taxonomites | [ Holo | Location: Sanctuary ]

He was sure something with the ritual had gone wrong. Not that there was much that could go right, he corrected himself, the sick, heavy feeling that had settled in his stomach so many hours beforehand still refusing to let up. He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting and scenery; he had gone from a dark warehouse with the windows boarded up and rusted meathooks hanging from the ceiling to… this. He couldn’t think of how to describe it. It was so different from anything he’d seen before, even since coming to Los Angeles – bright, metallic and utterly foreign.

“Cordy? Can you hear me?” He cringed as the sound of his voice echoed back. He hadn’t been expecting that.

Connor looked up, attempting to process his surroundings. What was that up there? He shook his head, causing his already mussed hair to fall in front of his eyes as he moved forward, almost tripping down the first step before taking the rest down to the floor without incident. He had to find some way out; things were happening back at that warehouse and Angel was due to arrive any minute, he would have to fight him to keep him from interfering – or keep him from getting hurt, he wasn’t sure which now. Maybe he was here because of the ritual, maybe Cordelia had sent him away... except that didn’t make sense. Not after everything she had done to make sure he stayed close.

It must have backfired somehow. … hmph. That was the price of relying so heavily on magic.

“I guess weirder things than this happened,” he muttered to himself, his eyes finally accustomed to the brightness. Another look around revealed there was no exit that he could see. There was, however, a pedestal a few steps ahead of him with some device on it. He frowned as he examined it as best he could from where he was standing.

Usually, it didn’t pay to touch something if you didn’t know what it was. Especially not if magic was involved. It wasn’t quite as foreign as the rest of the room, however, and he took a few steps closer to get a better look at it.

“… kind of looks like a video game,” he thought aloud. The more he talked aloud, the more that heavy feeling in his stomach abated. Maybe it was best not to think about what had happened at the – no. No way. He couldn’t just cut and run like that. “… nevermind. Can’t waste time here. I have to get back.”

It was a great plan, except for the part where there was no door. He scowled and cupped his hands against either side of his mouth to help his voice project, turning his face upwards as he shouted. “Can anyone hear me? Get me out of here!”

If nobody answered, that meant it was just time to start punching walls. He’d punched his way through the barrier of a hell dimension. He could definitely punch his way through a regular wall. … eventually.

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"General knowledge," he admitted, but it sounded like it was aimed at himself as much as at the sallow boy on the other side of the screen. "Can escape holding cell, but city's no better. Just bigger."

He shifted in his seat, temporarily moving closer to the screen before he settled again, and while it gave no better picture of him it at least revealed the lazily swirling pools of black-on-white to be little more than fabric, covering what could easily be assumed to be human features.

Connor tilted his head to better examine the image. Strange. He guess he'd seen stranger. Really, considering everything he'd seen in Quor'toth, this guy was nothing at all. Just kind of weird -- and even that was pretty relative.

"The city's a prison?" he asked, raising one eyebrow slightly.

Rorschach snorted; the boy was in a room with no windows or doors, the fact that it was a prison was readily apparent as far as he was concerned. It wasn't a complete assessment, the city was many things rolled into one, but it was the most accurate description.

"Claimed otherwise, but amounts to same. Only difference is haven't seen jailers yet." Others had, of course, but he'd yet to himself.

"If there's no jailers, then what's keeping people from leaving the city?" He glanced upwards at his surroundings again. Okay, so this room had no windows or doors, but Angel had told him that lifting the tablet would show him the way out -- so even after that, the place was still a prison?

Great.

Edited 2011-05-20 15:37 (UTC)

"Never said no jailers." The gritty monotone sharpened for a moment, colored with his own frustration at the situation, before returning to the usual blankness. "Don't show themselves, but others have seen. Walls in place around city to prevent escape. Impenetrable, apparently."

"So they keep themselves hidden," Connor confirmed, his lips twisting into a frown of frustration. "And it's completely inpen-- inpenetr-- you can't get out. ... sounds like a good time." He snorted. He wanted to make a comment about having been through worse, to say that nothing could be as bad as Quor'toth had been, but the world was always full of surprises. He'd learned that much, at least.

"Thanks."

Rorschach grunted at the thanks, neither needing it nor having asked for it. The boy needed information, he gave it; it was how the exchanges worked, no more, no less. He found it ridiculous to give appreciation for something so basic. "Either cowardice or part of design; don't know yet. Told captors enjoy experiments." A shoulder jerked in what might have been a shrug.

"Experiments." He really didn't like the sound of that. It sounded pretty invasive, and he was tired of being manipulated. "What kinds of experiments?"

"Changing environment, elements of self. Manipulating thoughts. Throw wolves amongst sheep to see how they react." Few things he had actually experienced firsthand, of course, but he'd heard that they happened, had seen evidence - albeit dubious - of it. He might have been inclined to disagree, but they were captives; it already felt as if they were little more than rats in a cage, experiments were only the next step.

"So we're just toys to them," Connor surmised with an irate snort, frowning as he pushed his mussed hair out of his eyes. "They just want to manipulate us and see what happens."

"Not toys. Subjects. Rats in cages." Not the most important of distinctions, but he still disliked being compared to a plaything. First a puppet, then a toy; he refused to accept the situation was truly that much out of his hands.

For Connor, there wasn't much distinction between the two. As far as he was concerned, the definitions were more or less the same. "Sounds like this place is pretty awful," he said finally, moodiness showing through. He was tired of being pushed around, tired of being steered in whatever direction for other people's purposes. He didn't want to continue to be that sort of a victim here.

[ Holo | Location: Sanctuary ]

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