The Boiler Room, Saturday Morning
Mar. 6th, 2010 09:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intraspectiveAwareness came slowly. Filtering through wires, up cords, being transmitted via life-energy-electricity. The pulse of liquids, of beeping machinery, carried though wires that spilled out from her prison. A shift, the faintest of motions, a breath—or was it imagination? Machinery beeped and whirled, regulating, confining: reducing.
Her container all but glowed. She floated, trapped, but there. Awake. Angry. Always angry, always trapped—they knew not what they played with, only knew enough to fear—she did as she always did.
Tried the bounds of her confinement. This time, she found something different.
She was not where she had been.
Her laugh was the pulsing rasp of energy through wires. The twitch of long hair. Hardly there, unless you knew her. This was not the same planet she'd been on.
This would do. Could they contain her here? Let them try.
Jenova reached; searching—all she needed now…
There. One of her wayward sons.
Her voice rippled outwards, barely a brush of energy, hardly more than the faintest dream of a whisper. Unheard, unfelt, unnoticed.
But by one.
Come to mother, she called, on a level too instinctive to ignore. Find me.
That ruffling, pulsing laugh again. Too low for any to hear. Indistinct. More machinery than anything biological. This was what they'd put her in. Controlled her with. It wasn't enough. She was still awake. Still aware.
Free me.
Still wanting.
[Establishy! Ino is Jenova from Final Fantasy VII. And the boiler room is her home for the weekend!]
Her container all but glowed. She floated, trapped, but there. Awake. Angry. Always angry, always trapped—they knew not what they played with, only knew enough to fear—she did as she always did.
Tried the bounds of her confinement. This time, she found something different.
She was not where she had been.
Her laugh was the pulsing rasp of energy through wires. The twitch of long hair. Hardly there, unless you knew her. This was not the same planet she'd been on.
This would do. Could they contain her here? Let them try.
Jenova reached; searching—all she needed now…
There. One of her wayward sons.
Her voice rippled outwards, barely a brush of energy, hardly more than the faintest dream of a whisper. Unheard, unfelt, unnoticed.
But by one.
Come to mother, she called, on a level too instinctive to ignore. Find me.
That ruffling, pulsing laugh again. Too low for any to hear. Indistinct. More machinery than anything biological. This was what they'd put her in. Controlled her with. It wasn't enough. She was still awake. Still aware.
Free me.
Still wanting.
[Establishy! Ino is Jenova from Final Fantasy VII. And the boiler room is her home for the weekend!]
