trans_9 | Is Your Love Strong Enough? Part 2 - Personal Interwoven Soulcatchers

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Is Your Love Strong Enough? Part 2 - Personal Interwoven Soulcatchers

Following you awakening and talking with a few of the members through the communication systems by way of the three kind people who had awakened her, Nezaitben realized how the crew was stuck in a terrible mess.

So many of them felt sad and depressed. Considering the entire ship, it wasn't too hard to see why. The next day, there had been an unusual amount of magical flowers spreading all over the ship. Nothing that damaged the controls (she might be naive in the way humanoids were, but Nezaitben was no fool either) but they were found in the most unexpected of places. Her own awakening area was now blooming in a flower paradise, the wooden palace standing proudly on top, the smell and pink cherry blossom strong enough to carry through most of the central city area where most people resided.

Yet the ship was still sad.

This would not do.

That night, or what passed as a night for in the ship, Nezaitben took to the 'sky', letting pieces of her own essence fall on top of the sleeping populace, or those that were not sleeping finding themselves feeling the need too. Enveloping the ship into a peaceful slumber, she searched their dreams. The powers granted to her by the pantheon of gods in her homeworld allowed Nezaitben to weave a series of dreamcatchers giving her the ability to see those whose hearts connected true.

These noble souls would do. Lead by example had always been her philosophy. She would give them a great gift - communication with each other in a single body, allowing them to share everything together. Their two soulcatchers were woven together that night into a single, grand ones, hanging in the garden's trees.

A few minutes later, the empty husks of the bodies that weren't being used showed up at her palace. With a smile, she welcomed them like her own children and began to dress them for their task.

That morning, some of the crewmen would wake up to a strange surprise...and that would just be the beginning of a long, strange misunderstanding and young gods trying too much to please everyone.

[OOC - Just a few rules. Keep in mind the listed rules. You can all start your own threads of waking up in the bodies of others. If you feel like leaving a 2nd post for other people to intact with them, start a reply to your own first post with OPEN header. That way everyone else will know where to post and if you don't feel like having an open interaction post right away, you won't have to!

There will also be another post for all the soulless characters to go around spreading joy and love, so look forward to that too!]

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Sakura rarely remembered her dreams, partly out of force of will, and partly out of self defense. There was a point where nightmares and digestions of experiences and the day lived weren't necessary for the conscious mind to process so much as they were for the unconscious mind to mess around with when in proper control.

Yet there were a few exceptions, as there almost always were to any given standard rule. Or she liked to believe she'd remember this particularly strange dream on waking, partly due to the extra vivid nature of the set-up.

As with many dreams, Sakura couldn't figure out how she'd ended up running around in the city, let alone on four paws. She paused to look down at her feet, canting her head to the side and sliding one leg out. A paw. She'd never recalled dreaming herself into an animal form, let alone a dog, but if she didn't think too hard on it, it made sense.

Sort of. She wasn't much of an any given animal person, yet dogs were generally easier patients to work with, and fairly appreciative. Her own tail started wagging as she thought about some of the face-licks and bowling-overs she'd gotten when the Inuzuka asked for a little extra help in keeping up with the health of their dogs.

Particularly their welping bitches, who might have had better general health care than the civilian population saw for their own pregnant women.

So it goes.

Resuming her trot, Sakura let the sensations overwhelm her, scents (and a few sounds) rushing in and invading, carried on a happy well-being emotion that was hard to particularly deny. Exuberance and delight and the far more intense variety of happy-go-lucky she never indulged kept her tail wagging and her tongue lolling as she followed a particularly entrancing smell that had more layers to it than she thought strictly possible.

Weird dream, but very relaxing in a happy, engrossing sense. Feeling whimsical, she let the faux-instincts of her dog self guide her through a winding alley and into a ramshackle shack of dubious alien origin. Is this where that scent had come from?

She nosed around, trying to uncover it. It was... It was... it was like something amazing! She knew it! She'd be so happy to find it! It was so exciting just looking now! Maybe it'd make Tsunade happy, too!

Edited 2011-11-28 01:27 (UTC)

When Marco came to, he definitely knew he wasn't dreaming. If anything, he was having a nightmare. Because he wasn't the one telling his nose to sniff after that sent, or telling his legs to run, or his tail to wag. And he hadn't just lost control of the dog's instincts, because not only would that have still been him, Marco was much too familiar with the dog morph to do that .

There was someone else controlling his body.

And for Marco, that could only ever mean one thing - Yeerk. Inside his mind, Marco screamed, bombarding Sakura with terror and panic. He didn't even register what it was that he was screaming, his terrified ranting coming across more like a mess of half-sensical messages of no and get out.

Everything he knew told him that it was futile, but Marco still tried to frantically wrestle back control of his body.

She had no idea where it came from. There was only one time where Sakura had had another presence in her mind along with herself, one time control has been wrested away by another against her will or design.

Her first panicked response was to fight it, not let them win. If they won, she'd be dead. If they won she'd be dead and there'd be no more waiting, no more progress, no more anything, because dead was dead was dead was dead.

It took her time to recognize the voice, identify who (in this dream, it had to be a dream, but if it was a dream she wanted to wake up now, it wasn't amusing anymore, it was scary) was shouting at her, wrestling with her. When it did, she was surprised. Surprised enough to stop the stalemate between herself and him, letting his pushing push her more out of control until she clung on to something, anything, to not go swirling off into -- she didn't know. The pit of her stomach said something bad. Something really bad.

She couldn't be out of control. Her whole life was about control. Exact, precise control. Any less and she'd harm more than she'd ever heal. Kill when she wanted to save. Fail everyone even more than she did now.

"Marco!" She envisioned herself as large, shouting out a name -- his name -- as if it were half a question, half a statement. She didn't like this dream. (Wake up, wake up, the overwhelming need to wake up permeated her every thought, her every feeling: wake up.) "Stop it! Stop it, what are you doing? What's going on! Dammit all will you tell me what's happening! You're scaring me!" True enough, as the fright was there, the drop out of her stomach saying something was wrong, but that was just how nightmares went, nightmares were that way, weren't they? Just a nightmare.

Irritation, deep and hot and frightened, clung all around her, pushed at the fear and panic and everything that was assaulting her mind, feeding on it, reflecting it back. "You're on my mind enough as -- a lot of people are, a lot of things -- stop it, will you? I can't think like this -- you scream louder than I do -- when was the last time I -- you -- calm down and tell me what's going on!"

He had control again! That at least was enough to make Marco stop screaming - oh man, he could move his legs, blink his eyes, move his jaw...he ran around in agitated circles, just to reassure himself that his body was his and that he really was the one in control. But the panic and terror still didn't let up, because Marco knew that the only reason he had control now was because the person in his head had given up their control.

All it would take is them deciding that they wanted it back again, and Marco's own control would be gone. Taken away, just like his Mom had had hers taken away.

What...Barbie? he said, confusion mixing in with everything else as he realised exactly who it was that was in his head. I'm scaring you?! What the hell are you doing? GET OUT OF MY HEAD! He didn't know how she'd done it, but he didn't care as long as she got out.

She hated it. Hated it with a visceral sensation as she felt -- at a slight remove -- Marco pull the strings that made movement happen, sight, vision, smell, everything. She'd browbeaten Ino into giving her back control. She'd needed to not only to win, but to overwhelm, to fight against so firmly that only Sakura was in control of her mind.

Irritation blossomed into anger at his questions, his demand. Sakura pushed, panic, terror, anger, confusion, everything rolling together and leaving her tongue-tied.

Good that she didn't currently have a tongue.

Your head? Anger swelled there, along with confusion. A heavy, weighty push of disbelief and a lack of understanding. Get out of your head? Why the hell would I be in there? What haven't you told me? What the hell can you do that you haven't told me about? I can't do this! I don't have that -- bloodlines -- clans -- normal -- the normal one -- the failure -- faulty --

Her thoughts were growing jumbled again, not sure how to confront so many feelings when they didn't all feel to be coming from her. Back up, she told herself. Hold on, but back up.

It was a nice thought, if it wasn't going so well.

Edited 2011-11-28 02:34 (UTC)

Marco could feel her pushing at his control, all her panic and terror and anger just magnifying his own. Reflexively he clung on, trying to hold onto as much control as possible. This was his body, and if there was one thing that Marco feared, more than anything else in all of the multiverse, even more than the possibility of being trapped in morph, it was having someone else controlling him.

He growled, fear and anger mixing together to make him want to lash out. Even if the person he was trying to bare his teeth at only existed inside his own head.

How the hell should I know? This is my fucking body, why would I want you in here! You already know all my goddamn abilities, and I sure as hell would bet that you haven't told me all of yours! Why the hell should I believe that you haven't done this?

Because I wouldn't lie! Not about this! Other things you bet I'll lie to your face about, no one needs to know when something's wrong, no one needs to hear, but not this, never this, nothing serious. Wake up! Dammit, wake up! She drifted from talking at him to herself, no pause inbetween.

Part of her registered a dry sort of humor at his words, the briefest spike in the rest of her emotions. It faded as soon as it appeared, no truly coherent thought behind it. Just the feeling, soon lost again to the terror, panic, and rage.

Rage ate away at everything, and inwardly, in this place, she'd never been able to hold back. That required separation she didn't have now. Compartmentalizing. She wasn't used to doing that in her own thoughts, at least not anymore.

For once can you fucking focus on the fact this isn't about blaming anyone and is about figuring out what the hell went wrong? Do you ever? Too selfish? Egocentric? Why you why would I want to be in you why is this my fault this isn't my fault this isn't something I can do I wouldn't do I want out I want out stop it hate hate hate this feeling.

You never believe! I believe you, would it kill you to at least pretend sometime? No, no, you like insulting you like that paranoia don't you keeps you alive keeps everything away not your responsibility not your fault all not yours don't take it leave it to someone else -- you think I don't notice? I leave it alone! Good Sakura, nice Sakura, don't touch the things that hurt, minds and hearts don't heal like bodies, lancing wounds won't make them heal, all that'd do is earn me your anger I'm tired I don't want to let people down don't want that don't need that happens without trying happens with trying happens --

Why are you a dog you're morphed oh fire why why why can't I feel anything right you feel so wrong and I don't fucking want to be in you you jackass but no apparently this is just happening to you don't bother wondering why the hell this freaks me out too don't bother not at all.

Rant aside, her emotions were swirling together, rising and falling with the cadence of words that didn't make sense, when they slipped from thought-out argument and response to a deluge of half-thoughts and impressions that were usually well confined to her own head, sorted into complete statements by familiarity and understanding. Anger, fear, panic, terror, disorientation, nothing positive like earlier, the falling apart of that conviction she'd been hanging onto that this was a dream, had to be a dream, but dreams didn't feel so real.

Her desperate bid to not be entirely out of control left her scrambling, taking enough control in a moment to produce a whine at the back of his dog form's throat. Sakura didn't know how to just let go. She didn't know how to give in like that to someone else, couldn't think how to make it okay.

Edited 2011-11-28 03:14 (UTC)

Oh sure, tell me you've been lying to my face right after you said you weren't lying this time. Yes, that just makes me have so much confidence, Marco said, sarcasm finally creeping in. This whole thing was insane. He half wanted to laugh, in a dark kind of twisted way. She wanted to wake up, but they weren't dreaming.

And you blamed me first, you're just as paranoid as I am but you just pretend that you're all nice and open when really you never tell anyone anything--you leave everything alone and then you get mad at me for not telling you...--

Then Sakura was taking control again, he was whining when he'd never given any order to his body to do that, and Marco stopping ranting as the fear flooded back. No! Stop it, just...stop it. Marco said, trying to cling onto whatever control he had and knowing that he couldn't keep all of it. Please, he said, hating the fact that he had to ask, hating having to beg just to be able to keep control of his own. Please, just don't.

Yes, since I know you want to hear that there's not one damn day I'm awake on this ship that I don't think about my team, that no, I'm not okay, no, it's really damn hard seeing no one I know, being told by strangers what I'm supposed to be capable of, and even worse, being more than capable of half of it, that I still wake up crying because I'm homesick but that's not the adult thing to do, that I have nightmares that have nothing to do with what we're fighting for, I have to convince myself that any of this is worth fighting for long before there was a joke made by some woven piece of whatever the hell it is saying that if we walk the razor without cutting ourselves or sliding off we might, maybe, just a little hint of a chance get back the worlds we've lost, the universes devoured? If we can trust memories given back to us, taken away for our own safety. Tell you that no, I'm not okay, that you're the closet thing I have to a friend here, or more, or something else, and that I'm not sure how often I can trust you as far as you can throw me, let alone how far I can throw someone while half drugged? Yes, Marco, I lie to you. I lie to everyone and even when I'm ashamed I'm not planning to stop and you shouldn't know any of this.

The last statement seemed to still her, the roil of emotions calming just enough to be noticeable. She didn't like what he was saying in return, defensiveness a sharp, knee-jerk emotional response that went along with a series of no and it's not like that and you do the same thing and a final note of I don't know how.

She wasn't pushing anymore, was forcing herself into a semblance of mental calm if the feeling of whirling out of control was still threatening to drop her back into the panic. I don't know what I'm doing, she said, voice tight with something akin to pain and apology. How do I stop?

Edited 2011-11-28 04:24 (UTC)

Marco went silent. Unlike Sakura, Marco had had plenty of experience with thought-speak - he was plenty used to directing his thoughts, so she didn't get the same nonsensical barrage of thoughts that he was getting from her.

What she would get was the sense that Marco just didn't know how to respond to any of that, mixed in with an awkward uncomfortableness.

Maybe it's like morphing? Marco said finally, moving on to the one part that at least wasn't a minefield that he had no idea how to traverse. Okay, not that you know much about that - but you know, when we morph things like birds it's always better to just...let the bird fly. I don't know, just...don't try to do anything.

There was a sense of withdrawal, of Sakura not liking that feeling of uncomfortableness. The rest was still there, but as she withdrew, went into herself, they were less immediate.

Unfortunately, trying to not do anything was still partly an effort in not doing anything -- and she hadn't separated it from a physical effort to do the same. Thus she was unintentionally inhibiting Marco's ability to move in her extreme concentration on not doing anything at all.

Not like that! Marco said, panic flaring up again at the feeling of his control over his body being restricted.

What?! She jolted, if this time it didn't ask for a physical pull. Or it did, but she checked the impulse a moment later, disoriented, her own panic flaring. Sakura tamped down on it, mental energy focused inward again.

At first her breathing was regularizing his, if the panic that generated caused her to jump again before trying another way. It was very, very difficult to turn off her connection to functions she was used to having immense control over. Yet if she shut down, if she started meditating, maybe she could make it happen.

Abruptly, Sakura went "radio" silent, her feelings tampered down and more of a warm brush than an immediate, all concerning rush.

Marco tensed up again when she took control of his breathing, but then her influence started to slip away. He waited a few moments, trying to figure out if his body was really his to control fully now. When it seemed like Sakura really had stop influencing him, he finally relaxed.

Just a bit. He couldn't forget the fact that at any moment, she could try to wrestle control again.

I'm gonna demorph now, he said, focusing on changing back to his normal self. Well, as normal as he could be when he had Sakura stuck in his head.

She heard him, really, she did. That she didn't understand quite what he was saying wasn't his fault. Sakura was too focused on maintaining herself as a separate, contained, nonphysical presence to pay proper attention to what he was saying, focusing on the feelings more easily than the words. She was a far more emotional person than she wanted credit for being, finding it a liability in her profession.

Wants had little to do with the reality.

When the demorphing started, her emotions started getting out of hand, responding to the physical almost-sensations with a disorienting burst of adrenaline-fueled fear.

She would have apologized for having that effect on his adrenal gland, but she wasn't doing this intentionally. Again. Wrong!

Marco paused in the morphing, distracted by the sudden rush of fear. Hey! he complained. Okay, it's weird, I know, but I do this all the time, alright? Just let me finish!

Trying to ignore all of Sakura's emotions, he focused again on demorphing, soon returning back to being human.

You do. I don't. She worked on reining herself in, a forcible effort. She wasn't yet steady when he was done morphing, ragged edges to what she felt that she was valiantly, methodically packing away and in.

She was technically ignoring him by then, trying to make those raw edges less raw. Her fear and embarrassment were circling around on each other, along with a colder fear, and a burgeoning sense of resolve.

Something must be done.

At least I'm not in cockroach morph. Then you'd have wait more to complain about. There is no way to make that morph pretty.

Marco at least now wasn't panicking anymore, but he still had a plenty amount of fear and anxiety of his own. He couldn't stay like this. He'd go mad.

Sakura was right though - they needed to do something. I'm going to contact the others, he said, pulling out his omnicomm and sending off a message to the other Animorphs.

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Is Your Love Strong Enough? Part 2 - Personal Interwoven Soulcatchers

Marco & Sakura

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