[ Ian Wavewalker had been a lot of things in his life; an outcast, a pirate, a friend and brother, an unintentional hero, an errand boy for the god of death, and now, a prisoner. (Speaking of the god of death, once Ian got back to his own plain of existence, he was going to have to have a talk with his good friend and employer.)
It had all began a few hours ago. Ian had been chasing a couple of lost souls- literal lost souls, all part of the job of working for Gatekeeper- running full-tilt through the jungle when he felt a subtle shift in reality. It was as though everything just sort of slid slightly off-kilter, and though the jungle had not physically changed, the smells and the sounds were all suddenly different. Ian had to wonder if he’d shifted locations or realities altogether. (Gatekeeper had hinted more than once about being the guardian of more than just the Gate between this life and the next. Perhaps he walked in different worlds as well?) But whatever had happened, he was no longer where he started, and his senses had lost all trace of the souls he was chasing.
It was dark, but the moon was full and bright, more than enough to light his way as he tread cautiously through the brush. It was then he came face to face with her- an Old One, as his people called them. Her scales were dark, though he caught the slightest hint of blue in the moonlight, and her eyes bright. The Raptori and the raptor eyed each other for some time. Ian had never seen an Old One before. They were the stuff of books and stories, clever and vicious, but long gone. She was surely intelligent- he could see it in the way she looked at him, the way she scented the air, and recognized him as Kin- but she didn’t possess the ability to speak.
But then something else was moving through the forest, and the Old One bolted for cover. Ian thought it wise to do much of the same, and took to the treetops. Men in strange outfits with strange weapons and devices appeared. He could understand their speech well enough, and he guessed they were looking for the Old One. Hunters of some kind?
One of the machines beeped, and the man holding it said something about a thermal reading, whatever that was, and the others gathered around his device. What is that? one breathed, and Ian knew he had been found somehow. He didn’t get far before something sharp pricked into his shoulder, and he felt suddenly sluggish. He tore the offending dart out of his shoulder as he bounded through the trees, but more followed, and it was quickly becoming a losing battle. He had enough time and enough foresight to wedge his clothes, glasses, and weapons in the fork some tree branches before they finally brought him down. Let them think him some wild animal, like the Old One.
It was a charade he kept up with when he woke. He wouldn’t let anyone near him, charging the bars of his cage, snarling and growling and swiping his claws. He didn’t speak to the men who came to look at him. They wondered whose “project” he was. They wondered about “military applications”. They wondered if he could understand them. Oh, if only they knew. These men- InGen was the word emblazoned on their clothes, though he didn’t know what that meant- weren’t about to let him go. Not even if he stood and spoke to them. (He got the feeling especially not then.) Better to play dumb.
no subject
It had all began a few hours ago. Ian had been chasing a couple of lost souls- literal lost souls, all part of the job of working for Gatekeeper- running full-tilt through the jungle when he felt a subtle shift in reality. It was as though everything just sort of slid slightly off-kilter, and though the jungle had not physically changed, the smells and the sounds were all suddenly different. Ian had to wonder if he’d shifted locations or realities altogether. (Gatekeeper had hinted more than once about being the guardian of more than just the Gate between this life and the next. Perhaps he walked in different worlds as well?) But whatever had happened, he was no longer where he started, and his senses had lost all trace of the souls he was chasing.
It was dark, but the moon was full and bright, more than enough to light his way as he tread cautiously through the brush. It was then he came face to face with her- an Old One, as his people called them. Her scales were dark, though he caught the slightest hint of blue in the moonlight, and her eyes bright. The Raptori and the raptor eyed each other for some time. Ian had never seen an Old One before. They were the stuff of books and stories, clever and vicious, but long gone. She was surely intelligent- he could see it in the way she looked at him, the way she scented the air, and recognized him as Kin- but she didn’t possess the ability to speak.
But then something else was moving through the forest, and the Old One bolted for cover. Ian thought it wise to do much of the same, and took to the treetops. Men in strange outfits with strange weapons and devices appeared. He could understand their speech well enough, and he guessed they were looking for the Old One. Hunters of some kind?
One of the machines beeped, and the man holding it said something about a thermal reading, whatever that was, and the others gathered around his device. What is that? one breathed, and Ian knew he had been found somehow. He didn’t get far before something sharp pricked into his shoulder, and he felt suddenly sluggish. He tore the offending dart out of his shoulder as he bounded through the trees, but more followed, and it was quickly becoming a losing battle. He had enough time and enough foresight to wedge his clothes, glasses, and weapons in the fork some tree branches before they finally brought him down. Let them think him some wild animal, like the Old One.
It was a charade he kept up with when he woke. He wouldn’t let anyone near him, charging the bars of his cage, snarling and growling and swiping his claws. He didn’t speak to the men who came to look at him. They wondered whose “project” he was. They wondered about “military applications”. They wondered if he could understand them. Oh, if only they knew. These men- InGen was the word emblazoned on their clothes, though he didn’t know what that meant- weren’t about to let him go. Not even if he stood and spoke to them. (He got the feeling especially not then.) Better to play dumb.
Better to wait for the right human. ]