i have nothing to say to it
which is why i was not speaking to it.
i need not a translator
eavesdropping
is very impolite
the voices shuffled carefully, making themselves as small as possible. Even though the message was encrypted to Kokabiel and Kokabiel only, it now feared being heard.
edited 8th Apr '12 7:33:29 PM by ohsointocats
Kokabiel nodded in agreement and said, <the reason I do not delve into organic minds without very good reason.>
It sent a data packet to the Messenger suggesting that the best course of action was to automatically disregard any communication it detected from the Lost, noting that if the Messenger's opinion of it was accurate, there was no reason for it to do otherwise.
"No, like... magic healing."
He was in a dream, Raphael thought. This place had to operate on some kind of magic.
"Oh," he said with some semblance of serenity. "Magic just makes you live a long time. I'm almost forty!" He tilted his head to look around Zacharias. "In fact... that Japanese guy with the kitty? He's like a thousand years old, I think. I think that's when the Heian period was..."
Eli's thoughts moved back to his sketchbook. How was this not the damned one? He went so far as to burn the damned sketchbook in his fireplace because an evil mockery of a justice system in Divinis would just use it to take him away... to Elenius or the Ministry of Love or whatever they called it.
[/was supposed to go to sleep an hour ago
edited 8th Apr '12 9:56:57 PM by CrystalGlacia
"Jack, you have debauched my sloth."
Drummer Boy
"But it's okay to want to kill things sometimes if you don't actually kill them!" Wilhelm flaps his arms to make sure Eli is paying attention.
Friedrich forgets to take off his glasses before bringing both palms to his face, muffling an "Oh shit." So the brat can use magic? And he's still trying to pull this kind of shit at the age of forty? At least Wilhelm tended to be the quiet kind of crazy.
Okay, that's pushing it. But still, Friedrich can't imagine living with Eli.
The last battle's curtains will open on stage!
Samira blinked at the oxymoron. Magic... healing? Then she remembered. The rules were different here. So why not? She said, "ah. Magic... healing... that's something to get used to imagining." Speaking as much to Bianca as Raphael, and not entirely expecting a true answer, she asked, "what is magic, anyways? It's just so... ineffable, no matter how you come across it..."
That's not exactly the greatest advice, Zacharias thought. Well, sort of, but you really could have phrased it better. He doesn't need encouraging.
But then, Wilhelm wasn't exactly the picture of stability himself. Zacharias shrunk further into the corner, hoping nobody ended up hurt by this whole mess.
Raphael shrugged. "The magic I'm used to can be used to heal or destroy- just like everything else, really."
Eli stared at Wilhelm.
"I'm batshit, but even I know that's not okay!"
edited 9th Apr '12 10:07:01 AM by CrystalGlacia
"Jack, you have debauched my sloth."
Dancing All Night
All that existed in the sleeping realm was that inky blackness. All that would ever exist in the sleeping realm was that same inky blackness.
Samara had very despairingly become convinced of this over the past. . . Lord, she'd lost count of how long she'd been wandering here, alone. In this world, time and space lacked meaning; one could never tell whether it was day or night, whether it had been ten minutes or ten years, or even whether one was awake or sleeping, Perhaps such concepts didn't even exist here, the most likely assessment. All she knew was that she'd be alone here, forever.
She knew Iudicium had intended well; that it simply could not comprehend how death would be preferable to an eternally solitary existence. She supposed it felt that allowing her mind and soul to remain intact would make up for the utter hell she lived through while it slowly, forcibly took over her physical body and made it its vessel. While it was the entity of judgement, watching over and deciding upon the fates of humans for as long as humanity has existed, it still lacked a surprising amount of understanding of the minds of the beings it governed.
The young woman sighed as she stopped to contemplate. How long had she been alone? How long had it been since she'd been isolated from William and Marisa? God, would she ever be able to see them again? Are they even still alive? Every time she asked herself questions like this, she felt like breaking down and crying, knowing full well that her husband had probably driven himself over the edge and that her daughter's curse would isolate her from the rest of society for the rest of her life. But no, she had to be strong for them. So that one day, even if by complete chance, she could find her way out and reclaim what was hers, and be with the people who need her. Mentally perking herself up with one of her little internal cheers - she'd have to think of some new ones - she continued her wandering, searching for any shard of hope, whatever hope may exist in this desolate realm.
As she wandered, she came across a curiosity, an anomaly. A door. Immediately, an unidentifiable rush took hold of her- her heart started racing, and she was immediately intrigued by the finding. Perhaps this was the hope she'd been looking for, a way out. She would take this chance. Almost in a hurry, she grabbed hold of the knob and, regaining a hold of herself, cautiously, inquisitively, opened the door and peeked out before stepping through to the other side.
Gently shutting the door so as to not make noise (a habit left over from when she would soothe Marisa's distorted cries in the night, lulling the infant back to sleep), she naturally began to observe her surroundings so as to get an idea of where exactly the Mysterious Door had taken her. From the smell of disinfectant and innumerable surgical tools in the vicinity, it became very clear to her that she was in an operating room of a hospital. For her, a rather unpleasant place for a myriad of reasons, from the birth of her child for example to her short time as a member of a surgical team, before she ended up moving on to cut up dead bodies instead of living ones for the sake of forensic science.
Seeking to remove herself from the room as quickly as possible, she made her way out and headed down the hall, taking in everything as she went. As she wandered through the hospital's wings, occasionally stopping to investigate a room or examine an object, something caught her attention- voices. She'd already established that wherever she was, it wasn't Earth. The utter vacancy of a building normally bustling with activity and a quick glance out the window confirmed that. Nonetheless, the presence of others in this world was reassuring to her; even if it was only temporary escape. She began making her way towards the source of the voices, and eventually came across Bianca, Raphael, and Samira.
She listened to their conversation for awhile, and after Raphael had answered Samira's question, she decided she should make herself known.
"Hey, um. . . excuse me?" Samara said from a doorway behind them, "Oh, sorry to interrupt. Just. . . Thought I was alone in here."
edited 9th Apr '12 2:36:31 PM by Motree
“DAMMIT WHEN I HEAR 'SPACE CQC' ALL I CAN THINK OF IS BIG BOSS WITH A FISHBOWL ON HIS HEAD, STRANGLING AN ASTRONAUT OUTSIDE THE ISS."
highly secure
Hector grabbed one of the apparitions by the shoulder and forced it to look at him. The facial structure shifted, by the expression remained the same.
"No," he said. "I don't recognize anyone. They're indistinguishable. All of them might as well be a river of flesh."
Whatcha gonna do, little buckaroo? | i be pimpin' madoka fics
Qrlil glanced around, but still saw and smelled nothing.
"Can either of you see this?" she asked, lifting up her sleeve. "I believe it says -"
YOU ARE NOT ONE OF THEM.
Startled, she fell backward, hurriedly setting her robes to defensive mode again. The 'voice' had sounded like an internal communication - as if from her backup - not an external noise, but it had still been instinctively frightening. She rose slowly and glanced around. The fog was far thicker, and - she blinked - the scents of the others were gone.
She opened her mouth and sniffed at the air - there was nothing, except the distance trace of a vaguely familiar scent.
"Hello?" she asked.
Qrlil is no longer in the same area as Hector and Nara, though I'll have to check to find out exactly where she is.
The sphere rotated again as the Messenger considered. It sent another communication to Kokabiel, using the same form of packaged, interlinking concepts - corruption or not, direct verbal analogs were not suitable.
<We consider it inferior[throwback/primitive/unworthy/impure] not because it is non-transcendent[baseline/unenhanced/conservative/hesitant], but because it is reckless[judgmental/nonmethodical/makes conclusions off of insufficient data].>
edited 9th Apr '12 1:19:20 PM by nrjxll
The Draconic Superior
The man from before had since woken up, having returned to the world of the waking.
Two figures appeared near the group of people in the hospital. One was a male with dark tan skin, white hair and red eyes who wore a fancy, all black suit with a red tie. The other was a female, but with grayish skin, red eyes and blond hair, and she wore a gray officer's military uniform with blue pants and black boots. Two pairs of small wings sprouted from her back, one pair of white feathery ones and the other was a pair of black demonic wings.
The male figure remained unfazed at his surroundings and merely put a hand to his chin in thought before noticing the humans before him, walking toward him as the women followed.
"Pardon us, my name is Nyarlathotep and this is Astaroth," he gestured toward the women, "Do any of you know where we are in this dream world?"
They're near everyone else in the hospital, and they're well aware that they're in a dream
Samira had a very bad feeling about this. The young woman seemed... well enough, at first glance, though there was something... off about her. She seemed to carry a sorrow. But who didn't in this place?
Well, the swagger pair who entered next, she suspected. Though she knew better than to judge them on their odd appearances, that they held names from Lovecraftian monsters and goetic demons seemed like a bad start. Further, expensive suits and military outfits also represented trouble, in Samira's experience.
"Getting crowded," Samira muttered. Then she turned to Raphael and said, "not gonna lie. My experiences with magic have been... unpleasant, to say the least. Things from Beyond tend to be involved, though I'll try not to let my... troubles crowd my judgment."
She walked over to stand beside Bianca — the only one here she knew she could trust — and looking over at the newcomers, said, "Samira Hosseini. I can't tell you much. I haven't really been studying this place. More interested in the people." She looked around the room. "And I'm starting to think we should find some place less crowded."
And more pleasant, she thought to herself. She generally liked hospitals — to her, a hospital, even if powered by a cheap, obsolete generator, was a sign of progress, a hope for those who might otherwise have died of simple diseases. A symbol of all that was good and right in the world, a chance for those who once had none. But this one was... just wrong, somehow.
Kokabiel simply nodded in confirmation of this, suspecting any further attempt to convince the Messenger otherwise was futile. Instead it sent a non-commital confirmation that it had received the data packet without corruption.
<And now,> it said, <we face a question. To observe the trans-dimensional organics, both their interactions and abilities. Three possibilities.> The Lost and the Messenger receieved, in their appropriate ways, a sense for three different locations.
<Here,> it said, <we have a Hospital. Suffering clings to the walls, and calls its like. At least two have suffered several months worth of rape and torture.> It didn't mention this completely without emotion. There was a hint, a seed of empathy, but disconnected, as one might take minor pity on the carcass of a wild animal glanced during a casual walk. <And I sense a great despair within a third, to whom the Void clings. The other three appear... less disturbed, though this may be a relative statement. However, with six, it grows crowded. Tempting as it may be to focus upon, I think even if we only observed, we would be too many.>
<This place,> it highlighted the Museum, <is perhaps of the most interest from a purely scientific perspective. At least three of the individuals there magically touched in some way. If nothing else, a scientific study of their effects upon this semi-physical plane could be intriguing. But the social dichotomy is also fascinating: two souls of fire, passionate and wild. Two of ice, old and calm. And one between worlds, slowly growing cooler as his purpose goes from vengeance to justice.>
<These three>, it highlighted Nara, Qrlil, and Hector's approximate location, <I have no direct connection two. I detect two organics, one human, one alien, and a resonance that is either a very altered organic or a very organic synthetic. And some sort of arcane activity.> It added, <the non-human organic appears to have left, however, so there may soon be four groups instead of three.>
<So,> it said, <what do we do with this information?>
Wherever it goes, Kokabiel intends to try and observe at a distance, commenting on and debating the organics with the Messenger and the Lost, and avoiding direct intervention unless it's a potentially fascinating experiment or necessary to avoid harm to its wards. It will try and convince the Messenger and Lost to do likewise, but of course, their wills are their own.
Zacharias just nodded meekly in agreement with Eli. Yeah, killing people was bad. He had no urge to point that out aloud.
edited 9th Apr '12 4:25:48 PM by KillerClowns
The future of warfare in UC.
"Some of them are Thirty-Three-S like me. Hooked on drugs, or affection, or their identities too wrapped up in those of their owners." Nara said. "Some of them are the owners, who are definitely on drugs. I recognize Bliss symptoms. Some of them I don't recognize."
She turned, looking around, and froze. "And where the hell is Qrlil?
Nous restons ici.
Drummer Boy
"NO FUCKING SHIT! IT'S JUST THINKING ABOUT IT THAT'S OKAY! HAVE YOU EVER ACTUALLY KILLED SOMEONE ON PURPOSE?"
Friedrich cringes when Wilhelm rasies his voice.
"'CAUSE IF YOU DID AND YOU THINK IT'S SO BAD, WHY DON'T YOU JUST TURN YOURSELF IN? GET YOUR ASS IN THE CUCKOO HOUSE AND—"
He falls silent when Friedrich grabs his collar and pushes him in the direction of the far corner of the room. Wilhelm scurries over and sits, resting his head on his knees.
This is when I'm supposed to think and be sorry.
So he thought.
But he was not sorry.
Friedrich lowers his voice to barely above a murmur. "Look, Wilhelm isn't a serial killer. He just gets angry with his fellow human beings on a regular basis and he doesn't always make sense. I'll talk to him when he's ready. Leave him alone, or there'll be trouble."
His face is passive, as if this were a normal occurrence, but his eyes pointedly are fixed on Wilhelm. "And you three gentlemen will never speak of that again, I trust."
An old professor's voice floats back to him. It greatly helps to detach yourself from the situation.
Friedrich breathes in.
Especially if you have a personal stake in the outcome.
And out.
"Well, magic is whatever you want it to be. Isn't that the point?"
Bianca jumps a little when she sees more people and unconsciously reaches for her bracelet. She nods politely at everyone. "Hello."
She takes off her bracelet, but doesn't turn it into a gun yet.
edited 9th Apr '12 4:49:21 PM by SnowyFoxes
The last battle's curtains will open on stage!
Zacharias just nodded rapidly and said, "yes, that... that definitely seems wise." Although he'd have to warn Samira, of course. Otherwise, though... best not to speak of it.
He wasn't sure what to say to Eli, but he felt like he should say something. He made do with giving him a sympathetic look, hoping Eli wouldn't react with violence. If he burst into tears or something, Zacharias might be able to help. But... well, for now, he wished his wife was here. She might know what to do.
Samira considered Bianca's words with a frown. "Perhaps where you are from. But it's not so where I come from," she said to Bianca. Her tone grim, she simply said, "where I come from, magic... I don't think anyone wants the magic of my world to be what it is. It is..." He frown deepened as she looked for the right words. She finally settled on, "hungry."
The Draconic Superior
Nyarlathotep put his hand to his chin as he thought, "Interesting, it seems this dream world is even beyond my understanding in this form," he waved it off, "No matter, I shall enjoy my stay for the time being, the waking world has had its," he paused, "Disadvantages for a while."
The women named Astaroth nodded in agreement with Nyarlathotep, but kept silent.
Nyarlathotep turned toward Samira, "Well then, Miss Hosseini, do you happen to know a less crowded area than this hospital?"
edited 9th Apr '12 5:28:49 PM by draconiansuperior
"Sure," said Jonathan to Friedrich. "Whatever." God, I hope none of this comes up again.
He glanced over to Zacharias, who looked nervous. "Hey, listen," Jonathan whispered. "If things get violent, I'll try to keep you out of it. 'Kay? If Kokabeak doesn't come here first or whatever. Can't have you dying and risking the sanity of the universe, can we?"
He grinned. "Trust me, I can do this. I've survived this long; I can keep you out of trouble."
Zacharias nodded grimly. "Thank you," he said. "I'm not as old and silly as I look — oh, who am I kidding, I am very old and silly." He then grinned proudly and said, "but I also survived long enough to become old and silly, so there's that." He chuckled. "Ah, pardon my brief moment of braggadocio. I'm still much happier knowing you have my back." The group at large, he said, "but I feel we have exhausted our previous topic of conversation quite thoroughly."
To Wilhelm he said, "I see you are a musician. A most enlightening hobby for both mind and soul. And body, given the weight of many of those instruments."
Samira considered this. "I suppose," she said, finally, "I suppose there's a patient lobby or something we could find. Probably less, uh, grim than this place. Or we could find an altogether different building." She looked out a nearby window, briefly squinting to try and make something out in the fog before turning around with a pensive expression. "Then again, not sure how much that could help. I get the odd feeling none of our dreams are going to produce butterfly gardens."
Drummer Boy
Friedrich's palm hits his face again. Then again, if Zacharias is going to bug the kid, asking about music was pretty much the safest topic he can come up with.
Wilhelm stands up and crosses his arms. "It's not a fucking hobby. Do you consider breathing a hobby?"
He tilts his head to one side. "I can hear it now. It's always there. I learned to forget about it when I talk to people, because people don't like it when you don't pay attention to them. I always thought that was funny, because it's your own fault if you're boring as fuck, right? But when I don't care if they don't like it or not, I listen. If I like what I hear, I write."
And it was suddenly as if a pianist were teleported to the next room. Friedrich hastily cleans up his glasses and looks around, blinking. What is he doing?
Wilhelm leans against the wall and grins dopily. "Andante. First movement from sonata in G Major. I wrote this a month ago. Can you see it? A restaurant with silk gowns and stiff suits and soft candlelight and clinking glasses? Can you see it?"
"Of course magic is hungry. You can't expect it to do things for you without paying it back, can you?" The last battle's curtains will open on stage!
The sphere spun in the air again, lights flashing.
<We choose the museum,> it said without any other information provided.
Samira shook her head grimly and said, "I don't mean hungry like a dog you feed so it does things for you. I mean... hungry like a maddened, rabid dog, but... worse. Everything it does, it does in hopes of devouring as many souls as possible. Even those it pretends to help will be consumed should they cease to serve its goals."
She frowned, looking down at the floor and shaking her head. "And even before it devours its slaves utterly, it slowly eats away at their minds, taking a tiny bit of their sanity and self with every spell. A memory here. A piece of love there. A hope for dessert..." She shook her head. "I'm sure it's nothing like that where you come from. It can't be, given how easily you use it."
Kokabiel nodded and said to the Lost, <as you may have heard, it believes the museum would be most amusing. Do you agree?>
Zacharias blinked. Great, he thought to himself, mad artists everywhere I go. Not really much different from the university's arts department, though, except for the magical power they can throw around.
But like Eli, Wilhelm was good at what he did. Zacharias said, honestly, "it's... yes, I see. It's beautiful." He listened for a few moments longer, then said, "I'm sorry, I didn't know how much it meant to you, but now I hear... I unders..." he stopped short. "No, no, I won't condescend by pretending I understand. But I know now more than I did before. And..." he slunk away in silence, making sure Jonathon was nearby just in case.
edited 10th Apr '12 7:03:05 AM by KillerClowns
i do not mind, said the Lost to Kokabiel, voice quality still quiet.
i understand not
this idea of 'amusement'
in this context
though
edited 9th Apr '12 9:24:50 PM by ohsointocats
We have Cline #1 and Cline #3.
Eli quietly slipped out of the room, back to the case of weapons with foot-thick glass, once the topic moved to music. He just sort of... hated looking at music altogether, hated how mechanical he remembered it being when Ryu was trying to teach him violin, how the symbols literally looked like sharpened, hellish weapons from Kokabiel-land.
On a whim, he and Lydia looked up at the case of weapons. Matt's cane had vanished.
Earlier, Raphael had to resist the urge to chuckle at the proposition of finding butterfly gardens. He was a fairy. No, he was just some weird, overly touchy kid with a flower and antennae meant to camouflage with his hair.
He looked at Samira, turning towards the door. "The magic I'm used to can actually make you lose your sanity if you try to use too much."
Raphael had seen it too many times with the stupid young Spirits that would have to be forced into his medical tents and drugged into staying on the bed. Utter basket cases, they tended to be, what with shouting at the tops of their lungs about being the only freaking one who could fight for the same ideal as all the other screaming teenagers in the room.
At least flowers couldn't speak.
"'Course I see it."
A British-accented voice that could have, for all intents and purposes, been Eli came from the figure standing in the room's second doorway, the opposite the one that Eli had fled through.
An unobservant individual might've thought it to be a paradoxical trick-image, since this second man looked nearly identical to Eli. Both were equally youthful and modest statured, down to their facial features that would've mirrored the long, almost aquiline features of Vince's side of the family had they been given a few more years to mature.
This was not a trick. He was the third Cline triplet, Matthias.
He was dressed in a well-tailored black suit and lavender dress shirt, a manner more appropriate for an established member of society in contrast to Eli's somewhat juvenile set of painting clothes.
Aside from the fact that his eyes were a rather garish shade of purple, something seemed just slightly off about them.
And now we have all three Clines! Night.
edited 9th Apr '12 9:50:57 PM by CrystalGlacia
"Jack, you have debauched my sloth."
Jonathan listened to the music for a few moments. "It is nice," he said, glaring at Wilhelm, "but you don't need to borderline insult people for not knowing something they couldn't've known about you. Zacharias didn't have any way of knowing what music was like for you." He barely managed to keep himself from adding something along the lines of jackass. That might be pushing it a little.
He took a step closer to Zacharias, to reassure him. "You need to stand up for yourself a little," Jonathan muttered to him. "Don't let people steamroller over you like this."
Kokabiel said to the Lost, <well, it is better than sitting here doing nothing. I do not fully understand organics, myself, and so sometimes find it enlightening to observe even "mundane" interactions with a critical eye. And sometimes their foibles are fascinatingly bizarre. Now, I presume you are both capable of instantaneous travel?>
There was a brief stirring of the air as Kokabiel let its physical form go. The vulture looked around, blinked, and stepped nervously away from the Messenger. It then took a sniff of the air and, smelling some distant carrion in this place, flew away from the rest of the dreamers. Kokabiel, now formless, said, <I should prefer not to make my presence too blatant, though I expect some level of detection.> And then it vanished, fading from the area near the tetrahedron, its presence reforming instead a safe distance above Zacharias, Jonathon, Wilhelm, Friedrich, and Matthias.
Zacharias looked over at Matthias and gave him a polite nod. "You know a lad named Eli, perchance? You look a bit like him."
Then he turned to Jonathon and said, "oh, and thanks. You'll have to excuse me... I'm more of a survivor than a world-changer. Which is probably not a good long-term strategy, I guess, as well as it works out in the short term. But, yeah, I like to... avoid making unnecessary enemies. The necessary ones are bad enough." He quietly added, "especially enemies capable of who-knows-what voodoo. Remember, I'm an old man whose only skills are the study of languages and not dying. I'm very good at both, but part of that's picking my fights." He glanced over at Wilhelm and whispered to Jonathon, "and that fight? Not worth it."
Gonna wait on the Hospital for a tad.
edited 10th Apr '12 5:19:47 AM by KillerClowns
Kokabiel shook its head, wondering what it had gotten itself into. First, it sent a horribly mangled data packet to the Messenger. Another attempt, just as failed. It gave an exasperated shake of its wings, and instead sent a brief packet noting that the Lost was not a naturally sociable being, and found being involved in non-binary conversations uncomfortable — thus the antagonism. It proposed indirect, mediated conversation unless necessary as a solution until a better one was found.
Then it switched to verbal. <I was unable to transmit some data to you in the standard way due to the aforementioned corruption. I shall attempt metaphor instead. Apologies for its inefficiencies. Let us place organics, inorganic, and post-singularity entities upon a real number line measuring their development. A vast oversimplification, but this form of communication requires such metaphors. The incorporeal entity is represented by a complex number z, comparable to — but inherently different from — beings such as ourselves. You appear to be measuring the comparatively low real portion of z, but it is a match to us in terms of absolute value.>
To the Lost, it said, <I shall ask it to not listen. It should not be difficult to convince. If you have any thoughts you truly wish it to hear, relay them to me and I shall package them in a format it will find preferable, without changing the meaning in any way. Consider me... a translator, perhaps?>