milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

After this. (Minor Angel spoilers, though this is a mostly made up canon ending for her. Violence, naturally.)

She sags back against a door in the blood-soaked alleyway. She starts to fall, and as she does so, she catches the door handle in her attempt to brace herself and at least die on her feet.

The door opens.

And she falls through.

A soaking-wet, bloodied goddess falls backwards through the door onto Milliways' floor, where she lies in a broken heap, unmoving except for very faint breathing. Her armor is torn in various places, and she has a number of injuries that are likely to be fatal to her if not helped - most notably the bloody gash across her midsection that has done significant damage despite her modified biology. She's pretty much a mess in other ways, but that's the one that will kill her the fastest.

Her entrance is likely to draw the attention of at least a few key people.

[ooc: all are welcome to observe, but if you're going to tag into the main helping thread, please to be pinging Frozen Illyria or coming to crackchat to let me know.]

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"What the frack?"

Atton stares at Illyria from where he's sitting, momentarily shocked at her ... interesting entrance. After a very brief internal struggle he's heading over to her, crouching down besides her and staring at her wounds.

"Oh, frack."

Montparnasse, for the first two days, had been glancing up each time he heard the door open. He'd been listening and waiting. He wouldn't claim to be hoping, in fact, he'd claim that he didn't care, except to avoid the promised death that would result if she saw him again.

However, having received news of her death only a few hours before, it is not surprising that he doesn't look up at this entrance. So there he sits obliviously. Like a good follower.

Atton blocks out the niggling little voice at the back of his mind, closing his eyes and tentatively reaching out with his mind, searching through the wounds, taking in the full extent of them. A moment later his hands are somewhere, he has no idea where anymore, and he's weaving the Force around her wounds.

He feels some of them close, but as he struggles to keep the connection, they open again and then close once more. Like doors. Only with more blood.

The shock of this unnatural power jolts Illyria into brief consciousness, and gasps, her eyes flying open and attempting to focus on whatever is doing this thing to her instead of letting her end in peace.

She flails weakly at him with her good arm, and the motion makes her cough, a thin trickle of blood escaping her lips.

It is uncertain whether Montparnasse heard the reactions or whether he chanced to look up just then, but he's noticed her now.

...And Atton. He doesn't like the man. Or trust him. At all.

Fucker... Then Montparnasse is on his feet and hauling Atton away from her before he even remembers, himself, that she's supposed to be dead. He shoves Atton out of the way forcefully and glowers. First at Atton, then down at Illyria.

". . .You're supposed to die. I was alright with that, but now you fucking presume to do it in front of me?" His tone is a low hiss. Though he's not even sure she's capable of comprehending. It's not going to happen. At the very least I will refuse to watch. It is not of my doing. Thus it is not worth my attention.

But he doesn't look away either. He doesn't move at all. Just stares.

Michael happens to come in through the front door, weary from a long few days' work on Antar, and sees the situation in a glance. He hears what Nasse says.

No more fucking death.

He strides over and drops to his knees next to Illyria, rolling up his sleeves. Then he presses a hand to the wound in her stomach, as gently as he can, and starts to pour power into closing it.

He gets the flashes, as usual, but ignores them.

Atton snarls and moves towards Illyria again, lashing out with both the Force and his hand to push Nasse aside as hard as he can, kneeling by Illyria and closing his eyes again, trying desperately to close her wounds and having even less success than he did before.

He grits his teeth and continues nonetheless, ignoring the growing sense of tiredness.

Whatever they're doing hurts. Illyria forces her eyes open again, and this time manages to draw enough breath to speak.

"Foolish mortals. Leave me." she swats at the hands that are causing the distress and catches her follower's eye.

"Please."

It is a demand despite the word's nature. She wishes to be left alone, nothing more.

Atton, upon hearing her speak and tell them to leave, gives a short, noncommital grunt and stands quickly, heading away with only a muttered 'hope you feel better' and a glare at Montparnasse, heading off towards the stairs.

Michael takes a last look at the wound, which is as healed as he's going to get it anyway, and stands up.

He staggers, a little, and the circles under his eyes are darker than when he came in.

Fred witnesses this, and gapes at them all, confused.

"Wait, why are you all leaving? Are you giving up? What are you doing?"

She looks at Montparnasse with an almost hurt expression.

"Aren't you supposed to care what happens to your goddess? Isn't that like a sin of some sort if you just let her die right in front of you?"

"Can't give her any more", Michael says wearily. "Not unless you want to be dragging me back to my room."

Montparnasse steps forward again, still snarling at the retreating Atton.

He nods at Michael, probably the closest thing to a 'thank you' the man will get for some time, then glances at Fred. The anger is still visible in the look he gives her, but it only lasts a moment before he kneels next to Ilyria. He looks her over quickly then gently lifts her.

She wanted to be alone. He'd take her to her room. If she died there, so be it.

As he passes Fred he replies coldly, "She's not my goddess." then continues on, carrying her toward the stairs and her room.

"..."

Fred stares after them for a moment, and then, unable to deal with this any more, flees for the door to the lake.

She probably won't hide in the woods this time.

Aeryn glanced over, noticed Illyria and took in a deep breath.

"What has she gotten herself into this time?"

She stood up and promptly sat down again and went back to her drink. She's got help, not my business.

Fred happens to have wandered over into the main bar area as well, and doesn't see Illyria at first either. She does, however, recognize Aeryn as having been an onlooker during her initial confrontation with the blue goddess. She notices the strange reaction to... something, and her curiosity gets the better of her.

"Hey, what's... oh. Oh, dear." Fred says, her eyes falling on the scene by the door.

"Looks like she got into a fight with someone she shouldn't have." Aeryn replied drily.

"And I don't want to think about an enemy that could beat a Goddess."

"Oh my God. This isn't... I can't watch this. Are you a friend of hers?"

Fred asks, feeling slightly panicked.

No this isn't right that's me I can't die twice someone help her

"Not really. We've spoken, but we vary between politely forced conversation and veiled threats."

Aeryn surveyed Fred over the top of her bottle.

"You're the girl who looks like her. The Shell?"

"Fred." she replies, a little disgusted by this woman's nonchalance.

"And don't call me that. It's... really disturbing. Why isn't anyone helping her? I should leave. No, that's not fair. I should stay, she killed me, I should stay and... no, that's awful. I should... I don't know what."

"I didn't know your name, would you prefer I'd called you Girl? Or maybe 'you there'."

Aeryn shrugged.

"I'm not a medic, I can't do anything. Are you a medic?"

"Scientist." Fred mumbles, dully. "I'm a scientist."

And then, after a moment's silence,

"She's kind of me, you know? I can't just leave her. I'm sorry."

And with that, she runs over to the scene near the door, where she hovers at a slight distance.

"Maybe you're stronger than you look." Aeryn went back to her drink, blinkin serenely.

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