It had been bound to happen eventually. Strife probably had seen it coming – probably had nightmares about it somewhere along the line, too, how could he not? But still he stuck by Parv and was there when it finally happened: Parvis completely losing his mind while on a power trip. The maniacal ravings rang through the basement as Parv tossed the Thaumonomicon into the blood altar. The sounds that followed were fantastic and terrifying, deafening and likely signaling the end of the world should Parv actually gain the power he thought  he’d get from this dangerous mixing of magic. Strife couldn’t tell if Parv was still laughing or if he, too, was screaming as the walls shook and the ceiling began to crumble, the floor giving out beneath him into who knows what. It could have been just a random pit caused by Picky that they’d covered up and he’d forgotten, or lava or the void, or maybe by some luck it was merely water. Nope, Strife surmised as he hit the surface of something fluid but not burning. This was much worse.
It was a pool of flux summoned from who knows where by the violent burst of magic above. And he was sinking into it. It was an agitated and hungry, viscous lake, apparently strengthened by the power that had already been in Parv’s altar, and it was gumming up his jet pack already. He’d lost hold of his atomic disassembler when he fell so he couldn’t simply cut his way free. He doubted a steel paxel was going to help.
This was bad. Scowling, Strife flicked open a small panel on the jetpack’s rightside strap and pushed a button that would flood the pack’s power cells with emergency fuel. Maybe the extra burst would burn off the flux gurgling its way over the intake vents.
Well, something happened. Strife didn’t have time to complain about it, having only enough time for his eyes to go wide as the jetpack’s engine whined in a tell-tale explosion warning. The flux reared up in response—
Meanwhile, laying prone after taking a chunk of ceiling to the head, Parv mumbled deliriously about how awesome and powerful he was.
~*~
The guitarist came to his senses sometime later when a ray of sunlight shining through one of the holes in the wall fell on his face. He grumbled a complaint about the light and wanted to swat at it but he couldn’t move his arm. He cracked one eye open to find out why and was bewildered by what he saw. The floor and all the rubble around was covered in what looked like a net of violet vines. Spots of glowing fuchsia dotted some of the stone blocks. Twisting his head slightly, he saw that the vines ran up the walls, in and out of cracks and holes. Oddly shaped pods hung from the ceiling. Everything, absolutely everything was a haze of purple.
Including the bare hand that was held down by a vine. Parv yanked it free and started to push himself up, feeling something slough off his back as he moved. He looked over his shoulder to find himself surrounded by crumbled brick, some of which was piled on top of him. It was a wonder his legs weren’t broken. Maybe his armor, which was in pieces strewn among the bricks like a shattered shell, had prevented that? He actually felt incredibly whole, disregarding the purple marks on his left arm. He squirmed his way out of the rest of the debris, found his feet, and though dizzy for standing, attempted to take stock of the basement.
There was a large hole to one side where the storage system had been. Items were dropping out of the pipes and Parv gave thought to this being Picky’s Revenge. The blood altar was an utter mess, ritual stones either cracked or missing altogether. There was no sound from below of the mobs, but as he listened he could heard something skittering around, somewhere. The sound might have been coming from upstairs. If he could find the stairs he would investigate. He began to clamber over the rubble toward one of the holes in the ceiling. He’d find a way to get up.
He might have been forgetting something, but, oh well. Such a big mess to sort through!
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Oh, great. Another me? Please don't murder me, I've had enough of that from alternate squishy mes. [via violetce]
Ooh, another Nano hybrid! Don’t worry, I don’t plan on making any enemies, though of course that could change soon. But I’m always happy to meet a familiar face.
So, what’s your story? Another Yoglabs experiment, like me?
Oh, hey, Minty! What's up? You still serving those awesome drinks of yours? [via violetce] ((I hope this is cool for me to do and also this can be para if you want, I just find this style easier in-askbox))
[ there was a little laughter. because, honestly, she had been waiting for this moment. but she’d play the part of the barkeep for the time being. ]
Hey, Nano! I’m actually fantastic, thanks. Oh, and you can bet I am. Best drinks in all of Minecraftia. I can get you a few if you wanna, I dunno… catch up, maybe? I haven’t really seen you in a while!
"You’re so stupid. So weak." [via violetce] ((I am shameless I'm sorry))
The words slammed her hard, and Zoeya stumbled backwards as if the statement was an actual blow. Her face, already stained with tears, began to contort into shocked, furious, and defiant expressions, switching in between like changing a television channel.Â
When she finally spoke, her voice was choked with sadness and anger. "I--fine! You--I--we--we don't need each other then!" She shouted at Nano, her fists clenched. Her metal hand shot up as if to throw a punch, but she hesitated. Instead, she dropped it and backed up, her expression settling on shock, finally turning to run away.
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She's very pretty, but sometimes I don't get her choices. Does she not care about anyone else? Does she not know that my family and everything could be gone because of this? It's kind of sad really.
The antennae is kinda weird, but cool. Like a bug hybrid thing that's in that movie... what's it called.... honey I shrunk the kids? Honey my kids got turned into ants? Honey why are the kids bugs?Â
