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 Post subject: Fight or Flight [Tag: Rayvan Wolfbaen]
PostPosted: Mon Oct 03, 2011 8:07 pm 
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Joined: Fri Aug 12, 2011 9:31 am
Posts: 2198
Location: The Milky Way
Solar System: Ra/Sol/Sun
Planet: Earth/Gaia
Level: surface
Continent / Ocean: North America
Nation / Territory: U.S.A.
State / Province: New York
County / Prefecture: New York
City / Town / Village: New York City
Suburb: (borough) Manhattan
Structure: the border of Central Park
Time Frame: Past
TNH Verse Year: 2013
Local Date: 2013 February 11

by Rayvan Wolfbaen at April 4 Friday 11:48 am EST

Ray had heard about a tiny bistro that served some of the best food around, with a wonderful view of Central Park. Of course, Ray knew that was all a matter of opinion, but she figured she could try it out since it would be close enough to the park for her evening walk afterward. She strolled down the avenue with her chin tucked close to her chest and her collar on her coat turned up to fight off the cold. She missed the warmth and sunshine of spring and summer, the temperature in NYC was still hovering right around freezing and the wind was harsh. It seemed that anyone that had any sense was inside staying warm and waiting for spring, but then Ray had never been one for having a lot of sense. At least that's what some of her old friends had told her when she left Philly and headed to parts unknown. And of course Ray often question her own sense in regards to the career she chosen after the Shift.

She had fought poltergeist, ran from other Metas that wanted to do more than kill her, took a long trip to the wastelands of Zombieland and fought a dragon for the love of Pete. Her teammates all had abilities that were able to add something spectacular to the group when they went against the abominations of nature and extremely large lizards that wanted to obliterate all human life. Ray on the other hand, not so much. Not that her abilities weren't useful, just not on the battlefield. Being an empath meant she could read people, and psychometry could be useful in finding and identifying things but neither of those abilities were worth **** when a person was looking down the wrong end of a gun, or into the jaws of something that wanted nothing more than to eat them.

She was slightly depressed though if asked she wouldn't be able to say exactly why. She should have more than happy, she had found her brother, made new friends and had a good-if a little dangerous-job. What was there to be depressed about? She didn't have the answer she just knew how she felt. She hadn't seen Ezio in a while she wasn't sure where he had gotten off to, and thankfully she hadn't had another run in with Bronx either. Maybe that was part of why she felt so down, she didn't have any male companionship. And it wasn't the sexual aspect she missed, at least not just the sexual, it was the having someone to go do things with; have dinner, maybe a movie, or just a walk in the park.

Ray looked up and scanned the street, getting her bearings and looking at the few people who dared to brave the cold as she did, though there weren't many. Once more she tucked her head and hurried quickly across the street, only a block or two to go, she was afraid she would turn into a popsicle before she got there. Then she felt it, an emotion she knew well, hate. It was like a red hot inferno in the freezing cold as it blasted against her psyche. She looked up, startled, and her gaze quickly took in everyone around her. She couldn't tell which direction the feeling was coming from but it was white hot and felt like it was going to melt her brains. There was an alley just ahead of her, she stepped cautiously to the end of the building and peeked around the corner.

No one there. She looked across the street, what few people were there all seemed completely absorbed in whatever they were doing, except one. A young man, probably no more than twenty one. He was staring at her, his face twisted with rage and the hate that flowed off of him was sharp as a blade. Ray stood stock still like a deer caught in the headlights, her eyes watering, her head began to pound in time to her heartbeat which was racing a mile a minute. She studied the boys face, she didn't know him. She couldn't say that she had ever seen him before, so why were such strong emotions aimed at her? She had no idea, then she realized that the wind had blown her hair back and away from her face, exposing the one thing about her appearance that she couldn't hide.

Her ears. ****! He obviously was one of those people who just because she wasn't -normal- hated her on sight. Ray was starting to get very tired of that, she wasn't a bad person, not really. She didn't think so anyway, and so far none of the people she worked with or hung out with thought so either. She broke eye contact with the man and dropped her head pulling her collar more firmly up around her neck and ears and turned to hurry up the street. She could still feel his eyes on her back and it gave her chills, to be hated for what you were rather than who you were was something that was very hard to deal with. She didn't think she would ever get used to it. She turned her head slightly and looked out the corner of her eye but the young man was no longer standing where he had been, her blood ran cold and she turned her head to look behind her. He was following her up the street. Damn. She had her pistol tucked safely into its holster under her right arm but she didn't want to have to use it on him. She faced forward again and quickened her pace hoping to get to the relative safety of the bistro before he caught up with her and things went from just uncomfortable to dangerous.


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 Post subject: Re: Fight or Flight [Tag: Rayvan Wolfbaen]
PostPosted: Mon Oct 03, 2011 8:15 pm 
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by Auzdein von Himmler at April 4 Friday 2:25 pm EST

Auz loved the freezing, harsh wind. It reminded him of many mountain escapes he had enjoyed, as well as of the border of his home. Wearing only light traveler's garments, he enjoyed the day in them; the only taints, of course, being the foul stench of this somehow-Shift-surviving, lingering Outlander hive, as well as the cacophony of its perpetual dystopia. There was so much clash and bravado out here; it was only good for training, but Auz made the best of it none-the-less. His expedition, after all, was still on-going.

Never one to 'look for things' at this point, he only let them catch his heart's and eyes' attention. To think that he would find not one, but multiple Outlanders that he didn't immediately want to disfigure and sterilize... That was an amazing 'thing' to him. And sure enough.. today would be one of those surprising days. Two things, in fact, -and even before any wafting smells of cuisine or towering and tucked-away architecture- had already come into his mind.

Auz could feel the judgmentality and hatred all around him perhaps nearly as much as the fair elf could, but he had spent his entire life learning to block it out, deflect it, warp it, shoot it back after amplifying and seasoning it, and much, much more. The emotions he could feel (from himself and those around him), he had been taught to identify, isolate, and stow away for later use as energy. No matter how stark or 'black' some of those emotions were seen to be by others, they were all just scented tools to the Marine now, and he loved getting to use them on the unsuspecting misjudging him for one of their own.

Having studied humans and their body language for decades, it didn't take much for him to notice what the young elven lady's empathic sensory perception had picked up before him. Auz scanned quickly yet casually, spotting and locking onto the mud-eyed Outlander staring the visibly shaken and overwhelmed empath down. Part of Auz wanted to 'light her up' (getting in her face like a Drill Instructor) for not getting angry and charging forward at ramming-speed to blast and kill the idiotic aggressor, but part of him reminded himself of a time not long ago when he was just as shell-shocked and vulnerable. The Outlanders had 'checked' him, too. They had that affect on people.

Siding, as he always did, with the being who had the most light in their eyes (the light of the soul), Auz made his move, slipping into the crowd and meandering through 'blind spots' (beyond the peripheral range of the eyes) and 'dead space' (dips behind hills, and other out-of-sight places that your target cannot see or engage) until he was swiftly and silently coming right up onto the man...

Letting the would-be predator close in on his target, Auz followed him with a graceful, tireless gait; hiking heavy rucks up mountains in smoldering heat while on fractured legs did that to a person. While the man paid less and less attention to his surroundings in true Outlander fashion, neglecting his gut and senses as if they were vestigial, Auz on the other hand continued to listen to and feel all that was around him. This let him flow through the crowd with fluidity like the wind, while all the other man had was clumsy, undisciplined hate. 'Judge not, lest ye be judged, Outlander demon,' Auz thought, almost smirking to himself. He remembered a Pulp Fiction scene, as well as a Boondock Saints scene, where religious passages had been recited in the process of dispensing their form of 'justice'. And now.. it was his turn, and he loved that, and it would be preemptive.

Auz loved The Hunt and the surgical flow of his raw and ravaging emotions as much as he did the blades he'd selected, as much as he did the peace they'd brought him, and as much as he loved the truly elven essence and vibes of his home. War was part of his peace. And the hate-filled man, now doomed to experience the wrath of whatever demigod off-shoot Auz had become, was quickly becoming part of that peace; an inadvertently contributing current in his loving storm.

It was in that moment -the moment those small, matte-black, hidden blades almost came unsheathed- that he found his god again. The hands of an instructor of other instructors found the pursuing man's nerve centers, overloaded them, and left him blacking out within seconds after a single tensing, as Auz's momentum slipped an arm around his back and under the man's own, taking his weight and guiding him into the fast-approaching alley off the walkway and to their side. No one seemed to notice. It looked as if a friend had helped a buddy on the verge of passing out from fatigue.

Auz wanted so desperately to kill him, but instead opted to give him a reminder. It would probably be misinterpreted and warped by the foolish mud-eye who would use it to further his senseless hate, but it was more for Auz to feel relatively sated than anything else. Redirecting the man's energy flows to quiet the would-be whistle-blower nerves, he covered the man's hands as if he was comforting them... and dislocated all of his fingers and thumbs with the precision of a physical therapist, physician, or masseuse. 'Attack my lovely elves you demon worm. I fucking dare you,' Auz said in his mind with gritted teeth hiding behind the 'sheeple'-cloak that was his serene and faux-concerned face casting loving eyes down onto the man. On a different day, Auz would have worn the man's skin as a cape. He had no patience for those he saw as damned.

Rising from the temporarily-crippled and unconscious Outlander villain, and feeling confident in having neutralized the threat to his heart's satisfaction, he rose back to his kingly posture, pivoted on a heel (giving away his years spent rigid in military officers' programs, drilling to perfection with no end ever in sight), and strolled back out onto the sidewalk. In Auz's mind, he was some new form of an angel, and it was his sacred duty to ever guard the streets of the new heaven; the world they'd all come to know as Gaia or Earth. God was blessing him when he had an opponent, because He was giving him a reason to be and to do his job as that guardian. Auz was now proud again; no longer focusing on how much he hated being around all these... 'humans'.

'Time to restore the light to those alone who rate it.' Leaving the alley and flowing back into the pedestrian river, he casually scanned for and identified the lady up ahead. Her body language would tell him if she no longer sensed a threat, and if she could feel his radiating calming effect as he neared her at a slightly quickened pace that would slow down until he was a few feet from her, unafraid of her potential to be a jittery, armed civilian. Auz trusted God not to let him get shot -at least.. shot too much.

"They have always hated me for what I am, never caring who I am or why," he opened with that line to take the edge off, relate, and sympathize, matching her pace and letting her decide if and when to look back at the sound of it. It would take much longer for any trust or faith to be established, but it was a start, and he was all about clearing the beach-head and securing that foothold, however impermanent it may end up being. A showing of force -positive force- had to be done. In his mind, there was no other way. He would 'check' and counter-check the damned, bloody Outlanders at every opportunity that presented itself. Hopefully, one day, he would finish them all.

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Neuschwabenland, Antarktis


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 Post subject: Re: Fight or Flight [Tag: Rayvan Wolfbaen]
PostPosted: Mon Oct 03, 2011 8:18 pm 
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by Rayvan Wolfbaen at April 5 Saturday 10:12 am EST

Ray saw the sign for the Bistro on the next block and she sighed with relief, hoping that she would reach its safety before the angry young man reached her. She hadn't dared look back again after she had noticed him following her, her subconscious telling her in no uncertain terms that he was still back there and too look back was to slow her down and give him more time to catch up. Ray had the vision of a bad b-movie flash through her head, the kind in which the woman was running for her life but kept looking over her shoulder and eventually tripped over something small and innocuous that she would have seen if she had been paying attention to what was ahead of her. The elf didn't know why she always associated things like that together but it always happened, something would be going on in her life and suddenly a movie scene would flash through her conscience to put it in perspective. It didn't always make her feel any better about the situation but it often led her through the decision making process on how to deal with it.

Ray knew most people would have stopped and confronted the adversary that was spewing hatred about like the seed from a dandelion that a child blew away to make a wish upon. And there were some days when Ray herself would have done just that, but for some reason that day she had felt the need for flight instead of fight. She who runs away will live to fight another day. Not exactly the whole quote but close enough for Rayvan at that moment. She wasn't being too picky about it. Instead she concentrated on trying to block out the fear the man's hatred had evoked within her. She didn't understand where it had come from, she hadn't been an especially fearful person, not even after the brutal murder of her husband but on that day a fear as sharp and painful as any well hone blade cut through her to the point she was on the verge of panic.

She knew she couldn't let the panic take over, if she did she was done for. She would do something completely stupid just like in the movies and leave herself completely vulnerable to the man now staking her every step. Other than ducking into another storefront she didn't have any option but to keep going to where she was headed. She was halfway up the block when she noticed the difference. The feeling of hatred that was directed at her back had abruptly vanished, her brows furrowed in concentration as she tried to figure out if it had just receded due to distance or if it was something else entirely. The emotion was just gone, like a light switch had been turned off. There were still random spurts of anger, hatred, discomfort, and depression from other sources but the one that had been so clear to her had completely vanished as if it had never been there.

That scared her worse than the fact that the man had been following her, what if he was able to shut off the channel between them? The one that most people didn't even know existed. There were times when Ray had compared being an empath to tuning into a radio channel, sometimes it was static and the signal was unclear. Other times it was clear as a bell and sharp as 20/20 vision, this had been one of the latter times. The feeling had been quite clear and tuned in so well she could almost hear the man's thoughts, or at least get the general idea of where his thoughts lay. And to suddenly lose the reception gave her very bad vibes, she stopped moving forward and closed her eyes. Instead of trying to block out the emotions from other people she tried to open up to them, scanning for the one she wanted. Like flipping through the tv channels with a remote.

She couldn't find it, it was simply gone. She began to relax by degrees, but she wouldn't be totally calm until she knew he was no longer anywhere near her. She took a deep breath through her nose and blew it slowly out of her mouth, once more trying to calm her racing heart. Then a feeling of calm reached out to her, as if someone were telling her it was alright and she didn't have to be afraid anymore. She opened her eyes and took in her surroundings, the buildings to her left and the street to her right, people milling about. Some passing her and casting strange looks in her direction, others not paying attention to her at all as they hurried by. She started walking again, then she heard the voice, and it echoed her own thoughts from earlier so well that she had to know where it came from.

Ray stopped and turned around slowly, her hand inside her coat already wrapped around the butt of her pistol, just in case it was some kind of trickery. Φ"Excuse me? Were you speaking to me?" Her voice was soft and had a musical lilt to it when she spoke, and she applauded herself for being able to hide the tremor she felt as she faced the man behind her. Tri-color eyes fastened upon his face, taking in the look of him and weighing whether or not he was a threat. It obviously wasn't the young man who had been following her earlier, this man was at least ten years older, in his thirties she would guess. The tightness in her shoulder eased a fraction, but she didn't completely let her guard down.


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 Post subject: Re: Fight or Flight [Tag: Rayvan Wolfbaen]
PostPosted: Mon Oct 03, 2011 8:22 pm 
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by Auzdein von Himmler at February 11 Friday 3:07 pm EST

Auz saw the language that said like a searchlight cutting through the dark "I am armed. I am holding a weapon." He couldn't tell what it was without his gauntlets on, but he felt no need to make use of them at this point. This woman was not a threat, and her defensive posture and lingering uneasiness were all completely normal and expected.

Slowing to a halt a few feet away from her, he presented himself calmly. His face was that of a wise owl, a steeled eagle, and a serene man all at once. Dark brown irises moved with rotating white orbs to track the position of her appendages and settle his gaze upon the hand that was masked behind the shroud of her coat's flap. His facial expression was extremely neutral and subtle, but said it all just for her to see: "I know you're armed." Her body language wasn't that of someone pretending, and hoping to be convincing.

The only words that left his lips, though, as those same dark brown yet light-filled eyes returned up her torso to kindly look within her own, were: "I was, indeed." A soft smile flickered only upon the corners of his lips for a second; his eyes and brow remaining eagly. The smile, however faint, was genuine, and created an unlikely duality with matching, soft eyes that were also somehow filled with power and predatory urgings. But those instincts and urgings were not directed at her; he was simply still in "on mode" -or "kill mode", as the Marines had called it; both of them still unwinding from the nearly-mortal encounter.

His eyes moved back down to grace her hidden hand and weapon, as if to say "That won't be necessary." or to ask her to trust her gut about him, rather than the lethality of her 'piece'. Until she made her decision, he remained in his place, not closing the distance, but not shying away from her presence even an inch. Something about her had caught his heart and eyes, and he was curiously inspecting it now, so long as she would have him.

His chest finally rose and fell, taking in and letting out a slightly audible, deep, fulfilling breath. He had a tendency to stop breathing without realizing it; a stealthy habit he had picked up from the fleet. Auz hadn't noticed the ears the recent adversary had, but he immediately noticed her angelic, elven, clearly refined face and eyes. Although not entrancing to someone like him, who read all eyes as a language, and whose people bore and shared the same quality of ocular orbs, hers were still very warming to his soul, and they gave him way to frown as faintly as his flickering smile from the moment before.

His eyes narrowed a bit as he studied her facial features. "May I look into your eyes for a moment?" His voice was soft; somewhere between tenor and baritone, and rich with natural accents flowing into one another, as if he had lived everywhere. He didn't like prolonged contact with Outlanders, and wasn't too sure he would like it even with this beautiful elf, but his religious custom was to give such a creature a chance, and to share his tactile and visual language, amongst others. Skipping past pointless names which could be lies, he let her use her deeper senses to tell that he was different, and honestly taken aback by what he had felt and seen in her. This was his first Elf encounter.

"You are unique to the rest around us here," he was referring to their walkway and the street. "I couldn't help but take relieved notice," his eyes traced and held to her lips for a moment, gazing upon her in the wild and confident, aesthetically appreciative way of his people. "Few, if any, Outlanders are ever formed so well."

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