Participants:
| Scene Title | I Can See, Eye to Eye |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Seven years bad luck. |
| Date | March 9th, 2018 |
The night has been cold and Cat’s Cradle is dark. The hour’s late as the bar had closed a little bit ago. Down the steps into the Oracle Room the haze is heavy and Eve Mas sits cross legged on one of the many comfortable pillows, her pale skin illuminated by the flames of the fireplace in the corner.
In front of her sits a recent sketch of a confusing dream of a triangle.. a mysterious one. She didn't know what it meant and she sought to gain more insight. Rocking back and forth she swings her long raven mane to and fro it frames her face, “Take the plunge,” she echoes the whispers she hears before she delves into the world of her dreams and visions.
“Follow the riddle.”
Light gray eyes become unfocused and they fade slowly to that milky white, mouth hangs open as she begins to fall backwards onto the large pillow behind her.
Through the pillow, like the surface of water, sinking deep below its surface as bubbles of air trail up from her mouth and nose. The bubbles twist, distort, shimmer with rainbow iridescence until there is no more light and there is nothing left for them to reflect. Eve falls silently into suffocating darkness.
I can see
A voice whispers in the dark, Eve’s voice.
Eye to Eye
It draws closer, her whispering cadence.
I can see
Somewhere in that moment, Eve stopped falling, now suspended like a fly in ointment.
Eye to Eye
In the darkness, a pair of burning orange rings come into view. Irises that glow like molten steel, emerging from the darkness into an indiscernible downcast light like the lamp of an interrogation room.
I can see
It's Eve. Bare feet move across a solid but also watery surface, ripples spreading out from each footfall but never sinking below. She is nude, hair long and wild, eyes of golden fire with overly wide and infinitely dark pupils.
Eye to Eye
At the center of Eve’s chest, over her sternum, a black mark blotches into view like a swiftly forming bruise. Soon, it's lines take sharp and well-defined shape. She's seen the symbol a thousand times before. Hiro’s sword, Niki’s tattoo, the Haitian’s necklace. Half of a helix.
I can see
This Eve raises one hand, covered in thick and bright red blood, brushing it down her face from brow to chin, then neck to collar. Rivulets of red roll down pale skin, over the symbol, drip down into the abyss below.
I can see
Wherever the blood touches her skin, it turns black and veiny. It spreads like an infection, dark and sick under her skin. The infinitely dark water below her books where each droplet touches. Veins of radiant golden light spread from those points, like roots of a great tree branching out into myriad forks of light.
Eye to Eye
A light appears over Eve’s head, in the way halos are depicted behind the heads of angels in Renaissance art. It is a triangle of blue-white light crackling with static and horizontal scan lines like an old cathode ray tube television. Veins of white light extend out from that too, forking branches of static and white noise.
I can see
That Eve turns, facing the triangle, reaching up to smear one bloodied hand over it like it was glass. The surface squeaks with the touch, then she balls a hand into a fist and slams against the triangle.
Let me in
Again, harder this time.
Let me in
Harder once more, enough that the glass cracks and small chips are embedded into the side of her palm.
Let me in
The glass cracks deeper, and a noise escapes from the fissures like wind whistling through a keyhole. Eve recognizes the song, recognizes Else Kjelstrom’s voice singing La Mer to an ocean’s crashing waves.
Let me in
There's an audible {click} like that of an old television dial turning, and the black void changes entirely. Eve now stands under a cloudy, gray sky on the south end of Roosevelt Island where the old turn of the century plague hospital stands. Ivy crawls up its surface, and crows are perched on it's broken walls, cawing loudly. There are bones scattered around the walls of the hospital, and a young Eileen Ruskin stands at the center of them where Eve once was, pounding on the triangle of glass and light.
Let me in
There's an audible {click} like that of an old television dial turning, and the cloudy landscape of Roosevelt Island changes in a pop of {static} to the ruins of Midtown Manhattan, bomb-gutted buildings slouched against one-another, except every surface is crawling with vegetation. Buildings are covered in moss and creeping vines. Flowers grow up from the broken concrete. Richard Ray — or is it Cardinal — has replaced Eileen, pounding his bloody first against the triangle. There are thirty-six dead children fanned out in a circle around him, covered in blood.
Let me in
There's an audible {click} like that of an old television dial turning, and the verdant ruins disappear in a pop of {static} to a pristine cityscape surrounded by high, concrete walls. The sky is a beige shade and wispy clouds streak through the nuclear winter. Red flags bearing the seal of the Department of Evolved Affairs flap in the wind, and Tamara Brooks replaces Richard, her bloody hand pounding on the triangle of light with intensity as horrific cries of machines echo in the distance.
Let me in
There's an audible {click} like that of an old television dial turning, and the walled city disappears in a flash of {static} to an infinite expanse of ocean, from which rises the rusted frame of an old radio tower lined with satellite dishes and slowly flashing red lights. Sea birds circle it's upper reaches. Odessa Price replaces Tamara, standing atop the surface of the water, pounding her fist against the triangle of light.
Let me in
There's an audible {click} like that of an old television dial turning, and the ocean disappears in a flash of {static} to the Manhattan Exclusion Zone, as viewed from the rooftop of the Deveaux Building. A dusting of snow covers the ruined cityscape, and Mateo Ruiz replaces Odessa Price. The triangle of light is gone, replaced instead by a swirling ring of infinite darkness surrounded by electricity.
Let me in
Wordlessly, Mateo steps into the ring, and is consumed by the darkness.
Let me out
Eve startles to waking, wind rushing through her hair and the noise of the city all around her. She stands on the edge of the roof of her building, nothing to hold her or keep her from —
Her foot slips.
Hands claw at the air, and Eve plummets from the roof, body twisting and an involuntary scream rising up from the back of her throat. She impacts the pavement, back and shoulder breaking from the impact, skill fracturing, vision blurring. She didn't slip, Barbara Zimmerman is standing where she was on the roof. She was pushed.
To her death.
The Cat’s Cradle
Eve jolts awake again, surrounded by broken glass. A twisted mirror frame lays at her side, cuts on her hands and arms, blood staining what was once a wall-mounted bathroom mirror that has been smashed to pieces.
Blood is smeared across the concrete floor.
In the shape of a half helix.