2548/Predormitum

Predormitum
Date of Scene:	22 September 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Predormitum
Cast of Characters:	Phoenix, Madelyne Pryor

---

Phoenix has posed:
NEAR EARTH ORBIT
THE WATCHTOWER
POST-FURIES

Anything within about twenty feet of Phoenix's infirmary bed not firmly attached to something else hovers about a foot or two from the nearest surface. The redheaded telepath's been unconscious since she was brought up along with several other wounded heroes several hours ago, after the Female Furies of Apokolips' first strike on Metropolis. A plethora of machinery chirps and hisses around her, monitoring vitals and tracking energy fluctuations; if it weren't for the war raging below, the intermittent spikes registered by the latter class of gear might have been noteworthy, but so it goes.

Thin wisps of smoke ever so slowly uncurl from about the mutant's temples, tracing increasingly expansive, loose spirals through the air.

ANNANDALE-ON-HUDSON
ALONG A TREE-LINED STREET
THIRTEEN YEARS AGO

"Okay, Annie," Jean Grey calls to the brown-haired girl about fifteen feet down the street while miming through the motions of what she hopes will be a long spiral, "the only way we're gonna teach those dumb jerks a lesson is if we beat 'em at their own game, right?!"

"Uuuh," Annie hesitates, "well, sure, yeah-- yeah, but-- like I told you, they kinda picked me last for a reason, y'know?" She rubs her neck nervously for a moment before sucking in a breath and reassuming a wide-armed reception posture. "Mebbe they didn't have to be so... well... like they were about it," she adds, a bit quieter, "but I'm not exactly-- I mean, neither of us are exactly--"

"Oh, no, forget that-- I made my brothers show me how to do this junk! All Friday and most of Saturday!" the redhead protests while smacking the pigskin into an open palm at the end of a test-throw. "All weekend, Annie-- I'm awesome now! Which means you're gonna be awesome, okay?!" Without waiting for a response, she rears back and throws a wobbly pass that, at least, makes it down the street-- only to bounce out of Annie's hands, prompting a wince from Jean.

"Okay, that's okay!" she calls while clapping her hands. "Just throw it back-- look, don't worry, we're gonna be the queens of first period PE, and-- I mean, what's the worst that could happen, we get so good that we get all sad when we realize we can't go to college for flag football?!"

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    Annie oops. "S-sorry!" the other girl says, scrambling after the ball to scoop it up again, then hefts it to toss it awkwardly back in a wobbling throw that...well, is nowhere near Jean's hands. "Sorry!" she repeats, a bit louder! "I...haven't really thrown it a lot!"

    The ball itself bounces and rolls, coming to rest near a tree. That's not unusual in and of itself...there are trees all along the street, after all. But the forest...it seems odd. It comes right up to the edge of the empty lot you're near...dense, and dark, and shadowy. The trees there seem older than the rest of those on the street, made of twisted, darker wood, with leaves edged in red. Flowering vines run around between them, some hanging between the trees. over the moss-covered rocky ground below them.

    You feel like something is watching you from within those trees...

Phoenix has posed:
"Don't worry about it," Jean reassures with an over-the-shoulder grin and a salute while running after the ball, "we're just getting the bad throws outta the way!"

After flashing a thumbs up at the redhead's back, Annie drops her gaze to her feet, plants her hands on her hips, and chews on her bottom lip as she waits for retrieval-- and, perhaps, tries to muster up a little pep talk of her own.

"Stupid Marnie Richter," Jean grumbles as the trees loom ever larger above. "Buncha big-mouthed bullies..." she continues while scooping to claim the ball-- only to trail off when she happens to run her eyes up their twisted, vine-embraced lengths and winds up staring at a patch of reddish leaves.

And staring, a single-eyed squint beginning to form as she studies aged flora and the hair on the back of her neck stands at attention.

And staring, green eyes drawn to the shaded cracks between leaves and branches as she forgets how to breathe.

"I--" she softly hazards, taking a small step closer, "Is-- someone--?"

"JEAAAAAAAANIE!"

With a gasp, she whips towards Annie, now waving both arms overhead in the distance. "Jean, c'mon, what're you doing! If we're gonna do this, we should-- we should probably do it, right?! I'm ready-- I'm really, really ready, now!" A little hop leaves her in a bent-legged receiver's stance, swaying to and fro in her best approximation of readiness.

"R-right!" Jean calls back while winging the ball a good few feet to the right of the other girl's head, sending her running into a neighboring yard. "-- crap-- sorry!"

Sighing, Jean watches for a couple of seconds before turning gradually - inexorably - back towards the trees to resume contemplating the darkness.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    It's almost like the forest is...breathing. Alive. And as the redhead focuses again on it, it's enough to become aware of the faint chattering of creatures deeper inside. A distant, low howl...that doesn't sound like anything heard before. But filled with such hunger that it sends a chill the spine, as a hot, warm breeze blows out of the depths of it.

    The sky seems to dark over it...and the moon looks down. A harvest moon, swollen and red...larger than it should be. Especially if it's appearing during the day.

    The howl takes on a baying sound, that sounds....closer...

    As if summoned by Jean's gaze, when she looks around her...the forest is encroaching...growing between the houses of her street. Over them, vines having crawled over the ranch style houses along the street. Some though, don't look like regular houses...they look like ruined brickwork. Collapsed, or burnt, and overgrown.

    In the darkest shadows among them...red eyes look back.

Phoenix has posed:
The forest pulses in time with Jean's steadily quickening heart--

Or does Jean's steadily quickening heart beat in time with the forest's breaths?

Regardless, once the howling begins to approach, she shifts from staring to sprinting, all the while trying not to swallow the frenetic little drum that wants to leap from chest to throat-- and never once bothering to turn away from the deep, dark forest while trying to escape. Annie and the street grow increasingly remote as foliage closes in around her-- around everything, growing without a care for who came first.

Or did the people who chose to build their houses here do so without caring about what came first?

Regardless, the redhead runs ever deeper into the encroaching, reclaiming wilderness until a root bursting up through a ruined water main catches her foot, sends her sprawling--

-- and leaves her meeting the darkness' red gaze, frozen rather than scrambling to renew her escape.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    It's a fall cushioned, loosely, by rotten leaves, and a spikey bush that tears at Jean's shirt as she falls, leaving a rip and a red scratch along her abdomen. There's a gurgling from the main as its struck, a low groan, that sounds more like something deep in the pipes in pain...but after a moment, a spurt of water spatters, splasing into the darkness, between the roots of one of the ancient trees.

    The red eyes close as the splash happens...the hollow filling so fast, spreading out like a bloodstain, the dark water reflective as eyes open again....green eyes. Jean's eyes.

    But it's not her. Or is it? The other girl's hair is a tangle of red, scratches and cuts along her sides. Rather than comfortable shirt and jeans and shows, she has none...only rags wound around her, the remnants of what looks to be a dress, now blackened and stained with dirt and debris and other fluids. Her feet are wrapped, and look bruised from running, the other girl panting as she stares out of the mirror.

    But those emerald green eyes are same. Identical. Confused.

Phoenix has posed:
The darkness shuts its eyes, and once more, Jean has to remember to breathe.

Or hyperventilate-- whatever it takes to get her lungs moving. Tiny, confused vocalizations slip out between those desperate gasps for air for several seconds until she finally rolls over to sit back on her hands and stare up at the harvest moon between the boughs. "Je-- " she whispers to herself, "Jesus Christ, oh my God, ho-- holy shit--"

Her cheeks begin to redden, and with a brisk shake of her head, she snaps her gaze down--

-- to the blood-red mirror nestled between roots--

-- where she finds herself confusion reflected and filtered through brutal humility.

"WHAT!" she shrieks while skittering backwards-- for all of a foot before gnarled wood stops her. "Hh-- who--"

After a beat, any further feeble attempts at words are swallowed - what's the point of questioning a mirror, after all - and she shifts forward, crawling just close enough to graze her fingertips across the water.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    The sharp motion and the shriek causes the reflection to jerk back, the savage-looking girl scrambling backwards, her eyes widened as Jean's. Then as she moves forward, then reaches towards the surface...the Jean on the other side copies her, prowling forward with a wild grace, her scratches fingers, covered in scratches and scabs, reaching out.

    For a moment...it's not water...but flesh that Jean touches. Fingertip to fingertip, the other girl looks confused.

    Then her head snaps up as that udulating howl rings through the forest again, the girl getting a slightly terrified expression, before scrambling up and darting to the right, out of view....as a large footfall causes the reflection to disappear in a chaotic surge of ripples.

    Something big is close...it can be heard growling as it breaks through the trees, the snapping and groaning of breaking wood audible.

Phoenix has posed:
"H-- ho-- "

Jean, too, snaps her head up at the howl, then frantically whips it about in search of its source-- of the terrible shape barreling through the forest and scattering the mirror. Clambering upright, her head only stops swiveling when a gap through the foliage wide enough to flee through is spotted, at which point it locks on tightly.

"Aah-- Annie-- Annie, ANNIE! Annie, run, RUN, whatever you do, RUN, it's COMING!" she screams while running, flailing now and again to try and beat low branches and hanging vines aside. "Run-- "

Gulping, gasping for air, she hazards a look back over her shoulder after a few seconds, hoping for some sign that she's outpacing the beast.

The singular brass of a car horn sings a distant, sustained note, mingling with the primeval baying.

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    The branches almost seem to catch at Jean's hair, her clothes, like they're trying to grab hold of her...but perhaps it's just panic. The street isn't far away...and overgrown as it is around the street..it still remains mostly clear, even if an occasional tree punching up thruogh the asphalt now.

    As if the first horn was a signal, the air is filled with a growing cacophany of sound, as the heavy tread sets off alarms on the partially buried, ruined cars in the driveways along the street, lights flashing, before the trees sway, the underbrush near the edge shaking, before a nightmare bounds outside, smashing aside the last of the vines and crushing a sapling as it crashes out into the open.

    The first thought is that it's a cat....but it's too big for that. Taller than a bull, but sleek and predatory, with silvery flesh. From its back grow long quills, pointing back, black to the very tips which are red, with a long tail with a heavy knot of misshapen bone at the end like a mace. Triple claws dig into the asphalt as it shreds at it, its face a twisted maw of teeth in a long muzzled, crooked and jagged, some actually having grown through its tattered lips, with two sets of maddened eyes on either side of its malformed face.

    There's something sinister about it. More than just its physicality. A wrongness.

    And then there's the whispered voice in her mind. <Killitkillkit....it'll kill you if you don't kill it...>

Phoenix has posed:
A tangled nest of red hair and twigs floats around Jean's skull by the time she emerges to see a confused Annie with the football tucked under an arm and a hand visoring her eyes as she scans for Jean.

"Annie--"

"Oh, hey, Jean!"

"ANN--"

The rest of her name is consumed in a wordless scream when the nightmare finally reveals itself, bounds and prowls its way into the world to contemplate her with a killer's eyes.

The distant note draws closer, slicing through the discordant symphony of alarms.

Waving, Annie takes the football between her hands and jogs out into the street to meet her friend.

"There you are-- look, hey, I was thinking--"

"Ruh-- run, run, run run run runrunrunrunrunrun--"

"-- maybe instead of trying to show Marnie Richter up--"

Nightmarish panting and howling in one ear; deafening brass in the other.

Between them, a voice without a face.

It's no wonder she doesn't see it until--

"ANNIENOSTO"

*SQUEEEeeee-- KRRASH!!*

-- it happens, inevitably, leaving her with a hand thrust impotently towards the road, a scream echoing in her mind, and those last few seconds of Annie running and chatting before fading to black running on loop. She only just manages to pull away in time to avoid losing fingers when the beast snaps at them, forcing her out of her reverie.

"I-- I-- " she whimpers while inching backwards, groping blindly with her one good hand while the other is kept tucked close to her blooded stomach. "-- can't-- Annie, I-- I-- "

Heat builds behind her eyes and her fingers nearly jam against a stone just big enough to fit her palm. Without thinking, she closes them and hurls the rock in the monster's direction before bringing her hand up to her head and hissing, "okay shut up now-- shut up, shut up, please-- please go away and get Annie--"

Madelyne Pryor has posed:
    There's a strange flicker between those memories...the beast...the car...somehow they shift...then overlap each other. Two symbols merging in the shared memory. The creature stepping forward, past the bloody sneaker lying in the street, as it shifts and grinds, metal panels pushing through its skin. The wicked jaws become a broken, bloody radiator grill. The creature's eyes glowing like headlights as it stalks towards the whimpering girl, its low growl the rumble of a engine.

    The rock slams into one of the creatures headlights as it spins through the air, shattering, a gush of dark liquid spurtting as the light gutters out, the creature letting out a roar backed with the shriek of a car horn.
    Red runs down the street, crimson rivelets flowing past the beast, surrounding Jean the asphalt rejecting it as it deepens, forming into a long puddle beside her. The moon shines down...and then there are two girls whimpering, side by side, bound together in remembered terror, as the other girl is caught in the reflection again, shaking, her fingers clawing at the loam under her that somehow replaces the asphalt.

    The ragged, savage girl looks to Jean, then reaches out towards the surface of the pool above, her palm resting against the surface as she pushes against it desperately. <No...nononono....kill it...KILL IT!> Her eyes glow green. <Like this...like THIS! Take it!>

Phoenix has posed:
A flash of brown hair fluttering betwixt gnashing jaws causes green eyes to squeeze shut for just long enough to be bathed in the monster's headlights.

Scrach that-- headlight.

{{oh my god, she's...}}
{{...the richardson's girl...}}
{{...only a matter of time, hanging around that grey girl...}}
{{... even try to help her...}}
{{... not really a football kinda girl, was she?}}
{{... forced her...}}
{{... killed...}}

Not that Jean notices the damage-- or much of anything else beyond the shriek that folds itself in with the chorus of small, secret voices filtering in beyond her ears. It twists around them, through them-- drags her back across the chasm of seconds ago, when Annie was still Annie, and not a scream and a reel that won't stop running.

If it wasn't for the voice not so unlike her own urging her to action, it's unlikely that she'd ever think to notice the monster bearing down on her-- much less to squeeze her eyes shut and let herself sink into the heat building behind them. Her fist clenches momentarily before she twists to extend it towards the pool and splay her fingers across her ragged reflection's.

When she finally opens her eyes, her vision is quickly obscured by flames bursting around her body, but her hand doesn't budge. Even when the monster, too, bursts into flames-- she doesn't budge.

"Like-- like this, right? Is this-- is this it?" she wonders. "Whoever-- whoever you are?"