Jonathan glanced to Zacharias. Okay, so he didn't know. He seemed like the kind of person who would probably turn down one of Shaurei's offers if they came up. Possibly. Maybe. Calm down.
"That's what he wants you to think. He's anything but," said Jonathan quietly. He pointed a quivering finger at the painting. "That... that... fucking... thing," he managed to spit out, "is basically the devil. The fucker took over my country, and when some — myself included — tried to resist, he-"
At that moment, a deep bell boomed from somewhere in the city. Jonathan jumped, his eyes wide, as he glanced around the room, panic-stricken. His legs gave out from under him, but he managed to push himself to the wall, where he curled up, breathing rapidly and shaking. "You're not in there anymore," he muttered to himself. "You're not there. Oh, god, you're out. You're not there. You're not there."
Might as well squeeze something out in the midst of chemistry. Also, there is a strong chance that Motree might not be coming back. She has personal shit to deal with at the moment that I don't have, so we can probably forget that William was even there.
Nilas peered around another doorway at the vase, then came out. That... thing that was standing on the vase was gone. In the other room, her master suddenly realized that he was breathing, but it did not immediately strike him that the bird-thing had vanished at some point.
He leaned against the doorway for a moment, running his cold hand into his hair, only to be interrupted by newcomers. A woman with fur... and another man. Both bore weapons. The woman had tails. As Zacharias introduced the three of them, Vince looked at them over his shoulder and nodded in acknowledgement, too... 'out of it', so to speak for socialization.
Beyond the vase where the bird once stood, a fresco caught his eye, but he began to undo the fastener on his cloak instead. They tended to make people feel nervous, at any rate. He caught the black garment over his arm as it fell over his shoulders, revealing the light blue short-sleeved dress shirt he was wearing underneath that only made his blood-colored eyes look redder as he turned to face the newcomers.
Nilas' hoofbeats approached behind him, and he felt her breaths close behind him. His brain gradually began to turn back on, and he instantly felt an urge to study the map.
edited 7th Mar '12 8:16:24 PM by CrystalGlacia
"Jack, you have debauched my sloth."Zacharias turned to Jonathan, and something in his posture changed. Less loopy, more grim and serious. He said, "I won't pretend I know what you've suffered. My wife Samira... well, you should speak to her when you get a chance. She might understand. I don't, and I won't condescend you by acting like I do. Samira would kill me if I did." A hint of his old merriment glimmered as he added, "metaphorically, of course. If nothing else, she cannot cook to save her life." Then he sighed. "But I've seen enough of demons, real and metaphorical, to know their lies and tricks. I know what evil can lie behind a false smile, and God as my witness," he put his hand on Jonathon's shoulder, "I know they can be defeated." He gave a sharp, almost military nod to Jonathon.
He turned to speak to Kit and Doltur. "Sorry about that," he said, "some topics... are bad for my blood pressure." A deep breath, then he was back to his old self. "Okay, geography. Iran is not a jungle. It is very not a jungle. Except for the parts that sort of are
, I suppose, though I've never personally been around there myself. But that's not important, because I've never heard of Gaelan either. Ergo, I feel safe in wagering that you are not from Earth, and I feel safe in saying I am not from this 'Gaera's world'." He shook his head. "So. No geography discussions. Probably for the best. Won't even pretend I care how you're speaking English. But why English?" He began to pace, thinking aloud, his previous comment about not caring proving rapidly false. "If it's dream translating, why English? Shouldn't it be all be my first language? Hmm. Maybe it's a majority-rule thing for anyone who speaks English. Help puns and wordplay translate. But what about non-English speakers? Would they hear their native language, or magically know English? And would they even think to think it strange?..."
Night. Also, glad I double-checked some climate maps before finally going to sleep.
edited 7th Mar '12 8:31:50 PM by KillerClowns
"Wouldn't make much sense for me to dream in a language that I haven't spoken in about half a decade," he added. Vince was lying, of course. He explained the concept of winter solstice celebrations to his older brother in Udareth last Christmas.
"Then again, I doubt most people have to deal with their dreams blending with others." He began to pet Nilas absentmindedly when he felt her head brush his shoulder.
"Jack, you have debauched my sloth.""English? What...wait, you aren't speaking Morian, are you? And we aren't either, are we?" Doltur asked, rolling up his map. "No, we aren't. When did that happen? I mean, we've been talking all this time, why didn't we notice that?"
"Well, this is a dream. In a dream, even the strangest things seem totally normal." Kit said. She looked over at Jonathan, seemingly lost in thought. "I'm sorry" She said, and walked over to him. She knelt down at his side, and said, "Relax. Your right, your not there. You here, and I promise, I, and the rest of us I wager, mean you no harm. Your safe with me. That, I promise."
Doltur looked over at Vince. "Actually, this isn't the first time I've had that problem. Ok, so maybe Lady Gaera was involved last time. Still, me and Kit have shared dreams before. And out of curiosity, does the horse talk?" Doltur asked. A seemingly random question, but it wasn't really. He just wanted to get a basis for comparison for how things worked around here.
http://www.fictionpress.com/s/3007268/4/The_Legion_of_Justice Superheroes! What could go wrong?Jonathan looked up at Zacharias and gave a smile. Shaky, and slightly tinged with madness, but a smile nonetheless. "Heh. Finally, someone who's not afraid to admit they don't know what's going on. You're really rare, you know that?" Funny how someone can have a name so close to a psychotic madman and be so different.
He glanced over to Kit. "I know, it's just... bells, deep ones like that, take me back. It doesn't matter what they really are or where I am, I hear them and..." He shuddered. "I'm back in the Bastion again, being tortured." He hung his head in his hands. "And it's worse because normally, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. I hate being helpless."
Jonathan pushed himself to his feet, leaning on the wall for support. He was still a little shaky, but was noticeably calmer, if a little nervous. "Fucking PTSD," he muttered.
"No. She can't speak." Nilas blinked, looking around a little. "My home country relies heavily on horses for everything. It's a little difficult, not to mention unsettling to domesticate animals if they have the intelligence and vocal cords to object to their lot in life." Vince glanced at Nilas, who didn't react, then at the man who seemed to be suffering from some degree of mental instability.
edited 7th Mar '12 9:09:10 PM by CrystalGlacia
"Jack, you have debauched my sloth.""Eh, not really. You just gotta pay them halfway decent. They're just like people, give them what they want, and they'll help you out. That's what we do. Works alright for us. But it is annoying when your ride starts complaining about the road." Doltur acknowledges.
"Understandable. But don't worry so much about looking weak. You can't be strong all the time. I tried that once, it nearly got me killed. What's your name anyway?"
http://www.fictionpress.com/s/3007268/4/The_Legion_of_Justice Superheroes! What could go wrong?Egaelus looked around at the others, "Well, aren't we supposed to be jousting?" he was in truth a bit lost in this dreamscape, wishing someone in the fog could direct him.
In an anime, I'll be the Tsundere Dark Magical Girl who likes purple MY own profile is actually HERE!"Jousting? Really?" App asked incredulously. "We're not going to joust. I don't even have a weapon that works. I learned how hard that was when this lizard... creature... thing attacked me. No thanks."
edited 8th Mar '12 3:30:56 AM by Collen
Gave them our reactions, our explosions, all that was ours For graphs of passion and charts of stars...John didn't answer at first, too busy downing the drink like it was the first fluid he'd had in years.
It was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and the man set the empty beer bottle down on the side of the road. London, West Ham? He'd never been. Never really cared. London had always been just the memorials, the statues, the Royals and Parliament to him, taking longing snapshots on a day trip.
His name. No, he still couldn't say it. He moved his lips to try, but gave up before he even uttered a sound. No point. Why try?
Instead, he shrugged. "No one." To all intents and purposes, this was true. He was just another tortured survivor. Nothing special. Just another ghost in a place where somebody was always dying.
Lifting his right hand to his blood splattered face, John peeled a film of skin from the tip of his nose, revealing the pale skin underneath. He flung it away, and the gore liquidized, sharply, falling to the ground in a puddle.
"...Ever killed anyone?" He asked, abruptly. Hell, even the tone was abrupt; rather than shaky and hesitant, it was firm and sure of itself. Because he wanted to know.
It's your God, they're your rules, you go to hell." - Mark TwainZacharias looked at Jonathon with sympathy and said, "I've been married to her over thirty years, and I'm still never sure what to do when Samira wakes up screaming or crying in the middle of the night. But she got.... better." Except, he realized, that wasn't entirely true. "Not cured. Can't even say she's completely sane." He sighed. "God. Sometimes, just sometimes, between waking and sleep, I wish Kokabiel hadn't busted me out so fast, let them torture me for a while so I could understand what my wife is going through." Tears started to well up in his eyes. "I... I'm sorry, that must sound so ridiculous, maybe even insulting, to you, but when all you can say, all you can do, is just repeat the same old lines, over and over," he clenched his fists in frustration, "like reading a script in a language you can't even begin to understand..." He fought back the tears, did his best to relax, and said, "no, no, never mind. You have better things to do than listen to an old man's silly problems."
Taking a few ragged breaths, Zacharias turned back to Kit and Doltur. "And you... you're right about one thing. You don't always have to look strong. If you pretend you know what's going on, if you pretend you're in control..." he gave a laugh, the sort of desperate laugh one can only give when trying very hard not to think of something else, "you might start to believe your own, pardon my French, merde." He chuckled at his own not-very-funny joke, then translated, "bullshit."
edited 8th Mar '12 5:53:16 AM by KillerClowns
"No." That came out more defensive than she intended. "I'm a teacher. That's what I studied."
Cynthia looked with mild disgust at the liquid that was once part of his nose. God knows why he did that. Maybe he just felt an itch, why not.
She wanted to ask why he had killed those people, or whatever it was he did, but he had already said so. Following orders. Whose orders? Her instinct said the goverment's, but she was biased.
"...did you ever have a job before that? Something I'd consider normal?"
"Jonathan," Jonathan said to Kit, giving a nod. "Jonathan Sandusky."
He turned to Zacharias. "There's a difference between not being in control and being utterly helpless. Right now, no one really knows what's going on. We're not in control. And yet, we don't really care. We can still do shit. We're not helpless. But when I hear that bell..." He shuddered. "There's literally nothing I can do. That's helplessness."
He sighed. "I don't mind not being fully in control, as long as I can do something. There's even a certain exhilaration in getting out of situations where it seems you're stuck, but you make it out alive anyway. It's a release, in a way. I just need to be able to do something."
Jonathan laid a hand on Zacharias's shoulder. "But, listen, saying, 'I wish I could know what you're going through' is not insulting. Hell, it's probably the most thought-out thing someone's ever said to me. I'd much rather hear you repeat the same things over and over while actually trying to make me feel better than claim you know what I've been through when you don't. Thanks."
Of course. Killing was wrong. You weren't supposed to kill other people. John had known that, until he'd had it drilled right out of him.
Teachers had done right by him. They'd wiped away the blood after he got into a fist fight. They'd patiently explained Math problems to him that other children grasped instantly. Yet, he'd still joined up. No, he couldn't levy the blame for his life onto this woman.
Normal was very much relevant, he knew, but she seemed as normal as they came. A Civvy. Went to University, met a nice guy, decided to become a teacher out of love for children or some other such horse shit. Never fired a gun in her life. Never seen her world detonate in sound and dust. "N...No." Was his answer, back to stammering; any question put him on the spot, but he was getting more comfortable now.
"Been a s-s-soldier since I was...eighteen. Exactly." He looked up at her again. John, as a Colour Sergeant, had been clean shaven and with a thin layer of yellow fuzz around his scalp. Oh, and he had been, and still was, six feet two inches tall, and with the muscle of a career soldier.
Yet, he still seemed pathetic when he spoke, and when he sat upon the pavement. "...What y-y-year...are you from?" She wasn't from his time. That was obvious, because everyone knew what an EU Trooper looked like, and often shuddered in horror, everyone knew what they'd done. Noone looked at them with pity. To the citizens they'd given up so much for, they were caged monstrosities.
It's your God, they're your rules, you go to hell." - Mark TwainCynthia blinked. The question actually made some sense, if one would accept the fact that two people could share a dream. "Two thousand twenty one. And if that train incident had happened in my lifetime, I'd have heard of it. So you're either from my future or from a different place altogether."
She examined him closely. Under the blood he wore normal clothes, which could be from any time within a reasonable span. The train shop didn't look at all futuristic, but why the hell would someone use advanced technology for miniature trains. The counter... she didn't remember it well. But she hadn't noticed anything.
"Considering what I've seen, option B sounds more reasonable."
That was three years after he'd been born. Her children would grow up to see the world go right to fucking hell. First time in a long time, John found himself pitying someone else. But that drained away; see, John had spent a lot of time reading during his life. Sitting, waiting for evac, you pop out a book to pass the time. This meant he had a rudimentary understanding of dimensions; it was mostly probable that this woman was a reflection of that knowledge - a person from another dimension. Or maybe just a teacher he'd met when he was three.
Yeah, probably the latter. Fucking dream.
"Twenty f-fifty two. Bu-bu-t this?" He lifted his hands, his arms, his webbing and glanced down at the ballistics vest. "This is me four years ago. When I was strong."
The body he owned now was scarred. It was not crippled, no, but so beaten as to be tender to the touch. His hair was long, and his belly widening, increasing. Wasting away. This was the dream's little gift; the feeling of power, of strength. A soldier's body.
It's your God, they're your rules, you go to hell." - Mark Twain"I am pleased to meet you as well," Qrlil said, inclining her head again to the two of them. She turned it slightly towards Hector and added "Although I am fairly certain that the idea of my species did not really enter your pop culture until several decades after the 1950s."
She felt herself calming slightly. Next question...
"Where - what - is this place?"
Nara grinned, but it was a crooked grin, only touch half of her mouth. "The going theory is a dreamscape. Why exactly that form of fake yet convincing reality has yet to be explained well enough I'll reject the other possibilities, though."
She crossed her arms and examined Qrlil more closely. "Though the possibility that someone knows me well enough to assemble what I've seen so far is remote, it's not impossible."
Nous restons ici.Knight Egaelus looked lost at that comment, "Then what do we suggest we'll do? I'd better introduce myself as all Knights do. I'm Egaelus of the Third Order, Knight of Duke Raleigh Endsfort. I was supposed to participate in a tournament earlier, but I got lost along the way and ended up... Here I suppose. Whenever 'here' is. And thou, sir? What is your name?" he asked App politely.
edited 8th Mar '12 8:18:34 PM by sabrina_diamond
In an anime, I'll be the Tsundere Dark Magical Girl who likes purple MY own profile is actually HERE!"As for the specifics of our current location," Hector said, "we appear to be in what should be the basement level of an unspecified law enforcement headquarters, though the characteristics common to basements don't seem to really be present here."
Whatcha gonna do, little buckaroo? | i be pimpin' madoka fics"What sort of government do you have, where you come from?"
Bianca still isn't sure what to think of what Samira is telling her. She doesn't want to argue, for fear of offending Samira. She means well. And yet the prospect of becoming her own person is intimidating, if only because she already thought she was.
It's probably just a matter of perspective. Bianca wonders what being part of the ruling class in Samira's world is like. Don't they too have to sacrifice the whims of the heart for the benefit of the state?
The last battle's curtains will open on stage!

Kit smiled and bowed, not taking the outstretched hand. "The pleasure is mine." She said. She was more used to negative comments about her heritage, or at least scorn, so someone who didn't seem to care one way or the other, was always a nice change.
"It is nice to meet all of you." Doltur said, bowing to each in turn. "Persia...Iran, no, hold on a moment." Doltur said, grabbing his pack from off his back. He searched through it quickly, and grabbed out a rolled parchement. He unrolled it, and looked it over. From where he was standing, Zacharias could see it was a map. "No, I don't have that on my map, anywhere on the continent. Unless it's in the Misty Rainforest, which is always possible."
"It would seem your right, we're not where your from. But Gaera's world is a big one, so I guess that's not surprising."
http://www.fictionpress.com/s/3007268/4/The_Legion_of_Justice Superheroes! What could go wrong?