badfic_manor | [action/video]

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[action/video]

[Tris is not, by any means, someone who was made to be cooped up inside all day. After a few days of trying her best to keep to the room shared with Reborn, she's gone outside to finally scratch that gut-level itch, the feeling that if she doesn't go outside something bad will happen.

So Tris has pretty well gotten herself balanced on the roof of one of the outbuildings, though god only knows how she made it up there in a skirt, with a bookbag.

Not long after, a broadcast starts on the blackberry in her belt-pouch. It was supposedly hers, so she'd put it there, though she's not expecting it to do much. Certainly not play this back.]

[For anyone who cares to watch the video, it shows Tris- about three years before her current age. The dress she's wearing, as the ones she's wearing are now, is ill-fitting. The five-year-old Tris is curled up outside, as she is now, with a book she is very clearly laboring to read.

This scene of relative peace is interrupted by a man's voice.] Trisana! Gods curse you to every hell, girl! If you don't get in here right now your ass is mine, you hear me!? [It's a furious bellow that elicits a cringe and a flinch, and Tris-in-the-video slithers out from where she's curled up to slink into the house, every inch of her body language reminiscent of a dog heeding a call he only knows will lead to beatings.

The scene in the house doesn't disappoint. There's a man (clearly her father, the family resemblance is unmistakeable) who is clearly red-faced and furious, and a scene of utter destruction. Furniture is toppled over, things are scattered, a select few things are destroyed entirely. Next to Tris's father is a fairly smug-looking girl of about thirteen, clearly related to both Tris and her father.] Adelia says it was you and your-- whatever is wrong with you that did this. You have no respect for how much you cost this household- [Tris's father is advancing on her, getting the five-year-old backpeadaling and shaking her head.]

It wasn't me, Father! I was outside, reading! Honest! [Tris gets herself outside- it's clear there's an instinctive draw to going out-of-doors, and a sharp gust of wind blows past Tris as she manages to clear the house. Her father's still advancing on her, looking to be even more furious at her denial.]

You lie as you breathe! I don't know what your mother was sleeping with, because the gods only know I can't have had any hand in the conception of something like you. Get back in this house and clean this up- and after, if you do a good enough job, you'll only be banished to your room without supper or books.

[This is clearly not sitting right, even with Tris at five years old.] I didn't do it!! [This clearly only incenses her father further, and he advances on Tris.]

You lying little bitch. I'll have your hide for that and worse! [And he's clearly charging at Tris with exactly that in mind, setting off a booming gust of wind that knocks Tris to her knees, and shaking that sends him to his. When Tris's father tries to extract himself from the ground, it's obvious that both his hands and legs are buried in it- arms up to the elbow, and his legs below the knees. He roars with rage as Tris hikes up her skirt and runs, bellowing abuses at her, telling her how she's clearly the spawn of some evil spirit, how it's obvious some night-walking, foul creature must have gotten his wife pregnant- and the broadcast cuts off at that.]

[After the video starts playing, Tris curls up on her perch, clearly huddling up defensively as the wind starts howling. Perhaps on instinct, she's covering the back of her neck with her hands, and if one gets close enough to hear her, they might be able to hear her muttering unhappily about how this just proves it right, she is crazy, or perhaps part elemental, or possessed, or the spawn of something altogether unpleasant. It's almost like some kind of sick and twisted mantra.]

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[Well, he HAD been quietly lurking, and originally assuming the wretched weather was something he'd have to wait out before he went exploring... and then that and the view out the windows shot that idea down. He'd been half-napping, even, and the voices over the broadcast were a kind of jar-out-of-it he really wouldn't have asked for; he'd thought the world had had enough of hitting him over the head with reminders of long-dead past events, but no, different voices and slightly different wording and that could've been part of his childhood.]

[That does lead to a grating conflict where part of him would love to just go find whoever's responsible for this and shake them until they let him out, but no, if he's going to try and get a better idea of the grounds, and the weather is the result of someONE, then finding the kid and getting them to control their powers instead of panicking is going to be much more productive than hiding and avoiding it, as much as there's all those wonderful reminders of things he'd thought he'd never have to deal with again.]

[And struggling through the wind and rain is enough to give him a mental mantra about just how much he LOATHES the greater majority of humanity.]

[Close to the tree, he finally gets sick of the weather; his first attempt is to just impose an illusion of calm winds and a clear area around that outbuilding, but that's taking a little too much effort to push through over a storm made of someone else's panic and VERY strong force of will; her power isn't an illusion, and there's nothing to give his illusion leverage that it SHOULDN'T be there.]

[Instead, there's a small growl from where he's standing in the field, as the spade mark flares glowing bright in his eye and he tries a different tactic - the shadows around him and the trees on the edge of the grounds thickening and pooling, spreading out into a solid dark mass circling that part of the grounds, before reaching upward to make a dome over that part of the lawn and the building, a solid, muffling barrier against the wind and rain.]

Edited 2012-05-14 11:59 (UTC)

[Tris is hardly immune to the effects of her abilities, and there was some point after the broadcast that it's dawned on her- this weather is a killing storm. The difficulty of access for her perch that was a defense thing has now turned against her--

And there's a thing. It's dark, and the weather doesn't seem to touch it. In fact, it's even keeping the weather off of her, though on some level she knows the weather won't stop until it's run its course. Tris looks around suspiciously, worrying at her lower lip.] ...He...llo?

[No. That sounds too timid, too vulnerable- it's asking for trouble. She squints owlishly, taking her glasses off to try and dry them on the front of her dress.] What are you doing out there? This is a killer storm!

[Says the eight-year-old. Stuck on a roof.]

[He's walking closer, and as he moves it's ....well, probably visible that the black barrier is connected to his shadow, tendrils following him as he walks.]

Oh, I've survived worse. [And as much as it's also blocking out light, there are a handful of what ...almost seems to be some kind of blank white eyes turned into light-sources that open along the top of the barrier.] And am perfectly capable of taking care of myself here, although you seem to have gotten yourself in a spot.

I got myself up here, didn't I? [Tris is looking around the barrier, narrowing her own eyes a little-- there's something about one of his eyes that's... odd.

And it seems nothing like the magic she's used to.] ...You're not a mage, are you?

[Either way, the shadows at his feet are forming a set of stairs up to where she is, just in case there was any doubt he had control over it.]

[Dressed oddly, familiar with magic, that much power...well, whatever was going on here, it was safe to say that wasn't a normal Dying Will effect.]

The area I'm from doesn't use that word often, but yes.

[Tris's jaw is dropping a bit- that's certainly nothing like any magic she's seen in her life.] ...what word do they use? [She's grabbing her bookbag and looking at those stairs, frowning faintly.

...She's taking those stairs down, since she's not a fan of having her neck potentially broken.]

[That's a very wry, small smile, of the sort that usually only comes with History.]

Jettatore. [The evil eye - he couldn't say he hated that the modern era had gotten many people less fond of superstitions so he wasn't seeing charms against it everywhere anymore.] Witch, warlock, and a whole host of other ... unpleasant things.

Magic isn't very well liked there. [Well, unless you could pass it off as a gift from God, like some of the luckier Primo-Gen could.]

...Whatever I have, it's not magic. They have people who can tell, and my family gets every child checked f'r it. [She's not sure what jettatore means, but she's pretty sure it's bad.]

[He is offering a hand as she gets close to the bottom of the "stairs".]

I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that your tests, like ours, are either not infallible, or have limitations. [That storm that's still beating on the outside of his barrier kind of says otherwise.] Any test can be fooled, misfire, misread, or be looking for the wrong thing.

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ragingforces - 2012-05-14 21:42 (UTC) - Expand

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