day 201 [closed] // power outage

[everyonewillknow]

Who: Queen Elsa and The Meta
Open: Closed
When: Day 201
Where: Somewhere less frequented in the Bastion
What: Opposites attract, and not always in the ways you'd expect.
Format: action?
Warnings: should be none

It had been long enough.

This was a new world. A new life, sort of maybe a little bit free of her powers. Nobody would fear her here, certainly, so why should she have to fear herself? She shouldn't have to sneak around, taking what little she needed like a thief each night, like her existence was something to be ashamed of. She was a queen, discarded country or no; surely she had more dignity than this.

That was what logic told her, at least. The nervous frost on the ground behind her said otherwise. She still didn't have quite enough discipline to remember there was a limit to her control, especially in the mornings; today, particularly, she was out to see if there was any sort of cloth she could make a suit from. Her wintry clothes were all well and good, but if she was going to be of any use, she couldn't afford to waste her powers on something as paltry as dressing each day.

As she reached the outskirts of the marketplace, she looked back at the ice trail she'd left, and sighed as she hesitantly used the last of her controls for the day to pull it back up, focusing on the thought of doing more than sitting around and fretting - sewing would give her something productive to do. Smiling a little, she turned around again to head more confidently toward market --

-- and slammed face first into a wall that hadn't been there a moment ago. Absolutely startled out of her wits, as she fell back onto her rear, up came a column of ice, enveloping the obstacle in near entirety; as she struggled to catch her frantic thoughts, she looked up...and up...and up, at the worst thing she could have possibly frozen: another person. Or at least it was in the shape of a person; it looked more like a statue than anything, a fearsome warrior made of white stone, its gold helm the only thing not covered in thick ice.

She hoped it was a statue. Please let it be a statue.

Comments

[metainstability]

There was a warning on his HUD, slow movement most likely non-hostile, but he ignored it.

Another day, another lost opportunity. There had been little to do in the land he had been unceremoniously dropped into, and the Meta was growing restless. Frankly, compared to the bustle he was used to, the Bastion (or whatever it was called) felt almost deserted. There were people, yes, but so little seemed to happen from day to day, at least from his paltry observations. Of course, he hadn’t made more than the bare minimum of effort to integrate himself into the ragtag settlement, so his assessments were made off of very little data, but who cared.

The fact of the matter was, no one had shot at him for days. That was enough to classify the area as ‘statistically dull.’

It was a difficult change to deal with.

The movement that he had detected earlier seemed to be moving closer, but once again he elected to ignore. Years of being the largest thing gracing the MOI, coupled with a lack of concern for the personal space of others, dictated that he didn’t move, things moved around him. It was simply how things worked, and it wasn’t worth his time or energy to give any more of his attention to whatever it was that was moving.

That was until there was a slight impact against his chestplate, followed by a rush of frigid air and the sensation of his stride coming to an abrupt halt.

He was entirely too surprised to act for a scant half a second, the suddenness of the assault not quite registering immediately, but his wits returned soon enough, followed by a flash fire of anger and urgency. Years upon years of military training screamed in his skull, and though he was unsure of whatever was assailing him, one thing was certain: it would be dealt with with extreme aggression. With a wrench of his shoulders, he threw himself forward-

only to remain completely still.

Eyes widened behind his visor, and a surprised snarl slipped from his lips as he strained again, trying to curl his fingers into a fist, to destroy whatever was restraining him. The lack of progress made no sense. Was it lockdown paint? No, it couldn’t be, the electric shock that accompanied it was missing, and he had broken out of the substance before anyways, it wasn’t this solid.

A cursory glance down, as best he could manage, didn’t help at all, because there was absolutely no way. But as he focused on diverting power to the strength module in his arms, a chill began to creep in at the exposed joints in his armor’s plating.

Ice?

Impossible. Absolutely impossible.

There was a painful sparking across his limbs as he tapped into the strength unit, diverting all its power to his arms. This was absolutely ridiculous, he had made a habit of throwing cars, something this fragile shouldn’t have had the staying power that it did. Another surge forward, and there was a quiet cracking, but it did little to give him any headway. Whatever technology trapped him, its effects remained strong.

The snarling took on a low note, his gaze whipping back to fix upon the figure before him, noting with displeasure that his mystery assailant was grounded, just staring. Not right, never right, if he was trapped like so, why did they not just finish things off.

[everyonewillknow]

That was not a statue.

Of course it wasn't a statue. That would have been fortunate, and if there was one thing fortune never did, it was favor her. Elsa was fair sure by the fact that it - he? there wasn't any good way to tell - was definitely an actual fearsome warrior, by the strength of the magic that had come to defend her. At least it hadn't shot the way it had at Anna; it could still move, and she took a slight moment to be a little impressed at the fracture it left trying to escape, at least until it snarled at her like some kind of beast.

She shook, spreading her palms on the ground as she felt it frost over. If it did get out, it could snap her like kindling, that much was for certain. But at the same time, she couldn't just leave it here. Elsa took a shaky breath, curling her hands again and slowly getting up, keeping what she hoped was eye contact with the warrior.

"I am so sorry," she blurted, raising a hand to show she meant no harm; surely dismissing even this would take no trouble. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to freeze you. Just hang on, just a second, I'll get you right out-"

She thrust her palm lightly, mentally reaching out to grab the glacier as if it were fabric...only to meet some kind of inner wall. The pit of her stomach dropped as she remembered she'd used up her abilities just minutes before, and she wheezed slightly in fear as she stared at her now-useless hand. Great. Fantastic. She shouldn't have left her rooms, and if she ever got this person out and survived, she would never leave them ever again.

The frost on the ground spread and solidified, reinforcing the mass at the warrior's feet.

[metainstability]

The Meta had seen many things in his years, as was inevitable in his line of work; dangerous things, things so improbable and illogical that if he still possessed more than a fraction of a mind to care, perhaps he would have been deeply concerned. As it was, however, any new occurrences, from high tech robotics, to laser weaponry, were simply discounted as ‘something capable of killing me, and thus something that should be destroyed before it is able to’, and unless there was some connection to the old project, he didn’t concern himself much past those fleeting opinions.

This, however, this went far beyond being shot at, beyond the constant danger of being killed, because at least he knew how to identify those situations and react accordingly. There had never been any intensive training on something like this; he had faced inclement weather, that was for certain, but what would have ever prepared any agent for being fucking frozen.

How advanced did his assailant have to be, to be able to command such power with no apparent functioning power source? His gaze swept down, eyes narrowing, even as he continued to push the strength unit, breath rattling in the back of his throat as sparks continued to lick at his skin, stinging in a way that was by no means pleasant. Not that he didn’t curse the loss of his functioning equipment and of the AI at every opportunity, but it was growing more and more apparent that the malfunctions that plagued him were more detrimental that he would like to admit.

Were he less irate, perhaps he would be embarrassed by how ineffective his efforts seemed to be, but for the time being he continued to strain, paying only a fraction of attention to the stammered words that filtered into his helm. Apologies? More things that made no sense and only served to fuel his frustrations and distrust of the entire situation.

More hairline fractures appeared as he continued his assault against his translucent prison, but the longer seconds ticked on, the more his HUD began to inform him of possible malfunctions, an urgent beeping queuing up somewhere near his ear. While his armor had been made to stand up to extreme punishment, and had done so on repeat occasions, apparently being encased in subzero materials had not been something that had been considered too heavily. Already there was a chill creeping in at his joints, his under armor doing little to keep the icy fingers at bay.

With renewed determination, he strained his arms, but there was a second chime, and he felt the strength unit power down, much to his displeasure. Since arriving at the Bastion, there hadn’t been any way to recharge his power cells, and he was immensely regretting that fact. There was always the option to draw on axillary, to shut down some of the other, less vital functions, but…

With a frustrated hiss, he jerked his head towards the person before him, agitation obvious.