jagura kitten | "jaguar"/mamiya (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
formaliteas) wrote2020-01-17 11:20 pm
formaliteas) wrote2020-01-17 11:20 pm
Entry tags:
REGISTRY ♔ KYRIAKOS
✔ = priority ✘ = locked ✿ = | |||||
✘ "....because we're friends." ✿ ✘ Freedom. | |||||
✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ● "I'm sorry." | |||||
● A recovered heirloom. ✿ | |||||
✿ ● Mastering telekinesis. ● Mastering cryokinesis. ✿ ✿ | |||||
● Learning to play the guitar. ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ | |||||
✿ | |||||
✿ ● Euphoria's decline. ● Forced splicing. ✿ | |||||
✿ ● Realizing that the Flock is basically a cult. ✿ ✿ ● The amusement park. | |||||
✿ | |||||
✿ ✿ ✿ ● pain resistance ● durability ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ● marksmanship ✿ ✿ ✿ | |||||
○ significant
Day-to-day life at the orphanage.
taken: day 120
witnesses: N/A
A montage memory from ages 7 to 18 that revolves around daily life in the Little Brothers' Orphange.
You're a recluse when you first arrive, keeping to yourself and rarely speaking. Every thought and emotion is weighed down by a terribly heavy grief. For awhile, you're left alone. The staff knows about your circumstances. Your fellow orphans do not, but are used to this sort of behavior from new arrivals. Most of them have gone through such a phase themselves. The adults and children alike know to wait until you've had time to adjust to the drastic upheaval that brought you here.
Eventually, you start to.
What follows next is a slow integration into the fold. You're given a schedule of housework to do and lessons to attend alongside other kids. Everyone at the Little Brothers' Orphanage has to pull their own weight and keep up with their studies, each according to their capabilities. Coming from a wealthy background makes the transition harder for you, but more because you had been sheltered and privileged rather than due to a spoiled temperament on your part. (Your parents had raised you better than that.) Once you turn a hand to it, you find that you don't mind the menial labor that you're taught how to do. Cooking, cleaning, home maintenance, babysitting — it's busy work, productive work. As you grow older, the role becomes more fully your own, until you're part of the staff in all but name and paycheck. It's much the same story with your education, to the point where it's normalized for you to be asked for help with homework or to lead a class.
It's not all work and no play, though. There's money and time to spare for recreation. There's fun and games, even the occasional field trip. Sometimes there's a party when a holiday comes around, or a communal birthday celebration. These latter affairs are always modest and hardly commonplace, yet are still enjoyable.
......
Even so, the Little Brothers' Orphanage never becomes a home for you, not in any small part because you didn't strive for it to be. You're content to carve out a personal niche as a cog in a what you see as a well-run machine.
✿ content + consequences
● There's a significant emotional evolution spanning the memory, beginning with an overwhelming grief that slowly improved as it was mitigated by hard work.
● Although he cared about the people he lived with at the orphanage, he never truly connected with anyone.
● His education continued despite his circumstances, although it became a lot more basic and informal.
Saving Eleanor for the first time.
taken: day 123
witnesses: Utsuho, Vash the Stampede (viewed; day 123) Ichirou, Mercedes, Sayid, Yukine (viewed; day 127, isabel's memoryshare game)
When the attack begins, Eleanor had been hoping for a quick, decisive blow. She darts like a shadow from the upper railings of the museum to land upon the Big Daddy's broad shoulders, pumping a fireball into the front pane of the helmet, intending to melt open a gap big enough to shove the large needle attached to her arm through....but is instead knocked bodily into one of the display cabinets, smashing glass and animatronic dolls under her weight. The Little Sister, the twisted child that is the charge of every Big Daddy, screams as she ducks behind a table. Alarms begin to ring, followed by the high squeal and rattle of security bots that have come to track down the intruder, hovering speedily through the air with their whirling helicopter blades.
Eleanor immediately vanishes, reappearing hardly two feet away from the little girl who is no longer a little girl at all (if she couldn't eliminate the guard, then she would go straight for the target instead) but then throws herself to one side at the rat-tat-tat of rivets slamming into the floor beside her. One of them catches her in the arm, another in her leg, pinning her to the floor, but her cry of pain is lost in the bellowing roar of the Big Daddy as he charges at her. He is a hulking giant of a figure, dressed in a bulky deep-sea scuba diver's outfit and wielding a huge drill, his rapid tread like that of Goliath striding into the Valley of Bones.
You watch all of this unfold from the dark corner where you've been waiting, having thought yourself prepared to act appropriately when (or if) your involvement proved to be necessary. Because even with the inclusion of a Big Daddy, the mission would surely progress smoothly. After all, Eleanor was here. She was powerful and ruthless and deadly-quick, and no matter what else you might think of her, she was a formidable ally to have in a fight.
But that's not what happens. Neither of you are lucky enough to have that kind of wishful thinking come true.
"—Eleanor!"
Her name is torn out of your throat like a cry of pain; sudden, instinctual, hoarse with the shock that washes over you in a chilling flood. It's the first time you've said her name since your lives were forcibly intertwined and the sound of it leaves an unfamiliar, not quite pleasant taste on your tongue. Then you're moving out of the shadows, running as fast as you can toward the fray. There has to be a way to help her, there has to be something you can do, there has to be—
.....
Hesitation. If you fled the scene now, there was an excellent chance that she'd be smashed into human paste by the Big Daddy or be turned into a pincushion by the security bots. No matter the means, she'd die, and as for you....well. You would be free to hide within the bowels of Euphoria and strike out at her mother in your own way, to your own tastes. That, or you'd be driven insane by the severed connection and Eleanor's mother would lose a prized tool along with her precious daughter. As long as that woman ended up hurt in the end, either outcome would ultimately satisfy you.
An opportunity like this wouldn't come again. Shouldn't you take it? Shouldn't you hate Eleanor enough by now to make the decision an easy one? She had tried to snuff out your life, had marked you with burns and bruises. Furthermore, she seemed most alive when spilling blood. An angry, violent, extraordinarily dangerous person. You didn't owe someone like that any loyalty.
Hesitation, even as you run. Uncertainty, even as a charge gathers once again in your right hand and a thin coating of ice envelops your outstretched fingers.
.....
You don't abandon her at the last moment. You can't. She wasn't the one that created this situation, she wasn't responsible for what her mother had done. It wasn't her fault that she had become the person she was now. And.....it just wouldn't be right to leave her to die. You had already let your parents drown, so you really would be a monster if you betrayed Eleanor now.
Thus resolved, you blast the Big Daddy with your cryokinesis, freezing him and slowing his berserker charge to an immobilized slide. He misses Eleanor by inches. She scrambles upright with the time you bought for her.
Another icy blast takes out one of the security bots, which falls frozen to the ground and shatters. The remaining ones blare and screech as they swivel mid-air to face you, firing rivets at this new threat, and only an ungainly sideways leap behind an exhibit saves you from being fatally peppered with their rounds. Even then, you're not fast enough to duck out of sight unscathed. The bots manage to clip your left side with their rivets: tearing open your shoulder and cheek in a glancing blow, a few buried in your side and upper hip. You hit the floor hard, the impact knocking the wind out of you. And dimly, you're grateful for that — no matter how loudly your body shrieks in pain, there's not enough air in your lungs to give that agony a voice.
You twist forward desperately, emptying your mind of everything except the doom snapping at your heels and the connection with Eleanor that still exists unbroken at the core of your being. The exhibit won't shelter you for longer than perhaps a minute, even less if the bots pursue you, so you have to keep moving.
✿ content + consequences
● The phantom pain of all the wounds and discomfort described in the memory.
● His mental/emotional link with Eleanor is readily apparent.
— There's a bond between them that exists at the core of his very self, almost tangible in how there and real it is.
— She made Jaguar into some kind of "prized tool".
— She was basically responsible for this entire situation somehow, including the strange relationship between her daughter and Jaguar.
— She's a violent, angry, and incredibly powerful young woman.
— She seems to have abilities like his, although hers are teleportation and pyrokinesis.
— She was shaped by forces outside her control into the person she is now.
— Big Daddies are big, tough berserkers that are hyper-protective of their charges.
— Jaguar and Eleanor were on a "mission" to apprehend Little Sisters for an as-of-yet unknown purpose, which went awry.
● He's shown to have cryokinesis in this memory.
● The setting is still Euphoria.
● Jaguar's opinion of himself will improve somewhat.
— His survivor's guilt will continue to influence his decisions.
— His submissive tendencies toward teams as a Cat player will be curbed when the situation turns into a serious moral matter.