When Xishen appears next to Meteion, the entelechy gives her a wide-eyed stare. She's frightened, not of Xishen herself, but of what the Aion commands. She knows she isn't a combatant--but maybe there is something she can do.
Steeling herself, the birdlike girl goes to hide in the shadow of the Innocent's throne. Meteion isn't certain she's going to be safe anywhere in the cavern--not until the Pleroma either are subdued (unlikely), or they escape. There's a part of her that would much rather they do the latter--they number people she cares about among them, but...
The Regent is watching. She thinks she can almost feel it, like a subtle frisson of fear at the back of her mind. But that fear is something she can use. Nurture it. Let it grow until there's a curdled feeling in her throat, and she almost feels paralyzed herself. Meteion throws her head back and squeezes her eyes shut, letting out a keening shrill backed by emotion--that same paralyzing fear she herself now feels.
It's what she's got.
(OOC NOTE: This is definitely not going to affect Kenoma folks, but Pleroma peeps--feel free to shake this off. Y'all have been through so much worse, and Meteion is really only making a token effort.)
Ia: say goodbye, don't follow (Closed to Eleven)
Meteion is nowhere near enough to most Pleroma to be a menace. The empathic feint she made was enough for her--but among those that are fleeing? Eleven.
It hurts. It hurts. But there's a part of her that thinks: There. I did something good, there. Her face is still blotched from fighting the kenoma sickness, where inky tears spilled down her cheeks and she hasn't cleansed them away. But if she did, would she still feel the stain? Meteion wonders if that is so. She reaches out a hand, but lets it fall. Where they're going, she can't follow.
She knows he can't hear her, but in her mind, Meteion calls to Eleven: Protect them...please!
II-THE TRIWATER
IIa: sulking Meteion has found herself a hammock out of the way and low to the ground--she doesn't exactly sleep, but she's huddled in on herself. Feeling sorry for herself, just a bit. She chose this--it's no less than she deserves, for all the things she's done. And yet part of her feels so hollow. If this is the winning team, as she's been told repeatedly...why does it feel like an empty victory? Why wouldn't the hurt go away?
IIb: wandering Eventually, even Meteion tires of sitting belowdecks, and can be found wandering the ship. She doesn't bother the sailors much, and does her best to not get in their way. She wasn't terribly worse for wear despite the journey's toll, but there's a bit of a melancholy air about her. She might be dwelling on the events that led them here. Just a little bit.
Meteion | Kenoma | open and closed stuff!
When Xishen appears next to Meteion, the entelechy gives her a wide-eyed stare. She's frightened, not of Xishen herself, but of what the Aion commands. She knows she isn't a combatant--but maybe there is something she can do.
Steeling herself, the birdlike girl goes to hide in the shadow of the Innocent's throne. Meteion isn't certain she's going to be safe anywhere in the cavern--not until the Pleroma either are subdued (unlikely), or they escape. There's a part of her that would much rather they do the latter--they number people she cares about among them, but...
The Regent is watching. She thinks she can almost feel it, like a subtle frisson of fear at the back of her mind. But that fear is something she can use. Nurture it. Let it grow until there's a curdled feeling in her throat, and she almost feels paralyzed herself. Meteion throws her head back and squeezes her eyes shut, letting out a keening shrill backed by emotion--that same paralyzing fear she herself now feels.
It's what she's got.
(OOC NOTE: This is definitely not going to affect Kenoma folks, but Pleroma peeps--feel free to shake this off. Y'all have been through so much worse, and Meteion is really only making a token effort.)
Ia: say goodbye, don't follow (Closed to Eleven)
Meteion is nowhere near enough to most Pleroma to be a menace. The empathic feint she made was enough for her--but among those that are fleeing? Eleven.
It hurts. It hurts. But there's a part of her that thinks: There. I did something good, there. Her face is still blotched from fighting the kenoma sickness, where inky tears spilled down her cheeks and she hasn't cleansed them away. But if she did, would she still feel the stain? Meteion wonders if that is so. She reaches out a hand, but lets it fall. Where they're going, she can't follow.
She knows he can't hear her, but in her mind, Meteion calls to Eleven: Protect them...please!
II-THE TRIWATER
IIa: sulking
Meteion has found herself a hammock out of the way and low to the ground--she doesn't exactly sleep, but she's huddled in on herself. Feeling sorry for herself, just a bit. She chose this--it's no less than she deserves, for all the things she's done. And yet part of her feels so hollow. If this is the winning team, as she's been told repeatedly...why does it feel like an empty victory? Why wouldn't the hurt go away?
IIb: wandering
Eventually, even Meteion tires of sitting belowdecks, and can be found wandering the ship. She doesn't bother the sailors much, and does her best to not get in their way. She wasn't terribly worse for wear despite the journey's toll, but there's a bit of a melancholy air about her.
She might be dwelling on the events that led them here. Just a little bit.