9 Days Before
The Sixth Night

Crowley sat there, alone and tormented by the hushed, distorted tones of the current.

The smell of faint skunk hung in the building that he resides in, a cold whisp snuck through cracks of windows and doors seeping its way to the beetle that is Crowley: Hunched over, thighs to his chest, and his head arched onto his knees.

He curls his toes as the night's breeze gets in-between, Crowley wants to get up and race towards the warmest spot to beat the low temperatures of summer, but he's entangled with the couch.

"You'll never....ever-" Distortion depths into his ears, making it rattle with every flair. Crowley grunts, wisping his hand out, trying to catch it—furthermore making the sprite dissipate, curling outwards between his fingers, forming on the other side-Laughing at his expense.

"Shut up!" He swats it again, making him move from his spot, the warmth escapes the comforter, the hum boils over his closed tightened hand that was expelled outwards. Moving away from him in response, poltergeists on the spot, observing Crowley from a distance within silence.

He's peering down at the cold wooden flooring, brushing his dangling hair with his fingers, its silky touch races across Crowley's endings.

Letting out a deep sigh that's been clogged within him since the writing had refreshed his memory, seeing everything all at once: mocking a picture book that's being flipped at full speed but knowing what it holds.

Crowley hangs his hands on his head, losing a ripple of reality as he dissociates.

The Hum glides closer to him from being immobilized being inches away from his earlobe, it whispers to him having his eyes swell from the response, a flip of the picture-book escapes the right envisioning a pair of individuals, he can't make anything out besides that its gloomily lit by a small flame.

Sprite flows a few inches away going back to its patient pose, Crowley droops his hands--covering his face, escaping the sight of the distortion. Replying to his movements it swings to the other side of him, leaning towards his ear again for another whisper.

{●}

Octavia spirals down into her thoughts as she swings her sword-hitting a slash onto a built-together dummy.

Thinking about Korith, Krissy, and the unfolding occurrences.

Thud between wood and metal twists out into the lot, she tightens her grip and swings again with a thought of Korith: still wondering where of all places that she could be hiding from her, it wouldn't be hiding if it were easy for her—she makes the same mark elongated after another slash to its chest-piece showing her skill in accuracy, causing another clunk to ring.

Avias' thoughts linger on the past events, still trying to make sense of it all. She loses focus, missing the third strike she's known to hit, making her wielded piece swoosh into open air. She stops for a moment, her blade drooping down with relaxed hands, looking upwards into the distance seeing clouds tumbling down bringing her thoughts onto that night: What Krissy explained to her, and what she said - missing her final days at the orphanage --

A scent of laundry opens to the field, she slightly shakes the thought out and turns to face the back door seeing it open, Sue stepping out with a load of clothes having clips clamped onto the baskets sides for later use.

Sue places the basket into one arm, gripping it tightly so, while using her other free hand to flop the pieces over a line that's connected from the lots tree and to the house, she looks over to her left seeing Octavia watching her do her routine, she does a faint wave to see if there will be any reaction: and there isn't. Avia looks away with a quick snap, trying to focus on her training manikin, however she's still locked inside her head.

Before it gets too dark, mother Sue gently walks over to her, even if Octavia doesn't want to interact she still wants to break some sort of ice with her—Such as her little to no reaction to the bolt of lightning or even the figure. One of the two, something had to be said and by now Sue surely thinks that Octavia has a few ideas rummaging around in that brain of hers.

She looks at Sue striding towards her from the edge of her vision. Octavia darts a glance seeing her slowly come up, she focuses on her sword then onto the manikin, with a swift skid of her feet-she lunges, stabbing into it, making the blade penetrate through the solid frame.

"You're getting awfully good at that." The caretaker had mentioned, reaching the final steps within her vicinity, giving a point at the hole when she had sleek the blade out.

Octavia glances at her again; she doesn't have a sheath so she slams the sword into the ground for a place holder. "Yeah, been training and exercising whenever possible" Sue feels a slight tension, yet she remains stubborn on her feet, willing to break the ice she senses around them.

"You've been working on being a Tower guard since you were little—when you first came about to our doorstep. You had that dream for so long..." she gathers the words up, there's a slight pause before sentences as she looks up, seeing Octavia's eyes peering right back at hers, then she looks down. "I remember when you first spoke up about it." She does a sliver of a chuckle having the memory inside her vision.

Octavia recalls the day as well, leaning on her guard's sword. "You even called me by mommy back then too" Sue says with a sprinkle of gratitude, her right eyelid a half moon. Avia catches a small smile, bobbing her head to form nods.

"Mommy, sue—I wanna be the best guard there is, So I can protect the whole Orphanage!" Sue recalls the lines, her eyes becoming more glossy.

"That's when I surprised you with that practice sword—it was on your birthday." Octavia closes her eyes, seeing the buzz of the memory on the back of her eyelids.

"Yeah, I remember that." She spoke softly at her, crouching down to sit on the ground, having one knee facing up and the other to the side. The house mother looks at her like a parent looking at their child, "you were so happy, filled with glee about your first sword that you ran right outside" she says with her hand doing a zip to mimic young Octavia's pace.

She lets out a chuckle seeing it replay, Sue does a soft smile to her laughter, knowing that the ice is melting, knowing that she doesn't want to ruin the moment with the next conversation they'll have. Hoping that she doesn't need to let her know about Korith's accident, it's a touchy subject for Octavia—they've gotten so close over the years and the talk might ruin it and even the relationship that they share.

{●}

Eve lays on the square padded flooring, trapped in the comforter room by her co-workers, from the people who she ought to help with the impending doom that might or might not arrive, whatever happens she wants to be ready for it.

The bloom of a speaker pops its volume on the far facing corner of the room, a recent change." Begin testing." Then another blerp signifies that the speaker had finished, only a couple of words and she knew what they meant.

Her medical equipment was waiting for her, this time there was more from the last occurrence having the team rush into the padded cubicle from her extreme vivid dream that caused her physical and mental pain.

That visit, the structure, it all led her into having these sprouting thoughts of an oddity, an oddity she shouldn't even dwell on.

There's a staining thought beside it, a life-form seeming to be female in form with white-ish gold tendrils flowing from the back, their face-scanning to be a helmet in form, whenever she spares the thought on it, a sinking feeling reaches into her.

She pulls herself up, with the thought in mind and the dream she had, slowly inching towards her tools-the speaker ignites.

"Use your time wisely...apprentice."

Eve tears her vision from the equipment and aims it at the mesh box, she remembers that saying when she first worked at this station.

Aiding the towers medical/advanced department system was a heritage passed down to a mother who she hasn't met, although she believes that there was some interaction between each other when she was only an infant.

Her eyes focus back to the lab equipment, seeing it all come-together inside the mind: exact measurements, the tools needed, and other appliances she needs.

Eve places her left hand on her forearm, surveying the table-realizing that there's a piece missing to complete the project.

She looks at the camera and waves her arms to gather attention from the other side, the light below it blinks telling her that there's someone watching, "I'm missing a valuable asset to complete it" bringing her arms down after giving the heads up.

The camera lights blink again and soon after a team budge's through the hidden door, following them is a co-worker from her section bringing in a fluid, they back her up and the team member places the liquid onto the silver table.

Eve, being pushed back against the other wall from the two body-guards stares at them with confusion, ever since that night she's been getting harsh treatment like one of the highest priority patients, yet worse it seems—then again she never did see what happens behind the walls of those patients—she has only seen a partial percent of the procedure.

They keep her back until everyone has left her room, staring at the vial that holds a pale-milky liquid.

{●}

Mier left Dealix and Chandra back at the vacant homestead, slipping and avoiding the glass shards that were scattered across—it was a good blanketed mess to alert them if anyone had stepped in, however if anyone had the skill to maneuver around places like he did, they wouldn't have known an outsider had breached their quarters.

He didn't know what their exact plans were, although he could make an educated guess on what, Mier was fast awake-hearing Dealix talk in his sleep, something about reaching a location.

Maybe it was the same destination that was up on his list, seeing that there were people he needed to help; People that had their hands tied behind their back and their necks being penetrated by a needle amongst visions of Vem.

Mier thinks that him and Dealix share the same sense, he could be wrong in that element: there have been times where he had talked about familiar scenarios that Mier relatively knew of in his sleep-like he had done before Mier left.

The location he's heading now is a large lot, it could be the same vicinity as the images had told him; where Vem had vanished from his 'sight'.

Mier lost connection with him after he entered the fog—Vem never came back. He's grateful that he had left his friend's bladed gadget with him or else he could've been dead, maybe something worse.

Whatever those things were, he didn't know—what he did know was that he needed to vanquish them. Unfortunately for the other two, Mier took back the knife, he'll need it on where he's going; it was a stomach feeling, an underlying tone.

Hearing birds melody to one another, his nose reefed in wet grass, and a crystal clear aroma of coated trees: sharp and distinct.

Mier sponged through the soaked blanket of ground from the fast melted snow—he stuffed his extra pant length into his shoes, slightly keeping the moosh from getting at his socks.

Footprints being imprinted as he makes his way, passing a hill-side-moving onward to a closer of buildings that was led by an entwined road.

"Was this...?" Mier says out loud, scanning the face of clustered buildings, comparing the visuals of the vision.

{●}

"Mier..." Dealix said, Chandra twists her head towards him, remembering that once again he had ditched them, "what about him." She grumbled, giving a stink eye at Dealix.

"Nothing." He says looking from a downwards angle, "it's gotta be more than nothing." Chandra picks up a large debris that Kroith had caused, giving a grunt in-between words.

"Just..." Dealix tries to place the right words, continuing the work the crew is focused on, walking away from Chandra as he fits the remains onto another area of their hide-out.

Chandra pauses, giving the rubble an intense focus as she thinks about Mier, she shouldn't feel the need to hate him, they've barely just gotten to know him with what little they know, he's an odd character: Mier is often kept to himself, randomly shows up to support, keeps things organized, and speaks in off beats.

If he could only stick by them, or at least tell them where he's headed then maybe she wouldn't feel this way. Chandra does a huff, Clyista catching her—stepping up beside her taking Dealix's place, hauling the pieces with her.

"Why did he blurt that girl's name out, any ties to her?" Clyista prods.

"Not a one" Chandra gives her a good stare before Dealix strolls to their side, Clyista side-eyes them both taking a hefty size and carrying it off with her.

He looks at Chandra with a clueless expression, "what did she want?" He points with his thumb back at them, her other crew members checking valves and meters on equipment that they transported from another section.

One of the members gestures to call over Ael from a walk-n-talk with their team lead. Ael looks down as he fast-walks to them, peering back at the collapse as he reaches halfway.

He scoots into their bubble and they proceed to chat amongst each other, pointing at the canisters, Ael places his hands on his waist then folds them in mid conversation, nodding in response to their intel.

His facial expression looks grim as he narrows his vision to Clyista then points his eyes towards Dealix and Chandra, the gaze follows Dealix as he waddles with overcoming debris.

Ael does a two finger call to Clystia and she heads over there with an upfront waltz.

Quiet hushes trigger between the group, she folds her arms and looks rather grimacing about their discussion.

On the other side, Chandra kneels down and collapses, sweat that's been congealing droops down, she scans the group staring her and Dealix down, then back at one another looking at the pair of tubes.

Dealix slumps on the pile, losing his breath from the big haul, regaining it relatively slowly. Chandra puts two and two together: from the huddle they made, Dealix shortens breath strokes, her lack of engagement to pull herself up, their focus honing to the canisters, and their expressions as a whole—they're losing oxygen.

{●}

Crowley shifts his movement from one end of the apartment to the other, occasionally swiping away at the distortion. The lingering scent of splattered bong water still hurls in the air: he hasn't cleaned the mess up.

His lack of ability to care is grasped by the hum—keeping him from nearly everything as it follows him with haunting dialogues. Trying to cease his functions to a limited percentage.

He tosses again, pacing towards his room, the creek of the floorboards sings out into the hallway making the hum's communion a silent one, Crowley reaches his room—slamming the door on the distortional wave behind him.

There was another moment of peace as he rummaged around his room looking for an item: Swinging blankets off his bed, throwing pillows up, and rummaging through dirty laundry—yet the item cannot be found.

Peace evaporated as the hum shimmered through the door.

"Trying to find the pill bottle?" It rattles, Crowley turns around giving his unwanted guest a scowl of resistance, he strides past it, turning right at his bed frame, opening the nightstands drawers.

The bottle of pills cluster with its tiny contents hitting at the sides as it rolls in front, he looks back at the hum, giving it a final stare down as he takes a few pills, placing it inside his mouth—clenching it with his teeth, making an effort to grab a glass of water, pacing through the distortion again. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Taking a big gulp of water as he ignores the hum's request to halt, the clear, iron-like taste of water races down his throat with the pills.

He thuds the glass onto the kitchen counter, "does this satisfy your needs...?" The hum twists its echoed cords, diminishing into the air.

Crowley huffs, storming across the kitchen towards a closet, he reaches inside grabbing a mop, a broom, and a dustpan to get rid of the stench he caused.

The scratching of glass bounces within the cubical of a kitchen, sweeping it onto the pan, before he could finish, jolts of imagery clips to his vision.

Breathing turns into tremors, feeling a pull. Crowley flashed up words, scattering the pieces onto the floor as his attention locked onto what he saw, he raced into his room pulling socks and shoes over his feet.

Bolting at the front door, the inertia pulls his hair back, feeling the wind brush against him, his leg muscles tightening as he pushes himself to go faster than before and without a blizzard in the way he's sure to make it.

Impact of his shoes make out the vacant night block as he peddles his feet towards the destination, leaving the houses behind him.

He meets a stop sign leading towards off-roads, Crowley dances by the stop sign as he thinks before he takes another bolt to the left, skidding across an open field and down a hill.

Taking a possible shortcut through thick woodlands, hoping to reach the desired location faster believing if he makes it out, it'll cut the time that's very limited already.

Flapping of wings pinches the air between the trees as he makes his way past the first layer of patch, the silhouette of the birds glances at the top, darting their way into a new route.

Crowley controls his breathing, keeping the urge to want a break.

It's difficult to handle such a task—running at full speeds through a forest you barely know with the only guidance being a distant memory of a map.

Scatter of wild animals rallies away from his storming presence, breaking branches coming fast under foot as he delves deeper into the forest, vaulting over a fallen tree, bypassing a marker that was carved into the trunk. His patter of footsteps leaves it vastly behind.

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