sat, suspended, at the top of Mount Everest only for an impossibly long heartbeat. Snowy peaks and valleys outlined the beauty of the cold winter below: wide, wonderful, and high. A sense of complete awe spread through their chest.
This was beautiful.
***
Sharon fell off the desk.
It had come from nowhere. She had never experienced such agility on two legs. She had never seen those portals used in that context. And she had never seen so much of the world, still had scarcely experienced more of it than the streets of District X or the woods of Westchester County even though she longed for more. Longed for it even as she feared it, because when your whole world had been nothing but a handful of rooms facing the enormity of what lay beyond was almost too much to bear.
But in that moment she had seen that vastness, felt the awe of it like it was her own -- and then it was gone.
It wasn't fair.
But . . .
Cautiously, Sharon jumped back onto the desk and studied the crystal. Under her observation it threw not so much as an errant sparkle.
She tapped it with an experimental paw. Nothing.
Bolder, she touched it again, this time letting the contact linger. The phenomena did not recur. She brushed it with her whiskers, even gave it a tentative nibble, but this yielded no further reaction.
Sharon agonized. If she told Terry what had happened, Terry would know she had been exploring -- and she was operating under the assumption Terry wasn't already aware of the crystal's properties. What if this was its intended function, and Sharon had now broken it? It had been behind the flowers, so likely not in frequent use. It might be weeks before Terry noticed something was amiss.
At last, feeling guilty and oddly cheated, Sharon erred for the better part of valor and left.
Amanda experiences something different.
Amanda yawned as she shuffled into the kitchen. She was dressed - kind of - one of Angelo's Ugly Shirts that she'd swiped when they were dating and a pair of cotton bike shorts, with a pair of fluffy woollen socks warding against the chill of the floor and her hair was in a sloppy braid. She was very obviously not really awake and the only reason she was in the main kitchen at all was because they were out of milk in their suite. And no milk meant no coffee for Marie-Ange and no tea for Amanda, both of which were essential to the pair of them to be able to function for the day.
She fished the milk out of the fridge, squinting against the glare of the light inside, and pushed it closed with her foot before shuffling to the kitchen counter. Milk carton on the counter. Open cupboard for a mug to put some in, since she wasn't That Person who stole the last milk carton, at least not in a house full of superheroes. For the same reason she avoided the mugs in the front, which were the most often used and probably the favourite mugs of various residents and instead stretched up on her toes to reach into the back. The mug she snagged had some kind of Japanese cartoon character on it - a young man with a blue racing helmet and a red cravat - leaning against some kind of racing car. With a shrug, Amanda blew the dust out of it and began to fill it from the carton...
But, then. She wasn't herself.
***
It was night, it was a blur, and there was a chase.
A spike of adrenaline tingled with guilt at the thought of this, but the grip of the wheel and the the shine of the city was irresistible. Well, that and the danger.
It was like a movie. He missed those. ... He?
A hand moved from the steering wheel to adjust the rear view mirror, revealing the all too blonde head of Arthur Centino as he completely ruined his rear vision view by skewing the mirror to instead focus on the panicked form of Sarah Rushman on the side of him.
Another pang of guilt mixed with adrenaline. She was saying something, but channeling this much luck left a lingering sense of drunkenness. Like getting everything you want for Christmas. Like being in a movie.
“I am listening to only you. Lay it on me."
This was true. His eyes weren’t even on the road. This was underscored by a loud screech as the entire car spun into a slide, sending all of the folks in the back to one side of the beat up Volvo.
Ah. Bonding. The chase continued.
***
The cold sensation of milk pouring over her fingers and onto her foot woke Amanda from the trance? Memory? Whatever the fuck that had been. Amanda glanced down and swore, tilting the carton back upright and taking a slurp out of the mug that had overflowed. What the hell had that been?
Sharon was, technically, permitted to be in the suite. In addition to the regularly stocked fridge, her visitation rights with Toothless and Lightning McQueen had been firmly established. It was perhaps less allowable for her to be in Terry's room specifically, but the door had been left open. Around a cat that was as good as an invitation. And a cat was what she was at a moment; for some reason people seemed less upset to discover her in questionable locations when she wasn't 6' tall.
The first order of business was obviously to roll around in any errant laundry that was available, but after that it was back to investigating. The desk was the first order of business. A new day planner was already nestled snugly beneath that of the current year, and there was what a proud child of the digital age like Sharon thought to be an excessive number of pens and highlighters. Perhaps they were to correspond with whomever was still sending Terry the physical mail stacked neatly in the corner of the desk. The flowers and Cadbury chocolates didn't appeal, but there were a few cloth samples that needed a gentle chew.
Sharon absolutely did not open the drawer on the right-hand side of the desk. Actually opening things would have been invasive, particularly once she did not discover it contained several ciphered letters. These she did not puzzle over for several minutes before deciding to revisit the matter at a later date.
As Sharon gave the desk a final once-over to see if anything else needed a good mouthing she noticed a gleam from behind the flowers. It was a shard of crystal, curiously free of inclusions. A paperweight, maybe.
It was shiny. Sharon reached out to touch it.
The world went white, and she was not herself.
***
Breathe in slowly. Make it deep. Appreciate the moment.
Fill the core, let the energy in you return to the earth. Empty yourself through each chakra. Find the center.
The vision began in darkness, but there were sensations that were entirely human. Arms outstretched. Limber muscles relaxed. The internal monologue was hazy, like music from a well played track, but the feeling… contentment. Calm.
It was then that the darkness retreated, and the chaos of the situation reasserted itself. An impossible number of purple portals opened and shut in random sequence, lit from the inside by glowing dark energy that bounced between them like a retro arcade game.
In the center of the field, a figure sat against a sea of darkness.
There was no adrenaline spike. A little fear, but mostly… purpose.
With another centering breath, the world in the memory twisted as its owner flipped through a spinning, sharp portal. A jump, a bend, nothing but impossible, lucky grace that took them from a sea upon the night to a burning city to a field of floating rocks on the edge of the destruction of the universe. Move. React. Jump, twist. Flow. Let the universe guide you.
Closer. Landing in a wide crouch, they were back with the laser webs and the lonely figure. There was a voice, and it rang in the way that only happens in one’s own head. “Blink! St–”
A roll. Another flash and they sat, suspended, at the top of Mount Everest only for an impossibly long heartbeat. Snowy peaks and valleys outlined the beauty of the cold winter below: wide, wonderful, and high. A sense of complete awe spread through their chest.
This was beautiful.
***
Sharon fell off the desk.
It had come from nowhere. She had never experienced such agility on two legs. She had never seen those portals used in that context. And she had never seen so much of the world, still had scarcely experienced more of it than the streets of District X or the woods of Westchester County even though she longed for more. Longed for it even as she feared it, because when your whole world had been nothing but a handful of rooms facing the enormity of what lay beyond was almost too much to bear.
But in that moment she had seen that vastness, felt the awe of it like it was her own -- and then it was gone.
It wasn't fair.
But . . .
Cautiously, Sharon jumped back onto the desk and studied the crystal. Under her observation it threw not so much as an errant sparkle.
She tapped it with an experimental paw. Nothing.
Bolder, she touched it again, this time letting the contact linger. The phenomena did not recur. She brushed it with her whiskers, even gave it a tentative nibble, but this yielded no further reaction.
Sharon agonized. If she told Terry what had happened, Terry would know she had been exploring -- and she was operating under the assumption Terry wasn't already aware of the crystal's properties. What if this was its intended function, and Sharon had now broken it? It had been behind the flowers, so likely not in frequent use. It might be weeks before Terry noticed something was amiss.
At last, feeling guilty and oddly cheated, Sharon erred for the better part of valor and left.
Amanda experiences something different.
Amanda yawned as she shuffled into the kitchen. She was dressed - kind of - one of Angelo's Ugly Shirts that she'd swiped when they were dating and a pair of cotton bike shorts, with a pair of fluffy woollen socks warding against the chill of the floor and her hair was in a sloppy braid. She was very obviously not really awake and the only reason she was in the main kitchen at all was because they were out of milk in their suite. And no milk meant no coffee for Marie-Ange and no tea for Amanda, both of which were essential to the pair of them to be able to function for the day.
She fished the milk out of the fridge, squinting against the glare of the light inside, and pushed it closed with her foot before shuffling to the kitchen counter. Milk carton on the counter. Open cupboard for a mug to put some in, since she wasn't That Person who stole the last milk carton, at least not in a house full of superheroes. For the same reason she avoided the mugs in the front, which were the most often used and probably the favourite mugs of various residents and instead stretched up on her toes to reach into the back. The mug she snagged had some kind of Japanese cartoon character on it - a young man with a blue racing helmet and a red cravat - leaning against some kind of racing car. With a shrug, Amanda blew the dust out of it and began to fill it from the carton...
But, then. She wasn't herself.
***
It was night, it was a blur, and there was a chase.
A spike of adrenaline tingled with guilt at the thought of this, but the grip of the wheel and the the shine of the city was irresistible. Well, that and the danger.
It was like a movie. He missed those. ... He?
A hand moved from the steering wheel to adjust the rear view mirror, revealing the all too blonde head of Arthur Centino as he completely ruined his rear vision view by skewing the mirror to instead focus on the panicked form of Sarah Rushman on the side of him.
Another pang of guilt mixed with adrenaline. She was saying something, but channeling this much luck left a lingering sense of drunkenness. Like getting everything you want for Christmas. Like being in a movie.
“I am listening to only you. Lay it on me."
This was true. His eyes weren’t even on the road. This was underscored by a loud screech as the entire car spun into a slide, sending all of the folks in the back to one side of the beat up Volvo.
Ah. Bonding. The chase continued.
***
The cold sensation of milk pouring over her fingers and onto her foot woke Amanda from the trance? Memory? Whatever the fuck that had been. Amanda glanced down and swore, tilting the carton back upright and taking a slurp out of the mug that had overflowed. What the hell had that been?
