Big Bee
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Bandana Guy
Round 2
Posts: 685
Trainer Class: 
Player Name: Bryan Nautilus
OOC Username: Ladybug
Arena Points: 49
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Post by Big Bee on Aug 8, 2024 13:21:41 GMT 9
{T}Tentacles coiled around Bee's limbs. They were slick, black, and infinitely dense. It was like being strangled by ropes of crude oil, or hughed to death by a creature arms of lead.
"Dune!" Bee shouted through a mouthful of black sand. "Let me go! I found you! Hide and seek is over now!"
But Dune wasn't playing.
Dune was GROWING.
Before, the little sand Pokemon had barely been bigger than a castle made by kids on the beach. A melted fort, whose slumped facade and washed-away battlements could defend their innards against neither time nor tide.
Dune had been a cute reminder of the impermanence of material creation, and the persistence of spirit.
Now that spirit was unrecognizable. Twisted and grown into something strange and unwanted. A monstrous mound of rippling black sand that rose from the surrounding dunes like a shadow peeled from the sunless side of a mountain.
The only familiar piece in this dark, groping landscape, and the last thing Bee saw before he was consumed by the sand, was the red plastic hilt of a child's shovel. {E}Every morning Big Bee got a coffee at the local cafe. It was an artisanal cold brew, containing superfoods like blueberries, goji, acai, and guava, as well as upcycled seeds and grains to add protein powder and tea-based caffeine. It used 94% less water than regular coffee, so in his own way he was saving the world one cup at a time.
He also got two dozen fair trade walnut, apple and cinnamon muffins for the rest of the team (and two for himself to eat at his desk while he answered emails). {N}"Nick died sixteen years ago today," Bryan said to the ocean. He sat on his board, kicking at the water on either side as he drifted in the big blue. "An anniversary old enough to drive. He'd have been...thirty one this year." Bee watched the backside of a wave as it rose nearby. The sun shone through the swell, and he could see the silhouette of a school of fish swept along by the wave.
"It sure feels like that sometimes, doesn't it?" he said to the ocean. "Like you're being pulled along by some greater force. I bet you feel like that with the moon." He didn't expect any answer. This one-way dialogue had long since progressed beyond a way to personify and forgive the world for taking Nick from him. These days he saw the ocean as not just a soothing friend, but a blue shell to hold the soul and memory of his drowned cousin.
Bee unzipped the pocket of his swimming trunks and pulled out a can of LaCroix. He cracked it open and poured a small amount into the water. "No harm there. It's mostly water anyway." he joked, before taking a deep drink.
He sat on the board for a long while, drinking slowly and talking to the ocean.
When he was done he crushed the can and zipped it back in his pocket. Suddenly he noticed a wave swelling further out. A real monster. He crushed the can, zipped it back into his pocket, and turned his board around. "Good talk man, I miss you a lot sometimes."
He started paddling, a smile growing on his face as he felt Nick's spirit guiding him onto the wave. "But I'm sure glad we can still surf together." {T}Ten PM came and went, and Bryan was still buried in work. "I told myself I wouldn't work this late," he muttered, texting his friends to cancel on their dinner date. The group message history was full of reschedules and apologies. They were originally going to meet at 6, then at 7:30, and after shooting straight through their 9:30pm final chance no takebacksies drinks at the bar down the street he was resigned to another night alone at the grindstone. "My life is just one big raincheck," Bee said, as his friend replied with sad emojis. One of them sent through a calendar invite for next week. Optimistic, but much appreciated.
A video popped up, loaded, and played in the chat. It was his friends with drinks in their hands, shouting into the camera. "We miss you Bryan!" "Where are you man?" "I'm gonna come in there and kick your bosses ass!" They all laughed. "We'll be here for a while if you wanna come join us!" The video cut off. {A}Arthur, or 'Uncle Art' as Bryan called him, had been a toymaker. Using wood, string, spit, and skill, he'd made Nick and Bryan any toy they could wish in his little workshop out the back of the house. "You boys sick of your fancy new toys already?" he'd ask with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Who needs video games?" he'd ask, as he polished his already gleaming tools. Every saw and chisel and hammer had a deeply worn handle, molded perfectly to Art's hands over decades of work. "And all that plastic junk just ends up breaking after one good hit. A real master builds in wood! Wood's got strength. Confidence! It'll hold your weight and give you something to grip!" he mimed grabbing something tight.
"Uncle art can you make us surfboards!" Bryan begged. They'd been to the beach the week prior and had rented out some scuffed little boards from a store nearby.
"Well how about this. I can do you one better," Art said, as he pulled over some crates so that Nick and Bryan could stand up high enough to see the table. "I'll teach you how to make your own board! We'll cut and sand them together, and even put some wax on! And once we're done I'll drive you down to the beach. How about that?"
They cheered, rushing to grab pieces of wood and get to work learning how to make something real.
"Hold it here and just pull the saw through the groove. We marked it out before so it'll be perfect, don't you worry."
Bryan nodded, his face set in fierce concentration. His small hands gripped the saw, pushing and pulling until a little chink of wood fell away and off the table. "I did it!"
"There we go! Easy as pie!"
"Uncle Art, the saw is a bit too big for me. I can't hold it properly."
"I'll hold the wood so you can put both hands on the saw. Just keep it nice and even. And don't worry Bryan you'll grow right into it." {C}Churning sand pulled at Bee's legs. It shredded his digital clothing, and reduced his shoes to little more than rags. Inside the shadowed sandstorm Bee reached for the shovel. "Dune!" he called, and instantly regretted it. His mouth and throat were instantly coated in sand and he doubled over, coughing and spluttering in the driving, whipping dust.
He pulled his bandana down over his mouth, equipped his Swimmer goggles, and looked around.
Through the brown and black murk he saw a flash of red. The shovel was moving away, rising and falling as the great mound of twisted sand pushed higher into the sky before sinking deep down into a quicksand canyon.
Bee gave chase, staggering and stomping his way through the shifting grains as he followed his friend into the unknown.
As Dune buckled underfoot Bee tripped, falling down the hill only for the sand to rise beneath him! Bee clung to the dune with shaking fingers.
And there is was, ahead of him, rising from sands like the sword in the stone: the shovel. {L}Last order at the bar was midnight. His friends had all gone home, pleasantly drunk and only a little worse off for not having one of their friends out on the town with them. It was 12:16 now, and a heavy knock sounded at the door to his office. Bryan froze in his chair.
"Yes?"
"It's us you big nerd, open the door!"
With a big grin on his face Bryan pulled himself away from a half-drafted email on loot drop frequencies and opened the door to his office. His friends poured in, holding boxes of Chinese food and an unreasonable number of beers. "You think we'd let you mope in this place all Friday night?" one of the said, handing him a beer.
"You didn't have to do this," Bryan said, accepting a container of sweet and sour pork in his free hand.
"Yeah, we did. Otherwise we'd never see you!" said another, who was busy making room in Bryan's LaCroix fridge for the extra beers.
Bryan laughed at that. He closed his laptop and moved some files off the couch so that everyone could sit. Someone dragged over a coffee table and opened up a prototype copy of UNOVR Monopoly. "Man I hate Monopoly."
"Why?" Bryan asked, "At least in game you can own a house!"
Everyone laughed. Pieces and cash were handed out, Bryan got to be Groudon, and soon dice were clattering across the board. He took a long drink of beer, and for the first time in weeks let himself take a deep breath. {E}Excalibur. Everyone knows the tale, but few have lived it.
Bee clung onto the shovel at the peak of the quicksand hill. His hands were white with effort as he heaved at the little red implement.
Something told him it was the secret to quelling this storm. The keystone at the arch of the doorway back to reality. The pin in the grenade of friendship.
If he could pull out the shovel then everything would go back to normal! He'd have Dune back, and the two of them could keep exploring without having to deal with these flashes of reality.
Bee set his shoulder, grit his teeth, bent his knees and lifted the shovel.
It pulled back, reluctant to be claimed. The sands whipped at his arms and neck, a clear message: go away. Leave me be.
"It's time to go, Dune!" Bee said. "Time to get out of here! It's not good for you to be in here for so long. You'll get corrupted!"
His own words rang false. Or rather, they echoes like the advice of friends and family.
"It's not real, Bryan. Why waste all your time on video games?" "Shouldn't you be getting a girlfriend, or better yet a career?" "You can't stay a kid forever."
It had always soured his spirit. Why did people see games as nothing more than an escape?
It was an escape! A way to get away from real life for an hour or twelve. To leave those worries and deadlines behind and just hang out with friends like the old times! No need to reflect or integrate your experiences. Games were meant to be an escape. Not an extended therapy session!
But if that was true why was Bee thinking so much about Nick?
Why did his eyes sting, and why was there salt in his throat, and why did the wooden handle of the shovel feel just a little bit too big.
He let go of the shovel. Immediately he started to slide back down the dune. Dune was putting distance between them.
"I think I get it now," he said to the swarming sand behemoth. "You had your reasons for leaving, and I understand. If you want to go, then you can go. I'll walk away and let you do your thing." The storm pressed in closer. Was Dune listening? Did he want to return?
"But there's a lot of world out there worth seeing, and if you're searching for happiness I'm sure we can find it together."
The shovel tiled ever-so-slightly towards Bee.
He reached out and wrapped both hands around the handle. The grip was perfect.
He pulled.
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orioncayge
•
Bandana Guy
Round 2
Posts: 770
Trainer Class: 
Arena Points: 20
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Post by orioncayge on Aug 9, 2024 14:45:01 GMT 9
{V}Vast was the ocean of sand before him, dimly lit in the ethereal twilight. The night had been soo long Orion had forgotten if he was traveling the road to darkness or dawn at this point. Not that it mattered. His entire body was beaten and battered, the crushing sand having done a number on him.
Everything ached.
Still, someone had called for help, and if they were going through even a tenth of the shit Orion was facing he had to carry forward, one foot after the other as he plodded onwards. On his shoulder rode a strange origami version of himself, a crude character of the fighter folded from a wanted paper. His inkblot eyes stared unceasingly forward towards the horizon, stiff as cardstock with fear.
âYou know whats coming?â
Orion asked, his eyes flitting from the sand to simulacrum.
âNo, but I can feel it comingâŚâ
It made sense, the two beings were forged from the same insipid darkness that seeped through the sand like the same ink that defined the face of the faker. The same ink that stole the stars from the sky and left the horizon naught but a thin sliver of hope infinitely far away, forever unreachable.
And yet Orion continued to walk.
{A}All Orion had wanted for his twelfth birthday was a cookout.
It was silly, after all February is hardly the time to whip out the grill and be cooking some burgs and dogs for the dawgs, ya know? But these parties were something he loved more than anything. It was one of the few times you could get the whole family to hit the pause button on their various frantic lives and take a moment to just breathe.
Dad has tried to argue against it, said the weather wasnât right, said the timing was weird. But Orion stomped his feet like a petulant child, all puppy dog eyes and pouts for almost a week every time the conversation steered into the same zipcode of what they would do to celebrate.
Grandpa'd had even gotten involved, never known to be a man to spare the rod, but rather than discipline heâd offered outrageous alternatives. Heâd offered to rent out a skatepark, set aside a space on the casino floor for a lavish party, hell heâd even offered a weekend at Disneyland.
But Orion refused, he didnât want some big flashy party. He wanted everyone he loved in one place, having fun.
How fucking selfish.
{L}Long was the silence that followed, but Orion honestly preferred it. Listening to a parody of his voice talking to him, after everything that had just ensuredâŚwell, he was fine if his facsimile continued to plead the fifth.
The tension in the air, however, was palpable. Coiled up like a deadly serpent ready to rear itâs ugly head any moment and strike, a flash of fearsome fangs that would assuredly bring about fatality faster than you can say.
Oh shi-
Each step felt like he was walking across a bed of scorching hot nails, his breath was heralded by a sharp stabbing sensation in his clearly cracked or broken ribs. Adrenaline would eventually numb this pain, give him the boost to fight his way out of this one. But how many surges of strength did he have left in him? How many times could he say ânot nowâ and force himself back to his feet to fight another day. He had to kick and scream and claw his way out of every single insidious trap this sinister shadow had cooked up for him.
The shadow only had to win once.
{E}Eddison had always been the smarter of the two, Orion had never doubted that. One look at his eyes and you could always see he was thinking about something. Never a dull moment in his mind as he plotted and schemed, for what and why nobody knew, but the man was plans on plans on plans, and when it came down to it you could always ask him for help.
Thatâs why when the twins had moved to town it was Eddie who had been the one to suggest taking them to the Pizzaria.
It made sense of course, the edge of Eden had very few places to take anyone on a date besides the various makeout points out in the desert. If you werenât quite to the point where you were swappin spit things tended to be a little awkward, handholding and walks around the neighborhood were go tos, maybe the really shitty âparkâ that consisted of ancient rusting jungle gyms, woodchips, and dead grass.
Hardly romantic.
It worked out great, after all they were family, and Eddie was practically a king in the greatest hangout spot in all of Eden. Cop cup of free tokens, play some skee ball, maybe cop a feel behind an arcade machine? Orion had been sweating bullets the entire time, this was the first time heâd ever asked a woman out, let alone someone as fucking hot as Brinda. Heâd been so nervous that his âZa had hardly been touched, and he kept compulsively trying to wipe his hand on his shirt in a vain attempt to make it less clammy if they ended up holding hands.
Yet sheâd had the time of her life, though he wasnât sure if that was strictly because of the Pizzaria speaking, or because it was one of the first not shitty days in a really long time since sheâd arrived in Eden. Heâd noticed that sadness in her eyes, something he knew all too well even since he mom had run off. So when she turned and smiled at him for the first time, his heart had melted.
He owed Eddy big time.
{N}Nothing was coming.
It was something of a sick joke, and it wasnât even funnier the second time around. The adrenaline from his previous surge or momentum had long since waned, and the exhaustion was beginning to settle in. He continued to stagger forward, no thoughts in his head aside from putting one foot in front of the other. Carrying him on towards whoever was lost, wherever they were.
It was this feeling alone that carried him, the dread that anyone else would be facing in this darkness alone. Cold and afraid, faced with whatever fucked up visions of the past the desert would conjure to conquer your consciousness.
âWhat was that about summin comin,â Orion slurred as he swayed side to side a bit, staggering down a dune.
âItâs on its wayâŚâ The simulacrum stated.
âIt needs to hurry the fuck upâŚâ Orion hissed.
That train of thought would not last long as the sand itself began to rumble.
{T}The day was quickly approaching, and to state that young Orion was stoked would be an understatement. Dad had cracked quickly, when Disneyland had been turned down the family KNEW Orion was serious, and one heart to heart with gramps had clinched it.
But Orion didnât just want a party, he wanted to plan and host it.
Heâd spent hours agonizing over whether he wanted to do a traditional all American BBQ, or to throw something akin to one of Tio Gios fiestas. Burgers or barbacoa? What were the games going to look like? What was the playlist going to be? All of these decisions Orion took upon himself in some desperate attempt to bring some joy back into his familyâs life. He wasnât blind, he saw the way his mother looked when dad âwent to work.â
He knew those bruises werenât from boxing.
The smiles heâd come to know and love had long been MIA, but he would change that. This one party would be a breath of fresh air for everyone involved. He just had to make sure it was perfect.
And then everything would be better again.
{I}It came in an instant, a whipping and whirling dervish of sand and darkness that fell upon him with lightning speed. The world itself faded away to the almost static bursts of sand, blinding and blistering as his skin was worn raw by trillions upon trillions of grains of razor sharp glass. He pressed his bandanna over his face, but he might as well have tried to put out mount Vesuvius with a super soaker for all the good it did.
It choked the wind from him, filling his lungs with dust that forced him to sputter and cough, sinking to his knees and rolling into a ball. Already battered and exhausted he was spent, not a drop of energy remained to allocate towards struggling. The paper effigy was pulled from his shoulder by the winds, had he screamed he hadnât heard it over the howl of the storm. He clenched tighter and tighter into the fetal position struggling to breath, struggling not to choke, fighting for his life.
{N}Nothing felt better than driving his fist into Eddies nose. The rush of endorphins he got from the crunch of cartilage that announced a geyser of blood. Another fist slammed into the chubby gingers gut, sending the wind from his lungs with a delightful wheeze.
âYOU FUCKING RAT!â
WHAM, WHAM, WHAM. The roar was followed by a staccato triplet of punches to the ribs.
âI TOLD YOU I WAS FINE. YOU DIDNT NEED TO SAY SHIT TO HER!â
His foeâs groan turned into a growl as he lurched upward, bring the crown of his skull against Orionâs jaw like a battering ram, snapping his jaw shut and ending any more acerbic shouting. Stunned, Orion staggered back, reeling from the blow. Eddie took the initiative and dove forward, plowing into his cousin and taking them both to the ground with a loud thunk.
âHey hey!â one of their cousins called out, though neither of the two could quite make out who it was. Eddie brought a fist up, then slammed it down onto Orionâs face clumsily, his blows lacking the proper impact of anyone who really knew how to fight.
âYOU WERENâT GONNA TELL HER!â
WHAM WHAM WHAM.
âI WASNâT GONNA LET YOU KEEP HIDING IT!â
WHAM WHAM WHUMP. Orion managed to catch the last blow in his own hand, regaining enough composure to try and take initiative in the grapple.
âYOU HAD NO FUCKING RIGHT!â
SMASH. Orion's other hand haymakered wildly across his cousins face, his torso twisting along with his shoulder to ride the momentum of the blow and roll. Now he was on top, one arm raised, but a trio or hands clasped onto it tightly pulling it back and peeling him off his cousin.
âYOU HAD NO FUCKING RIGHT TO TELL HER!
Another group of hands reached down to help Eddie off the floor, the pudgy punching bag bleeding profusely from his nose.
âFUCK YOU RION!â The ginger spat, blood trickling down his face and chin. âI HAD EVERY RIGHT! YOU DONT HIDE SHIT LIKE THAT!â The gulf between them widened, pulled apart by a plethora of primos whilst the rest of the party looked on in a mixture of shock and awe. Orion wriggled and writhed, desperate to pull away from his captors, to pummel down on the man who ruined his relationship.
Or so he thought.
{E}Everything ended almost as abruptly as it started, leaving Orion sprawled out, half buried in the sand. The world spun in a sporadic spiral as he readjusted to not being skullfucked by a storm of speeding silica. If everything hadnât hurt before, it sure as shit did now. Every inch of his skin stung, raw and red from the not so gentle exfoliation of the sand. He imagined in a couple days his skin would be godly smooth, but right now?
Oof ouch.
He forced a few sputtering breaths into his lungs, not bothering to unbury himself for the moment. Every movement was a battle, and he had to pick how he spent his energy careful-
BIG BEE and LAGUNA are nearby.
The alert popped up on his screen and Orion shot from the sand like a rocket, another burst of adrenaline pulsing through his system. NO. NONONONONONONONONONONO.
It was bad enough someone else was out here in the darkness, but those two?
Anyone but them.
Struggling to his feet he ignored all the screams of pain his muscles cried out, the complaints of his joints, and the protests of his skin as he tyrannically pressed forward despite the will of his mass telling him to stay down. By grit and gumption alone he galloped once again full speed into the night, spirit renewed.
"I'm fuckin coming guys."
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