03-16-2019, 09:22 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-16-2019, 09:25 PM by Dyreheart Stasya.)
Sweat beat down on her body as the lash struck again and again. Obsidian fluid poured from three lacerations diagonally down her back. SHe felt the air catch in her throat. Again the lash came again,a nd bit the skin deep. More black flowed and she could feel her unlife going with it. Why did he do it? Why did she let him do it? The scent of salty sweat, the rotting of Black Ichor and the low hum of her cybernetics were all she could sense.
Reality snapped back. Stasya leaned over her bunk on the ship she was board for the moment and remove an empty canister of ichor from her input and replaced it with a filled one. To think, without the dreaded ugly stuff she would just be another frozen corpse in space being bashed to bits by space debris. Now, her skin was covered in small stitches and plas surgical stabples. Her throat for some damn reason always see to sierding hurt whenever she let it go too dry. She could eat of course, but it didn't do much for her. All she needed was the Black Ichor, the stuff made from weird little rocks found out in the black itself.
By the Prebyster she was sierding board of the sket of being undead.
Or was it awakened dead?
Whatever the Faeru called her kind she had little issue with her fellow Arashia. Born in the Return-Walking process she had spent the first seven years of her new life as a childlike woman curled up in a ball of emotion. Her proctors had overseen her as best they could and she still to that very day missed her Mama Viktoria. Quietly, she fingered the small stitches along her right cheek and remembered how Viktoria had held her at night. The ghost-core quieting down in her skull so she could hibernate for a time. Now she was alone, cut off from the Dyre Quorum and excommunicated from a Guild to be joined to another.
By the Ancestors her life was such sierding sket.
She reached in front of her and snaked out the long sinuous cord of the datacord and aimed it just above the port set into the base of her skull. One long breath later she shoved it in hard and felt the digital overtaking her as she dove into the SysNet.
'Loading.....primary Key identified. Welcome USER DyreS.' The computational readings were easily filtered by her ghost core and her personalized avatar self began to take shape as her cyber-soul manifested itself.
Now where do I want to go? She flicked an icon hovering near her cy-selve's hand and it spun into an explosion of changing colors. Finally, it stopped and the words "Seeking Souls" popped up. The woman's eyes narrowed as suddenly the world around her began to split and shuddered. As her access to the realms changed she felt the dive going deeper and deeper as her vision blurred to a fine ribbon of light. The world rezzed and rendered all around her. Her hair shifted from the dark brown of its general color and rezzed into a bright green color to reflect the color of her eyes.
As always the small little floating sigils of the interface floated into existence and she started to search through what this realm was involved in. The scenery was simple a singular lounge with a row of crystalline chairs, white tables facing white benches. A light blue aura licked the edges of the peripheral sight of everyone inside, and a small synth Virtual Intelligence server shaped into the form of a sat nearby clothed in a retro-Tuxedo. Her hands dragged across the table as she sat down and breathed in the "air" of the realm.
It wasn't a bad lounge just a boring one. She ordered a drink which would feed into her brain as a small increase in endorphins, and took the form of a martini. As she sipped the drink she waited for others to rez in and appear. Perhaps this wouldn't be a boring night after all.
@Agrodal @GreatSage
Reality snapped back. Stasya leaned over her bunk on the ship she was board for the moment and remove an empty canister of ichor from her input and replaced it with a filled one. To think, without the dreaded ugly stuff she would just be another frozen corpse in space being bashed to bits by space debris. Now, her skin was covered in small stitches and plas surgical stabples. Her throat for some damn reason always see to sierding hurt whenever she let it go too dry. She could eat of course, but it didn't do much for her. All she needed was the Black Ichor, the stuff made from weird little rocks found out in the black itself.
By the Prebyster she was sierding board of the sket of being undead.
Or was it awakened dead?
Whatever the Faeru called her kind she had little issue with her fellow Arashia. Born in the Return-Walking process she had spent the first seven years of her new life as a childlike woman curled up in a ball of emotion. Her proctors had overseen her as best they could and she still to that very day missed her Mama Viktoria. Quietly, she fingered the small stitches along her right cheek and remembered how Viktoria had held her at night. The ghost-core quieting down in her skull so she could hibernate for a time. Now she was alone, cut off from the Dyre Quorum and excommunicated from a Guild to be joined to another.
By the Ancestors her life was such sierding sket.
She reached in front of her and snaked out the long sinuous cord of the datacord and aimed it just above the port set into the base of her skull. One long breath later she shoved it in hard and felt the digital overtaking her as she dove into the SysNet.
'Loading.....primary Key identified. Welcome USER DyreS.' The computational readings were easily filtered by her ghost core and her personalized avatar self began to take shape as her cyber-soul manifested itself.
Now where do I want to go? She flicked an icon hovering near her cy-selve's hand and it spun into an explosion of changing colors. Finally, it stopped and the words "Seeking Souls" popped up. The woman's eyes narrowed as suddenly the world around her began to split and shuddered. As her access to the realms changed she felt the dive going deeper and deeper as her vision blurred to a fine ribbon of light. The world rezzed and rendered all around her. Her hair shifted from the dark brown of its general color and rezzed into a bright green color to reflect the color of her eyes.
As always the small little floating sigils of the interface floated into existence and she started to search through what this realm was involved in. The scenery was simple a singular lounge with a row of crystalline chairs, white tables facing white benches. A light blue aura licked the edges of the peripheral sight of everyone inside, and a small synth Virtual Intelligence server shaped into the form of a sat nearby clothed in a retro-Tuxedo. Her hands dragged across the table as she sat down and breathed in the "air" of the realm.
It wasn't a bad lounge just a boring one. She ordered a drink which would feed into her brain as a small increase in endorphins, and took the form of a martini. As she sipped the drink she waited for others to rez in and appear. Perhaps this wouldn't be a boring night after all.
@Agrodal @GreatSage