PARTY PARTY PARTY I WANNA HAVE A PARTY
"I'm sorry Violet, but I can't let you go through with this!"
"Why? Is it your "obligation to the law"? I told you already, I'm doing the world a favor!"
"You don't get it do you? I'm doing this for you! For your sake!"
"For my sake? I appreciate the gesture, but it's pretty meaningless by now. Look at me! I'm a goddamn monster! Things can't really get worse for me at this point!"
"No, you look at yourself! Monster? Don't make me laugh. You're just a scared little girl who decided to play the part so she wouldn't have to own up to what she's done!"
The chaos ceased, like time had stopped. That implacable stride that had led her through this bloodied battlefield was staggered. Violet stood perfectly still.
"You're no monster Violet. Powers or no powers, you're a human, just like the rest of us. And humans have to deal with the price of their sin. You just want to think you're some fairy-tale monster so you don't have to deal with that reality. Stop this Violet. While you still have people willing to help you shoulder the burden of your sins."
"What do you... What do you goddamn know about me?!"
Emotion overpowering her, she groped for his mind, grabbing on to it with every intent to crush it into little pieces. She dug in deep, sinking her fangs into his mind with all the blind rage of a wounded beast, forgetting everything. Everything they'd shared. Everything he'd done for her. Everything she felt for him.
I know you're nowhere near as bad as you think you are Violet.
She recoiled with surprise. As she had reached his mind, so had his reached hers.
You don't have to do this anymore. You don't have to be afraid of what you are. You're just another one of us. You're just you, Violet. You always will be.
He'd struck deep. Her vice-like hold on his mind receeded, and she collapsed.
edited 5th Jun '11 11:02:27 PM by KSPAM
I've got new mythological machinery, and very handsome supernatural scenery. Goodfae: a mafia web serial
Two-bit blockhead
LONGBOTTOM: When you put it like that, the whole thing sounds stupid.
I need a drink
A scene from my Superhero comic currently called Legacies. Newly emerged from retirement, Dean talks about some of the challenges being a superhero was back in the old days with his love interest and former workmate April over a drink at his apartment.
April: Y'know, there wasn't a day I didn't consider it. There were a few times I thought about walking straight up to you and confronting you about it.
Dean: What stopped you?
April: What was I supposed to say? "My boss is a superhero"? Besides, deep down I don't think anyone back then wanted think about it, could think about it or even consider it. You were doing something amazing, did it matter who you really were.
April stares into the fire for a few seconds as Dean stares at her face. She takes a sip of the scotch before finding a way to bring the humour back into the conversation.
April: Besides it's not like you were doing all that great a job at hiding it.
Dean: What are you talking about! I did a damn good job!
April: Are you kidding? Anytime anyone wanted to talk to you, you were always out of the office practising your swing or something. Or what about the time you came to work with that horrible bruise on your face, it was all purple and swollen and everything. We all thought you mugged.
Dean: Oh yeah, I remember that one. I was fighting The Red Soldier and he manage to sneak up behind me with a pipe and wham. Just didn't react fast enough. You have no idea how much that hurt. How did I try to cover it up again?
April: You didn't. You just said to mind our own damn business and get back to work.
April: There were other things too y'know.
Dean: Ok, now your just...
April: No, really. It was just these small things, like the way you would just stare out the window. It was like the whole world was on your shoulders. I just thought it was the job but looking back now, I can only imagine what it must've been like.
April: Why did you stop?
Dean: I...to be honest I just gave up. If I was to chalk it up to anything I guess it was pride. I felt that nothing I ever did was going to be good enough for people, or that somehow, along the road, I was going to mess up; I was going to fail...and that you were going to replace me. Then you took my job and that was it, I just couldn't take it. Y'know over the years, I actually managed to convince myself that you all weren't worth it. I thought you weren't worth the pain or the time.
April: So why did you come back then? If you were so hurt and we were so pathetic why did you come back?
Dean: Because...because I realised that it didn't matter to me anymore. It sounds stupid, but I realised it didn't matter whether or not I was replaceable, I had more to give. I have more to give.
edited 6th Jun '11 7:32:27 AM by AtomJames
Theres sex and death and human grime in monochrome for one thin dime and at least the trains all run on time but they dont go anywhere.
He reached the end of the shelves and paused, unsure of what to do. If he looked around the corner, the werewolf might be able to see him, too. But if he didn’t look around, he wouldn’t know where it was.
Screw it, he thought, and stuck his head out.
The werewolf was still on the other end of the aisle, sniffing the ground. Frig, Xavier thought, it can smell me. He should’ve known that earlier. However, the werewolf seemed almost completely occupied with the ground, and didn’t notice Xavier.
Xavier slowly pulled the revolver from his jacket. He had never fired a gun before, not even at a shooting range. He might be able to shoot and kill it, but he might also miss and only attract its attention. He didn’t want that.
A thought occurred to him, and he flipped the cylinder out of the revolver. Two bullets left. Not wanting to press his luck, Xavier flipped the cylinder back in and started tiptoeing down another aisle.
82123
One from Stuck:
"Whatcha doin'?"
Nora perked up, then turned toward me and breathed out in relief.
"Oh, nothing." she said. Her voice went down as she said "nothing", which had to mean...
"You're lying. What's wrong?" I asked as I sat down next to her.
She spaced out for a sec, then sighed. "I think I might have to run again."
"To the mall?"
"To anywhere but here." She groaned.
"Why would you need to, Nor? We're not being hunted anymore, and I don't think Todd's coming back any ti—"
"It's not about that, Tre." she said, raising her tone. She was irritated, so I shut up.
"I put you guys in this mess of a week. It's all my fault for not having the ability to deal with my stupid home life in the fourth grade." she continued.
"Nora, this wasn't your fault. None of it was. Weisgerber just wanted revenge. Don't blame yourself."
"But I'm always the reason weird stuff happens around here. It's always me living in a shopping mall, or me being the girl who kicked some dude in the groin at the Mordecai Lounge, or that fugitive chick, and I don't want to be that girl anymore. But Greyson City won't let me change."
We just sat there for a few.
And then, I whispered, "Maybe I don't want you to change."
She turned to me nervously and I smiled at her.
"You mean you're -fine- with going through all of my cra—"
Before she got the chance to go on another rant I wrapped my arms around her back and kissed her. She was shocked for a bit, but then, she relaxed as I let go.
"I don't just like it. It's what I -live for-."
Her jaw dropped.
"Nora Irving, you have made me a completely different person this past year. You have turned me into a character worth writing a book about, the opposite of boring, the epitome of being moderately awesome. Not only that, you are a charming, funny, sweet and incredibly beautiful young woman that any sane guy should kill to have. And that is why I am in like with you."
She looked at me like I was crazy for a sec, then beamed at me with the biggest grin I'd ever seen on her and gave me a hug.
"D'you wanna go back to the party?" she asked.
"I'd be honored." I replied.
I took Nora's hand and then jumped into the hole in the roof with her.
A Hannibal Lecture given by my primary antagonist. (For a reference of what she looks like, picture my avatar, all grown up.):
Barry: No, Rhonda. And it's either "Barry" or "Doctor Garrett". I have a doctorate, just like you.
Rhonda: Hahaha! You have a Psy. D, one of the most worthless degrees imaginable. Let me guess: you wrote your thesis on theoretical analyses of schizophrenia, hm? Using comic book villains as case studies? Heh. Psychology is one of the most incomplete "sciences" in existence, with empirical accuracy about equal to that of voodoo magic.
Barry: Oh good. If that's what you think, then that means you're certain to underestimate me.
Rhonda: We'll see. (3 mins of silence follows) For what it's worth, I can tell you were telling the truth. You aren't afraid of me.
Barry: How have you reasoned that?
Rhonda: The way your eyes move while we . . . chat. Most men, their eyes stop and linger on my . . . feminine attributes as a measure to "rationalize" me. My intellect scares them, so they reduce me to a "mere woman". An object. You don't. Though I see you . . . admiring . . . me sometimes, when we're engaged in conversation, your eyes never leave mine. Not once.
Barry: You're a very tantalizing woman, Rhonda. Extremely alluring and beautiful. However, in my experience, I find physical attractiveness to be something wonderful when enjoyed by parties who wish for mutual gain or pleasure. That isn't what exists here. Though I find you attractive, it doesn't sway me so long as you wish me ill.
Rhonda: So you think you know my intent, do you?
Barry: I tend to be talented at such.
Rhonda: Ah. Judging by how I've seen your irises jitter between one and one-tenth of a micrometer, I think you fashion yourself as something of a "human lie detector", able to successfully know when someone is deceiving you, is that correct?
Barry: . . .
Rhonda: Ah, it is. (chuckles) Well, here's an interesting fact: did you know that there was a recent test conducted involving a trained interrogator, an average citizen, and a coin to determine which was more accurate at deciphering lies? Do you know what the results were? (chuckles again) They were all EQUAL! Ha! Imagine that! The most trained interviewers, whose very occupations hinge upon being able to sift lies from truth, are no more effective than if I tossed a quarter on the floor.
Barry: . . .
Rhonda: Do I scare you now . . . "Doctor"?
edited 3rd Jul '11 11:16:40 PM by KingZeal
I changed accounts.
The beginning of a Crowning Moment Of Awesome from a video game concept I've been working on.
"Dammit... this is the drone bay. We have to turn around and..." Jennifer began angrily, but Omega raised his left hand for quiet, before spinning on heel to face the door again.
"They're coming." He said in his usual, cryptic monotone. Jacob brought his rifle to hip level and leaned back, facing the door from which they came. Combat in the room would not end well; there was little cover, save for the drone bays along the sides, which barely had enough space for a trooper to hide behind.
"Perfect. Fucking perfect." Jennifer said, bringing an armored palm to her helmet. The troopers—twelve of them—filed to the sides, crouching behind the drone bays as best they could and leveling their rifles at the door.
Omega turned his head to Jacob. His silver visor was opaque, but Jacob could feel his eyes on him despite being unable to see them. "You need to go to the surface." He said, flatly. His tone, although unchanged, left no room for argument.
"You need me more here." Jacob said, but Omega only shook his head. The movement was subtle, but, compared to the usual emotion Omega showed, he might as well have shouted.
"I can handle it. If all is going to plan, the Allied forces should be moving through the city now. You only have a small opportunity to go while the ships are above the correct position. Soon, they will have moved, and then it will be too late." He said, though his head turned back to the door. They had sealed it behind them, but a plasma torch was cutting through the metal; molten alloy flowed down to the floor, and Jacob knew they had only seconds before soldiers were firing particle lasers at them.
"So, what, you want us to jump? From orbit?" Jennifer asked, though her tone betrayed that she wasn't as opposed to the idea as she seemed.
"Do you see another method of reaching the area of battle rapidly enough?" Omega asked without removing his eyes from the door. His grip tightened and loosened visibly on his lance, and he spread his legs to shoulder width, ready to move at a moments notice.
"Point taken." Jennifer said, and without another word Jacob moved to the console. He cleared the distance in three strides, then held his hand over the interface. His armor activated the console, and then the floor began to open downwards only feet from him.
He stepped to the edge of the opening door, a movement which Jennifer mimicked to his left. She turned her gaze toward him and brought a hand up to the side of her helmet. The faceplate of her helmet went from opaque to transparent, and, in matching her actions, he was able to meet her dark brown eyes with his own hazel. They nodded in unison, and then there was an explosion behind them. Jacob turned, and saw Omega sprinting forward, left arm raised and energy shield activated as a barrage of purple particle fire rippled across its surface. He reached the first Riftwalker soldier to enter and smoothly brought his lance in a horizontal arc, slicing the alien in half, shields, armor, and all.
Then Jacob and Jennifer let themselves fall forward, into the raging space combat below.
edited 4th Jul '11 12:08:42 AM by USAF713
I am now known as Flyboy.
Fuzzy Orange Doomsayer
I'll put something here in a moment—watch this space! First, though, I need to experiment with the spoilertags.
[[spoiler:Paragraph one
2]]
edited 4th Jul '11 12:43:06 AM by feotakahari
That's Feo . . . He's a disgusting, mysoginistic, paedophilic asshat who moonlights as a shitty writer—Something Awful
You can only spoiler tag one paragraph at a time.
Fuzzy Orange Doomsayer
Let's try something different, then:
Their second date was a proper one, with flowers and a meal at a nice restaurant, but Mack's limited budget and Trisha's dislike of fancy food soon had them realizing they were better off keeping things informal. They met for the third time at his apartment, where they sat down on his bed and had themselves another talk. When he exhausted his discussion of the present (and showed no willingness to talk of his past), she found herself filling the gap in the conversation, telling him more and more about herself. Something in him invited trust, and she told him things she'd only said before to Betty, and even a few things she'd never told anyone before. When she, too, finished, they just sat there for a minute, close in body and feeling closer in mind.
"Who was Frost?" She didn't realize she'd asked him the question until a second after she'd done so, and then only from his startled expression.
Within five seconds, he was fully composed again, and his voice was neutral as he responded "Just someone I knew, a long time ago."
"I remember the way you said her name the other night. I can tell you've got some issue with her, something you can't forgive yourself for." She chuckled. "Confession is good for the soul, and who better to confess to than me? I don't know you well enough to blame you or judge you—it'll be like talking to a wall, unless you want me to talk back."
He eyed her for a long moment, and she could tell he was debating how much to tell her. Then he slumped forward and looked off into space.
"We called her Frost because she looked like she'd been snowed on, pale and strange, with funny-colored eyes that could never see very far ahead. None of us had ever seen an albino before, and the older folks told me her birth caused quite an uproar, though I was too young then to remember it. Half of us thought she was cursed. Even her parents wanted her abandoned to die. But my father thought she deserved a chance, and he was the closest thing we had to a leader. He and my mother wound up raising her alongside me."
"She was always a sickly girl. I don't know much about medicine, but I think something went wrong before she was born, something bigger than just albinism. She was never very strong or very fast, and she got tired so quickly. But she tried—believe me, she tried—and over time she strengthened up."
"The other kids thought she was an easy target, but only when I wasn't around. And I was around most of the time. There was something about her that made me want to protect her. It wasn't that she was different, or even that she was weak. It was that she didn't seem to care. There was something in the way she held herself that showed that she wanted to be more than she was; that someday she might be greater than all the rest of us. You have that something too—that's why you reminded me of her, even though you don't look anything like her."
"And then . . ." He trailed off.
"If you're not ready to talk about all of it yet, I'll understand," Trisha said.
Mack didn't respond directly. "It's getting late."
Before she ushered herself out, she asked him one last question. "How long ago was this?"
He only said, "A lifetime."
That's Feo . . . He's a disgusting, mysoginistic, paedophilic asshat who moonlights as a shitty writer—Something Awful
- This was a scene I wrote when I was experimenting with multiple points of view. Melody is the main character, Kitty is her best friend from childhood,Aiden is Melody's boyfriend, and Ivan is the main villain and Melody's grandfather. The whole Moose and Squirrel thing is an in-joke they have, due to the fact Melody's mother was Russian-born and her partner (Kitty's Dad) actually was nick-named Moose. The rest you can get from the except. Enjoy!
I couldn’t sleep, not with three agents of the Order sharing the room across the hall from me. It didn’t matter that two of them were Mel and Teddy. A lot can happen in six years and the Melody and Theodore Walker I knew would never willingly work for Ivan. I resolved that I wouldn’t fall for any of their tricks, I would treat them as any other enemy agent. As I tossed and turned in my bed, I heard humming and the sounds of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. I grabbed my gun and headed downstairs to investigate.
It was Mel, the initial shock of seeing her alive had worn off, and now that she was cleaned up and wearing a borrowed pair of my pajamas, I could see how much she had changed. She had been a little chubby as a kid, but the fat had been replaced by the trim, well-muscled physique of a soldier. Her back was turned to me, and I could see the network of scars that covered her shoulders. Her hair, which was her pride and joy and was always loose as a child, was pulled back into a neat, orderly, French braid. If she was wearing make-up over her scars, and sexy underwear instead of a tank top and baggy pajama bottoms, she wouldn’t have looked out of place on one of those pop up ads advertising “exotic” Russian brides. She was humming an old Russian folk song her mom had taught us when we were little, and she appeared to be making cookies. There were so many conflicting signals that I couldn’t tell if she was the innocent flower or the serpent under it. She looked like both.
She turned around and smiled guiltily. “Oh Kitty! I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”
I shook my head, “No I was up anyway.”
She chuckled. “I was just so nervous about tomorrow, and cooking helps calm my nerves. I’m making Mom’s Russian teacakes, wannna help? There’s tea in the samovar over there if you’re thirsty”, she said, gesturing to something that looked like a cross between a double boiler and an electric kettle. I hesitated, and she noticed. “Oh come on Kitty! It’s not poisoned or anything. What reason would I have to kill you? We’re- I mean, we were, best friends!”
“Yes. We were best friends. But you’ve changed Mel, a lot. I don’t know who you are anymore. One moment you’re dead, the next you’re alive and working for my sworn enemy! Tell me what I’m supposed to make of that, because I have no freaking clue!”
Mel sighed. “I deserve some of that. I was just so happy to see you and Stella again that I guess I never though about how things must look from your perspective. Six years is too much time to just pick up where we left off, especially considering we were on opposite sides of the war. But Kitty, I haven’t changed as much as you think I have.”
“The Melody I knew wasn’t a killer.” “I’m still not. I’ll admit I’ve done some terrible things, but the closest I’ve come to killing was the shot I took at Ivan the night he killed Mom and Dad. Which was clear cut self-defense, so I likely wouldn’t have ended up in jail even if I had killed him, and I do believe I was still ‘The Melody you knew’ back then.”
“You knew how to use a gun?”
“Yes, don’t you? I thought I saw one in your hand when you came down here.”
“Well of course I know how to use a gun now. But you were twelve.”
“And both my parents worked in law enforcement. They felt I was old enough to know how a gun works. Didn’t Moose teach you how to use his service weapon in case there was an emergency? I’m not implying they let me play with them or anything; I probably had gun safety drilled into me more than anyone else my age. ”
“I guess my Dad wasn’t as paranoid as your Dad.”
“It was my Mom’s idea. Besides it’s not paranoia if you turn out to be right. Deep down she must have known something.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I took a sip of tea to cover the awkwardness. It was much too strong. “Uggh, Mel! How can you drink this stuff?”
Mel chuckled. “You’re supposed to mix it with water from the bottom, like this.” She demonstrated how to use the samovar by pouring me a fresh cup. “Remember all our tea parties? Be careful with the undiluted stuff, it’s been known to make people hallucinate!”
“Mmmmmm, much improved.” I smiled in spite of myself, remembering our tea party shenanigans. While other girls were content with tea so weak it barely deserved the name, and more sugar than could be dissolved, we had the real deal. Stella’s Dad was often in London for business, and he was the one to teach us how to properly make English tea. Mrs. Walker, being Russian, was almost as obsessed with the drink, and now that I was thinking about it, I did remember the samovar being a fixture whenever we had a party at Mel’s place. We also weren’t content with just drinking tea and eating cucumber sandwiches, our tea parties were the stuff of epics. We had to be supervised after our infamous “Boston Tea Party” where we put feathers in our braided hair, adopted thick Bostonian accents and poured what was left of our tea in the apartment complex’s pool. We made quite a mess, I will admit, and were grounded for the better part of a month, but to this day I did not regret a moment of it. I think our parents eventually saw the humor of it, after all, how many five-year-old girls know exactly what the Boston tea party was anyway?
I shook my head, I needed to focus on the reason I can down here, not lose myself in memories of a happier time.
“That was smart of you, Mel, changing the subject like that, getting me to remember our childhood. I’m not going to fall for your tricks. As far as I’m concerned, my Melody died the night of the murder!”
Mel closed her eyes and sighed, “You’re right Kitty, but that doesn’t make me you’re enemy.” She said in a tired, worn, voice.
“You worked for Ivan, that’s all I need to know.”
“I was trying to keep Teddy alive! You go through Hell for six years at the hands of the man who murdered your parents, trying to provide for Jake and Amy as best you can because you’re the only family worth mentioning they’ve got left. You try looking into Squirrel’s eyes as she’s dying, and promising that you’d do what ever it takes to keep you and your siblings alive! See if you come out of that the same happy care-free eleven year old you were when I saw you last! That’s my story; you can take it or leave it. Now I want yours.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“I’m not the only one who’s changed a lot, Kitty. Enemy or no, you were always the calmest of our trio, the most peaceful of all of us. Not Ms. Itchy Trigger-finger who greeted me in the kitchen. Primus isn’t like Ivan, you haven’t seen active combat yet, and you still have your family. So what gives?”
“You really think I wasn’t affected by the murder as well? We were best friends, Mel! No, we were more than that; we were like family. I called your parents Uncle Eric and Aunt Katya, and you called my parents Moose and Squirrel. You still do, don’t think I didn’t notice what you said earlier. How do you think it felt for the rest of us to just wake up and find your parents dead, and you and your brother missing?”
A look of comprehension dawned on Mel’s face. “I see where this is going now, so after you turned twelve, Primus recruited you, and told you about Ivan. Either he flat out told you he was the one responsible for my parents’ murder or you put two and two together and reached that conclusion yourself.”
“Primus didn’t tell me anything, we learn all about Ivan in class, I recognized his M.O.”
“Very clever, now, from the shocked looks on yours and Stella’s faces when Teddy and I beamed in with Aiden, I’m assuming you didn’t know my little family connection, and you assumed I was dead, that I had fought him and lost.”
“Yes, and that’s what I would have done, what you should have done, promise to your mother or no promise!”
“ I did! The first time I fought him, it was a draw, and it cost Teddy his legs. I was too valuable to be killed, and if Teddy were dead there would be no one and nothing to hold over my head to make me obey Ivan. So he made me watch while Teddy was tortured, and then, instead of letting me heal him, he had me tortured as well. He made it perfectly clear the next time I crossed him, Teddy would be paralyzed from the neck down, and the time after that, he would be killed. I wasn’t going to risk fighting him again until I was strong enough to beat him.”
“Uh, Wow.” I didn’t know what to say. I had pictured Melody as either a willing agent or too weak to stand up for herself until Aiden came along to give her something to fight for, but she was motivated by her brother, or rather her guilt over what happened to her brother, the entire time. I honestly couldn’t say I would have done anything differently if James or Amy had been in a similar situation.
Mel started to laugh, “Kitty, look what war has done to us. If anyone told us when we were eleven that in seven years time we’d be hardened soldiers fighting on opposite sides of a secret war, would you have believed them?”
“I would have laughed.”
“And I would have punched them. See, I wasn’t lying when I told you that you were the most peaceful of all of us. The war took so many things from me, and I know I’ll never get them all back, but I would like to salvage our friendship, if we can.”
“ Of course we can, consider it a blank slate, I won’t hold anything related to the war or something, it will be like we’re meeting each other for the first time since transferring to different schools, which technically, I did.”
“Fair enough, I suppose.” A new light gleamed in her golden eyes. “Remember the song I was humming earlier? I think the English lyrics are rather appropriate for right now, don’t you?”
“Well, there wasn’t a tavern we used to frequent, considering we were eleven, but yes.”
“Shall we sing?”
“Why not, If you didn’t wake anyone else up earlier, I doubt we will now. Oh, and Mel?”
“Yes?”
“You have my full support tomorrow, Stella’s too.”
“Thanks, so now were up to five!”
“Pardon?”
“You, Stella, Teddy, Tsura, Aiden and myself.”
“ Oh, I see. Well you only need five more to start the talks, and I’m one of the more hawkish members of the council. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Now let’s sing” “With Pleasure.”
edited 8th Jul '11 9:38:19 PM by ladygem
Professional Writer & Amateur Scholar
Wow. People still use this thread.
I'm a (socialist) professional writer serializing a WWII alternate history webnovel.
@ Hermiethefrog: It's just for the forum, and a consequence of hanging out in places where classmates and somewhat conservative teachers are likely reading what I'm doing. Watching, I meant. I'm definitely keeping the cursing intact - given the emotional intensity of the tableau, it would be wierd to not have swearing. I agree. Shall I go back in and uncensor them, then?
82123
Well, I didn't want to crap up any other thread with this and Yack Fest is too busy being Yack Fest so I bring the thread back from the dead. It's from the Stuck at the Galleria rewrite.
The pressure somehow dug into me, and that was when I realized that someone's [i]nails[/I] were doing that.
"OH, GOD!" I yelled. "GET IT OFF!"
I flopped around like a fish with my eyes closed and for whatever reason started babbling, "The boogeyman has found me! Help! Someone! Anyone! Plea—"
"Dude, what in the heck is wrong with you?"
I opened my eyes and turned around.
It wasn't the boogeyman who attacked me. It was a [i]girl.[/I] She was a very, er, pretty one too. Her huge, pale green eyes and dark brown hair hung above me.
"Who... uh... who are you?" I asked.
"That, my dear, is the million dollar question. Who... are... -you?-" she said, plopping down onto the bench.
I stared at her in confusion, and she sighed. "I'm the Lady in Grey. But you can call me Nora Irving. Can we move on to the name of my new neighbor now?"
She paused for a second, then laughed.
"What, am I that weird?"
"Nah, I just noticed that there were five Ns in that set of sentences."
I was bewildered by this Nora character, but there was something oddly recognizable about her. Familiar, even.
I pulled myself onto the bench, raised my chin as high as I could and said, "Well, Miss Lady, you currently stand in the presence of The Trevor Listman, Lord and Master of the High Legions of the Third Regiment of Her Majesty, Silverburgh's Royal Army."
I smiled nervously as she burned through me with a stare from those eyes.
"Too much?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Well, uh, yeah. I'm Tre. Listman."
"Hi."
Things got -really- quiet and even more awkward after that.
"So, uh, not to be rude or anything, but... do you -live- here?"
"Nah, I'm doing long-term research on the dimness of night guards."
I looked at her puzzlingly.
"Are you normally this bright?" She groaned. "Yes, Trevor, I do live here."
"Okay, okay, sorry. I'm just weirded out by this."
"You get used to it," said Nora as she got up and started walking down the platform.
"Wait, is it just you that lives here?"
"No. I have a few... friends. And geez, kid, got any -more- questions?"
I didn't say anything.
"And now he goes silent. Well, it was nice meeting you, kid, but I have bigger fish to fry."
"Wait, uh, Nora, where ya headed?"
She turned to me and smirked. "That, my friend, is the TWO-million-dollar question."
Obsidian Proboscidean
![[up]](https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/smiles/arrow_up.png "[up]"){kind=icon}
I kind of want to know where she is going after that.
From a humor/fantasy story I'm trying to start up again:
“Just don’t think about it,” he mentally told himself. “Don’t think about the spells, don’t think about Loki, don’t think about Circe. DON’T THINK.”
He’d only cast those spells to learn more magic. All he wanted was to know if there was more to the universe than science. Even if he had just erased his best friend’s entire life, that would only help him. His childhood wasn’t all that great and his present life frankly sucked, so it was likely Loki wanted to forget anyway.
It wasn’t like Circe, deep down inside, was going to miss him. She was too far gone into the crazy forest to feel any sort of concern over her missing, possibly dead, husband. She’d only used him as an extension of her deranged experiments, a second, older Nervous Subject. As far as Vidcund was concerned, she didn’t deserve to get Loki back. He wondered why he hadn’t found an appropriately nasty spell for her yet, especially after how she’d treated him in their younger days.
Circe had this spell coming, Vidcund had reasoned as he climbed on his broomstick. He really didn’t know why he was even wasting any more brainpower thinking about it. He had much more important matters at hand.
Why, exactly, was he having second thoughts about this heaping pile of fun? He twirled his wand, sending green rays spiraling outwards towards Sims unfortunate enough to be near and possessing enough sanity. The sounds of clucking and deranged laughter filled the night air.
Vidcund strolled further down the street towards the community center. He spun around, whipping his wand in every direction, sending the newly recovered Sims back into fits of clucking and convulsions. He positively screamed with delight as each one pecked at unseen kernels of corn and even made a few attempts at flight.
He was flexing his wand-waving hand (or trying to; those bewitched Sims were hilarious) when a young woman came up to him and so observantly pointed out, “You’re not a very nice man, are you?”
Vidcund just stared at her blankly for about half a minute. Then he wheeled off into the community center to stare out the window in a meaningful manner.
As he watched his victims wipe the sand off their lips, he felt a tiny tug at the back of his head. He tried his best to ignore the tug, but when it began to feel like the back of his brain was being drawn and quartered, he kind of had to pay attention. He could feel a thought along the lines of “how could I” beginning to take shape, then immediately get hurled into the sea of power lust, the cinderblocks of guilt and restraint strapped to its feet.
edited 25th Oct '11 6:14:12 PM by BlackElephant
I'm an elephant. Rurr.
A young woman walked out, stepping carelessly among the corpses. She let her sleeve drop from her face, wrinkling her nose at a smell of rotting only she could have caught yet. A clawed, long-fingered hand ripped a man’s outer plates free; she stripped him of his outermost kimono with a quickness and practicality borne of practice. He wouldn’t need them, after all, as a man with half a face, and her clothes were so torn and dirty that they had better qualifications as cleaning rags. She fingered the silk carefully before slipping it on, shivering at its touch on her rough skin. She wasn’t used to softness.
She drew his shorter sword only to find that it had been broken inside its sheathe.
Damn. Have t’ find another one… His armor’s useless now – can’t sell it, sure as hell can’t wear it. With a sigh, she moved on to another. She tore his sash and took the shorter of his two blades. It proved whole, and upon testing its blade on her finger, sharp.
Good. I’ll keep this one. The rest I c’n sell to the metal worker – just gotta destroy the seals…
Just a very short excerpt from a concept idea for Akiko.
Gay bacon strips
David shut the bedroom door firmly and closed the blinds before stripping to his boxers and climbing under the blankets of his bed. He was still as confused as ever, but the music had calmed him down quite nicely. As he reached over to shut off the lamp, a black, pea-sized spider skittered across his covered thigh. He let it crawl onto his hand and examined it, wondering where it had come from. Then a second spider crawled out from under his blankets. He went to pick it up as well and a few more spiders scuttled into sight.
What?
Now, David had proven to himself that he was not arachnophobic when he’d picked up the first spider, but when he pulled back the blankets he gasped in a breath, just barely holding back a cry of terror. Literally thousands of spiders filled his bed, crawling up his legs and spreading all over his body. They crawled up his boxers; over his back, stomach, and chest; up his hands and arms. He brushed at them frantically, beginning to hyperventilate.
Then they started biting.
But they weren’t just biting. As David watched in horror, spiders tore open his flesh and crawled inside it, making little moving lumps beneath his skin. More and more of the little arachnids crawled inside of him and he felt their jaws nipping from within. And the pain. Oh God, the pain. David screamed, and screamed, clawing at the bumps with his fingernails desperately.
THEY’RE EATING ME! THEY’RE FUCKING EATING ME ALIVE! GET THEM OUT! GET THEM OUT!
He squeezed his eyes shut, screams rising to a crescendo as the spiders and agony consumed him—
And then there was nothing.
He opened his eyes with a gasp. The blankets were still on him. There were no spiders. The lamp had been left on. David’s eyes flashed to the alarm clock. 2:00 A.M. His boxers felt wet and there was a salty, pungent smell. He pushed back the blankets. His arms, legs, and torso were covered in gashes and scrapes; all self-inflicted.
My name is David Austin. I live in flat 301 in Manchester, England. I just had a nightmare.
Just a nightmare. It was a mantra he repeated to himself as he got up and tossed his boxers in the laundry bin and went to take a shower. He found a spare blanket in his closet and took it and his pillows to the lounge, flopping down on the sofa. He curled up there, but he didn’t feel like sleeping anymore.
The future of warfare in UC.
"Can't get a good count. Four combat types, some others. Which means someone blew the initial count or the local service boomer population isn't taking the disaster well." They hadn't known each other long, but they were working well together all things considered. The K-11 pilot clearly respected her, which almost had Linna laughing. The first man she'd ever met who she thought really respected her, and they'd never see each other's faces. The sheer disgusting bitter irony of it all, Linna reflected, and cradled one of the assault rifles close. Without being able to move her legs, her usual means of fighting boomers didn't work. On backup power, her lasers would have just left her helpless after a couple of shots.
The 20mm cannon K-11-2 carried spat a dozen rounds at a combat boomer, which took about half of them in the torso and right arm. The resulting explosion of several rounds in an ammo feed for the boomer's arm weapon tore the arm off and took a chunk out of the torso, but it got back up. K-11-2 resisted the urge to shake his head. If he ran out of 20mm ammo and there were still combat boomers around, they were screwed.
Linna dragged herself forward with one arm, grabbing what was left of the concrete wall they were using for cover, and started looking for things that she could hurt with the rifle.
Pirate AND writer!
What a silly-sounding word, some ignorant soul might think if they chanced to hear it. Surely it can't be that horrible.
It can, and it is.
The Daleks are hated monsters, the archenemy of all other living creatures. Born small and frail, they live in armor equipped with the deadliest of weapons, able to inflict a miserable, terrible death with only a single blast from their lasers, without a second thought. Their reason? It was not a Dalek, of course. Everything not a Dalek is evil, and must be exterminated. As they travel about the universe, through time and space, that is their battle cry: "EX-TER-MIN-ATE! EX-TER-MIN-ATE!"
Daleks, however, are more than just the killers of the universe; they are also the pests. Consider this scenario; Daleks will appear somewhere, cause a little death and destruction and the Doctor - most of the time it is the Doctor - will destroy them for good. That was close, his companions might think as everyone leaves in the TARDIS, another adventure over. At least they're gone.
The Doctor knows better.
He knows that he can decimate those creatures as many times as is necessary, as many times as he wishes, and it will always be for nothing. For the simple truth about the Daleks is this; they always return. Always.
It is such a normal occurrence that it has, in many ways, ceased to be a surprise to the Doctor. Sometimes, however, he wonders just how it is that this particular scourge of his refuses to stay dead.
If only he knew...
There is a dimension which even the Doctor has never been to. Quite far away. It's a very small dimension, just large enough to contain a single building. It's a large building, however, all cement and steel and smoke. The ominous whirring and grinding of machines emanates from this building, every moment of every day. For all of time. There are no people to work the machines; the whole place is entirely automated. Perhaps someone built it once; if they did, they are long gone. All they left behind is the programming given to the machines in this building, programming they have dutifully carried out for a very long time.
See that strange orb atop the building? Shiny black rock, glowing blue? Yeah, that's a magnet. Not an ordinary magnet, though. It attracts hatred, anger, bloodlust, revenge, all the dark feelings from every corner of every universe. It draws them into the dimension, down into the depths of the terrible building. There, they get swooshed around in a large tank, pressed tighter and tighter and tighter, until they solidify. And what do they solidify as?
Eggs. Dull, black eggs. These eggs are immediately put into an incubator of sorts, designed to strengthen the dark feelings within them. When these feelings are powerful enough, the eggs will hatch. And oh, the creatures which hatch from them!
They're like squids...demented, freakish squids. Born a very light pink, they soon turn white. Rather ironic, that. They have several long, spindly tentacles and one leering, menacing eye smack in the middle of its forehead. The only sounds they can make are squeaks, and so they squeak out their undying hatred for all other life forms and their desire that these creatures die merely for committing the crime of existence. How's that for "full of blood and anger and revenge," eh?
The creatures grow quickly, and so do their black emotions. When they're all ready to leave the nest, they get put in the suit. Contained within this suit is everything the little demon requires to live out its genocidal fantasies: blasters to kill, a force field generator to protect, a vacuum to really make the victim suffer, even a translator to speak with other lifeforms. Spread the message; You. Are Going. To Die.
Now it's time for the final, most important step. The creatures, strapped in the suits they'll be spending the rest of their lives in, are herded beneath a large glass dome. Circuits rewire themselves, the lights flicker and FLASH! They're gone. Off to the other dimensions, to be exact. Let loose, free to spread terror wherever they roam. They may die, but it doesn't matter...the factory will always be making more, for that is its programming. See? There it goes again, pushing them under the dome! FLASH!
Another fresh batch of Daleks, ready to exterminate.
That was actually the entire thing, but it's meant to be read as a whole.
Looking for some stories?
The final battle with Karasu and the escape
In the middle of the battlefield inside of the giant maternal monster, the conjoined form of Karasu and Shizuru
Matthew and Karasu.
Two lives powered now just by their desire to continue fighting.
For Matthew, it was the desire to save the red haired partner and love interest, to no matter what protect her and his other friends.
For Karasu, it was the desire to, no matter what, save his younger sister and see the world made into one where she need not fear ever again.
Matthew had chosen his blades, extensions of himself, representations of his determination.
A one handed long blade, Byakko and the falchion Suzaku, blades named after two of the great beasts of Japanese myth. Steel wielded so many times it had acquired power of its own.
Karasu chose a basic form for himself, no longer a creature of darkness or the form of countless ribbons.
Two sonic blades acted as his weapons, emerging from where his hands should have been.
Karasu spoke first, "Matthew...I want to win. I will win against the undefeatable, I will teach fear to the fearless, I will humble the proud, I will destroy the indestructible, all this...all this I will do for my sister. And for that, I need the Alpha Core...that thing that gave the woman life. Prepare yourself!"
The blades sung through the air as two heroic people clashed, back and forth now.
Again and again, their blades collided against one another.
Matthew parried a strike and then swept to the side of Karasu's head with Byakko, only for the other sonic blade to meet his sword just before impact.
Matthew spoke in a stoic tone, "Karasu...I respect your determination and wanting to protect your sister, but...no matter what, I swore to defend Sorata, as I defend all my friends. Your sister...is one of my friends. Just let me help Shizuru!"
Karasu's retort arrived when the two pushed apart and then clashed together again, "The Esper Organization...are you still clinging to the illusion that they are blameless figures? They turned her into a monster, all for the sake of dealing with Cain. All this has showed me...is that adults are not only useless, but they're all hypocrites! Defend the people? How? By turning them into monsters to defend the greater masses?"
Matthew responded, slowly pushing back against Karasu, "Karasu, you're blinded by hatred..." He then slowly smiled, "Have faith in me, and everyone. The guys up in central command...they resigned afterwards. I spoke with Ricard Boarde. He could barely look himself in the mirror from the guilt. I talked to them, and they said that they all regretted doing that, and if given the chance, they would find some other way to defeat Cain. I found the good in those people you called useless adults. Can't you see the good in other people, Karasu?"
"N-No!" He shouted, leaping back and repairing his blades. Somehow, Matthew had damaged his weapons. Weapons biologically made to be superior in fighting...
How could this be? How could Matthew still have the ability to keep going? "I can't believe that, I won't believe that! Some people are just complete and total monsters, no ability to be redeemed!"
Matthew went after him again, he was sure it was that corrupt Vesper Core that turned the nice, caring Karasu into this, made him unable to see reason. Surely so many changes and mutations had utterly warped him. Or...
Was it true that Vesper Cores...were simply too powerful for one person like Karasu to handle?
Yes.
In order to save, and redeem Karasu, he would destroy the Vesper Core which started all of this!!
At his core, that corrupt thing radiated red light and black veins rippled up from it into all the flesh surrounding the fiendish Mana creating engine.
Matthew ran at Karasu, and he immediately detected the danger, readying his blades again.
One final clash for the sake of loved ones.
Matthew's willpower against Karasu's.
And in the end, the worn swordsman's will prevailed. Both of Karasu's blades shattered suddenly. The fragments falling to the ground around him.
Matthew had to move fast now, before the Core detected him.
Karasu screamed in rage, "Matthew!!" He formed his the fingers on his left hand back, but then turned each one into a long tentacle tipped in a dagger.
Matthew thrust Suzaku forward into the Vesper Core at the same time Karasu sent his new weapons flying forward, impaling into Matthew's torso.
A distinct cracking sound. Something like glass being cracked by an intense impact.
The sword Suzaku, wedged into a large hole in the Vesper Core, the radiant red light of the Core slowly fading away.
The black veins slowly retracted from Karasu's torso and he fell to one knee as the Vesper Core fell into pieces at his feet.
The conjoined monster forming the arena for their battle began rotting away, slowly collapsing into death.
Matthew stood calm as Karasu looked on at the alien surroundings returning to what they were before, a huge field, which had once been a prosperous city.
The impaling weapons vanished as well, and he looked over at Karasu, "Its...over."
Sorata walked over as the biological bindings holding her up vanished. “Matthew...are you alright?”
Matthew looked over, haggard and worn from four consecutive battles. “Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Could you go get Shizuru and Alina out?”
Sorata was just about to leave when Karasu stood back up. The black haired teen looked down, and said in an oddly calm voice, “W-We're not done yet, Matthew. Not yet. I still have Mana.”
“No, Karasu, you're heavily wounded...you've got a massive hole in your chest, where that Vesper Core was...”
Karasu responded, “T-That doesn't matter...just listen. What I wanted...what I always wanted, besides keeping my sister safe...is to defeat the strongest. I want to beat the unbeatable...I want to teach fear to the fearless...I...” He coughed up blood into his hand as he raised it to his mouth. “I want to break the unbreakable.”
Karasu used all of his remaining Mana to create a single katana in his right hand...his left was...badly damaged, mangled by that mutated flesh dying.
Matthew returned himself to his normal level.
Karasu, at his heart, just wanted to prove that he was strong and capable enough to defend those he cared for.
And Matthew respected that.
Matthew lunged forward at the same time as Karasu, their swords ready. Both struck at the same time, and in the ensuing clash, Karasu's sword broke and he fell backward as Matthew's slash arc cut into his right shoulder.
Karasu fell down, unconscious.
Matthew unsummoned his blades, and then bent down and picked up Karasu in his arms. He slowly started to walk out of the decaying mass around them.
This area...just a little further, and they'd exit the mouth of the monster and...
His thoughts were interrupted, it seemed that the great, intertwined beasts were falling fast now, the “roots” they had spawned into the ground had decayed enough to allow the main mass to fall.
Just a bit further.
Matthew felt weak, exhausted, but no matter what, he would not stop until Karasu saw his sister again.
His legs felt so weak. He coughed up blood on to the floor.
Blood trickled down his chest and shoulder. He was dirty, bloodied, and battered...but he had never felt so happy. He was glad he could save two people here.
He never looked back, and so barely noticed the approaching form of Karasu's old lieutenant, Barcus.
Due to the biological magic used to create said lieutenant's armor springing from the Vesper Core, the “man” was smoking, hideous and his true human face showed.
A pitiful, wrathful man half consumed by pain as his own body deteriorated. Consumed by an insane love for his leader and “beloved.”
Matthew noticed Barcus, and barely managed to dodge the lieutenant's final tomahawk, the rest having been spent on their earlier battle.
Barcus managed, “G-G-Give back...K-Karasu...he...he is all mine. That wretched...sister...surely...she ruined this all...o-or maybe...I just w-wasn't strong enough...”
Barcus lurched forward, his left arm outright falling off as he ran in a frenzy toward Matthew.
The young swordsman formed Suzaku and, like he had done as a child, manipulated the sword with his mind and sent it flying into Barcus as he neared.
The tactic was Mana intensive, but there was little other way.
Barcus coughed up black blood, “D-Damn...it looks like...I...” I am so sorry, Karasu, for being such a nuisance...I was such a “villain”...I never deserved your kind smile.
Barcus used what remained of his Mana to destabilize his own Spell Core, Violent Axis, and rig the whole Spell Core to explode. Due to its own nature as a Spell Core which caused explosions, the ensuing blast caught Matthew and Karasu in its intensity, and outright vaporized Barcus.
Matthew was sent flying forward, and smashed right into one of the few relatively stable “walls” left, though it crumbled on contact.
Matthew got back up, balancing on one large enough piece of the “wall.” He noted brightly, that was one of the beast's teeth...almost...there...
He saw Karasu resting on the ground, still unconscious.
He slowly walked over, almost falling four times by the time he picked up Karasu again.
He almost fell backward and then Karasu revealed he was not quite unconscious, “W-Why?”
“I don't...just...save a few people...I try to save...everyone.”
Matthew kept walking, and Karasu coughed up some more blood, “T-Thank you...Matthew...”
Almost there...he could see the light of day.
And as Matthew and Karasu made it outside, standing on the tip of the jaw, Matthew felt something give and the whole of the creature's lower jaw gave way.
He supposed this was it.
He didn't have enough Mana for a flight spell.
He had no Sorata, no Alina, no Shuuji, no Hector.
As he went into free fall, he thought on this whole issue. He had climbed through a monster which was once two individual creatures...
Defeated five of the lieutenants of Karasu's group, Anti-Thesis.
And now this...before he even truly reached...the level of a hero that his father envisioned.
But if he had saved everyone involved in Esper Organization...and the innocents accidentally involved in this...
He was almost there...he couldn't die now.
He felt something odd. It was like something had taken him from the air and was moving him now.
“Matthew! Y-You're all ripped up...”
Matthew smiled, “H-Hey, Angie...h-how's it...been?”
He was happy to notice that he still had Karasu with him. They had both survived through it all...
And with that, Matthew passed out at last.
edited 14th Nov '11 9:21:51 PM by NickTheSwing
Sign on for this After The End Fantasy RP.
House Lewis: Sanity is Relative
This one was from before I realised my obssession with the word "though"; I haven't yet purged it from earlier scenes, but will do so at some point. The character of Manuel is a fresh corpse with most of his head missing thanks to a spiked ball and chain connecting with it. Both characters in the scene have just passed by the body as they exited a building.
Screaming, Emily Green realised a second later how foolish that was and turned around, backing away as she tried to see who or what it was. It didn't look too dangerous, but then Manuel might have thought the same thing not much earlier.
"Who's there, who-who is it?" The mysterious figure sounded strangely as scared as she did.
"Please don't hurt me!"
"Hurt you? Em-Emily? Is that you? It's me, Alex!" Normally his soft voice would have been some comfort to her, but not here. He raised his hands as he edged towards her, but she continued to resemble a deer caught in headlights. At least he didn't look armed.
"How do I know you're not going to do to me what someone did to Manuel? Come on, you saw it!"
Alexander was slightly bemused; anxious as Emily often was, this was terror like he'd never seen in her. She did have a point though. He shook himself out of it before he could dwell on it. At any other time he'd be sitting her down and talking things through. Not now though. He didn't have time. He was looking for someone and in this light it was hard enough to find anyone anyway, let alone if he wasted time like this.
It tugged at his heart to even say it – there was being pragmatic and then there was abandoning someone who needed his help. Just this once though, he had to put his own needs first, before it was too late.
"Emily you're just going to have to trust me on this – I'm not your enemy and I'm going away now anyway. I just need to ask you something, okay? Just calm down, I'll stay back here if it makes it easier for you."
"Fine. Alright. Just don't come any closer, what is it?" Reluctantly standing her ground, Emily realised that even like this it was impossible to be scared of wee gay Alex. You could have a pillow fight with someone and they'd hit harder than Alex with a rock.
"Kenji left the classroom right before you, so since I was after you he can't be far away. You seen him about anywhere?"
"Er, uhm, no sorry I haven't I'm afraid! Why do you want to find him if you don't mind my asking?"
His heart sank. "Oh it's…nothing, just got a few things I need to check with him is all. Long story that I don't really have time to tell just now…um try to take it easy if you can yeah? Good luck out there, I think we're all going to need it!" He laughed weakly, but knowing he'd probably never see her again made it hard.
"Thanks, you too-" She tried to reply. But Alex was already gone, so she just stood there, slightly bewildered but too aware of the precariousness of her own situation to worry about his.
As Alexander ran, he desperately hoped he wasn't too far behind his target - unaware that Kenji was facing the other direction when he moved on from the school. Still, time remained for them to meet as long as each still drew breath. For how long that would remain the case however neither yet knew, and was Alexander's fear.
Obsidian Proboscidean
One from a sci-fi fantasy story:
That is, until Circe had that little episode with the toaster and became horridly mentally disturbed. No one was sure how this episode happened, or even what happened during it. All they knew was that when Loki came home one day, Circe was yelling at the toaster, which had the half-melted, still sparking remains of a coat hanger sticking out of its slot-and this was only because anyone with halfway decent hearing could hear the swearing for miles. Nobody could even begin to imagine how she arrived at the conclusion that it would be a good idea to put the hanger in the toaster.
Circe made damn sure they wouldn’t.
“You are never to mention the toaster incident,” Circe warned, her voice low. “Now fetch me my wire coat hangers.”
Any time Loki tried to explain away her, shall it be called, overly healthy sense of schadenfreude by bringing up the “toaster incident,” he was met with a very annoyed stare and the toaster from said incident, usually flying toward his head. Nervous Subject, who learned faster than the average normal-roommate-turned-test-subject, went so far as to bury the toaster in their backyard and replace it with one of a completely different model.
Loki thought he could get out of his wife’s insane experiments on Nervous simply by saying no. In response to his refusal, she crafted a System Where Experiments Are Thoroughly Executed Readily, or SWEATER. The minute she slid it over Loki’s head, it was smooth sailing.
Another one, when I decided to play with purple prose because I thought it could be funny.
Lazlo nearly swooned. “Be still, my throbbing heart.”
The future of warfare in UC.
Please note that the use of a proper name instead of he or she does make a period grammatically correct. Or at least grammatically correct enough that most of the novels I own actually do it.
You're going to kill yourself. Agito said.
Then I guess I'll kill myself. The commander's mask was firmly in place. Show no weakness, no fear; not human but a physical manifestation of the mission orders.
Agito mentally sighed. Though she might admire the dedication, she also abhorred the denial. You're only human.
Samuel almost cracked a smile at that. There's a little extra lately. Besides, there's the-
I remember. Agito said shortly. There were unpleasant things about being among mortals again. One of them was painfully obvious in retrospect: they were actually mortal.
They died.
edited 31st Dec '11 12:14:31 AM by Night
Nous restons ici.
![[up]](https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/smiles/arrow_up.png "[up]")
I'm glad you picked up on that. Granted, I was aiming more to channel Ligotti than Lovecraft, but their style and outlook are pretty similar to say the least, so... Thank you.
I'll hide your name inside a word and paint your eyes with false perception.