Impulse

[Katpride]

There’s a twig poking their ear. Murphy stares resolutely forward, their jaw set, and tries to ignore it. But it’s poking right at the base of their ear, in that spot that always itches, and after a few seconds where they grind their teeth ever harder they finally give in and flick their ear. The twig bounces away, then jabs right back in the same spot. They growl, turning their head to bite the offending twig and snap it between their teeth. It gives a most satisfactory crunch, and they resettle still chewing on the thin bark. Their shield is warm under them, protecting their belly from the branches beneath it. They run a claw over the hardened bark of the shield’s surface, feeling its familiar roughness. It wouldn’t snap so easily; they would be surprised to see it shatter to anything less than the full efforts of their counterparts. All the while, they keep their gaze outward and their ears pricked. They’ve chosen a short cliff for their vantage point, and a scraggly bush on said cliff for a resting place and arguable cover. They intend to break cover as soon as it becomes inconvenient, of course, but they’ve gotten caught out too often by eyes in the sky to start out without it when they can avoid it. Still, the bush won’t help them hide if they can’t stay still. A rustling bush is almost as obvious as Murphy themself, to the wrong eyes. They keep to their stillness, eyes bright as they alternate scanning the ground below their cliff and the skies above. They know she’s in the area. The animals have been whispering of it, to those with the ears to listen, and this body has long since learned that skill. They just don’t know where she’ll be approaching from. That’s part of the fun. The other part sits somewhere behind them, and there’s no doubt in their mind that he’s already planning the best angle from which to slide the knife. He’s predictable, in that way, though he would be offended if they called him that. It makes them want to, just to see him get all red and huffy. Maybe holding off would buy them a little more time to scamper off with their limbs intact, this cycle, but they’ve never been one to pass up the opportunity to push buttons where they can.

OOC Thread: https://storytellerscircle.com/threads/impulse-characters-and-ooc.10943/

 

[HighVoltage]

	He swore the rock moved. Nathaniel shifted his weight, attempting to get comfortable on his chosen perch: the flattest cluster of rocks he could find in this gods-forsaken outback. Really, of all the places they could have chosen for their battlefield, it had to be the place composed entirely of criminals, vagabonds, and other exiles. He could understand why this place would be suited to the other two, with their rough-and-tumble lives, but he deserved better, really. Nathaniel attempted, yet again, to delve further into his book. Book may have been the wrong term to describe a carefully hand-crafted copy of a treatise on ancient Spartan siege warfare, but when he’d tried to explain the difference to Murphy, they’d growled at him until he sat down before going to hide in that ridiculous bush they were in. They were waiting for the third member of their little party to show her one-armed self. And by they, Nathaniel of course meant Murphy. He’d somehow managed to stumble his way into Arbitration this time around, and knew it was only a matter of time before he’d have to kill one of the other two. He knew it was too much to hope they’d take each other out. That hadn’t happened in several centuries, back when L had played Arbiter and killed Murphy whilst defending him, only to be mortally wounded in the process. It had taken three cycles before she’d forgiven him for that, even though he hadn’t asked her to. Nathaniel’s gaze drifted smoothly from the page to the bush Murphy lay in. He’d have walked right past them without a second thought if he didn’t know better. He reached his hand out to ensure his cane was still in its spot, propped up by his side. He knew Murphy wouldn’t attack him out of nowhere, they enjoyed the hunt too much for that. No, he expected that if he were to die suddenly today, it would be her doing. Still, he had to rock the boat a little, if not to hopefully kick things off. “See anything?” He called to Murphy, his voice loud enough to carry a little too far, but low enough that he could claim he was attempting to be quiet. “How do you know she’s here?” Not particularly caring about the answer, Nathaniel crossed his legs, shifted in a futile attempt to find a single part of this rock that wasn’t jagged, and flipped the page.

 

[illirica]

It was a strange feeling, being hunted. Lydia's 4-wheeler moved through the dirt, kicking up brown dust to the sides. She could pretend that the dust would hide her from view, but really, it wasn't that hard to tell where she was, since the outback was big and empty and her vehicle was the only one out here right now. There would be another in radio range, as was standard, but there weren't enough people not to cover as much space as possible. The motor noises carried, too, even if they weren't all that loud - there just wasn't anything to stop them, just a wide open expanse of flat nothingness with scrubby little brush here and there. She didn't think they'd be here, though - the visibility was too good. She'd see them all too early. No, they'd probably be up in the more wooded area ahead, hiding. It was what she would have done, if she were hunting them. That, or dropped in from above, but the sky was empty here and there wasn't any cover in that direction, either. Sometimes she wondered what life would be like if there wasn't someone trying to kill her, or she wasn't trying to kill someone. What would things have been like? What would she have done differently? She'd always wanted to play music. It just never worked out. She shifted what was left of her arm, rubbing it against her side to try to scratch an itch on the stump of it. She didn't want to take her hand off the wheel, after all, in case she needed to change directions in a hurry. Sometimes the best way not to get killed was just to drive away very quickly. It would work for a while - until the next time they found her. She checked the strap of her glider on the passenger seat beside her, making sure it was wrapped around her upper body so that if she needed to get out of the car, she'd have it with her. That, and the weapon - in this iteration, it looked like the sort of stick someone would use to poke a venomous snake and relocate it a little farther away. It was mounted to a rifle, of course, in case she needed something a little heavier duty, for aggressive fauna or aggressive foes. Lydia wouldn't shoot most people, it was just that there were a couple people who she knew she wouldn't have a choice. It would be them or her, and... well, they'd all tried not resisting at least once, hadn't they? It just made things start over again. It didn't change anything. Nothing did, really. She approached the brush, with caution, her eyes watching every movement of the leaves, wondering if it was just the wind, or if it was going to be her death. She wondered if she'd see it coming, this round, or if it would be like lightning from the sky, over before she knew it was happening. She hoped not. There were so few opportunities to see the others, after all. She didn't want to waste one of them, even if it was the one where they killed her.

 

[Katpride]

There’s a cloud of dust on the horizon, and the rumble of an engine that still sounds like a purr to Murphy’s ears. They have a little time, then. They turn their eyes away from the cloud for a moment, glancing at their traitorous ally. “Oh, she’s coming. She’s just like you: a predictable, well-mannered member of society,” they inform Nathaniel, just the hint of a growl lingering behind the cheery, bright sound of their voice this cycle. “She has a job.” They hack out the word with the disdain it deserves, following it with a derisive snort. As if any career could ever be as important as the Hunt. They’ve never managed to hold down a job in any incarnation, and they’ve never needed to. Nature provides, for those strong enough to carve a place for themselves out in the Wild. Making ties to one-life society just holds them back, in the end. Their ears twitch, and they roll their neck back to confirm with their eyes what their ears are telling them. It’s blatant posturing, showing Nathaniel their neck for a brief, teasing moment before their mane flops down over it. “She’s nearly here.” And she’s not in the sky. That means they have the height advantage, at least for now. They grin, baring their fangs. Ah, they’ve missed this. Their life just isn’t the same, in the time between Hunts. They shake off the bush - no point being subtle now, this is the only foot-path between the cliffs big enough for her vehicle - and pounce upon Nathaniel. Not to hurt him, at least not now, but because it’s always hilarious to see him scramble. “Ready?” they ask, as the rumbling engine becomes loud enough that he must be able to hear it even with his tiny little ears. They don’t wait for an answer before nudging him toward the cliff’s edge, tugging at his arm, nipping at his legs, and tripping him if necessary. Their shield is still in the bush, and they grab it as they pass, dragging it over with one paw. Then, with a joyful howl, they push him off, jumping after with their shield under them like a sled. The cliff bumps them around, the wind tears through their hair and makes their eyes water, and they have never felt more alive. They land on the roof of the four wheeler with a tremendous thud, already scrambling for purchase on the sleek metal. Their shield gets pinned between their body and the roof, having broken the worst of the fall, and they endeavor to keep it there as they hook their paws over the front lip of the roof, poking their head over to grin at Lydia. “Miss me?”

 

[HighVoltage]

	Nathaniel curled his lip a little. Gods, he forgot how tiring working with M could be. At their most civilized they were still basically a wild animal, and Murphy was far from their most civilized iteration. They chose to live in this outback hellscape, after all. “Well of course she has a job.” He called to them, not worrying about how his voice would carry. “She’s not an uncivilized mongrel like yourself.” Nathaniel shut his book with a huff, tucking it into his bag. Clearly he wasn’t going to be getting any reading done today. And if things didn’t go according to plan, he wouldn’t be getting any more reading done this cycle. Fortunately, he had a multitude of plans to pull from, and centuries to prepare them. Before he had a proper chance to react, Murphy began ushering him along, nipping at his heels, tugging him, pushing him, doing whatever they could to get him closer to the edge. It was all he could do to ensure his cane was firmly in his grasp as he gazed over the cliff’s edge to the valley floor below. For the briefest of moments, the morbid thought passed through his head that Murphy intended to just shove him off the cliff and be done with it. Then he heard the faint roar of the engine and realized it was showtime. That was the moment they shoved him off the cliff. Murphy plummeted downward, a meteor ready to strike at their target. Nathaniel fell somewhat less gracefully, fumbling around in his jacket before finding the clasp holding the sheaves of paper against his body. He snapped it open and the wind wormed its way in, ripping some of the pages free and bringing them out into the open air. But Nathaniel had plans other than simply littering. The pages folded themselves around him, expanded and fit together until a large pair of birdlike wings stretched out behind him. See? You’re not so special, Lydia. While impressive, the wings themselves did not flap. If anything, they were more of a decorative glider than actual wings. Their main purpose was to slow Nathaniel’s fall to a point where he wouldn’t splat against the roof of Lydia’s off-roading vehicle. And of course, that’s exactly what they did. It did not, however, mean that they provided any excess cushioning to make the impact any softer. Nathaniel let out a yelp of pain as he impacted, followed immediately by a string of curses in a variety of languages, over a third of which were dead, legally speaking. The wings caught the air and nearly yanked him back off the damnable thing, had they not started breaking down as soon as they filled. The pages crumpled and folded in on themselves, moving down and around Nathaniel’s arm until they wrapped around his wrist, trailing off and finding one of the roof supports to bind themselves to. Once it had solidified again, Nathaniel had a nice paper chain connecting him to the vehicle itself. Hopefully that would be enough of a measure against him falling off. “Hello Lydia” He called down to the driver, a crisp accent of something exotic creeping into his voice. “I won’t ask if you’ve missed me, because I know you have. How’s the arm?” He grabbed the bottom of his cane and lowered it downward, poking gently at the soft flesh of Lydia’s right arm. “Still lopsided?”

 

[illirica]

They came from above. Lydia had expected them to come from the foliage, so the drop onto the vehicle was somewhat jarring. She preferred driving with an open top, but that hadn't been what she'd been assigned today, and she did try to be a part of society, most of the time. Unlike some. The upside-down grin in the mirror was a sickle, and the words that issued from it were the reaping slice. The second thump on the rooftop was almost an afterthought, a bit of punctuation - maybe an ellipsis, something trailing off... Regardless, they were all three of them here, together once again. Nathaniel was cursing at things, with erudite venom, and Lydia took the moment to say, quite softly, into the hunter's maw: "Yes, actually." The arbiter had it the easiest, she'd always thought - they could ally themselves with someone, if they cared to, or with everyone, if they cared to do that. It meant that they had someone to speak to, always, someone to compare notes with. The hunter and the prey... one of them, inevitably, had to be alone. In this iteration, it was Lydia. There had been glimpses; there were always glimpses. Tiny interactions, cut off too soon, like flesh separated from body. Aside from that, though, she'd had only the mortals for company, and there would always be a part of her that she could not share with them. Not like she could with the others, even if all they were here for was to take it from her. The Arbiter had righted himself, all sarcasm and indignance, prodding at her with a blunt cane and sharp phrases that couldn't seem to do half as much damage as the Hunter had done in just two words. Lydia ignored him, because he could have chosen her in this iteration, and he hadn't, and so she was pissed off about that, as was standard. She didn't blame him, because he had to make some decision, and whatever he chose was going to piss someone off, it was just that in this particular case, it was her. He'd understand. They knew each other well enough, after all - and it wasn't as if they were here to chat. No, the attack from above had come with a purpose, and if they'd paused it long enough to talk a little, Lydia knew it was because they'd missed her as well. It had been worth a moment, that heartache, but it wasn't worth a lifetime. She sighed, briefly, just a little bit wistfully, for the moments that couldn't be, then shook her head, just as briefly. "I'm not dying today." Her hand moved, finding the trigger on her rifle and pulling it, sending a shot through the roof - maybe into one of them, maybe not, but it would be enough to destabilize them at least a little bit, which was why with her other hand she turned the wheel, sharply, and gunned the engine, sending the vehicle into a wild spin to see if they were as bad at holding on as she was at letting go.

 

[Katpride]

The response is quiet, but their ears are sharp. Even over the sound of Nathaniel’s fussing, Murphy catches it easily. And, for just a moment, their smile falters. They falter, even with the adrenaline from the fall still singing sweetly in their veins. Their eyes - wide, animal, dark - consider the woman in front of them, wondering if they’ve bet on the right dog this round. Because there were other times, not too long ago, when they would’ve been standing on the same side as Lydia. Either to lend a hand, to squirrel her away in their den for a few weeks where N wouldn’t find them, or to step fully into her shoes, alone and hunted. Different alliances, twining and splitting like shifting breezes over their many lives. But they do not want either of those roles, not in this life. This body has not known the softness of a den-home unless it was one they built with their own hands, and this desert is rougher than all but the worst of the wildernesses they have been abandoned in. Nature provides, but it also takes. It takes and takes, lean years and storms and too many famines between the feasts, and Murphy is tired. They have spent too many years scraping by under the hot sun, sharpening their claws on animals and the occasional foolish ant, and they are ready to roll the dice again. To move on to greener pastures, until the Hunt must begin again. There is only one way forward from there, if they don’t want to wait for too long in the murky oblivion of in-between. They must be the Hunter. They must win. It is unfortunate that this is the way of things. They do tend to bond more closely with Lydia, when she’s in one of her more tolerable forms. She has some of the Wild in her, like they do. But Nathaniel, the cockroach, had found them first. Their gaze seems to imply something of their thoughts, though their mouth is, for once, snapped shut. Perhaps, if the betrayal comes sooner than they’ve planned for, they could work out a different arrangement. A shift in the breezes. But the Hunt has already begun, and so it must play, however the pieces fall afterwards. Lydia proves that with the viper-quick hoisting of her gun. Murphy ducks back onto the roof, pulling their head out of her sights and already cringing even before the shot rings too loud in their ears. Her and her damn gun. They miss the days before gunpowder, back when their superior hearing was a single-edged sword. At least their shield blunts the shot. Or, at least, they assume that’s what happens. They’re too busy scrabbling at the edge of the roof to check, claws digging lines through the paint as they nearly slice the soft parts of their paws open on the unforgiving metal trying not to go flying off. One leg goes over the edge, and they hiss, kicking blindly in an effort to claw at her to express their displeasure. Or to get her to stop with the spinning before they do lose grip, maybe. It’s a multipurpose clawing. One of their hands gives up, then, too slick with fresh blood to keep its grip with the way they’re wiggling around, and they reach for Nathaniel’s ankle with their claws already bared. Another handhold, and a threat growled through clenched teeth. “If I fall, I'm taking you down with me.”

 

[HighVoltage]

	Lydia seemingly ignored his jabs, both verbal and physical. That was fine, he knew that he wasn’t the focus of this cycle. The Arbiter tended to fall into the background, usually only rising to prominence through aiding the Hunter in their pursuit, or aiding the Hunted in their defense. Well, that and the inevitable betrayal once the number of players on the stage had been reduced to two. The only other role the Arbiter usually played was a mediator, a peacekeeper, someone who could arrange for them to gather without a risk of the meeting devolving into bloodshed. That was why Nathaniel had come out here, after all. Too many cycles had passed since their last meeting, and he wished to correct that matter. He had felt his role settle into his bones once he made this decision, knew what his part would be. Murphy was the first one he sought, simply because they were easier to find. As much as they believed that hiding in the wilds and living like an animal would hide them, word often traveled amongst the locals when a feral human was spotted on the edges of civilization. This usually made it easier to find them than L, although not always. Regrettably, doubly so in Lydia’s case, Murphy had not wanted a meeting. They had made that quite clear, along with the fact that Nathaniel had no true say in whom he allied himself with. He had been given a clear choice: assist Murphy in hunting Lydia, or be their warm-up. He valued his life above all else, so naturally he chose the former. Now, Nathaniel was wondering if he truly had made the correct decision. Here he was, clinging to the top of an offroading vehicle with a driver who almost certainly would do her level best to kill them. As if she heard that thought, Lydia fired her rifle and a gunshot blasted his eardrums, blowing a hole through the roof of the vehicle. And, well, him. At least partially. Nathaniel felt the metal rip through the flesh of his side and emerge from the other. His cry of pain was lost in the chaos that followed, Murphy scrambling for purchase as Lydia decided to enact vehicular maneuvers taken from an intoxicated 19th-century Scotsman. The purchase they found included his leg, gods damn it, and Nathaniel twisted the pained noise into a snarl directed at them, growling in return. His body was a taut cord, one hand bound to one side of the vehicle, the opposite leg being dragged down by Murphy, stretching him like a violin string. Nathaniel drew his cane back with his free hand, centuries of muscle memory ensuring that he kept it close even when the shot struck. “Let go of me, you stupid fucking cat!” He cursed, jabbing his cane at their face to punctuate the last few words. While he may not have been the strongest amongst them, Nathaniel had found that strength had little to do with the efficacy of a wooden stick to the face.

 

[illirica]

She hadn't expected that a single shot would have ended it. Lydia had gotten away with that once, only once, when guns had been new and she'd been the first of them to decipher their existence. It had been quick, that time. One, then the other, and then years spinning out alone, interminably alone, surrounded by people everywhere who would never know the real her, would never know that M's fire held warmth, that N's coldness numbed the pain. The gun had taken all three of them, that cycle, in the end. But time passed, and now they all knew too much, and so the modern weapons were merely one more facet of the ancient, often more a shape for the others around them than for each other. Blood dripped through the roof of the vehicle, Nathaniel's shout proved it to be his. Murphy had been distracted, eyes locked on Lydia's own for a moment, lost in time. It was a good thing the vehicle was swerving, because it meant neither one of them had to play at who was going to look away first. Murphy found purchase, in some manner of speaking, and Lydia could tell pretty easily what was going on up there - mostly by Nathaniel's irritated narration, but she was hardly one to shy away from the information. Let them squabble for a moment, as it gave her a little bit more time to look at the terrain, to press the pedal down further, to speed up as much as she could, driving straight towards a boulder. She swerved, at the last moment, though she was briefly tempted not to - but no, she had said she wasn't going to die today, and she meant it. The rock was just there for a purpose, to clip the passenger side hard, driving the wheels up and sending the car into a sideways roll. Lydia had a seatbelt to protect her from the worst of it, though the impact of the airbags stung like a thousand bees to the face. The other two, atop the vehicle, would have no such protection. She didn't trust it. She unbuckled before the car had fully come to a rest, ducking out the now very much broken front windshield and reaching back to grab her weapon. The glider was pretty hopelessly tangled, and as much as she wanted it, she wasn't going to risk going in after it until she knew if the others were down or not, and how long they were likely to stay that way.

 

[Katpride]

The hiss that ripped its way out of their throat was sharp, catching on already jagged edges as Murphy expressed their wordless hatred. How did they ever manage to convince themself that making a deal with Nathaniel was a good idea? They should’ve torn him to pieces and gone after Lydia on their own time. “Useless- Arbiter-!” Unfortunately, they didn’t have the hands to spare to claw at his cane, when it came for them. They had to settle for digging their claws further into his ankle, ready to make good on their threat even as their grip on the car started to fail. Maybe, in other cycles, they would’ve been able to hold on for longer. To grit their teeth and pull themself back up, even. But try as they might, they couldn’t summon strength in muscles that they just didn’t have. Damn this desert. Damn all three of them, and the cycles they fell into. The vehicle swerved, suddenly and sharply. To their immense frustration, their claws tore free of Nathaniel’s leg, and Murphy was sent flying off alone. Their howl was cut short when they slammed into the side of the cliff, hard enough to knock the breath from their lungs and snap several somethings within their chest. They were too dazed to catch themself on the rock, if they even could. They fell, and whatever the distance between themself and the ground it was only insult to injury that it wasn’t enough to kill them. No, they landed in a heap in the sand, and they were very much alive, snarling and gasping in the dust. There was something sharp jabbing into their side - no, something sharp in their side, well under their meat - that only dug deeper with each breath. They breathed anyway. Their head was spinning, but they got an arm under them, dragging themself up to squint at the scene until the blurs resolved into shapes again. The hard way. Must it always be the hard way? No, some part of them whispered, not always. There were easier times, more peaceable times, between the red and the rage. The memories were no comfort, but still their blurred vision seemed unable to decide which form of L was crawling from the car - Lydia, with her hard-set face and chopped-short hair, coming to finish what they’d started, or Larin, brow smeared with dirt and concern as she circled back to help them up so that they could make it to the end of the war together. Would it really be so bad, to let either version reach them? This was what they wanted, wasn’t it? She would make it quick.