Winds of Change

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

~Severus and Wesley don’t move until the convulsions and vomiting diminish and the sores begin to heal. While the sickness lasted, they had felt like they were being turned inside-out through vomiting, and with tender sores, the thought of crawling across the rocky landscape of Level 2 wasn’t appealing, if it had had any appeal to begin with. But now Wesley and Severus begin their journey once again. They stay on a low and straight course; in this way, they are relatively safe from the natives and their electrical touch, and most of the wind passes harmlessly over them. But they soon realize that they must have been in the eye of the storm, as the winds pick up and press closer upon them, regardless of how flat they attempt to be.

Snape’s cloak is both their undoing and their good fortune. A particularly strong gust catches the voluminous folds and draws them both back into the buffeting storm. Once more, they are swept helplessly along, clutching desperately to each other’s arms, and are carried higher than ever before. Snape is glad that his cloak doesn’t fasten at his throat, or he would be choked, but as it is, the cloak seems to be cutting into his armpits. From this height, Severus and Wesley can see that Level 2 is nearly completely surrounded by towering cliffs of jagged rocks that help to keep the winds swirling; there is a relatively small break in them that had allowed their direct passage from Level 1, which can be seen from their vantage point as the winds spiral them back towards their native level. They can see the inviting glow of the buildings below. Snape still doesn’t feel quite like himself, and as he looks down, and perhaps that is why he can’t help but yell out a quip.~

I CAN SEE OUR HOUSES FROM UP HERE!

~He’s not sure if Wesley has heard his comment over the deafening roar of the wind, but the next moment, it doesn’t matter. They are swept past, and Snape knows that they will continue to spiral unless luck or their own ingenuity comes to the rescue. Snape doesn’t really believe in luck. With much effort, he reaches up and gropes blinding for the edge of his cloak; perhaps if he can draw it back in, they might get some control over how quickly and how high the wind will carry them. He grabs an edge, and almost instantly, he feels a jerk as the cloak stops whipping randomly and billows like a sail, pushing them instead of dragging them. This would not be so bad, Snape thinks, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s facing away from their forward motion and can’t see to steer.

A particularly strong gust carries them over the jagged edge of a peak, just barely. But now they have a different, if not predictable, problem. They are no longer over Level 2, and with no wind to sustain them, they are falling at a speed that Snape would rather not contemplate. There isn’t anything to do but close his eyes and hope for the best which, as it turns out, wasn’t as bad as it could have been, at least for himself. He lands with a jarring crash onto something monstrously huge but squishy...and terribly foul-smelling. He has landed face-first into what apparently is the bloated, decaying carcass of some giant beast. For a moment he can only lie there, but the wiggling of maggots against his mouth and the stench soon make him stagger shakily to his feet. Ignoring the pain of his bruised and likely broken body, and wiping putrifaction and insect larvae from his face, he carefully sits up and looks around. Level 3—they made it past the second level and into the third. He looks around, concerned, for Wesley.~

Comments

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

ooc- hey, sis, I'm gonna make you two search for each other. he he he

*Wesley's nowhere to be found; he's landed three carcasses away from Snape, hidden from view by the nauseating mountains of carrion. He calls Snape's name, but gags instantly on the fetid air. It doesn't do a whole lot of good, he muses, to be whole again if you're debilitated by your very surroundings. He rips yet another strip of fabric, this time from the lining of his jacket, and ties it across his nose like a handkerchief.

He's not quite sure what happened- one minute they were in the air, the next, plummetting (that part he gets, having left the tempest of Level 2 behind) and seperated. He doesn't think he let go of Snape's arm, he didn't mean to, at any rate... He gets to his feet and scans the horizon. He doesn't think the denizens of Level 3, Gluttony, are probably the sort he wants to meet*

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

*Since Wesley is nowhere to been seen, Snape can only assume that he couldn't hold on. He's fairly certain he landed this side of Level 3-he remembers briefly the pain Pryce's nails gave him during free-fall, and he inspects the gouges with a well-isn't-this-just-typical expression.

He looks around at the disgusting landscape, littered with the hulking ruins of unidentifiable beasts. They probably had fallen from the sky like he had, he thinks wryly. Either that, or they were killed by the denizens.... Thinking about them, Snape decides that he had better be ready to fight if someone decides he looks like an entree, so he inspects the beast that had broken his fall. Reaching in, he ignores the squirming life busily devouring the body and feels around for a bone. Clutching one, he puts one foot up on the dead flesh to brace himself and pulls back sharply, wrenching away what appears to be most of a rib. He eyes it, knowing that if it doesn't work as a blunt weapon, it might serve as a distraction to the hungry masses. He turns around, studying the landscape once more, picks a direction, and starts walking.*

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

*Wesley can't believe he was foolish enough to call for Snape in an unknown land- that cry might have alerted others of his presence. Instead of risking another likely fruitless attempt to contact Snape, he rations that the most logical course is to prepare himself for any encounter and to keep moving, hoping to either cross paths with Snape or to at least find some indication of his whereabouts. He grimaces and pries loose a gigantic tooth from the maw of some long dead beast (a pure demon, maybe?) and can't help but examine the specimen more closely. He IS a demonologist, after all, by training and by nature.*

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

*Snape finds that the best way to proceed is to advance with little thought to just what is underfoot. Every so often, he finds that he needs to use the rib to help steady himself; he decides that after all that convulsing, his missteps are just his body's attempt to reorient itself with walking. Or is it more than that? he can't help but wonder, since one barely has time to recover from one widespread pandemic than another happens to take its place. Still, this beats vomiting so far, and he is determined to forge ahead as much as possible, keeping on the alert, both visually and audibly, for signs or sounds of Wesley.

He eyes a shade ahead, slim of build, and for a moment thinks it might be Pryce. But while Wesley is trim, he's not gaunt...and Snape realizes that this person shambling towards him must be a native Level 3. He casually changes directions but is dismayed to see the shade...well...shadowing him. He grips his rib tighter and picks up his pace, but the shade is determined to hunt him down, and moves with surprising speed. Snape decides to hurry a little more quickly, and breaks into a run, with the shade loping after him. But one of those damn extra steps he seems to be doing lately trips him up and he falls, rolling to his feet as soon as he can, with weapon ready. The ravenous, skeletal shade charges, teeth bared and ready, and Snape, with a war cry, swings his rib at the shade's head.*

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

*It began as innocent curiousity, though Wesley would be the first to admit "innocent" is not a word recently applied to himself, and his stronger than most curiousity has gotten him into some serious predicaments before, but as he examines the recently extracted tooth, he finds himself lost in a wave of regret that can only be the effects of his personal torment from Level 1. He thinks of his childhood, his schoolmates, his mentors, his first assignment upon graduation...Faith. And Buffy. And of more recent losses, failures, dismissals...

His reverie is cut into by a somewhat familiar sounding shriek- could that possibly be Snape? Is he in trouble? He thinks no further, wields the tooth, and runs headlong toward the sound of melee.

Wesley had spent the last two years of his life honing the weapons and hand to hand training he'd received at the Watcher's Academy. He'd gained confidence and a hard edged determinaton after so many years of failure. He had moved from ungainly, uncoordinated clutz to a deadly extention of his weapons, so it very much surprises him when he missteps as he lunges for the attacking shade and manages to imbed the fearsome demon's tooth firmly in another large carcass very like the one the fang formerly belonged to*

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

*Snape's swing misses as the shade itself also stumbles, toppling towards him while he tries to backstep. He sees Wesley Pryce running towards him, wielding something that, from this distance, seems to be a knife. Snape is grateful that it is now 2 against 1. Even as he thinks this, the shade, so shrunken and filthy in its tattered rags that Snape cannot determine its gender, slithers quickly to Snape's leg. It ignores the blows from Snape's improvised weapon and sinks its teeth into his left calf, tearing a fist-sized piece out of it. Snape falls and kicks out with his right foot, smashing into the shade's face and forcing it to let go, just as Wesley comes up, lunging to strike it. Snape notices Pryce's own misstep and decides that, yes, this is another of Hell's cruel periodic jokes. But he is grateful that Pryce's weapon-a tooth by the look of it-missed him, at least. But these jerky movements make defending yourself difficult at the very least.

The shade has noticed that Wesley is now closer to it, and quickly pounces, while Snape staggers painfully to his feet, yelling out a warning while now trying to impale the shade with the monstrous rib.*

Die! Lose consciousness! Stop trying to eat us!

*Snape repeats after each attempt to pin it to the ground*

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

*Wesley is too well trained and experienced in battle these days to allow himself time to puzzle over his own retro-clumsiness. He rolls to his feet and encourages the starving shade to pounce, then jams the enormous tooth through the top of the shade's open and expectant maw, piercing its sustenance deprived brain and (at least for the moment) effectively stopping it. He examines his arm, nearly bitten in two, as he works to free the tooth from the corpse.*

Are you experiencing...?

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

...a bit of awkwardness when moving? Yes.

*He looks at Wesley closely, noticing that they now both seem to be bleeding profusely, but nothing vital seems to have been damaged. His smile, while strained, is genuine; he is grateful he's not alone anymore. Hell is unpleasant enough, even with company, but it is downright dangerous not to have someone you can trust to watch your back.*

I see you're armed to the teeth, so to speak.

*He gives the fang in Wesley's hand an appraising look.*

I'd like one of those myself, if possible.

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

There's a whole mouthful of them back where I was... three mouths, actually. Rather gruesome. I think perhaps it was some distant relative of the Pla'carath species, possibly pre-


*he stops abruptly, and clears his throat*

I think we should try to stop the bleeding; the scent might attract-

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

*Snape looks down at the gaping hole in his leg, and thinks about Fluffy, the three-headed dog who had bitten his leg once before, and Nagini, the Dark Lord's snake that had ripped out his throat with her fangs. He'd rather hoped things would have stopped biting him by now.*

I don't know about you, but I might need a tourniquet.

*Still, he takes off his cloak and sets it aside before deciding which layer of cloth to sacrifice as a bandage; he decides to use his innermost shirt and work his way out. He forsees the need for more bandages in the future, but the chill he brings with him from Level 1 makes him hesitate to use any of his heavier clothes. That, and they'd be harder to tear.

And he wonders how long Wesley will even be clothed if they don't start using some of his own, too.*

Then show me where I can get those teeth. Blunt objects don't seem to be as effective.

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

I don't think a tourniquet's a good idea. It will only serve to hinder, and I don't think it's necessary her in Hell to keep you from losing a limb. Just try to cover the blood and not leave a trail.

*Wes removes his jacket and, without tearing it, ties the arms tightly around his shredded arm, making a sling.*

Perhaps we can find more serviceable weapons on other corpses. This level is littered with them. I can't even identify most of them.

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

That's comforting.

*Snape finishes bandaging his leg as best he can, but he isn't sure that it will hold as he walks. Unfortunately, he can't put his leg in a sling like Wesley can with his arm, but he does use the large rib a bit like a staff as he limps along, trying to make small talk to keep his mind off the pain.*

So tell me about some of these demon species you've been trained to identify.

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

*self derisive grunt*

It's experience that's really provided the education. Not that I didn't commit to memory every new scrap of information I encountered in my studies at the Academy, but textbook descriptions of these creatures doesn't really provide an accurate appreciation.

*He draws himself up straighter as more local shades come into view. Luckily, they're too busy devouring/fending off one another to yet notice the two out of place travelers.*

That, *Wes points to the corpse the shades are fighting over,* was once a Trr'rarkrz demon. Magnificent and relatively harmless beasts. Amazing orbital crest plummage, highly nutritious, as well, if you remember not to ingest the corrosive inner flesh lining...

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

Someone probably already has in this place.

*Snape grimaces as he takes a step he hadn't intended, and of course it is his bad leg that does so. He inhales sharply through his teeth as quietly as he can, making a small hissing noise. He glances at the cannibalistic shades tearing mindlessly at each other to see if they've noticed, but they still seem to be preoccupied with each other.*

You know, we probably should get more organized about this. The levels are only going to get more dangerous the further down we go. We should have a plan for contingencies, and a list of things we might be able to use if we find. Like the teeth and rib for weapons.

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

I agree.

*Wes too takes a misstep, and fumbles to avoid catching himself with his bad arm. He winds up slipping on some digestive goo and counterbalancing enough not to fall, but his cry has alerted several shades to his presence. They begin shambling toward the two protagonists, moaning their hunger.*

I think a tactical retreat might be in order. Put your arm around me and use your "crutch." They're starving and weak, and surely they won't move very fast...

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

*Snape remembers how surprisingly quick the previous shade was, but doesn't comment. Instead, he complies with Wesley's instruction so that they're hobbling along together. This is awkward, however, especially with the occasional extra steps or movements of one or the other, and it becomes clear to him that they might be better off if he simply grits his teeth and tries to ignore the pain. Especially when he looks back to find the shades gaining on them.*

Not working. We need a more tactical plan than this one. How about finding a piece of high ground to defend, like that big corpse over there? I should be able to make it that far fairly quickly on my own.

*He gives a twisted smile*

I've been bitten as bad or worse than this twice before.

*Of course, that last time didn't deal with his leg, but his neck, and he does need his leg to move, but he doesn't mention this to Wesley.*

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

That, or the corpse over there with the hollowed out chest cavity. Run for it, and I'll keep them back for you until you've safely made it.

*He hefts his toothsword masterfully*

We can formulate a more far reaching plan once we're secure.

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

*Snape quickly weighs his options; run towards the slightly closer hollowed chest cavity, or the high ground of the monstrous corpse that's a little farther away. He doesn't like the thought of being trapped in the cavity if they should be outnumbered, and the smell of being inside a rotting corpse...was there ever a choice? He gritted his teeth and ran to the bloated corpse and started climbing, keeping part of his attention focused on Wesley, in case he needed help.*

Run, Wesley! I'm climbing up now!

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

*Wesley only half notices Snape's decision, engaged in combat as he is with the gluttonous shades. There are five of them now, and the only saving grace for Wes is that they're having the same bizarre difficulty with their motor skills that he is. He has become an accomplished fighter, and if he weren't impaired he would be having no problem whatsoever. As it is, he's managing to hold his own but he does have to keep shaking zealous shades off his tooth where they've bitten and won't let go.*

Snape! Are you there? Can you see the horizon? Can you see the far edge of the level? Look for more mountains- larger ones! They should appear to be huge, daunting cliffs...

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

*Snape looks around and spots smudges that might be gray cliffs on the horizon, but the next moment, when he looks back at Wesley, he decides that the more immediate concern is to assist his comrade. Taking a deep breath, he plunges his hand into the spongy body beneath him and pulls out something soft and squidgy, probably some part of an organ, and lobs it at the shades. He reaches in and finds himself up to his shoulder in rotten flesh as his arm goes deeper than he'd intended, of its own accord. Still, he grabs whatever is available and starts throwing gobbets of putrid flesh and bits of bone, hopefully giving Pryce the opportunity to either attack or flee.*

I think I see them, but they're quite a ways off, *he calls down.*

Is this helping you at all? *he adds, throwing another bit of rotting internal organ down.*

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

*Wesley's stomach churns and he grimaces, wrenching the toothsword from the mouths of one the ravenous shades and swinging it in a ground-clearing arc.*

It's positively revolting, but in a slightly beneficial way, *he calls.* The poor devils are just opening their mouths and letting you lob the flesh in.

He stabs the tooth at one still enticed by the promise of fresh meat, and it shrieks piteously. Wesley almost feels bad for it until it latches on to his toothsword once more and throws itself to the filthy fetid ground, taking Wes with it. Immediately he's set upon by three of the five shades, Wes stabbing frantically and striking out visciously with his foot, snapping it out and drawing it back in quickly lest a shade clamp down.*

Head for the cliffs, I'll catch up to you.

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

I am NOT getting separated from you again! Besides, do you think these five are the only gluttons in Hell? What happens if I meet up with more--or you do?

*He pauses to grope around inside the carcass, grabbing what seems to be an intestine-whether large or small, he can't guess, but it feels large enough. He starts pulling out lengths of gut like a magician pulling out silk scarves from his sleeve. Coils of it slither down the bloated corpse and fall to the ground below. He follows, dragging the intestine, which he flings awkwardly towards the melee, his arm flying wildly with the throw, as if he overcompensated. In fact, his arm has overcompensated by itself, but Snape is undeterred.*

Try giving them this!

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

Don't worry about me, *Wes calls again. He doesn't know how good Snape might be in combat without a wand. He seems resourceful enough...

Wes catches at the intestine and uses it to garotte two of the shades together, leaving them clawing and choking at his feet. He hates to admit it, but it somewhat feels good to be in a melee once more, stretching his muscles and taking down opponents. He had become ruthless in his life, fighting the forces of evil with equal cruelty and indifference, which, he muses, is probably part of the reason he's here. But how else do you fight such an omnipotent foe but to strike back in a similar manner?

He's managed to beat down the five shades suitable for escape, and he doesn't hesitate to scramble to Snape's side and beat a hasty retreat, matching his pace to Snape's. He glances at the tooth weapon; it's mauled and chipped, and he doesn't know how much longer it will last as a weapon.*

Let's just focus on getting out of here. Level 4 might not be quite so antagonistic...

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

Oh, yes, I imagine that from now on, the people and the neighborhoods are going to be so much more pleasant.

*He pauses, then adds,*

But at least the next level won't be full of mindless, cannibalistic shades trying to eat us.

*He notes Wesley's rather battered tooth and knows that his rib is also cracked from the last shade he'd pummelled.*

And let me know if you see a suitable corpse for more weapons. I think ours are wearing out, and frankly, I wouldn't mind having something to take with me into the next level, either.

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

*Wes is running, probably faster than Snape with his bad leg and certainly faster than he should be with the impaired motor skills, but he wants to take advantage of the downed shades. He is looking for weapons, a comes to a slippery halt near a more modestly sized corpse, digestive goo flipping up as he skids.*

This is perfect! Help me rip open the arms!

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

The arms? What's in the arms?

*Despite his confusion, he helps tear at the decomposing flesh.*

[deadwesley1.livejournal.com]

Just be careful of the poison.

*After a cryptic pause, Wes tears out a long, thin, whiplike bit of cartilage, turning his face away from the operation. Snape sees he is careful to also extract what looks to be a venom sac, firm and full, attatched to the end of the bit like a perfume atomizer. Once the organ is removed, Snape can see that it's stronger than it looked, and Wesley seems determined to use it like a fencing foil.*

It's a specialized bone in this species. There should be one in each arm. The toxin is powerful and should still be quite effective. It's deadly.

[severus-snape1.livejournal.com]

*Snape sighs and shakes his head slightly, but manages to free the second bone and sac.*

You realize I have no experience in weapons, except for a wand. When we have a moment when we don't fear for our lives, you probably should start giving me lessons.