Shattered Echoes

(( Based upon Ambrose's Science assignment: http://yuriakashu.deviantart.com/art/Ambrose-Science-S3-A-Discussion-300544045 -- this thread is placed five days later. ))

It was worse than he could ever imagine.

Disaster rushed in a flash of lightning onto the scene, wearing his usual attire of leather pants and multiple piercings. All of his usual charisma was lost, however; it had evaporated away the moment he heard the news. Even in the flesh, though, all the deity could do was stare down at the helpless ball of a candidate.

Darling . . .

The fluffy pink earmuffs bestowed upon the boy not even a week ago were in shambles across the room, as if torn away in blind fury. It didn’t help, though—the external volume merely added conversation upon conversation. Their voices had already conquered, dominated his consciousness. They—including, with Disaster’s further depression, himself and other Entropy-supporters—had finally become too much on the poor boy. He could no longer stand their endless chimes.

How did the limit break? How? Disaster had abused letting Ambrose hear him anytime, anywhere so much before. It was the isolation of the voices that did it; in the asylum, They weren’t interested with him and so faded away slowly, surely. With the excitement in the academy, however, there were more of Them in the audience than ever before.

And, They weren’t going away. Despite all plea to.

Disaster was at a loss. He could summon lightning bolts whenever he pleased and even teleport others with the electricity; he could summon a hurricane on dry land, send golf ball-sized hail down from the heavens! And, what did it do here? Nothing. Laughter was too busy putting-out the usual fires of controversy Up There, and Metis . . . Well. There was no way they could send her down here now, was there? Not with Ambrose in such a state. Both of them would simply break down, and he couldn’t have that; the two were too crucial.

The deity thought back to the few times he had been on the island, the people he had met . . . and, reached a decision. With a small gust of wind (a miniature tornado, if you will), he let the dormitory’s door swing open fully, letting everyone passing by to witness the red-head boy in shambles.

He could do nothing, They could do nothing . . . but, maybe they could. The island’s population.

Disaster could only summon a chair from Above, sit down, and be patient, careful not to make a sound lest it tip his favorite boy over the edge further. Patience.

(( So, people: this thread determines whether or not Ambrose stays in AALC! Will he be saved by the people around him? I expect this thread to get really crowded, so we’ll keep the order loose (as in, if you don’t post in three days, we’re moving on) and allow people to come and go as they please. There are key words/actions needed to save Ambrose; play your cards right, and you might get a new student next semester. . . . ))

Esha breezed through the Caora'Dobhran dorms with no purpose really, and then she remembered that her dormitory was calling her for a nap after lunch. She yawned lazily and passed the open door, noticing the figure lying on the floor in a fetal position, after retrieving something to be returned to the library as an excuse to pass the door again. Still the same.

"Ambrose, are you alright?" she asked, expecting a snappy or generally rude response because of his attitude when they first traded names. She wasn't okay with going into someone else's room but she took a small step in the door. After about 30 seconds half in the room, half out she lost patience with the unconscious figure

"Answer me!" she demanded, urgently, edging onto a slight panic. This couldn't be a joke...He just didn't seem the type, and this was plain unfunny.

The girl took another step in the room and noticed a man sitting on a chair, turning her attention in him and assuming Ambrose wasn't going anywhere she "Why are you here! did you do this to him?" She shot the questions at Disaster in quick succession, assuming he was directly responsible for the boy's condition- Although in her defense there was only one fit enough to harm the other in the room, in her panic she couldn't see and wasn't thinking logically that in all likeliness that the guilty party had left.

Since the events at the mountains, Owen had long experimented with the mirror. Talking to it. Although the voice had long fallen back to silence, the mirror did respond to his words in ways that it hadn't before. It showed reflections of whatever he wished. If he would ask to see a bird, it would show him a bird. If he asked for a dinosaur, it would show him one. If he asked to see a thin, handsome version of himself....

Never mind that. The mirror was finally listening to him, and more than ever. It was progress. Progress that he was sure that the red-haired boy would be interested in. Although, admittedly, he was reluctant for another meeting with the boy, knowing all too well how the other encounter had ended up. Two episodes of madness - a bit more than he could handle. Swallowing his fears, he decided to venture forth anyway, carrying the mirror beneath one arm.

Though, he had barely taken a few steps down the corridor before he could sense that something was not right. Maybe it was the fact the door was flung wide open. Or maybe it was the fact that he could hear a panicked sort of voice sounding from it.

Hurrying just that bit faster, he stopped at the doorway, just to take in the sight he saw within the room. Obviously, not the best time to arrive at the scene - and that was an understatement.
He didn't have half a clue what was going on, but just from looking at Ambrose, he could tell that something wasn't right. Another episode? But this one seemed more drastic than the others.

He looked to the other girl in the room, wondering briefly if he would have known her. And who was she shouting at? His eyes met the strange man's briefly. Holding his breath, he merely lingered at the doorway, unwilling to immediately intervene. Just watching, to get an idea of what was going on.

(( My posting does not mean that the thread is closed-- people can join-in/ leave whenever they please! ))

Not unconscious-- the red-haired boy was very-much awake. How could he sleep? How could he close his eyes for any possible second? Not that he could see much anyways . . . The noise was too loud to pay attention to what was in front of him. He gave no reaction to anything and nothing. Doubtless, he didn't know even Disaster was here, let alone Esha.

Disaster . . . The deity was impressed at such a violent reaction towards the boy's condition, lifting up his head to give a pained smirk. And the darling made it seem like he had no allies here . . .

"I wish it were that simple, little girl," he whispered, barely audible. To everyone of Them, every mortal was 'little,' regardless of their extended age. It was always so temporary. "I did nothing-- which is the problem," he frowned to himself. He should have done something. In a way, this was his fault, letting Ambrose simply proceed without a care . . . He should have stopped him before the worst-case happened. The worse-worst-case. "Regardless, he cannot hear you now."

The deity glanced over at the doorway, blue eyes narrowing slightly. Someone was there, he could tell.
"Come in-- the more, the better. Keep your voice down, though."

She was looking at the leather clad man in the chair, "What do you mean... How could you doing nothing make him like this?" Esha said jumping to conclusions, not knowing about any other deities grappling and tousling inside Ambrose's head.. "Wait. Someone did this and you just let them do this?" She would wait to see his answer to that and not jump to conclusions now that she was calmer than before. He seemed reasonably fit and healthy so he could have gotten a dean or a stronger student to help at least...

she frowned at the sitting man and glanced back to Ambrose. How did this even work..It must have been an awfully skilled attack to leave him like that without even a bruise. To Esha it looked more like a mental attack, or a spiritual attack? She had no clue about these things at all.

Glancing back to Owen "Esha" She said briefly, not bothering with a full greeting in air of the current situation. Her name would be enough right? If they met at a later date then maybe a better opening line would be in order. Hey if the other person wanted to call her that then maybe he could stop calling her girl. She wasn't particularly offended by it but she did have a name.

She was just left glancing between the three people helplessly, wondering what to do.

Continuing to peer at the situation, Owen did find himself considering if he should just leave and come back later. Well, of course it was downright rude and inappropriate to just desert the scene, but the boy doubted his ability to provide much aid, considering his other attempts were remarkably unsuccessful. Maybe it would be for the better..

But something kept his legs rooted to the spot. The reasoning voice within him insisted that he should at least try and offer assistance, as unhelpful as it may be. At the very least, it wouldn't make him look like a complete jerkass, to someone that he'd come to like, no less. And as the odd man invited him in, he felt compelled to just enter, regardless of conflicting doubts.

He looked towards the other girl as she interrogated the man - she was awfully frantic about the whole thing. And who wouldn't be? The red haired boy looked as if he'd cracked completely. If he was to believe the man, trying to talk to him would be pointless. The one word remark from the girl did briefly confuse him, but it didn't take long to figure it was her name. But he merely nodded, not bothering to return to short greeting. Right now, he really didn't care about names or introductions.

Crouching down next to the red headed boy, he set the mirror - which had been trembling, for some odd reason - on the floor next to him. Being no professional paramedic, the best he could possibly do was try and give Ambrose a sort of nudge in the shoulder, expecting no real response.

"What happened?" he asked, looking towards the odd man, believing him to be the only one knowledgeable about the whole incident. His mind hadn't spurred into action yet - he was still staring with a sort of bewildered look on his face, still unclear of what was even happening.

That was the question, wasn't it?
"He . . . mostly did this to himself," Disaster answered rather cryptically, smiling sadly, "but, how he came to be this way isn't the point." He watched the large boy carefully as he entered the room (overweight, dull, nothing more to see, except perhaps that mirror he cradled) and shook the darling's shoulder-- he was expecting nothing, but the red-haired boy actually blinked for the first time in over five hours. Progress?

". . . They became too much," he whispered after a time in answer to the large boy, waiting for any more reaction from Ambrose but gaining no such thing. Perhaps he had just imagined it? False hope, that's what it was. "Of course, you two wouldn't know about such things . . ." But, he didn't bother explaining Them to them. It would just waste precious time.

He wasn't used to the word, and he was rather uncomfortable with the idea even in concept-- all of Them loathed such a thought-- but, what else could be said so sweetly and precisely?
"I need your help . . . to bring the darling back."

Help. He was asking for help from mortals. It was so demeaning, his head hanging low and his hair dangling from his shoulders, but . . . what else could he do? What other choice was there?
Plenty. But giving up was definitely not one of them.

Standing still, listening to all the man had to say she found nothing to be wholly unbelievable...It actually sounded as if there was little to nothing he could do. She narrowed her eyes at the sitting man. What was the point in this? was he deflecting blame or something? Ambrose seemed to be in steady condition, his bod temperature was alright and it just seemed he was sleeping weirdly at a glance.

Who were they? Oh this was frustrating. Things were being kept from her and- and.. Help!? How was she meant to have a shot at effective help if..maybe the man knew what to do?

"How?" She spoke to the man with slight normality but lost some confidence at the thought of providing any sort of assistance "I..don't really know what to do.." she trailed off feeling majorly helpless in an awful way, speaking to noone in particular. She had no training other than shake til they wake. Which Esha could use her common sense and figure out that maybe that would be inefficient.

But how could she know what to do if there were things-which sounded major- that she wasn't being informed of? She kept glancing between the conscious company in the room.

He wasn't quite sure if the single blink was a sign of recovery or not, but it soon became apparently clear that the boy wasn't going to do anything more than that. The least he could do was listen to the man's words - after all, he appeared to be the only one who seemed to know what was going on.

'They'... Owen tried to search his memories for a clue - of course, so much had happened between their meeting and now that it was difficult to recall. The Gods? He said he heard the voices of Gods? He tried not to look offended as he dismissed the possibility of them understanding.

What he strictly wasn't confident about was this 'help'. Well, of course he wanted to help. But wanting wasn't good enough if Owen's usefulness was equivalent to that of a chocolate teapot. In fact, he merely sat there, nudging the shoulder of the boy once or twice more, to hopefully stir another sort of reaction. He said nothing - for this 'Esha' girl would say all the questions he needed to ask. And to her feeble sort of confession, he'd merely shrug.

For someone in what, for all he knew, could've been a life or death situation, he hardly looked panicked at all. Still wearing that 'nobody's home' look.

Once again, this woman ('Esha,' was it? She and Ambrose had met before, he had eavesdropped from Up There) had all of the questions and none of the answers. Disaster attempted to supplement as much as he could without wasting any more precious, precious time. Perhaps . . . he was being too polite with his demands.

"The reason I am requesting your assistance," the deity growled, lightning crackling from around his shoulders and focusing all of his attention on the woman, "is precisely because I don't know how. You think I would bother coming down here for mere assistance?" Disaster cackled at his own suggestion-- how ridiculous! "I ask only because I have no other choice, so I suggest you start brainstorming, Mortal, or you will find out what an indoor category five hurricane feels like."

He would have continued with the wonderful threats he was oh-so-capable of producing, unlike what their feeble minds may have thought or concurred, but Disaster knew (unlike his helpless darling) that any further speech in his barely confined rage would only induce talking more and more in italics-- and, that would only make Ambrose's condition worse, furthering his rage. An endless cycle.

Ambrose.
As Owen continued to shake the blankly-staring boy, the redhead blinked again. And again. He was slowly regaining his vision, the figurative dust in his eyes being cleared away. He saw the distinct yellow . . . Disaster? And, the boy shaking him . . . That grey. Probably Owen? He reached out towards the figure, any figure--


"THAT BASTARD!" "I know, right?"
"Disaster, why dirty yourself with these peasants?"
"Hell, I'll ask the REAL question: why is this mass of useless prodding out entertainment?"
"I was wondering that, too." "Me, too." "I thought of it first!"
"HEY, CANDIDATE! WHICH ONE OF US SAID IT FIRST?"

--and quickly retracted the pale fingers, grasping his head in the renewed pain. His entire head flooded with Their voices, drowning out all other voice and intent. It wasn't him, it was Them. Just Them.

"Me!" "Me!" "No, me!" "MEEE!" "IT'S JUST ME!" "ONLY I MATTER!"
All of Them.

Disaster whipped his head back around towards his darling, electric blue eyes lit up. He was reacting. He was actually--!

None of the mortals mattered, not anymore; the deity rushed over towards his precious, precious candidate, petting Ambrose's outstretched arm affectionately.
"There, there. I'm here, I'm here, just push the rest of Them out, none of Them matter, hush . . . hush . . ."
Like an flamboyant, far too over-affectionate uncle. Such a turn of action-- from crackling violence to pure love-- was on the verge of disturbing.

(( First reaction goes to Owen; nicely done. ))

What...So this man wanted help, needed the helpers to come up with ideas, and yet he was being like that. Threatening violence and calling her demeaning things. Esha scowled as the two ran over to prod Ambrose. Ah..was that a reaction? Whatever happened she would try to help Ambrose. Whoever this was just being rude.

oh! he moved that was definite movement. She didn't know what that meant but the flamboyant guy was excited about it so...an improvement? Ah...the man..Nope, she didn't want to know anymore. Whatever reason he was talking to him like that, she didn't care. It was putting her at a slight unease how fast his moods swung and changed.

She considered that maybe if a light touch could stir him maybe something a bit harder, like a harder shake or a light dig would do. But she wouldn't try that immediately because of Ambrose's slightly strange protector. She could turn to stone and stay low and the hurricane wouldn't effect her as too harshly she thought..but Ambrose and the other boy maybe not so much.

"So if a light tap would stir him maybe something a bit harder would get more of a reaction? or shouting?" She suggested to the pair like they could do it, maybe it would work. She couldn't throw a any sort of force to save herself but Disaster did tell them to brainstorm.. Other than that she had the idea where someone was doused with ice water.

Again, Owen kept his mouth tightly shut as the man spoke, unwilling to give him a reason to induce that threat right there and then. He did try to sum up all of his brain power to arrive at a conclusion, but again, his mind would keep circling back to the same question, over and over. What do I do? He probably would've easily followed through with the man's commands had he instead handed over a sheet of instructions telling him exactly what do to - thinking for himself just wasn't that easy.

But somehow, his tiny little nudges to the shoulder were actually having some effect, as noted by the blinking and the way he reached out his hand. The supposed progress didn't last that long when Ambrose clenched his head again, and Owen barely had time to react befire the man returned his attention to the boy. He couldn't help but stare intrusively, slightly disturbed by the affectionate manner in which he coddled him.

It was then he switched his gaze to Esha - the first person to actually bring up some sort of clear instruction. Well, it didn't seem like the girl was going to do it himself, and Owen certainly didn't have any valuable input of his own. So he did what he felt he had to do - as in grab the boy's shoulder and shake him roughly. "Anyone in there?" he called, leaning closely to the boy's ear.

Disaster barely registered Esha's words, too preoccupied with cuddling his darling. "It's okay, it's okay, shh, shhhh . . ." It didn't matter if the boy couldn't physically hear him; the words were more for himself. It would be all right, the students could help, they got a reaction out of him, everything would be okay, please let it be okay . . .

The idea of shaking the darling harder was something he wasn't happy with. His precious candidate shouldn't be rattled so roughly! Still . . . it got a reaction last time, right? So, in theory, the more pressure applied, the more Ambrose would snap out of it. Disaster sighed a bit to himself, stroking the bright red hairs, twiddling them in his fingers. Already, the awareness in the boy's eyes was fading. Already, he was gone again.

The flamboyant man continued to coddle the boy--
before, of course, Owen interrupted, snatching Ambrose away from the deity and doing what had to be done. How rude! He could have seriously hurt the darling-- okay, not really, but it certainly didn't look comfortable. It couldn't have been. That was rather the point, though, so Disaster resisted the urge to zap the large boy, instead contenting himself to watch.

The violent shakes seemed to, once again, do the trick, the fog over Ambrose's eyes once more fading away. He squinted his eyes, unsure of the picture before him. It was so bright, as if staring directly into a search light. Finally, though, he could see, if only in blotches. The gray, the yellow, and the light blue-gray. It couldn't be . . . The woman that wasn't afraid of spiders?

"Hey, Entropy, what's going on?" "Yeah, WHAT?" "What is Disaster doing?"
"No idea, although he's going to get hell for it later." "Agreed." "Agreed!" "LISTEN!"

No sound. There was no sound to this detached world, but there was, at least, light in the window. Sight.

"Entropy, what the hell is going on!" "YEAH!" "Seriously, Candidate!" "WE'RE here! Pay attention to US!"

Already, though, he was slipping back into that darkness. He had . . . to do something to stop it. Something . . . Anything. And not enough time to scheme it.
He turned towards the nearest blur, skin bleached to a complete white and hair more red than ever. With his traditional outfit of a white long-sleeved and light blue jeans, the whole image seemed to consist only of red on white. Even his eyes.

He took a deep breath in, his lungs seemingly going on forever. He had to speak out from the voices. Out . . .
"GET THEM AWAY," he ordered Owen directly, eyes wide in panic and desperation. His voice projected, attempting to speak over the horribly-crowded room of his mind; to any outsider, though, it seemed completely unnecessary to yell. "GET THEM . . . AWAY . . ."

And the fog came back, the boy shivering lightly but nothing else. Silent once more.

The way the man was right now she doubted he would listen, to anyone . Alright there went any shot of getting permission or giving him any warning of what

Upon Ambrose doing something other than looking vacant, actually responding- shouting. She walked quickly over into the space that Owen or Disaster were occupying and kneeled beside him. "Ambrose? come on stay-" with us. She said to him loudly, if he had to shout over something then they would have to shout over it to be heard... and then he was gone. Again. He sounded so scared and panicked.

Summoning up some tonne of courage -Courage because of the threat of being huricaned, or whatever else he had up his sleeve to protect his darling. ...Ambrose let someone call him that? Oh, well maybe he didn't but if the threats were true to real life then she wouldn't want to contest it regularly.

Esha brought a slap down on Ambrose's face, just above the cheek, below the eye. It was pathetic compared to movies where there was a slapping noise. but then again the girl had turned her palm to stone . Making the whole thing heavier with momentum and it have the force akin to a punch. *

Maybe the slight dig would bring Ambrose around temporarilly- and maybe it would bring distater around and get her hurt. Ah, that's why she needed to have courage. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. It seemed like dire straights now. She doubted the boy would do anything, the hamster in the proverbial well right now, was quite dead.

*Someone else decide how hard it was

Owen had already suspected that the flamboyant man would be displeased with his actions, even despite his request for help. And to be honest, Owen would have avoided coming within a few feet of him entirely were it not for the fact that he had a sort of obligation to aid Ambrose.

What he didn't expect was the the sudden attempt at communication that the red-haired boy made, and whilst his body were poised as if he were about to scramble away, he found him self frozen to the spot, returning the panicked sort of gaze. Get... them away? Get who away? He looked quickly towards the other two, as if suspecting for a moment, that they were not welcome. Or if it was... the Powers the Be? It took a substantial amount of effort to remember such a detail, but he could recall Ambrose telling him of such a problem. Of jackass Gods.

Owen, despite the fact that he now seemed to realise that the situation was deeper than it appeared, still had no productive ideas. He flinched out of his minor stupor upon seeing Esha strike Ambrose. Owen had managed to get away with shaking Ambrose, but slapping...? He would warily glance at the odd man, and while doing so, would shuffle away from them just a few inches, as if doing such would create a sort of safe 'it wasn't me' distance. His hand would brush the mirror he'd brought earlier. Maybe he could put it to use. Only maybe - because even he could not yet be sure of its power.

Esha's cry was but mingled with Their own, her voice not distinguishable in-between the yells and screams of Them.
"HEY, CANDIDATE. WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO SUCH SCUM?"
"OCCURRENCE, YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF, ASHAMED."

They were even louder now, the increase of volume due to the realization that Ambrose could indeed be snapped out of his ever-conversation with Them. Such an idea terrified Them to no end, increasing Their want of Entropy, their desperation for him. They wanted him, needed him, and would have him forever. He was Their's. He was Them.

Ambrose did not react to Esha's words. He did, however, react to her stone slap.

The force created sent him crashing down onto the floor, guard completely let down due to the sheer volume. Disaster watched in horror as his darling's head echoed with the impact, his vibrant eyes shimmering . . .

Owen was right to back away.
"How. DARE you hurt him." His voice echoed as They loved it to do. A voice of command, a voice of power. A voice of rage. He lurked over towards the horrible girl. "I give you one request-- one. SIMPLE. Request. And, what do you do? You maim him. You MAIMED HIM."

The clear night sky that could once be seen from the few windows in the dormitories was replaced with crackling rain, literal lightning rain. The sky grew dark, and any moon rays previously lighting-up the night sky were suffocated out with storm clouds. The true danger lied inside, though; Disaster's left hand rippled with electricity, the various metal jewelry resting on his fingers lit up and even sparkled. A visible danger.

"The darling made a MISTAKE not telling you about Us," Occurrence informed the presumed mortal. "He didn't tell you of the danger. He didn't tell you of your MISTAKES."

A step towards Esha. Then another.
All the while, the red-haired boy glanced around, his vision now in stark detail. He couldn't remember seeing anything so clearly. The voices were still there, but the visual element seemed to drown it out, to soften the screeches and ear-piercing hollers. That, and the pain on his cheek. Damn, she hit hard. There was no use complaining, though-- the pain let him focus, to think. To yell back.

His red eyes caught Owen first once more, his head and body bent so that not only he failed to see the conflict, but they in turn failed to see him wake.
. . . Was he really awake? Something seemed off about him. Like he wasn't Ambrose. Not anymore.

The boy . . . felt whole. He hadn't realized that he was broken before, but now, he could tell the difference. This was what it was like to be complete, to actually grasp it. The feeling was almost intoxicating.

"HEY, CANDIDATE, WHAT ARE YOU--!"
"Shut up."

The order was spoken aloud, calmly yet assured. With confidence and a tint of pride. Soft enough that only those listening could hear. Which, They always were.

". . . What did he say?" one dared to ask, the rest too in horror by such defiance.

As the deity stalked towards her instead of backing down and getting the hell out Esha wasn't going to do that. Her bravery would now bordering onto sheer stupidity to any normal person. Turning to stone and taking a short step away from the window towards the deity, she stood tall and sneered sneered slightly at him -he wouldn't scare her with party tricks and demonstrations. hearing the thunder outside she assumed he was making some in his hand too by the heat in his jewelry.

Too bad stone was a very low conductor to down right terrible. "Maimed!" She began "Haha don't be stupid! it was a mere slap!" She gripped her cane, it was carbon fiber and had a rubber handle. Not for fighting lightening, but it would do.

"All I did was do what usually wakes people up- , You haven't been great with suggestion and at best all you've been is cryptic"..Tshh, and he acted as if she was obliged to help. Esha was very much annoyed now, but instead of being hissy she just adopted an amused smirk. Such a drama queen.

Judging about how his voice was she assumed he was angry at her. Was that his game? powerful moves to put the opponent off fighting. The voice, the lightening... like a peacock showing it's plumage, before it attacked by pathetic scratching.

She ignored Owen, supposing he was cowering in the corner or something. Not showing any signs of backing down to disaster she did realize someone was talking to her, she looked to Occurrance to hear him out, she didn't know what he was talking about. "Elaborate" she said simply, regretting it for it might set him on another rant

Grounding herself with her cane by holding with the metal behind her back, the end touching the ground she couldn't get shocked too badly. the shock prevention move was slow and if one wasn't paying attention then it would slip by unnoticed.

Despite expecting the reaction, Owen found himself cringing at Disaster's outrage, cowering behind a raised arm as if he expected it to provide any defence. Eyes flicking towards the window at the crash of thunder, he returned his gaze the man started to approach Esha. It didn't take a genius to know what the feud wouldn't end well between them, especially with the girl bravely retorting like that. If things didn't simmer down, then Owen was certain that some violence could ensue - and he was desperately not in the mood for any of that.

Before he had the chance to formulate any sort of plan, the motion of Ambrose beginning to wake suddenly caught his eye. And, from the way Ambrose returned a glance, Owen was a tad more certain that he was somewhat back in reality rather than... well, some sort of stupor. But he still couldn't really tell, especially with that out-of-the-blue 'shut up'. But it was improvement.

And then came the decision - who to help? His eyes flicked from the squabbling pair to the boy and back. He did briefly double-take at the sight of a stonified Esha, but from the determined look on her face, Owen could sort of see she had some sort of plan in mind. After hesitation, he arrived at the conclusion that she probably wouldn't need help. She'd cope. Maybe.

Crawling forwards towards Ambrose, he reached a hand to place on his shoulder. "Hey? Uh, 'Brose, dude, you okay now...?" Four fingers were held directly in front of the boy's face with the opposite hand. "How many fingers'm I holding up?" Like counting fingers would do any sort of good, but Owen wasn't sure how else to help - without making things worse.

"'CRYPTIC'?" Occurrence exploded, miniature tornadoes swirling around him violently. Mortals. MORTALS. This was why he avoided bothering with them! "I gave you clear instructions, Insolent Fool, and that is all. You. NEEDED." Another strike of lightning fell, the crash ringing through everyone's eardrums. The events had moved indoors completely, a patch of carpet in front of Disaster was now colored charcoal, the fibers steaming.

"I haven't the slightest clue what the darling sees in you people. You all talk big in this special-special school, but in reality? You can't do a damn thing against Us." He outstretched his right hand, the multiple metal rings delicately placed onto his fingers spinning with the charge of electricity. He was preparing to strike . . . but, at the word 'elaborate,' he paused.

"You really . . ." He squinted, the power in his voice evaporating. "Are you fools really that ignorant, or are you just playing dumb? We haven't been watching just darling Entropy-- We've been watching everyone, your entire academy. Every lie you've told, every brawl that's taken place . . . We've been observing it all." The electricity spun in his hand, miniature shots of lightning shooting here and there on his palm from a brewing storm cloud inches high. It was rather adorable, save for its deadliness. Disaster rested his eyes upon the toy of his creation.

"Tell me, Esha . . . do you have any secrets We might know about?" His thin lips coiled into a grin as he continued to watch the small lightning strikes. Bang, bang!

Ambrose barely reacted to the indoor lightning strike, not sparing a glance. He was used to such things and had even learned to ignore it, to a reasonable point. Indoor lightning was not a pressing issue.

The red-headed boy glared at the fingers, brow furrowed in confusion.
"Four." His voice echoed now more than ever, but somehow, the boy didn't think too much of it. In fact, the boy didn't think to much of anything-- his mind was wonderfully clear. Something was pushed back in there, making way for clarity and understanding. This was how the world worked. This . . . was how it all worked. Like clockwork.

"Is this what silence sounds like?" he wondered out loud in the direction of Owen but not particularly talking to the large boy. "It's been so long."

Amazingly enough, They were not daring to make a peep. They were too frightened by what was happening. Yes, They wanted Ambrose as one of Them; yes, They wanted Chaos; yes, Chaos was necessary, but . . . what would They do now that Their wish was seemingly granted?

Esha's hair blew around as a the torrents of wind passed her on their way out to the window, while this was happening a bolt of lightning zigzagged it's way across the sky. Illuminating the room briefly. Disaster seemed to be mad again. Keeping up her smirk as she stepped away from the charred carpet

Esha chuckled a bit, and took a deep breath "You seem to be talking big, in reality" She echoed his words back with a flash vindictiveness "You can't do a damn to help Ambrose" She spat the last statement to disaster with malice. Her mind returned to the peacock- flashy rings, flashy attacks. "So try to play nice hmm?" She trailed off, going back to her amused tone in a snap.

"I like sweet foods, don't appreciate long walks on the beach. If all you can do with your spare time is listen to a 17 year old's secrets..." she teased him, arching a brow, an edge to her voice- If that were true then he would know she wasn't 17. Still, she couldn't help but taunt at how petty that sounded. So 'they' were watching. How interesting, if everyone else had known then the island residents could put on a show!

Esha saw the strikes and made sure to grip her cane tighter, she was going to be like the carpet if she dropped it for sure. She gripped the key around her neck, it was iron so it wouldn't be good with electricity. Yanking the key from round her neck she brought the cane to her front and threw it too join the pink fluffy earmuffs.

She rolled her eyes at the man, not really seen because of the lack of pupils. She was actually getting bored with it. She really couldn't see Ambrose dealing with this constantly- blissfully ignoring the fact she was antagonising him and maybe that the spider boy didn't.

Sparing a glance at Ambrose and Owen she wasn't turning her back on Disaster..No way. "Any change?" she asked Owen, she was sure she'd heard one of them say something.

Four. Owen had to double check himself to see if the answer was right, and seeing that it was, he nodded in curt, brief satisfaction, hiding the flood of relief he felt within. Well, Ambrose appeared to be okay, anyway. And even if he'd blurted some stupid number like seventeen, the fact that he responded at all pleased him.

"Silence?!" he repeated, eyes worriedly glancing to the more... chaotic side of the room, flinching at the thunderous bang. Damn, that Esha girl was brave. He only felt increasingly guilty for leaving what was clearly a man's job to a woman, but a sort of fear kept him rooted to the spot, only timidly shaking his head... before realising, and changing it to a wordless nod. He could observe Disaster's powers clearly - this man was not to be trifled with. And it wasn't like he had any sort of defence--

Then his eyes flicked to the mirror. But of course! Wouldn't he just be able to send it the man's way and hope the reflection would distract him? Plus, he at least wouldn't be risking his own skin, and that mirror was pretty much unbreakable anyway. Reaching for the mirror, he muttered quickly to it, "Distract that man, don't let him get to her." Weightlessly and without hesitation, it would float into the air, hovering over towards where the pair stood. There, it would attempt to block their view of one another, floating directly between them, with the reflective side pointed towards Disaster. Yes, maybe he wouldn't be quite so useless after all...

--

http://luppa.deviantart.com/art/The-Mirror-Explained-308220286
Basically, Disaster will have full control of the mirror & what it shows, without even having to speak to it. (:

She said everything he had wanted to avoid.

"Sh-shut up!" the deity stammered, his face now beet red. This shouldn't be bothering him nearly as much as it was-- he was doing the best he could, right? Right! He was doing all he could to help the darling! And yet, she scorned him. And yet, she was right. He wanted to help the darling. He wanted to save him any way, at any cost. He-- and Dopamine-- had done everything in their collective power. It was never enough, though; the darling would refuse their attempts, or they would fail, or . . . something. Something had always happened. That's why he had turned towards the mortals; because, if they couldn't help the darling cling to his humanity, who else could?

He wasn't mad at Esha. Not anymore. He was angered at his own helplessness, and the girl was merely his vent. Lowering his eyes and stance, his body bent forward for an attack, his entire left arm began to crackle with electricity . . .

"Yes: silence," the red-headed boy repeated; the words would have been spiced with aggravation at the need for repeating, but he was in far too good a mood to be bothered by such a being so beneath him. Not hearing anything . . . Was this what it was like? It was so wonderful--
And then, he heard Disaster.

"Shut up," the boy ordered once more, this time his statement directed towards the only deity physically in the room. "Or, shall I settle this pointless squabble for you?"

Although Disaster's arm still brimmed with power, he relaxed his stance, his clear blue eyes snapping towards the boy. It can't be . . . "Darling?" His mouth went from a wild snarl to a carefree grin. "Darling, you're back! You're actually--!"

Owen's glass shards rushed in front of the deity, not allowing him to look at his darling anymore. Godly fury engulfed him once more, along with human-like panic. He began to pound on the glass, but to little avail. "L-let me see him!"

How pathetic, one of Them sighed. Blocked by a mortal's solid sands.
Well said, Muse.
One does aim to please--
Ambrose only had to glare towards the ceiling once more to bring the bliss of silence back. Ah, it was such a pleasant sensation in his ears . . . A sly smile twisted onto his face, black seeping into his blood eyes. So wonderful.

Disaster didn't care how pathetic it seemed. He was desperate, his emotions blinding him to the nature of the barrier. "I AM THE ALL-POWERFUL DEITY OF OCCURRENCE, AND I DEMAND TO SEE--!"

--the darling. There he was! Ambrose stood in front of him in all of his bloody glory, fresh from another glorious fight. The darling was always victorious. Always. And, and--! His white shoes were now stained a wonderful shade of red, akin but not matching his dried-blood hair. His brown eyes glared at him, sending shivers down his spine. The electricity pulsing in his arm completely vanished; he had lost the will to fight. The darling was back. That was all that mattered. . . .

"Darling Entropy . . ." Disaster sighed dreamily, his fingers gracing the glass.

"In the flesh," the real one replied.

Feeling slightly guilty, but secretly proud of making him have a reaction like that..He seemed to think himself above her. Maybe her getting a reaction like that would wound his pride something rotten. Esha brought her cane to the front to try and catch the lightening, it would take the easiest path to the ground... that was the theory. She was caught of guard by Ambrose's voice.

"Ambrose?" She questioned twisting to see him while rather stupidly turning her back on her opponent, frowning at the rapid recovery of the now talking redhead boy. Apparently Disaster was too...he wasn't attacking anymore, but..Was Ambrose cured of whatever was wrong with him so suddenly? The way Disaster seemed to calm down it seemed so...And then a thing blocked his view. And their exit to the dorm. After a few bashes it seemed to her that the mirror was special somehow but it wasn't time to be complimenting the boy on the durability of his mirror. How was the thing even floating anyway?!

The stonegirl wanted to get the sheet away but after a moment of enraged howling and panicked bashing he stopped and he seemed to be talking to someone. His tone had completely changed to something of a cooing noise. 'Entropy..' She'd heard of that, not exactly what it meant or anything but it wasn't good thing apparently. When it was fun to swallow dictionaries maybe she would do just that.

She looked to Owen for a second and back to Ambrose when Ambrose seemed to answer to that name.."E-Entropy?" She asked quietly, confusion painted across her face.

By this point, Owen was feeling all sorts of emotions, and relief wasn't one of them. He should've been glad that the boy was back on his feet again, but there was something off about him. Something... just a tad different.

He only watched to see the scene play before him. Ambrose and this strange fellow... What sort of relationship did they have? In fact, what was even going on, and why wasn't anyone providing him with answers any more useful than vague, frantic blatherings? The mirror didn't seem to be helping at all - in fact, it seemed be almost as helpful as himself. With a discreet mutter, he called it back to him - fearing for even its safety in front of this demonstratively unpredictable man. But it didn't move once from its position.

With little time to be confused, he simply watched the unfolding scene, unwilling to dip his fingers into what he saw was already an unruly mess.

The thing that was once Ambrose inhaled deeply when Esha spoke his name. "Yes . . ." The creature paused, his elation fading fast. He cleared his throat as if something was wrong with it. The sound just wasn't right-- "There." Much better. His twisted grin returned once more.

Disaster's perfect image of Ambrose faded away all too soon, the glass shards returning to their master. "No--!" His paled face quickly turned a vivid scarlet as the deity realized what had happened. He had been played with-- by a mortal. And, like all of Them, such incidences could never go unseen. A chorus of laughter was soon heard from above.

Did you see that?!
Of course I did, we ALL did!
Occurrence, you complete and utter FOOL!

Disaster stared at the ground, frozen, embarrassed by the voices no one else could hear. Except for Entropy, of course, but he was laughing with Them, completely forgetting the joy of silence and instead opting for the hilarity of the moment.

"You seriously thought that was ME?" His laugh and smile were all so carefree, nothing like what the creature's face wore not five seconds ago. In a flash, however, his expression changed to utter rage. "You seriously thought that was ME? I am not limited by a reflection flection fraction. I am ENDLESS. And, YOU," the monstrosity turned towards the spectators in the room, Owen and Esha, "will BOW."

(( I changed Entropy's font to a dark grey because the original black wasn't reading well on the new background. ))