Master Chief | John-117 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
one_one_se7en) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
onepassingnight2012-08-23 12:24 am
one_one_se7en) wrote in onepassingnight2012-08-23 12:24 am
Entry tags:
Third Journey :: Cosplay
He rises up through the stairs, his reticule levelled until his eyes readjust to the light, and sees instead masses of people... All dressed in curious regalia, reminiscent of the worlds he had explored, but in a more imitative style than cultural style he had seen in the nexii he had visited... Not to mention many of them seem to be feeding on snack foods rather than full meals they'd devour too quickly. Turning to the windows, he realizes it's a twentieth-first century Earth. No supernatural presences anywhere.
As he turns around, he realizes the cyan lines of the HUD are no longer there, and his eye level is lower. Something's off. Even as he walks, he doesn't so much hear thuds, but clicking. There is an advertisement on the wall about a “Convention” in oriental kanji, denoting the location as... Tokyo.
He puts a hand forward to lean on the wall to inspect the writing -- but the limb that moves forward is the delicate arm of a girl... and from the little he sees of the body, it's the gloved arm of a young senshi rather than the metal of the MJOLNIR.
...
He -rather, she- looks below.
"Not again."
Joan hears herself in a feminine voice.
As he turns around, he realizes the cyan lines of the HUD are no longer there, and his eye level is lower. Something's off. Even as he walks, he doesn't so much hear thuds, but clicking. There is an advertisement on the wall about a “Convention” in oriental kanji, denoting the location as... Tokyo.
He puts a hand forward to lean on the wall to inspect the writing -- but the limb that moves forward is the delicate arm of a girl... and from the little he sees of the body, it's the gloved arm of a young senshi rather than the metal of the MJOLNIR.
...
He -rather, she- looks below.
"Not again."
Joan hears herself in a feminine voice.
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The Youma comes forward. Joan tries channeling her body in a brief meditation. Seeking for new energy. Any energy. Any part of herself that she knows would be alien in herself.
Then, it appears. She opens her eyes.
"Light."
A transparent shield stops the creature in its' tracks.
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Not to be outdone, she holds her hands in front of her, palms outward. Ice and hail barrage the youma, stinging at the same time it starts to creep across the creature's body. The stream curves to avoid the shields as if it has a will of its own, and the ice thickens as it grows. The youma has more and more trouble keeping itself free.
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Joan spread her stance, and pushed the creature back. She needed something else. Another way to attack her. She closes her eyes... until another answer comes.
She raises her right forearm. The words coming out of her seemed ethereal. Otherwordly. Like a memory hidden for centuries, an art long forgotten until now.
"Soldier of mankind and war, Sailor Reach."
Then, as if hearing her, the section over her glove glows blue. It whirrs as several blue glass-like shards materialize and assemble together like a self-building puzzle.
She readies her weapon. A longsword forged and designed with the force and knowledge of ancient empires meant to safeguard mankind against her enemies.
"In the name of my world, I will destroy you."
She charges.
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The soldier of mankind and war. Mercury knows enough of that world to understand it: the war for mankind's very fate, and the soldier who's fought since the beginning and will fight to the end.
She falls behind, with her shorter stature and lesser speed. It doesn't matter. There's plenty for both of them, and these are not opponents that matter. Just low-level nothings. The energy of her sword hums to life, and cuts at the youma.
Its form is strong, she'll give it that; even this has trouble piercing whatever type of material that armor has become.
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As it reels back from the slice of the smaller senshi, the Youma attempts to strike with one of it's limbs against Mercury.
The senshi of light takes it as her window. As soon as it is distracted, the brunette whirls as it leaps atop the creature, cuts down its limb, and stabs the beast until its parts struggle to move.
Another visage. Another word. Another rush of magicka.
Joan raises her hand in a clawed position. A small dot of light appears. Then grows. She feels the heat beneath her glove. Only the words come up.
"Unyielding. Light."
She blasts the creature. After a moment of silence, it falls.
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She presses her earring, and her visor slips into place. A second later, she makes the call. "Maybe I should congratulate you. It's gone."
Before their eyes, it seems to shrink until it resembles nothing more than the costume it was created from, somewhat charred and worn from the ordeal.
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Her boot taps what could have been the head of the creature. It's inert. Even then, there was no need for confirmation; as soon as she stepped off the dead monster, its form began to dissolve into the familiar shape it had been created from... An imitation of her armor.
She frowns. As much as she grew to like using magic -feeling the sheer power flowing through her body and into an attack-, she preferred the MJOLNIR. Too many different tactics. Too many ways Senshi and Spartans differed in how they operated.
"Was that the training you thought of?"
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There's a trace, just a trace, of annoyance. What was a youma doing here, challenging her, in the first place? Well; it met the fate its foolishness deserved.
"That youma was too bold, trying to challenge us."
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The worn parody of his armor gets only a too brief glance. Joan was familiar with bold and foolish enemies. Sailor Reach was a little new to it. not that she would have rejected the opportunity.
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"Shall we go?"
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"... Yeah."
She's going to regret it.
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She leads them to what seems to be a large warehouse, with a strange device already set up. Ami turns it on, and air pressure pushes out tiny papers.
She turns to Joan, and holds out a pair of chopsticks.
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As long as this form lasted, she would have to learn more on how to use it.
.......
She stares at Ami. And at the chopsticks. Without lifting a finger. Wordlessly asking her if she is serious.
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"It's an exercise that can improve focus. Your mind should be concentrating only on this." And focus, that related to power.
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Another thing Spartans constantly practiced for. They constantly meditate -hell, she sometimes got to contact other dreamers this way-, and even used some of that mental guidance for the MJOLNIR.
Joan feels cheated. And yet she picks one of the damned things.
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Time slows down for her. The butterflies move slowly enough for Joan to see their movement.
Then snatches one out of the air.
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Without the advantages of Spartan time, Ami has never found it a perfectly easy exercise. She does well enough, but not enough to be remarkable. After awhile, she stops and watches Joan instead.]
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Joan tries something different. He focuses on one at a time as they rise, catching them, ignoring the rest -- one by one, taking the bigger ones, and reducing their size as necessary.]
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It would bother you to do less well than this, wouldn't it?
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... It would.
[Even as senshi, Spartans are competitive.]