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Crash

0 · 334 views · located in Enoch

a character in “The Dream Of The Woken”, originally authored by Kilgannon, as played by Dragonair

Description

CASE DESIGNATE: CRASH

AGE: TWENTY-ONEGENDER: FEMALE




Image

A stalwart instrument of divine will, Crash only operates so well because she understands both her position and relationship with the Angels. Considering herself nothing more than a mere tool to be used, she acts accordingly and oftentimes will seem either cold or reserved. She'll speak when spoken to, otherwise she takes time to deliberate before speaking or even acting resolutely. Because of her self-perceived worth and function, Crash is blissfully unaware of any customary social behavior or cues, choosing not to attempt to maintain or pursue any friendships. Outside of the Angels' instruction, she is entirely independent.



Like all the others, she was born into this destitute world. She was selected by the Angels at a particularly young age, even for the Bells, and as such was raised to carry out their will. Her raw strength and disregard for adversary made her a suitable enough candidate, resulting in the premature process of Emanation at the age of thirteen. This resulted in the manifestation of a holy sword, which was promptly named 'Wake'. The naming scheme isn't for aesthetic only; Anybody ever unfortunate enough to cross blades with Crash and Wake will come to find out just why they're named after the hard-hitting waves of the ocean, lest they be caught in the undertow.



With an apparent penchant for the color blue, Crash tends to stick to wearing loose-fitting, often 'sporty' clothing. Her most common outfit is that of black boots and shorts coupled with a blue tracksuit jacket and scarf. Both are which are emblazoned with gold trim, as well as the black hat which sits upon her head. If questioned, she claims that the blue scarf symbolizes 'courage'. Her hat is meant to serve the function of concealing her cowlick, but it really sticks out. Her left wrist is also adorned by a blue bracelet, similarly emblazoned with gold trim. While appearances alone make it seem like solely a bracelet, it conceals a hidden function.

So begins...

Crash's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Steadfast Character Portrait: Mourning Character Portrait: Crash Character Portrait: Faux Pas Character Portrait: Ace Character Portrait:
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The wind both roared and whispered as a figure traversed across the barren wasteland, which had once played host to both vegetation and animal life. It bore a scarf, which trailed off behind it like two tails, whipping and swirling with the dust in the air. Its stride was a determined one, as the figure braced itself against the oncoming winds and pressed on defiantly. Five hundred miles southeast of its position lay Eden, where the last flame of humanity struggled to keep aflame. This figure has originated there, after all, and knew the worst of it all firsthand. It had been shepherded away from the rest of the sheep by the Angels, as it often was, and sent out to find the Infinite Light.



It was, in the end, a she and she was known only by the name of Crash. At her side rest her Emanation, Wake, a sword with holy properties and intimidation factor that was only doubled by its wielder. Despite her prowess with the weapon, it mainly stayed unused, as her telekinetic powers proved to be enough in their own right when it came to dealing with the Fallen. This desert she roamed was one of many, and it so happened to have a sister desert nine hundred miles to the east. It was in this sister desert that a separate team was on the hunt for a figure leaving sandstorms in its wake. Crash felt, for once, almost fortunate that it wasn't her that had to be dealing with it. No, she had a much more important task at hand.



Her journey felt timeless, and the only indication against this was the gradual darkening of what little sky she saw through the sands. Night was growing near, and soon her surroundings indicated so, as features were becoming harder and harder to make out through both the sand and the darkness. Soon all light was gone and Crash halted, standing there in the dark and feeling the rapid cooling of the air. Her hand went to her hip and with a clink of metal, she was enveloped in light. It illuminated her immediate surroundings and the blowing sand stopped dead upon touching it, falling straight to the ground. Soon, it had warmed her and she raised the same hand to adjust the ballcap that sat on her head before pressing on.



This went on for some time, and to an outside observer, her movements may have seemed aimless, but something was guiding her, although what exactly was beyond her explanation. She continued to follow what she felt and eventually found herself entering a quarry, stone walls steeply rising up on either side of her and curving towards the back. As she ventured inward, she came across a large, gnarled tree. It seemed to emulate the Tree of Life in stature, and Crash was certain she saw the roots twist off indefinitely before determining it was just a trick of the light. Whatever life this tree had contained, however, seemed to have been long dead. Crash mused if it died when the planet did, but the light she had been emanating suddenly cutting off interrupted her thoughts. The sudden darkness had surprised her, though she showed no outward indication of this. Before she could gather her thoughts, a large concentrated pillar of light erupted from the tree, lighting the sky as if it were day. Crash reasoned that this could be seen by those back home and her companions in the east.



Soon, the light overtook everything and when it finally cleared Crash immediately picked up on her displacement. The temperature was different, and there was still sun in the sky. As she regained her sight, she took note that there was a tree of similar stature in front of her, but her surroundings had entirely changed. Desert no longer, Crash gathered that she was in what resembled a swamp. The air was hot and sticky, and Crash could hear bogs of liquid bubbling through the thick mist that hung in the air. If the heat physically bothered her in her thick clothing, she showed no sign of it. Her hand went to rest on Wake, and she instinctively set out again, guided by some innate compass. She felt close.

She continued.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Crash Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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The sun did little to aid Crash in navigating the fog that hung heavy in the air, turning her surroundings into a grayscale. As she continued, she noticed her movements becoming sluggish, as if she were moving forward through water, and came to a standstill. A sensation of movement to her left caused her to cast her glance in that direction, resulting in a blast of psychic energy blowing a column of fog about five feet in width back several hundred feet. In the place of the now displaced fog stood nothing, and Crash meant to move on until a shimmer in the air of the column caught her eye.



YOU ARE FAR FROM YOUR NEST, LITTLE ONE.

The voice filled her head as if her own thought, and it spoke as both man and woman. Crash was used to this pervasive invasion of the mind, as the Angels that hung above Eden weren't reluctant to use it themselves. She considered it convenient, however, as this made communication between the two very different beings much easier.

"You will let me pass, deceiver, I was told of you and your ways. I was also told how to make your darkness become light."

Her voice was authoritative, strong. It carried a weight to it that rang out with such an attuned clarity it was hard not to be influenced when she spoke. The Watcher made itself known, bearing a head of smoke like hair that obscured its eyes and pooled from its own mouth. Two large butterfly wings were draped over its shoulders like a cloak, and the body of a dead snake was tied around the cloth that covered its bottom half in tatters. This was Sathariel, Angel of Deception. It stood on two feet, with a hand held to its chest and another extended to the South, pointing her.

WHY, OF COURSE. ONE SUCH AS I WOULD NOT DETER YOU FROM YOUR PATH NOW. NOT THIS TIME.

The amount of smoke that pooled from its mouth intensified and soon it was engulfed completely in it before blowing away and dispersing as the fog began to close back in.



She went South.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Steadfast Character Portrait: Crash Character Portrait: Faux Pas Character Portrait: Ace Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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As Crash ventured South, she entered a forested area, with trees whose roots gnarled and twisted outwards over a large area. She identified them as Mangrove trees, which told her that this swampland was brackish and that she was almost certainly on a coast. But was she headed towards the ocean or just walking along it? The air was still around her and she came to a halt, taking this opportunity to raise an arm and rub at her forehead with a sleeve. As her arm fell back to her side, Crash tilted her head slightly, cocking her ear towards the faintest of sounds.



Waves? Judging by the volume, she was at least half a mile away from its source, but at least she now had a heading. Tossing all concept of heading South aside, Crash viscerally turned in the direction of the waves and produced a waterskin from her pocket, conservatively taking two drinks, and charged on. As she approached and the crashing of the waves gradually grew in a crescendo, she was able to discern that she would come up on a rocky shore. Soon enough, she did. The tide seemed particularly low, and Crash made out several rock pools before turning her eyes to the horizon.



A tree, not unlike the one she arrived here with by any means, but it did seem fundamentally bigger to her. Still, somehow she could feel that it was not her prize, but regardless she had been led to it for a reason, had she not? As she approached, she braced herself for the sudden displacement, but it never came. Eventually she made it up to the tree itself, finding herself wondering just like the last time if perhaps this one really was dead. Unknown to her at the time, however, it was the tree's partner that had really died.



Crash reached a hand out and placed her palm flat against the bark of the tree, and that was when the pillar of light erupted, although the likeliness of this one being seen by her compatriots was minimal. Had the bridge between this tree and its partner still been intact, Crash would have been able to continue her quest from there and indeed would have been another step closer to her goal. But it wasn't, and instead a different set of prerequisites for travel were met, resulting in Crash being displaced in more ways than one.



As the light filled her vision, Crash felt a sensation much different from the last time, and found herself doubly disorientated after the fact. Again, the first thing she was able to determine was that the surrounding temperature had changed, in fact, it was much, much cooler. She could hear voices. Distant, faint. Familiar? As her vision regained, she first made out all of the sand. She was back in a desert, but was this the same one? Her surroundings didn't match that of the quarry she had started in at all. And to top it all off, she picked up on the time of day. It was still night, not much later, she surmised, than when she had initially been whisked away. The only problem was that she had been gone for hours now, at least five or six. Did time flow different where she was, had that still been Enoch? Or did the tree somehow take her back in time? These questions she would have to pose to the Angels.



For now, she had to find the source of the voices she heard and get a bearing on her current location. Her hand never went to Wake, regardless of whatever company she had stumbled upon, she doubted she would need it. As she grew closer and pinpointed the voice, she knew she wouldn't need it. As she made it to the top of a sand dune and entered eyesight range, the visuals only further confirmed it. The first thing she saw only seemed to increase the inconvenience of her transportation here.



Zeitgeist.