//------------------------------// // Break // Story: The Lunatics // by SpaceCommie //------------------------------// Colgate dropped, the sudden sensation of free fall causing her to flail for a moment before her horn sparked, shifting into fast-time. Or, at least, that was the plan. Colgate had another second to realize that the air rushing past her didn’t slow at all before her hind leg collided with the floor, sending a shock of pain up through her body. The rest of her body made contact a moment later, knocking the breath out of her. She laid there for a second. The stone beneath her was smooth, and slick with water. Her leg hurt, a deep throbbing pain. Probably broken. Maybe not badly—she had fallen only ten, fifteen feet, but it was still worrisome. She lit up her horn—faintly, no matter how Colgate strained, not enough to illuminate past a few feet in any direction. No point staying here, Colgate thought, and started to push herself up, with a sharp hiss of air inwards. Yep. Broken. Well, limping was still an option. She picked a direction at random and started—now that she was on the ground, patience was decidedly not a virtue. She probably wasn’t fast enough, though. Oh well, she thought, and gritted her teeth, stumbling forward a little faster. She reached a wall, curving up smoothly from the floor. Colgate sighed, but it was progress of a sort—can’t find doors without walls, after all. On the other hoof, she thought, walls don’t necessarily have doors. She could be on the bottom of some sort of pit, after all, in which case she would be well and truly screwed. At least it wasn’t the nursery Caballeron had talked about. There didn’t seem to be any evidence of changelings here at all, actually. She walked around for a bit. The wall seemed to curve inwards slightly, although if the room was a circle it must be enormous, at least a few hundred feet across. There was a slight current of air coming from—well, Colgate couldn’t place it exactly, but it seemed promising. Doors and drafts usually went together. She continued onwards around the perimeter of the room. It was still dim; her horn hadn’t brightened at all. They did something to me, Colgate thought, as she continued to limp around the room; a grim, dogged march. It might pass; as far as Colgate knew, even traumatic injury—amputation, even—wasn’t usually enough to permanently disable one’s magic, although the details could be unpleasant. And there was no apparent physical damage. Maybe there was something in the bag, the cocoon, a chemical or—no, it was pointless to dwell on this, Colgate decided. Priorities. A faint click, somewhere in the darkness. Colgate debated whether to kill the light or not. It was making her easier to find, certainly. But she needed it more than a changeling probably did, and—her horn flickered and died, like a light bulb burning out. “Shit,” she said quietly, the whisper barely reaching her own ears. With as much power as she was pumping into her horn, she should have been putting out more light than a small star—well, not really, but still—anyways, it stayed stubbornly dark. Bad. Bad bad bad. Colgate stopped walking, stopped straining for light. She shifted her weight from one hoof to the next. Maybe there was some balance that would be more tolerable for her more abused limbs.Well, whatever. She inhaled deeply, like a diver preparing to jump into the water. Other than that, though, it was nearly silent. She took one last breath, then pushed as much energy through her horn as she could. It felt awkward, slower than she would have liked, like trying to suddenly swing a sledgehammer. Her horn crackled with light, and plenty of it. It wasn’t clean—there was a sudden electric stench, and her face felt really tingly—but it’d do. She turned around slowly, taking care not to put too much weight on her broken leg. Another draft of air, from somewhere above her now. She looked up. Nothing... A thump next to her, loud, unsubtle. She twirled, or tried to, anyways, her broken leg finally buckling, sending her onto the floor. A face lowered itself towards her, eyes wide, its mouth opening, and she struck it without thinking, sending it reeling back. “Ow!” Colgate blinked. “Shit. Cloudhead?” “Sorry,” Soarin said, carefully. “Um, not exactly.” “In that case,” Colgate said slowly, enunciating each word very clearly as she lifted herself off the floor, “it seems to me like you’d better start getting real specific right about—” She flung herself at the changeling, which stepped to the side, leaving Colgate to fall onto the floor. “Ow.” “Maybe we should talk.” Colgate groaned. “That might be good.” Green light rippled across Soarin’s body, revealing a glossy black hide. “Have met.” Colgate frowned. “Case. From my dream.” “Yes.” The changeling stared at her. “You are injured.” Colgate sucked in air, and stood up. “I’ll live.” The changeling didn’t respond. “I mean, not indefinitely, obviously.” The changeling seemed to consider that for a moment. “Okay.” Colgate grinned, although just for a second. “Alright. Lead on.”