(2018-09-10) Just a Wind-Up Toy
Just a Wind-Up Toy
Summary: Malachite 'visits' Daxton on the dreamplain again, and it ain't too pretty.
Date: 2018-09-10
Related: NA
NPCs: Bainthauril Aine
Scene Runner: NA

Tempo's Room, Winbarry Estate
Mon Sept 10, 2018

On the second floor, a broken 4 posted bed made of walnut is against a wall with a faded painting of a forest. There is a large cracked mirror facing the window, which brings more light into the room.

It is a summer night. The weather is hot and raining.

(OOC: Mood music - "C.L.U" © Daft Punk)


Daxton has done a lot of running in the past few days. Missions, work, checking in on Dylan's grandma….His legs are sore and his mind exhausted. Running isn't just about the muscles, not for speedsters. Thinking fast can be exhausting as well. So here he is, in his boxers with an arm thrown over his head and snoring gently. His wrist watch is close to his ear. It's instinctual now to lay like that, just in case. It doesn't take him long to slip into a dream. The old Coral Springs is the stage and he's clearly late for a class….but doesn't seem to know where to go. No one in the dream is talking to him, in fact every one in the blue of Ares seems to be mad at him and ignoring him. He's standing in the old Are commons room, hands up and he asks, again, "Oh come on! I said I was sorry!" There's a strange scent of burning on him, like he's been around Inferno. "Come on Rosa…" The hispanic girl, turns away from him and storms off. Blue eyes go towards the ceiling in frustration.

Nobody appears to be watching… silence. Things play out as intended without tampering. One would think Daxton to be the one to wear that ghastly yet ornate, shrieking Gorgon's visage… the moment the boy allows himself to crash deeply into slumber, it doesn't take long for his subconscious dreaming mind to be 'tapped' into. But alas, this time, it's not by a willowy girl with moonpale hair and a significant amount of damns to give.

Nope. Someone Else is 'there'; the seed was planted awhile back, in earlier nightmares, before the gorgon pendant and when Bainthauril 'Malachite' Aine was privy to all that her lovely little spawnling was 'seeing'.

But now there's no Daedhelwen—wait no. 'Callisto'. That's what the little pig was calling herself these days. Malachite is still pissed off about that. So what better way than to haunt the minds of those her daughter cared for? Like flipping to a favorite television channel, the elder fey immerses herself smoothly and unseen into Daxton's sleeping mind and she will be 'there', invisible for now and unfelt as black eyes survey the exasperated Daxton, in dreaming, calls after what appears to be an upset girl. Mortals are so cute in their emotiveness. 'Malachite' waits… this feels promising.

The only think Daxton is feeling is frustration as he hefts his books and makes his way out of the common room. Clearly no one is going help him, so he'll just have to find his way himself. But like all wacky dreams, this isn't so straight forward. He steps out of the school room, with it's warmth and familiarity into what feels like an empty warehouse. His books have been replaced with a gun and an ear bud, although all he can pick up is static. Static where there should have been talking. His hand goes up and he scans the room, to touch the piece in his ear. He doesn't like this, not being in contact with his unit. He's in Unit 23 gear and his dogtags are outside his shirt, but underneath the jacket he has on. They seem to catch any light they can, reminding him they're there. "Shit."

She 'follows' along, an observer. Malachite can feel the 'shift' before it actually occurs in the dreamscape, the commonroom dissipating to become a warehouse. Oh, now this looks interesting. Black onyx eyes flit to the dog tags and Malachite just knows that this is a fine precipice. She knows, by now, the importance of the boy's teammates to him.. his family in a way, yes? There is nobody here to stop her; nobody. In dreaming, the power and speed that the boy enjoys in waking cannot always help him. Malachite stands just a ways 'behind' Daxton as he searches, still obscured but not entirely invisible either. Her foggy image ripples, she may as well be a trick of the shadows in this warehouse.

A 'push' is all it takes.. but subtle at first. Drum up the unease, slowly ramp it up into a genuine pulse of terror and agony. Malachite seeks those mental 'strings', finds then… pulls.

The static in the earpiece will begin to form spoken voice. Snippets of perfectly emulated likenesses of, say, Inferno's gruff timbre… remarking upon how good it is to be freed of that blue eyed whelp. Perhaps… perhaps this cutting off of contact was deliberate. They WANT him gone.

Daxton stills, a look of confusion. Although he's aware enough to start to move to a side , near a wall so he's got some cover. Those fingers are still on the ear piece and he Takes a deep breath. Surly this is a trick…or maybe it's test? The people who control Unit 23 test them sometimes…their loyalty… But even with those thoughts, he looks ill. His mind races, why is he here? If he can finish the mission…then he can go home. And they can stop…His breath catches as he starts to vibrate, panic starting to set in.

Mmm, panic; this is what Malachite thrives off of. Once upon a time more positive experiences will have 'fed' her too but after centuries of favoring foul emotions it is what she has come to expect. Crave. So when the first notes of panic begin to thrum within the dreamscape, the sorceress thrills inwardly. Now it's time to play. This will keep her 'fed' for even a day, and that's a big order.

So this is a mission? Malachite could dig deeper to surmise what is going on exactly but that will take her finger off the pulse of this lovely growing unrest. As dream!Daxton breathes against a wall, the fey pads unseen to one of the shadowy 'corners' of the warehouse. She feels around mentally, remembering certain things that she was able to observe before her awful daughter shut her out. How dare she? The tall fey woman concentrates, seizes upon one memory gleaned in previous nightmares, and changes.. now she will make herself visible but in an altogether different appearance.

There's a harried 'tip-tip-tip' of footsteps, falling quickly because the legs are shorter and feet smaller. A kid's voice cries out pitifully into the warehouse from an infuriatingly obscure direction: "Gero!? Gerrrooo!" Sounds like a girl, shrill with growing fear.

Daxton's head snaps around, not quite so drastic in his physical body, but there's definitely some tossing starting to happen. Dream Dax just looks confused, that voice shouldn't be here. At all. It's too dangerous! "Ophelia?" No, she couldn't be here! He'll move at his normally quick speed to start searching for her, the mission forgotten.

Tip-tip-tip-tip—-only in dreaming can a young girl be two steps head of a speedster. Boiling away in the shade's mind is the awareness of a very old fey who is getting a massive kick out of this. There's no actual presence of this child in question on the actual dreamplain so Malachite cannot emulate most of her (Ophelia's) distinct mannerisms. But she sure can make the kid sound terrified. Speaking of: Malachite does not honor the little sister's realtime age… she's taking on a younger form as opposed to however old the girl is now in waking.

The footsteps stop somewhere beyond Daxton in this foggy space; a shriek, WHAM-CLATTER-CRASH. Sounds like a tumbling shelving unit.. couldn't have fallen on her because the girl's body can be heard tumbling and resorting to crying thinly. It'll be easier to find 'Ophelia' now , sitting there and holding her foot.. clad in what will have been the commonplace clothing choice of the girl when she was roundabout 9 or 10. Her eyes are squeezed shut as she weeps and hitches, waiting for her brother to find her. Beside her is what fell: indeed a set of steel shelves, lying like a dead thing beside the child.

Daxton is fast in real like, but in a dream, it's almost ridiculous how quickly he moves. He slides to his knees, almost appearing in front of the child, "Ophelia? Hey! Hey….Oph…Hey." Suddenly the military trained boy is gone and he's trying to pull his little sister into his arms, 'I got you…it's ok. Is Ezra here?" She's so tiny! It's been so long since he's seen them! "What are you doing here?" He tries to be careful of her foot, already trying to remember where he is and if he can run to a hospital or not quick enough.

"I don't knooo~ooow!" The girl wails; it takes a bit of improvisation on Malachite's part to determine how petulant the girl would have sounded. She shakes her head negatory to whether or not the other spawn is here. Malachite being Malachite she will have mustered up something awful to happen to the other kid too, but she's running with this angle before seeing fit to change tacts. It takes everything in her to not have her laughter ripple through the form that she has taken currently, for it would sou8und terribly unchildlike. Her hands pull back from a foot that has been twisted 'round to a NOT OKAY angle. The shelves must have clipped her. But why is the girl not in complete, utter hysterics at so grievous an injury?

"Actually I knooooow~!" She opens her teary eyes and fringed within girlish lashes aren't big blue eyes but.. the irises? Black as coal. "I know, Gero! I know! I'm here looking for my favorite wind-up toy~!" It's kinda ugly how acerbic Malachite can make a little girl's voice sound but there you have it. THe snide meanness in a child's voice is spot-on. The very un-Ophelia-like eyes glare hotly into the older boy's face. "I think it's here! Right here!" Warbles the Not Okay child as she pulls back, opens her mouth, and hisses in a rather demonic way at poor Daxton.

That's….not right. His eyes widen and he nearly drops her. "What?" Oph doesn't play with wind up toys…A deep breath is taken filling up that wide chest fo his, but before he can dress the weirdness of her missing 'toy' and her weird eyes, she hisses at him. Now she is dropped from his arms and he scoots back on his knees, "What the fuck?" The vibrating starts again, but Malachite didn't count on his training to override his family ties. It's easy when that family sound sleek a demon, which he know to be a real thing. Is this the mission? He hurries to his feet, "I don't know what you are, but this is done." His hand suddenly has that gun in it again. Dream physics.

Fear is tasty, anger is… oh, that's good too. Even as the shade is dropped she lands without even an ounce of upset or frustration at being foiled. She lands with a sickening but painless (what a match) crunch of the ruined ankle and 'Ophelia' stands on it nonetheless albeit lopsided. She's watching the gun with her face pulled back into an utterly amused expression, as if she simply wants to giggle. The floor groans softly as if the motion atop it is causing it pain.. weird.

A few flashing lights, like a door being thrown open to let light into a dark space. Heavy footsteps. Daxton may see that he has not been 'abandoned' afterall because it is Inferno who moves to join him, looking rightfully dismayed and powerfully angry. No 'worn, gruff man' disguise here for the big man's body glows hotly like lava loosened freshly from the earth. "Goddamn demon, was jammin' the signals. Get rid of her, Tempo." Orders the Daxton's venerable teammate.. every connotation of his voice sounding like his own. Every aspect of who Inferno is in waking, accurate.. right down to the slightest fiery flare upon some measure of his body.

"It's makin' an insult to your family! Fucking shoot it!" Inferno hollers, wanting to give 'Tempo' the honor. Malachite, still in the child's guise, watches the exchange with nasty little smile. She hisses at 'Inferno' too for good measure.

Daxton doesn't flinch, his training (Brian washing?) was pretty specific. He unloads the gun into the form of his sister, moving as he does towards his Unit leader.

It doesn't hurt, none of it does. But to Malchite's credit she will put on a good show before she diverts all attention to her other puppet here, this fine nightmare. Let's just make that spurting blood look extra red! Who cares if there's TOO much of it to be realistically held in so small a body? The demonic 'Ophelia' crumples with a pitiful mewl thrown in for good measure. ".. y-you.. YOU shot me!" Extra pitiful. There we go, let's just let that one lie there.

Inferno watches, looking ready to provide backup (whatever Malachite will surmise as such) should shit go sideways. But then you know this is not Inferno. Malachite's consciousness in this shade goes on watching with amusement as this deliciously blue-eyed murderer fires the gun, bang bang! What a work of art.

Inferno nods gruffly, looking suitably disgruntled at the display, "We have to move. This ain'—-" He blinks once, coughs lightly in his throat. There's a blackened patch arising beneath his left eye. "Come on-" Attempted again with urgency, but suddenly it looks as if the fiery man cannot quite catch his breath.

Almost immediately Dax is at his side, his finger on that ear piece again, "The target has been destroyed, but Inferno's …." Another weird eye thing…He asks his leader, "Fuck. Are you compromised?" He takes a few steps back, again talking through the com, "Afterthought, what do I do? He's got weird eye things going on….it's not just the cancer…"

Malachite before Callisto blocked her, nonetheless came to know of the Unit leader being on some measure of borrowed time. She knows naught how death will ultimately look for said leader but here she can read between the lines. A man made of fire and lava? Does the end not resemble something along the lines of… burning out?

Let's roll with that! Not just the cancer? That could have been an angle but Malachite has already committed to having this thing burn up and dry out. Details, details!

"U-ugh.." 'Inferno' grates out, dropping down to kneel. "It's happenin' again—" He manages, his tone sounding simultaneously agonized and so very, very tired. He turns up a pained gaze to stare right at the speedster's face as he works to radio the only one who could, perhaps, spell 'trouble' for one like Malachite in a place like this.

"Get going, get ou… AGH-" There's a jagged quality to the bigger man's voice, like something rubbing together in his throat. Rocks? Is he hardening up, burning out and cooling from the inside? Whatever is happening it is NOT 'feeling' good and terror — likely a typically un-Inferno-like quality — begins to simmer in his gaze as it rolls helplessly. The black patches beneath his eyes begin to extend toward his nose, drop down to his chin. Some of the blackened parts — hardening burnt-out 'skin' — begin to fall away like silt. "HAAGGHH!" Roars the man as he falls over onto his back to writhe.

Oh…oh shit. For the first time in a long history together, Tempo ignores the command. "Afterthought, he's…he's Turing into rocks? What do I do?? He steps closer, panic now clenching at his chest, and kneels down reaching for the man's hand. If he gets burned, it's worth it, "I…I'm right here, Inferno. Just….try to stay calm…" He taps his ear piece again, "God damn it, get General Clancey! He says this has happened before!"

There's that odd groaning in the floor again.. or was it Inferno? The leader's hand clutches Daxton's and squeezes with a slackening degree of strength and strangely, though hot… he can be felt cooling. The hand may have had a flare of intense heat to start but between that and the cooling aspect of his 'dying' Daxton won't be in pain for long. Sharp, panting exhalations as breath still cannot find him easily due to innards seizing. Smoke pours out of his mouth and nostrils and ears, smelling like hot rocks, burning, meat. "Not going to make it, Tempo—-" Inferno's voice sounds terrible. There's a 'tick-tock-tick-tock' sound occurring very gently in the background, beyond all of the chaos. Suddenly the man's body seizes and a splitting of skin occurs in his forehead, glowing hotly before blackening. Then the screaming.. Malachite plays that up as she simultaneously begins to 'shift' the surroundings of the warehouse. But scream, scream, scream… she is pouring all of her efforts into Daxton's leader and close friend dying awfully as he begins to seize up and burn out like cooling lava. 'Inferno' watches the boy the whole while.

Then as silence unfurls, the room seems to 'soften' somewhat.

Daxton stills. He doesn't need to move to focus, the scream is pinning him in place. He cries out, not genie gray back up form his other teammates so he just holds onto the rolling hand, "No…no. no. Inferno! Inferno, don't leave us!" He swallows, tears welling up in his eyes, "Please….we can't lose you too…" He can't focus on anything approaching, anything changing. It's all just….meaningless. His leader goes silent and he kneels next to him unsure what to do.

There's a clock ticking gently in the background, it sounds old. Maybe a grandfather clock? Something with a pendulum that lends to the ticking a ponderous quality. Daxton is kneeling there now with two dead 'bodies' closeby: the 'demon' sister like a crumpled up ragdoll and Inferno, expression frozen and blackened in agony. None of it peaceful. The blackened form crackles and 'spits' built up smoke off and on but no further vocalizations beyond that. He is dead and it wasn't an easy exit.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. It's a profoundly gentle sound as Daxton, not heeding the removal of the warehouse, mourns his leader. With the warehouse goes the body of the 'demon'; but the other prop (dead Inferno) remains. He's Important.

"Daxton!" Cries a voice into the din; it's a pleasant voice. Though lifted in upset, slightly winded from running. All around Daxton, locked in grief, the warehouse has shifted into that of a moonlit field of grass, the sky overbright with stars. It's hard to pinpoint where they all are but Inferno remains, locked in burnt-out rigor.. and it is a profoundly upset Callisto who jogs toward them. "I have been trying to reach you! To help you! Oh no, I didn't make it—" She sounds genuinely upset and her eyes are.. not black, but cerulean. Normal. She looks utterly fetching in some sort of delicate ivory dress, hair woven and done up like she just clawed her way out of a Lord of the Rings movie set. And she. looks. upset.

Daxton looks up, head tilting and looking young as he sees Calli. A soft sob, he doesn't let go of the dead man's hand, but his attention is now on his girlfriend, "Callisto…I….He just…burned up…." He does. The kicked puppy dog look well.

Being mommy, it's easy for Malachite to manifest her traitor daughter. Malachite hasn't had another spawn since the early 2000s and when one is immortal, she can decide when to make more. It just depends on if/when she tires of the current ones and snuffs them out. The next brood may have to be with another mate, for her current one — Vasili, poor bastard — has gone mad. Malachite is tiring of him too.

Alas, digression. She has Callisto pegged, right down to every lovely inch of her, every inflection of her voice. There's a reason her eyes stayed their natural color (not Malachite's black ones) because she simply knows her. So without hesitation 'Callisto' goes to the bereft Daxton and kneels alongside him, making to examine the ruin of the Unit Leader. It is with a powerfully pained look that the younger fey tries to collect Daxton into her arms to hold him tight. "I-I'm so sorry.. I should have come here. I moved as quickly as I could," She looks down at Daxton's hand still holding Inferno's paralyzed one. The girl tries to pull Daxton's head, with that heartbreaking expression (Malachite LOLs) upon his face, to her chest. She feels like Callisto, for what that's worth in dreaming.

Daxton's free hand wraps around the dream Callisto pulling her as close as he can. He's strong, that's for sure. Normally he'd try to not cry, but this all just too much. Inferno's charred hand sill in his, tears run freely down his face. He doesn't say anything just yet.

In the waking world Callisto would not tense at the boy's touch. Maybe it's disgust that Malachite allows to show through, in this instance, as the boy clings to the her. Ugh. Lovely bluish-green eyes settle upon the ghastly dead form of Inferno and to Malachite's credit, she bite back the laughter that wants to burble out of her throat at her current handiwork.

"What are we to do when you grow old," Callisto whispers gently as her gaze — now Malachite's black one — drops down upon the top of the speedster's head as he clings to her. "When you become an aged ruin, almost as bad as this, while I stay beautiful and strong?" The girl asks, but her voice has changed. Oh, it's still a fine voice; Malachite, despite her awful way, has a profoundly provocative timbre. A heavy accent begins to infuse it, not quite Danish 'Northern' as per Callisto but deeper, darker than that. Older. It's still Callisto's likeness holding the dreaming boy's shade but it's Malachite's voice. Her hold tightens. "Are you really so stupid and gullible to think an immortal favors you? Will you grow old and foul and useless or will you stop like a silly little wind-up toy?" The elder fey asks from her daughter's lips as she sneers down at Inferno.

It takes Daxton a very long moment to comprehend what she says. Because that's about the furthest thing he' think she'd say. She might be able to feel his eyelashes brush against her skin as he blinks in confusion. "Wh-what?" He tries to lift hi head, look at her to try to understand, but her grip tightens. "Calli….what …" This isn't right, just like his sister! The speedster starts to vibrate, maybe it's just him freaking out, or maybe he's trying to break lose. Inferno's hand is dropped. While he's sentimental, he also knows the old man would want him to protect himself.

By the time Daxton realizes that the girl who very much enjoys holding him is going on about outgrowing him, it's already too late. Malachite finally unleashes the laughter that she's been holding in since she took on the form of his sister. It's as relaxing as breaking glass, and it echoes 'around' them. But then, even if Daxton may not remember it or be made to forget it… Malachite finally decides to show herself, her true self, with intent for him to remember. For however long.

As the boy's body vibrates Malachite will simply shove him back and away from herself. She unfolds herself to stand now, well over six feet in height… over six-and-a-half. She's in a fitted black gown that looks to be from an entirely different age and existence and her hair, all that hair, floats and waves around and behind her body like a nimbus. She would almost look angelic were it not for the blackness of attire and eyes. A sharp glance toward the body and Inferno begins to crumble, his dust blowing into the air. "Stop filling Daedhelwen's head with vapors, with thoughts of winning." She barks out in a voice that is used to respect and fear. Inferno!dust swirls around in a plume and the dark restful 'sky' becomes red. "You can do nothing. Stick to your own causes, young murderer! Murderer!" Malachite chimes, laughing. That restful 'tick tock' in the background becomes erratic and out-of-sync.. a clock that cannot find purchase.

<FS3> Daxton rolls Mind: Success.

Daxton's vibrating increases, the entire situation starting to make sense. "It's not thoughts. She is going to win." He swears back, the tear tracks on his cheeks still wet, but he's stopped crying, "I sear to fucking god, I'm gonna snap your neck just like I did that other one." He accusations are true, but ironic coming from such a monster. Instead of words he growls and launches himself at the giant woman, intent on physically hurting her, int eh dream. He doesn't know how that will work out for him (Probably poorly), but it's all he has for now.

It appears in mentioning the breaking of 'the other one's' neck, a sore spot has been jabbed. Malachite's jeering features jolt briefly, only to dissolve into God-awful hatefulness. "You shall pay for that." Said simply, without amusement or bluster. It appears a lot of irony has been lost on Malachite regarding a pot calling a kettle black; how silly is it to imagine her thought process: nobody kills my children but ME! Huh.

Then, the speedster wills his dreaming self to try attacking the dark faerie! Even if he strikes her, disrupts her, no real damage will occur to Malachite outside of potential lost concentration (also good) … however she has her fingers on the 'wiring' of a great many things in this sleeping mind. This includes neural pathways… a direct line to pain responses, typically rendered null and void while one is asleep. But here, affixed to Daxton's mind like a virus, Malachite can awaken these nerves with but a push, a fraction of the concentration from her strong mind.

Thanks to her upper hand and in the dreamscape, Malachite just barely avoids Daxton's swift form. And then long story short? She seeks these neural pathways, seizes then, and with an ugly sneering glare attempts to inflict upon poor Daxton's shade and poor Daxton's sleeping body an absolute maelstrom of pain.

Daxton just misses her! He doesn't know if she's toying with him, or if his speed actually helps him here or not. It soon is discovered as not, when he crumples screaming in pain. In his room, he whimpers. Lucky for him, A certain gothic team member Stays in tune to vibes their teammates put off. Afterthought has eraser many nightmares, not just from Daxton. The shadow bender is already on the way, but the kitchen is far.

The look that Malachite is wearing, it could kill. For every scream and twist from the speedster, it's a personal affront to her traitor daughter. It sure feels good to make Daxton feel so terrible. The cruel dark faerie watches him drop, black eyes stark in her fair face. "Mind your tongue. Mind your business, cur. Stay away, for your efforts are not worth your mind's downfall, yes?" She grates out, bearing down, wanting to make him hurt. She does not quite count on the boy actually having outside help which is, in waking, rushing to aide him. She strides over to his downed form, the smokey folds of her gown fluttering and trembling. "Say you shall desist, and I shall leave you be." Said cruelly as she does not let up in the punishment, as he screams.

The evil words register, but he has to clench his jaw to stop screaming long enough to spit out, "F-Fuck..off…" While this is terrible, he's felt this before. Poison in his veins, changing his perception of time itself. Those that experimented on Unit 23 wee not kind. Daxton lets out a cry, thrashing in his bed. Poor Afterthought is now bounding up the stairs as fast as possible. Already a mental wall is being built to slam down and around Daxton's mind when his bedroom door is open. Long legs can only go so fast though, AT is not a speedster.

"I've bore witness to your sort before." Malachite says with a surprisingly soft, sweet voice. Her grasp of English is considerable seeing as how she's been alive for awhile, but it is not her first / chosen one. "I can come back here. I can do this night, after night," Every uttering of 'night' she clenches that mental fist, lashing him with that inner pain as she would wield a whip. "Until you are but a sniveling, mindless degenerate! Shall you hollar curses at me then? You'll beg for it to be over! I shall see your neck broken like that of my daughter's!" Interesting how everyone but Nesialora is a 'spawn'. Malachite goes from simpering to bellowing. Her pristine white features grow stark as her rage piques, shadows around her and in her features lengthening and intensifying to make those eyes of hers glow like twin beacons of hate in her face.

She's standing over him now, staring down. Malachite is not lying, she could go on… but why isn't this boy waking up? Departing? He could, to escape this.. but he's still HERE. The moment AfterThought throws that door open, Malachite will begin to respond.. the constant onslaught of agony will begin to lessen.

Daxton growls, in pain and anger and starts to roll over, like he's starting the process of fighting through the pain to stand up. He's still here because he wants to break Mother Dearest's neck, is why. "I….will ….kill you…." It's then that the wall starts to come down. He can feel it, that known presence of AT gives him the strength to stand. It might also help that suddenly in the dream realm a shadow tentacle appears and smacks the dark fey hard. It's just a representation of the mentalist's powers, manifested by Daxton's knowledge of what AT does. "Get the fuck out of my head!" And he's moving forward to strike at her again, but at that point, AT is shaking him awake.

"You. Shall. Not. I shall be sure of it that you know of Daedhelwen's death throes. For she cannot go on to live. She c—" WHUMP.

Malachite is so busy beaking off, threatening this fey and that speedster and everyone in between, that it's almost a relief that AfterThought is channeled into the dreamscape to well and truly shut her ass up! She is so used to being in complete, total command in this realm; to being feared in her immediate space. To holding that power over the beings she brings into life, she does it!

But oh hell yes Malachite gets SMACKED by a shadow tentacle! She reels backwards, the stranglehold of pain released from Daxton, her blackest black gaze startled for one blessed second .. wondering what happened. How. It cannot be one of her own children; this is not their style. But then Daxton is at her, flying at her, and he will find purchase. He 'strikes' her, Malachite's terrible face glaring hard at him as she herself vibrates with the disruption. She flies back, hair bannering, head turning to weather the strike but she herself does not cower.

"You will be sorry!" She shrieks, flushing vermillion as the edges of the dream tremble. She will disappear the moment AT rouses his teammate, but her shriek will echo for a few seconds more.

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