#desiccation

433: Desiccation

Dreams of Consciousness Podcast Episode 433 features an interview with James Bratt, Soell Bratt, and Patrick Hills of Desiccation.

[cover photo by James Bratt]

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[photo by James Bratt]

My thanks again to James, Soell, and Patrick for speaking with me, and to all of you for listening.

Music In This Episode:

"Depths Sown by Sorrows" "The Fall" taken from the album "Cold Dead Earth"

"Ashes Unto The Abyss" "Cursed In Cold Silence" taken from the album "Legatum Mortuorum" Desiccation on Instagram

Melissa was confident she had the right address, the time and the person - given everything Lydia had told her, these were the most objective details she would get. The girl that worked shifts at her place was in a tight situation for money, so she picked up some other part-time jobs - at that bar, apparently. Where customers did not behave as nicely as Melissa's (even if that was very removed from what would pass as normal behavior in most establishments) and sought to drug the pretty, female servers.

Now - even if the reach was limited and her own position among the informants and tipsters of the town did not rank as high as her predecessor's, Melissa couldn't just sit down and watch her girls get hurt. There was a reason for remodeling and striving for what little change she could bring to that part of the town - or the business, for the same matter. And if people thought that women were easy prey, well... She was about to teach them a lesson.

Or so that was the idea, even if her target for the evening seemed less than inclined to make conversation with a girl who was obviously trying to get his attention. That was... Unexpected. Lydia was confident that the type who got her in trouble had some friends or companions, but this man was alone now. Well, it had to be him - the eyepatch was there! What were the odds of having another man with a covered eye at the same questionable bar?

(Very high, as Melissa would find out - but only much later.)

"Oh, I'm not looking for a regular, just genuine feedback. No fighting is a good sign compared to the other joints," Melissa nodded and flashed a sweet, warm smile. She was aware that the chosen attire for the night made her stand out a bit - more cleavage than usual, the shorts hugging her legs to leave little for imagination, the boots offering just enough boost for her height to go a bit above average. Claiming the stool next to him was easy enough since it was empty - the real fight would be getting the attention of the bartender, but maybe the old trick of folding over the counter and offering a nice view of her chest would work.

"Crazy masks . . . knife wielding lunatics . . . seems to be a trend forming here . . ." warily, he speaks, feet planted at his heels, prepared for the inevitable cut and run scenario. Dwight was well enough aware of the consequences should he find himself unable to escape a scenario that was quickly turning into a stall for time.

Despite his words, fear consumes him, but he's been working on ways to keep it from showing so transparently. It was an active work in progress. It only made him weak like prey, when by now he knows he's so much more than just an easy kill.

Despite his determination, he trembles in her presence. As much as he doesn't want to chalk it up to his fear of women, this one was holding a knife, to be fair.

– Teshin does not need to watch Han to notice how restless he is. Hunger gnaws at his stomach too but risking a journey down to the jungle floor was something he would rather avoid. While Teshin was more than capable of defending himself, it was not that which worried him. If the Infested came across him the entire hive-mind controlling them would drag a horde to their location, and not even the tallest branches of the trees would stop them then. – “When the sun rises we must move quickly. If we clear the trees before the Grineer awaken, walking across the plains will be unnecessary.” – How tiring this was for him, and completely unusual. If Han had been any other person from within the system then the chance of Teshin stopping to help him survive were slim. But, Han Solo was something else, for sure. He only hoped that this endeavor would not be for nothing. If there were other worlds out beyond the Sol system then maybe there was hope for the colonies that could not survive under the constant war between factions. – “I recommend trying to sleep, if you can. There is not much time left and you will need your energy.” – Though he does not take his own advice, restlessness is contagious and not even a Dax could be immune. Sitting back on his heels where he kneels, Teshin draws out a single Nikana. His gaze wanders over the blade and looks for the smallest of imperfections across it. Nicks are brought on from cutting through metal and bone alike. Even so, the edge still managed to continue on just fine and serve its purpose. Teshin was almost the same. Sharp and willing to kill, but not without his flaws. – Frowning to himself at the aching reminders of his wrong doings, the weapon is sheathed once more. Stray judgement of himself lead to the conclusion that he is no blade, because unlike the tempered metal, he cannot be mended. – Hearing the distant sound of a departing Eidolon draws Teshin’s attention away from himself and to the land laid out before them. Now there was no time to sleep. Rocking back on his toes Teshin stands up and looks down to Han. Seeing him in a daze and simply staring to the water below makes the Dax wonder if he is going to have to carry him out to the plains. – “It is time to leave.”

             ❝𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴,❞ 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙾 𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙷𝚄𝚂𝙸𝙰𝚂𝙼 𝙾𝙵 𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝙽 who could use several days of uninterrupted sleep.  ❝feels like i’ve been losin’ my mind up here.❞

their descent to the forest floor was as han had predicted: leaden and tedious, more strain than it was worth, really.  by the time his boots hit the parched sod of earth, fresh blood saturated the sleeves of his tunic, blotting up the last of the already faded crème color.  anchored to solid ground, he could feel it now; thick and warm, crimson rivulets streaked down exposed forearms and wet his hands chilled by dawn’s early bite.

SITHFIRE—!  slapdash brushes over the singed fabric of his trousers produced him no favors, as what open wounds that had scabbed over amid the night split anew, dotting red beads over dirtied gashes—a perfect adhesive for dirt and filth.   great.   han wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but if the inhabitants of this backwater planet didn’t land him a snug resting place six feet under, an infection would.        should’ve known better.

although deemed inane in hindsight, han was quick to accuse both hunger and a lack of rest for his disquietude, yet soon found he couldn’t overlook the crash and the injuries sustained upon impact, the blood loss that had driven him to the very brink as he stared down at the dark precipice.  han pushed aside the thought, unwilling to recall balancing atop that razor-thin edge of life and death—a hairsbreadth away from no return—or TRINITY PRIME, and her incomprehensible feat—

   THE ERUPTION OF LIGHT WHICH SWEPT HIS MIND              REBORN, LIKE A PHOENIX, HE’D COME ALIVE AGAIN.

in the wake of stinging pain, crawling self-derision curdled into something borderline venomous.  for the first time since this ordeal began, han longed for the weight of his blaster in his hands, to wrap his fingers around its durasteel grip and welcome the comforting press of security at the back of his mind.

❝don’t suppose your pal could come back ’n patch me up?❞ solo groused as he reared both palms for a quick inspection, flexing flesh torn by the sharp edges of petrified bark.  ❝’been gone an awful long while.❞    they didn’t have much time.    by the look of it, earth’s imminent daybreak was scant minutes away, commencing a forenoon that allowed no sanctuary from the vigilant eyes of THE GRINEER.     first light would bode well for neither of them.

An inquisitive tilt of his head accompanies the Wraith's signature throaty chitters as he stares in silence at the curious elk headed individual tending to their hatchets & humming a sultry tune. Often times, as eerie as it was, the Wraith would cloak himself in the shadows and merely observe the other killers, almost as if he were trying to deduce what made them tick . . . It was an interesting thought, how each and every killer had come to find themselves in the Fog. How each and every killer had a story prior to their abduction by the Entity; a story that lay just beyond reach as it was often a muted thought.

he certainly is not sure how this happened. one moment he was locked up alongside a horrible, horrible man, rotting away through his circuitry with full intention of self immolation. then there was a chilling fog. he thought it was just the vacuum of space, sucking away all the heat in the pod. now he stands in the dense, luscious space of a.. he thinks it is a forest. he hasn't ever step foot in a place that wasn't man-made, much less out in the wilds, so he feels well out of his element.

jeri turns his head in a slow sweeping motion, silent save for his thoughts, and begins wandering forwards. off to his right he hears a scream and sees the smaller form of a human running away from him- not that he can blame them. he is quite a frightful sight! and then there is more rustling off to his left.

choosing to let the human run off, he can try and console them later. for now he is almost divinely curious to see what else might be running around this place. will he see a real animal, out here? nope, just another human. they were certainly animals in their own way but he has has his entire artificial life filled with humans.

at least they didn't scream at him- oh, no, maybe they were too scared to scream? it's hard to tell.

@desiccation || Jeri & Frank || unprompted.

Another night, another trial, Frank and his gang of murderers transposed from beautiful snowy Ormond to the middle of some fog covered forest. Not as if the change of scenery bothered him and, in fact, he liked having to hunt down others in different locations. Kept him on his toes, make chases less predictable, gave more thrill to the hunt. Always felt more rewarded when his knife cut through flesh and vivisected some poor fucker. He'd only just begun his hunt when a scream sounded off to the left of him and he's left both vaguely confused and highly amused. What, did they run into another survivor and shit themselves? He gives chase, running towards the source of the sound when a startling figure appears out of the fog. He skids to a stop, his sneakers kicking up dirt and and he stares, first in shock, then confusion, then jaw clenching irritation.

@desiccation​

hands smooth over the plane of io’s surface. whispers of light, an unfinished job, still echo through the planet despite its scars. he hasn’t left the forest in some time, but with his recent... mission he thought it wise to see what the vex are up to here, how deep their conversions run. he can feel in his gut something is... not quite right.