Post by marrow on Nov 25, 2004 23:31:26 GMT -4
Marrow pushed herself relentlessly to get through the sewer systems between the shattered remains of the Morlocks home tunnels and the uncertain safety of the Xavier Institute. She didn't know much, just what she'd picked up from scattered conversations. Talking with Caliban, she knew that the Institute did exist and it was home to lots of mutants. The taller, older mutant had made that clear and had in his own broken way given her a route to it from the Morlock tunnels. She swallowed heavily, fighting back tears.
He back dere, yeah. Dead 'un. Bones'n'ash. Just like every every Morlock 'cept me. Why me? I's all lone, lonely monster. I meant t' be de leader, den what am I doing here all alone and every every dead? Should've been able t' save some! Tried. God, tried. Too many. Tunnels too crowded. And then the fire...no hope aft' t't.
She pushed at the sewer hatch Caliban had told would be there, scrambling out into the tunnels underlaying the Institute. For the underground savvy mutant, finding a service entrance to wiggle through and gain entry into the Institute proper didn't take that long. She padded rapidly through the hanger, skirting the pool of long dried blood on the floor and heading for the airduct she could see. Bone spikes let her climb agilely to the airduct near the ceiling, blinking through tears from light sensitive eyes.
She noticed absently once she got upstairs into the building proper, that she was leaving black footprints everywhere she went. Soot, blood and slime from the bottom of the sewers coated her feet, and liberally streaked across most of her body. Putting her hands near her face, she could still smell the blood of Slither's baby boy. Hurting. And she hadn't been able to help him, get him away. He'd never even seen the sun.
Waves of hatred surged through her, making her feel almost sick, gagging on the violence of the feelings that swept her mind. She'd hated before. But this was like someone had poured kerosene over a smouldering ember, explosive and violent flames rising up from what had been almost peaceful. Marrow hacked, tasting soot and blood on the back of her throad, before turning her head and spitting.
No one here. No mutie. Caliban said was...looks like sometype ran thro 'n ruined place.
The Morlock explored the house restlessly, pausing once to pick up a silvery dart from near the stairs. There was more blood on the wood there, and she rolled the slim dart between her fingertips, looking at it and wondering. Most of the scents were dead, and there was nothing left for her to reconstruct what had happened within the silent halls she was stalking through.
Mebbe someone died. Or dey get 'tacked too. Dun matter. No mutie here. No flatscan 'ere. Just Marrow, 'lone. Need food. Wonder if they left some?
Going from room to room, she finally found the kitchen. Opening the fridge, Marrow quickly dismissed most of the food items left in there. Eating spoiled food even when you were starving just made you sick. But if there was nothing better, she might come back to fridge and pick out what was less bad. Opening cupboards, Marrow ignored the mess she made as she ransacked the kitchen, hypermetabolism demanding she fuel it *now* and making her a little frantic in her quest for food.
She turned on the taps and drank, lapping from her hand as the other conveyed food to her mouth. Soothed a little, her stomach stopped growling at her and some of the aches died away as her body used the energy from the food to heal. Slowly, a bone split the skin over one eye, a wickedly sharp point slicing through to the air as blood dripped down the side of her face. Marrow ignored it as a matter of course, only pausing to wipe blood out of her eye so it didn't cloud her vision as she continued to devour the biscuits she'd found.
Poking around and a little calmer now, she picked up a small box and drew her finger along underneath the writing. She could read, if she went slowly and concentrated.
U...H...T...mi...milk! Milk?
She sniffed the box, then cautiously stabbed it with a bone. Milk poured out onto her fingers and Marrow crowed in delight, licking the delicious liquid off her hands and drinking from the punctured carton. She went looking for more once she'd finished the first, craving the calcium it contained. Wiping her mouth clean and burping gently, Marrow left the kitchen and went to find somewhere to sleep.
She could hole up somewhere around and hide here until she found somewhere else to go. Wasn't like she had anywhere else to be or anyone to look after anyway. There was just her now. The last Morlock. And that was all. There was no one else.
He back dere, yeah. Dead 'un. Bones'n'ash. Just like every every Morlock 'cept me. Why me? I's all lone, lonely monster. I meant t' be de leader, den what am I doing here all alone and every every dead? Should've been able t' save some! Tried. God, tried. Too many. Tunnels too crowded. And then the fire...no hope aft' t't.
She pushed at the sewer hatch Caliban had told would be there, scrambling out into the tunnels underlaying the Institute. For the underground savvy mutant, finding a service entrance to wiggle through and gain entry into the Institute proper didn't take that long. She padded rapidly through the hanger, skirting the pool of long dried blood on the floor and heading for the airduct she could see. Bone spikes let her climb agilely to the airduct near the ceiling, blinking through tears from light sensitive eyes.
She noticed absently once she got upstairs into the building proper, that she was leaving black footprints everywhere she went. Soot, blood and slime from the bottom of the sewers coated her feet, and liberally streaked across most of her body. Putting her hands near her face, she could still smell the blood of Slither's baby boy. Hurting. And she hadn't been able to help him, get him away. He'd never even seen the sun.
Waves of hatred surged through her, making her feel almost sick, gagging on the violence of the feelings that swept her mind. She'd hated before. But this was like someone had poured kerosene over a smouldering ember, explosive and violent flames rising up from what had been almost peaceful. Marrow hacked, tasting soot and blood on the back of her throad, before turning her head and spitting.
No one here. No mutie. Caliban said was...looks like sometype ran thro 'n ruined place.
The Morlock explored the house restlessly, pausing once to pick up a silvery dart from near the stairs. There was more blood on the wood there, and she rolled the slim dart between her fingertips, looking at it and wondering. Most of the scents were dead, and there was nothing left for her to reconstruct what had happened within the silent halls she was stalking through.
Mebbe someone died. Or dey get 'tacked too. Dun matter. No mutie here. No flatscan 'ere. Just Marrow, 'lone. Need food. Wonder if they left some?
Going from room to room, she finally found the kitchen. Opening the fridge, Marrow quickly dismissed most of the food items left in there. Eating spoiled food even when you were starving just made you sick. But if there was nothing better, she might come back to fridge and pick out what was less bad. Opening cupboards, Marrow ignored the mess she made as she ransacked the kitchen, hypermetabolism demanding she fuel it *now* and making her a little frantic in her quest for food.
She turned on the taps and drank, lapping from her hand as the other conveyed food to her mouth. Soothed a little, her stomach stopped growling at her and some of the aches died away as her body used the energy from the food to heal. Slowly, a bone split the skin over one eye, a wickedly sharp point slicing through to the air as blood dripped down the side of her face. Marrow ignored it as a matter of course, only pausing to wipe blood out of her eye so it didn't cloud her vision as she continued to devour the biscuits she'd found.
Poking around and a little calmer now, she picked up a small box and drew her finger along underneath the writing. She could read, if she went slowly and concentrated.
U...H...T...mi...milk! Milk?
She sniffed the box, then cautiously stabbed it with a bone. Milk poured out onto her fingers and Marrow crowed in delight, licking the delicious liquid off her hands and drinking from the punctured carton. She went looking for more once she'd finished the first, craving the calcium it contained. Wiping her mouth clean and burping gently, Marrow left the kitchen and went to find somewhere to sleep.
She could hole up somewhere around and hide here until she found somewhere else to go. Wasn't like she had anywhere else to be or anyone to look after anyway. There was just her now. The last Morlock. And that was all. There was no one else.