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gearsof.livejournal.com) wrote in
pullmeoutalive2009-05-18 01:19 pm
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log > for lack of a better place to do so
He had to wonder how it was that, if no one save a very, very select few could leave Whitechapel, he kept ending up elsewhere. Indeed, this wasn't the steam-driven, smog-choked section of city he called home. This was somewhere else entirely - and startlingly modern in comparison to the Victorian England he was so used to.
It was unseemly of him, but he found himself staring - tall buildings all steel and glass towered over him, and over that lay the clearest sky he'd seen in his entire life. The sun was bright, brighter that it had ever been in Whitechapel, with its constant overhang of smoke. All the better, he supposed, that he was wearing his usual attire, complete with dark glasses.
Alabaster stood alone on the street, a tall figure in smoke black stark against the clean, polished world he now found himself in. There seemed to be no one around. This city, if it was indeed a city and not some ludicrous dream, appeared to be deserted.
He reached into the pocket of his coat, fishing out a pocket watch. In this alien place, was Grandfather Clock - his God, and God over Whitechapel - still watching him through the clockface? Or had the connection been severed with his sudden disappearance?
Such things would be answered in due time, he told himself. For now, there was only the question of getting back. It wouldn't do to have Grandfather Clock's elite agent up and vanish in the middle of a rebellion, now would it?
It was unseemly of him, but he found himself staring - tall buildings all steel and glass towered over him, and over that lay the clearest sky he'd seen in his entire life. The sun was bright, brighter that it had ever been in Whitechapel, with its constant overhang of smoke. All the better, he supposed, that he was wearing his usual attire, complete with dark glasses.
Alabaster stood alone on the street, a tall figure in smoke black stark against the clean, polished world he now found himself in. There seemed to be no one around. This city, if it was indeed a city and not some ludicrous dream, appeared to be deserted.
He reached into the pocket of his coat, fishing out a pocket watch. In this alien place, was Grandfather Clock - his God, and God over Whitechapel - still watching him through the clockface? Or had the connection been severed with his sudden disappearance?
Such things would be answered in due time, he told himself. For now, there was only the question of getting back. It wouldn't do to have Grandfather Clock's elite agent up and vanish in the middle of a rebellion, now would it?
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"I-it's... here. Kind of... close, but... I need... to--"
She broke off again with another wince as the pain intensified in one big swell, waiting for it to die down again before she could manage a little more coherency.
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"I'll... be right back." In one quick movement, she'd heaved herself to an upright and standing position and was now wobbling towards the front door with a resigned expression that stated she'd been through this many times before.
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"Thurisaz!" One finger came up to draw three sharp lines into the air-- the shape she left glowed red, and the air before it exploded, almost as if whatever was attacking had just hit some sort of wall.
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He had to admit, though, Saga's magic was impressive. He'd never seen anything like it, and until yesterday, he wouldn't have thought it possible.
Well, if they made it through this little errand unscathed, he'd be sure to tell her so.
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Saga stared at her newest adversary with a look that could have only been labeled as exasperated. "You've got to be kidding. It could have been anything else, and it had to send me the Calydonian Boar." Granted, it had been in her notes that the boar was significant to Raidho, but why on earth did it have to drag the bloodthirsty Grecian legend here? It couldn't have just settled for the average pig, but now here she was, staring down an enraged (and gigantic) boar with narrowed eyes and dangerously pointed tusks.
This just wasn't her week.
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So much for that.
"I'm here to help you, remember?" She stated, somewhat frustrated. "That doesn't include requiring you to take on giant pigs."
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With that in mind, she called out silently, Return. And, just like that, Thurisaz's effect vanished.
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It didn't seem to like that much and whirled on its attacker, hooves and tusks thrashing. Mechanical limbs digging deeper into the boar's side, Alabaster hauled himself up, trying to get onto the beast's back. The damn thing was kicking up a storm, making his ascent difficult.
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"Rudh radh ridh..." The words came softly and easily, and the bracelet warmed against her wrist. She would handle the rune; she just hoped Alabaster wouldn't get himself gored before that.
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This ridiculous dance had gone on long enough, he just had to... there! There was the opening he needed - the boar kicked, a well-aimed rear hoof headed for Alabaster's head. He ducked, feeling the sting as the boar's kick grazed his forehead, mechanical arms going for the rear leg that still supported the creature's weight, ripping into the ligaments. The leg buckled awkwardly, and while the it attempted to steady itself, he tore into it's remaining rear leg.
With his adversary half-crippled, he circled to its front, meaning to take out its remaining legs. The boar mush have grasped this as well, because it lurched, jerking its head violently, and wedged a tusk right under Alabaster's ribs.
He grunted, feeling his flesh tear as the boar jerked it's head back and tossed him clean over its body. Sky, pavement, boar, it all blurred together until he hit the cement with a dull thud.
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She was almost afraid to look over her shoulder, having only the sounds of the raging battle behind her to go by. And they didn't sound good for either fighter; of course she was worried, but she couldn't break away and run to assist Alabaster now. To do so would break her concentration and the rune would escape.
All she could do was wait.
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