#and they thought liquid fresh water is only a tiny fraction of what exists on our planet compared to saline

[wowbright]

I watched Knock At The Cabin and I'm not sure how I feel about it but it was better than I expected. I mean, at this point with M Night Shyamalan I just go in prepared for deep disappointment, and I didn't get that!

[chaoticonsciousarch]

DATE: FEBRUARY 12TH, 2012 [ SIX YEARS AFTER SONIC’S DEATH ] LOCATION: UNDISCLOSED LABORATORY, MOBIUS

Isolated; transfixed; tireless.

Christopher Ivo Thorndyke had brought along with him, the dead corpse of the mobian hedgehog known as Sonic Rennard, in some desperate hope of bringing his friend, his love, back to life.

He had gathered all seven of the Chaos Emeralds, and locked himself and Sonic away. Deep, underground, in an old abandoned bunker once used to shelter from bomb raids. Christopher had retooled it in order to work.

It was necessary to keep Sonic’s body in some type of stasis; to prevent him from rotting. Sonic could not come back to life, only to die again. If Christopher lost him, a second time–

Well. He hadn’t the mental fortitude to even think of such a thing.

He had used the Chaos Emeralds’ mystic powers, understanding through research of their properties. He had managed to use them to keep Sonic’s body in stasis; to keep it as fresh as it had been when Sonic had been murdered.

Unknown to Christopher, he had also stalled the time of his universe entirely. No one else, outside of the bunker and some bits of it where Sonic were stored, would age. Would change. No time would pass for them.

Only Christopher’s body continued to age; he continued to age, as he worked obsessively, trying to understand the workings of the Chaos Emeralds; that Chaos Energy, that Pure Chaos Energy, distilled into a tangible form. Christopher needed it in a liquid form so he would inject Sonic with it, with enough concentration of it, so that way Sonic could be brought back from death.

Six years after Sonic had initially been killed, Christopher succeeded.

At the age of 22, he had managed to bring tangible form to that Chaos Energy. He had managed to store it in vials, which he then compiled into a larger, make-shift injection device. It would be a lot, in one go, almost like a hose just pumping water, but necessary.

For Sonic, he would do anything.

Exhaling a breath that Christopher hadn’t realised he had held in him, he watched as the last remnants of that green glowing Pure Chaos Energy pulled into Sonic’s lifeless corpse.

Seconds ticked by.

Nothing happened.

Christopher’s breath grew shallow in desperation, and he rushed over to where Sonic’s body was. He reached out, both of his hands rested on Sonic’s shoulders.

A sudden, burst of energy, it blew Christopher backwards. Away from Sonic’s body; but as he did, just before he was pushed back, that energy, that blackened tar like substance, it had pulled itself into Christopher’s lungs. Into Christopher’s eyes, into Christopher’s nose. It had happened instantaneously, so quick that Christopher did not consciously register what had transpired, only that he had been pushed backwards.

He was on the floor now, and moved to get up. Slowly. So slowly, as though the very fabric of time itself had distorted around him. Each tiny movement Christopher made, afterimages of himself stayed behind. Each of these afterimages had their own breath. Christopher stood up, and began to wildly turn around on the spot.

He could see them; those afterimages of himself. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten– there were well over 30 dozen. All at once, there was no silence. Not for Christopher. Not anymore.

He heard the breathing of his selves, not in unison, but delayed by mere milliseconds from each other, and watched as they all slowly turned to look into him, from all sides. But they did not move from where they had initially been created.

Immediately, those selves sucked back into him, almost too violently, and Christopher in-took a very sharp, sudden breath. As he did so, he could see endlessly.

Every single universe that had ever existed, or did exist, or would exist: he saw them all. Overlaying one another, overlapping, cutting into and destroying, melding and creating, barely touching and collapsing. That sheer silence was so loud; the noise of everything had become so mashed together that it was nothing and vast all at once.

He could feel. The thoughts, the emotions; the existence of every single atom of being, of death, of creation and destruction and there that there was to have. It was not a sudden wave, it was not a drowning tide. It was simply itself, settling inside of Christopher.

This had all happened, in a fraction of barely a millisecond; because then Christopher was suddenly back on the floor. Had he dropped? Had his body moved at all?

A voice. Distorted, at first; but becoming clearer.

“….ey….! ….Hey! Hey!! Are you alright!?” A hand, on his face; Christopher’s blue eyes, they refocused.

The blurred, pulled back together, and Sonic’s face was staring down at him.

Oh.

The most beauty he had ever seen.

“….Sonic….” the name was weak; a name he had not uttered in six whole years. Six years, lifetimes now, but it still mattered. It sounded like peace on Christopher’s lips, “you’re alright…”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Sonic smiled; and Christopher breathed in,

“Who are you?”

he didn’t breathe out. Christopher laid there, staring up at Sonic, but not seeing him. The second those words had left Sonic’s mouth – no recognition; like a stranger’s voice, meeting for the first time – Christopher was seeing not the room, not his love: but those pathways.

The endless universes where he and Sonic existed together. In every single one. In every single state of being. Christopher lost Sonic. Christopher was nothing. Christopher should never have existed. Christopher would be deemed a pariah.

Christopher’s eyes, immediately, they changed: a black shade overtook his sclera, and his blue eyes blinked into a crimson red.

That breath came out then: not as an exhale, but as a scream.

[chaoticspeedarch]

DATE: FEBRUARY 12TH, 2012 [ SIX YEARS AFTER SONIC’S DEATH ] LOCATION: UNDISCLOSED LABORATORY, MOBIUS

Isolated; transfixed; tireless.

Christopher Ivo Thorndyke had brought along with him, the dead corpse of the mobian hedgehog known as Sonic Rennard, in some desperate hope of bringing his friend, his love, back to life.

He had gathered all seven of the Chaos Emeralds, and locked himself and Sonic away. Deep, underground, in an old abandoned bunker once used to shelter from bomb raids. Christopher had retooled it in order to work.

It was necessary to keep Sonic’s body in some type of stasis; to prevent him from rotting. Sonic could not come back to life, only to die again. If Christopher lost him, a second time--

Well. He hadn’t the mental fortitude to even think of such a thing.

He had used the Chaos Emeralds’ mystic powers, understanding through research of their properties. He had managed to use them to keep Sonic’s body in stasis; to keep it as fresh as it had been when Sonic had been murdered.

Unknown to Christopher, he had also stalled the time of his universe entirely. No one else, outside of the bunker and some bits of it where Sonic were stored, would age. Would change. No time would pass for them.

Only Christopher’s body continued to age; he continued to age, as he worked obsessively, trying to understand the workings of the Chaos Emeralds; that Chaos Energy, that Pure Chaos Energy, distilled into a tangible form. Christopher needed it in a liquid form so he would inject Sonic with it, with enough concentration of it, so that way Sonic could be brought back from death.

Six years after Sonic had initially been killed, Christopher succeeded.

At the age of 22, he had managed to bring tangible form to that Chaos Energy. He had managed to store it in vials, which he then compiled into a larger, make-shift injection device. It would be a lot, in one go, almost like a hose just pumping water, but necessary.

For Sonic, he would do anything.

Exhaling a breath that Christopher hadn’t realised he had held in him, he watched as the last remnants of that green glowing Pure Chaos Energy pulled into Sonic’s lifeless corpse.

Seconds ticked by.

Nothing happened.

Christopher’s breath grew shallow in desperation, and he rushed over to where Sonic’s body was. He reached out, both of his hands rested on Sonic’s shoulders.

A sudden, burst of energy, it blew Christopher backwards. Away from Sonic’s body; but as he did, just before he was pushed back, that energy, that blackened tar like substance, it had pulled itself into Christopher’s lungs. Into Christopher’s eyes, into Christopher’s nose. It had happened instantaneously, so quick that Christopher did not consciously register what had transpired, only that he had been pushed backwards.

He was on the floor now, and moved to get up. Slowly. So slowly, as though the very fabric of time itself had distorted around him. Each tiny movement Christopher made, afterimages of himself stayed behind. Each of these afterimages had their own breath. Christopher stood up, and began to wildly turn around on the spot.

He could see them; those afterimages of himself. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten-- there were well over 30 dozen. All at once, there was no silence. Not for Christopher. Not anymore.

He heard the breathing of his selves, not in unison, but delayed by mere milliseconds from each other, and watched as they all slowly turned to look into him, from all sides. But they did not move from where they had initially been created.

Immediately, those selves sucked back into him, almost too violently, and Christopher in-took a very sharp, sudden breath. As he did so, he could see endlessly.

Every single universe that had ever existed, or did exist, or would exist: he saw them all. Overlaying one another, overlapping, cutting into and destroying, melding and creating, barely touching and collapsing. That sheer silence was so loud; the noise of everything had become so mashed together that it was nothing and vast all at once.

He could feel. The thoughts, the emotions; the existence of every single atom of being, of death, of creation and destruction and there that there was to have. It was not a sudden wave, it was not a drowning tide. It was simply itself, settling inside of Christopher.

This had all happened, in a fraction of barely a millisecond; because then Christopher was suddenly back on the floor. Had he dropped? Had his body moved at all?

A voice. Distorted, at first; but becoming clearer.

“....ey....! ....Hey! Hey!! Are you alright!?” A hand, on his face; Christopher’s blue eyes, they refocused.

The blurred, pulled back together, and Sonic’s face was staring down at him.

Oh.

The most beauty he had ever seen.

“....Sonic....” the name was weak; a name he had not uttered in six whole years. Six years, lifetimes now, but it still mattered. It sounded like peace on Christopher’s lips, “you’re alright...”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Sonic smiled; and Christopher breathed in,

“Who are you?”

he didn’t breathe out. Christopher laid there, staring up at Sonic, but not seeing him. The second those words had left Sonic’s mouth -- no recognition; like a stranger’s voice, meeting for the first time -- Christopher was seeing not the room, not his love: but those pathways.

The endless universes where he and Sonic existed together. In every single one. In every single state of being. Christopher lost Sonic. Christopher was nothing. Christopher should never have existed. Christopher would be deemed a pariah.

Christopher’s eyes, immediately, they changed: a black shade overtook his sclera, and his blue eyes blinked into a crimson red.

That breath came out then: not as an exhale, but as a scream.