Character Dream

There was more silence and more staring from Angua. She wondered while doing this if Kokabiel was capable of feeling uncomfortable, but then sighed and gave up, simply nodding. "Do you make a habit of doing that? And I have to wonder how you managed it. Hard to guilt someone like that into anything."

yey

"You think that's a great idea?" asked Jonathan with some amusement as he ran after them. "It's decent, but it's not great. If you don't want to get involved in something, walk away from it. Common sense, you know? Although I shouldn't be talking to you about that, since most of the time, my own common sense is a bit lacking."

He reached the doorway where Zacharias and Vince were standing, along with a boy on the other side, in another room. The boy was picking up pieces of pottery covered in blood. Jonathan blinked. "Oooookaaaaay, what the hell happened here?"

Kokabiel ruffled its feathers with pride. <Tamiel thought the same. So we made a wager. I said I could crush the man's wrath in six months, and fill him to the brim with despair. Tamiel thought his wrath was immutable.> It stood as tall as it could and proudly said, <I had a month to spare. Had to play rough a little bit. I had some rephaim — vicious little things made from the hate and pain left over when somebody dies — I'd neglected to mention while making the wager. Produced from the echoes of his victims, I specifically designed them to be set upon him. But even Tamiel agreed I'd won fair and square.>

---

Zacharias reached out to tap Vince on the shoulder, but thought better of it. He watched the scene, confused without context, in silence, until Jonathon arrived. Then he whispered, "I... have no idea."

edited 18th Mar '12 9:51:15 AM by KillerClowns

"Would your creator mind helping us kill Josef Pallone?" Bianca asks, with a touch of sarcasm. "Of course, I only mean that if your creator is willing to do so."

She scowls. "My friend wants me to stay in my world. It's better than his, where I would be considered property by any husband and the government. My friend doesn't truly belong in mine, either. He has a scholarship to the finest music conservatory in his country. He has great things waiting for him."

The last battle's curtains will open on stage!

The lights flickered blue once more in response to Bianca's question.

Kokabiel glanced at the lights and nodded. <That was a yes, in theory. But my creator is unable to act in your world — even here, it is so greatly limited — and you are not yet technologically advanced enough to change this.>

Samira looked genuinely horrified now. "That... that... that's never good. Just, please, don't, er, speak to it's 'creator', or about it... er, not for a while. I don't want any more attention from it." She took a few deep breaths. "But... well, I can see you're desperate." She shook her head, struggling to keep her sympathy from turning into something so ugly as pity. "Trapped between two horrible worlds, your only friend drifting away..." she took a look around the hospital room, and said, "this place can't be helping. We should... go somewhere else."

edited 18th Mar '12 10:20:41 AM by KillerClowns

"Oi! Did you blokes see that horse that just left? That thing broke my fairy and tried to kill me!" Frowning exaggeratedly, Elijah got up and came towards them, cradling a figurine's many tiny pieces in arms striped with dripping blood.

Vince turned towards a confused Jonathan and Zacharias. "My eldest son, Elijah Cline," he muttered to them. As much as Vince loved the boy, the previous ordeal had left him in a daze where all he could think about was why Elijah's dream, of all people, had started to blend with other people.

"Dad, why does your horse hate me?"

Not fully understanding what was going on, Vince's only initial response was a silent, exhausted sigh. "I'm... not sure I can tell you why that is."

Okay, time to do some math.

edited 18th Mar '12 10:34:59 AM by CrystalGlacia

"Jack, you have debauched my sloth."

Zacharias blinked, utterly confused. The boy was obviously not mentally healthy. He looked at Jonathon and said, very quietly, "I have a bad feeling about this. I feel sorry for the lad, but... well, I do hope he's at least stable." He gulped. "Because if he's got his father's magic, but not his, er, mental health, this could be a very bad day for all of us."

"I wouldn't call my world horrible," Bianca says quietly. "Anyway, we can't leave yet. I'm not done with this."

She picks up more baby clothes and returns to the incubators, humming quietly.

---

In a small, featureless room in the museum sits a glass exhibit box. The brass plate on its base reads "The Gambler— Dethroned."

A man in his forties snores inside. There is a significant amount of gray in his light brown hair and his thin face is deeply lined. He clutches a pair of oval shaped glasses in one hand and a pair of six-sided dice in another. A pinstriped waistcoat serves as his pillow and a long gray coat as his blanket.

The nearby commotion makes him open his eyes, but, seeing nothing in his little room, he rolls over and tries to fall asleep again.

I'm not quite sure what to do with him, but I wanted to establish something before I could change my mind again. Also, piano exam time. Won't be around for a while.

The last battle's curtains will open on stage!

Samira cleared her throat. "Ahem. Well. I'm sorry." She was clearly apologetic. "I didn't say it was all horrible." She sighed. "Sorry, I get a bit worked up at these sorts of injustices. But clearly, you come from a place that needs to change. I hope you're the one to do it, and I think you're strong enough to do it. Otherwise? Even if you manage to stop that disgusting father-in-law of yours, it's... I've seen what happens to places that are on paths like yours." She felt her scars and warned, "it's not good."

Kokabiel's eyes briefly glowed, and a few strains of La Marseillaise could be heard drifting around the room. Samira glanced over at Kokabiel and said, "that was unnecessary." The music stopped, replaced by the first few strains of Payandeh Bada Iran. <Better?>

"Don't test my patience."

edited 18th Mar '12 11:52:51 AM by KillerClowns

Nara regarded Hector with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. "You have a habit of asking questions that make you sound like someone's subconscious. Or possibly just naturally seeking buttons to push."

Nous restons ici.

"It only makes sense that he is asking those questions," Qrlil asked, "when one considers the circumstances. I am still not entirely convinced that either of you is real."

She tried not to think about the question itself; it wasn't a pleasant topic.

I won't be able to post for a while today.

"I am embedded in your subconscious. Maybe I'm a foreign body, maybe not. Simultaneously, you're embedded in my subconscious. I have to ask myself these questions every day."

There was a tiny creaking sound as the glass cracked further. "Regardless of that, I don't have to get on either of your good sides, no? We'll forget each other in a couple hours."

Whatcha gonna do, little buckaroo? | i be pimpin' madoka fics

The conversation between Angua and Kokabiel had fallen quiet and stayed that way for quite some time. Angua was surveying the nursery area in silence. She mused to herself, it's a bit ironic that there be so much talk of death in a nursery, though given present company I don't think I could expect anything less.

As she watched Bianca fuss around with the incubators, a thought struck her that she couldn't help but voice out loud. "... Human beings are so fragile. Don't you find that to be the case?" She cocked a head at Kokabiel, thinking that this would be something he'd certainly understand.

yey

Kokabiel nodded and — speaking to all to avoid giving the impression Angua was rambling to herself — it said, <all organics are. Flesh, blood and bone break and decay so easily, and even wood only endures a few millenia.> Then it realized that wasn't quite what Angua had meant. <But, yes, humans are remarkable frail even by those standards. Your scales must certainly provide more protection than their hairless flesh...> it peered around the nursery, watching Bianca, before turning back to Angua, <and I imagine your infants — hatchlings? — have better self-preservation instincts than the bawling, wailing messes humans birth.>

Samira turned to Kokabiel, and said, "spare us. We are not so frail as you think." Head held high, she tapped the acid burn scar. "When we want to survive, we can and will survive."

Angua took a second more careful look at Samira's scars. They were manifold and incredibly ugly, yet she showed tremendous strength of spirit. It was admirable, to have suffered so much and yet are still able to hold themselves with pride. However, there were others that weren't so lucky.

"Well yes, technically," her head craned to look at Kokabiel once again, "-hatchlings are more adept at survival than Human infants." She turned to take the image of Samira in again, then snapped at Kokabiel, "-but I wasn't talking physically."

yey

Kokabiel considered this for a bit before responding. <Organic minds are generated by evolution, which selects successful characteristics, but not necessarily optimal ones. So it is only to be expected that organic resonances are so impure and disharmonious.> It seemed satisfied with its answer for a few moments before correcting, <er... let me start over. Human brains evolved, instead of being designed for optimal performance, so they tend to be filled with obsolete instincts, useless responses, and protective delusions. Further expounded by their natures as social mammals.> Kokabiel shook its head. <Some humans,> it looked over at Samira, <have an astounding capacity to endure, I must admit. But others...> it trailed off, silently watching Bianca place baby clothes in empty incubators.

"Others," Samira replied, "endure in their own ways. But as you said, we're 'social mammals'. When we stand together, you and your brothers hold no sway over us."

<Why bother?> Kokabiel said. <Your civilizations frequently provide us with more than enough misery and suffering to make any contributions of our own redundant.>

Samira's face curled into a near-snarl.

edited 18th Mar '12 2:17:45 PM by KillerClowns

Angua shook her head, taking a half-hearted swipe at Kokabiel's back. "I don't think it's something you're going to understand, featherhead. You don't seem to be very good at empathy." She narrowed her eyes. What she was hearing from Kokabiel hit a little too close to home.

yey

Nara raised an eyebrow. "That so? I grant that nothing here will likely bear on our realities, but saying it will be forgotten seems to be wishful thinking. This experience's raw unlikelyhood makes it unlikely I, or Qrlil for that matter, will forget it. We don't dream."

Nous restons ici.

Kokabiel stepped back from Angua, genuinely perplexed by the outburst, while Samira smirked. Samira said, "she's right. All that 'ancient knowledge' and magical power, and you still don't really understand us 'insignificant little mortals'."

Kokabiel looked back at Angua and Samira and said, <accurate. The act of attempting 'empathy' is contrary to my very nature. Creatures such as I are bound to our creator. And our creator has no reason for us to empathize with those we are supposed to destroy for its purposes.> Then it stood proud and added, <but as the centuries progress, I am learning. As I have said before, there is much I envy you mortals for.>

Yeah, I couldn't think of a better term until now.

edited 18th Mar '12 5:06:08 PM by KillerClowns

By the way, Killer Clowns, I don't want to be a Grammar Nazi here, but there's just something very jarring about Kokabiel's "me and my brothers" after seeing its normal speech patterns.

"Technically," Qrlil corrected, "I dream. I just do not do so consciously."

She turned to Hector, eyes widening slightly. "But that does not particularly matter. While I agree that I am unlikely to forget this experience, even if I would, I do not see why that justifies your... unusually 'personal' questions."

Looking at Zacharias and Jonathan with a blank, open-mouthed smile, he said, "I'm Elijah Cline and why are you whispering?" His head jerked back over to face Vince. "Oh, uh, er... Dad? Can you put my fairy back together? Just use your dream-god powers, Dad!"

Elijah's jerky movements reminded Vince of a bird. He could never bear to watch birds for very long periods of time, owing to a strange, distant bastardization of the uncanny valley reaction. Endothermic, intelligent, and prone towards nuclear families, yet strangely robotic and machinelike.

After a long pause, Vince reluctantly obliged and reassembled the shattered fragments with a slight wave of his hand, godlike powers arranging the fragments into an expanded version of the original sculpture in a process that seemed to take but a second. They came back together, fitting perfectly like a puzzle, the cracks vanishing as he brought the tips of his open fingers together with a blank gaze not unlike that of shattered war veterans.

Watching in childlike amazement and paying no heed to his father's temporary loss of humanity, Elijah took the repaired figurine in gentle hands with an amazed, childlike smile.

"Thanks, Dad!" He said in a tiny voice.

The sculpture was made entirely out of dark, slate-colored clay, of a tiny, demure young woman clothed in a simple dress. She knelt atop a daisy-like flower head, one hand on the flower itself and the other on her chest. But what truly dominated her form were her wings- thin, delicate butterfly wings, handmade with pieces of stained glass that shone in the all-around lights of the art gallery.

edited 18th Mar '12 8:17:25 PM by CrystalGlacia

"Jack, you have debauched my sloth."

"I enjoy your sense of humor, Kokabiel," Bianca says. It's impossible to tell if she's joking or not. "You sound a great deal like what I imagine an elder Manifestation to be. Do you know what those are or if you're related to them?"

She smiles at Samira to let her know that she accepts her apology, but says nothing. This topic is getting more uncomfortable.

The last battle's curtains will open on stage!

Kokabiel peered at Bianca with sudden interest. <"Elder manifestation?" I met a bloated rephaite calling itself by that title on a train. It confessed its true nature, however, though not by name.> It imitated the creature in a tone of disgust. <"Born from dead souls and energy in the air," like any of its kind.> It gave a shrug of its wings. <A rephaite is a rephaite. No amount of power will change that. Though the thing reminded me of my kin in its intellect, which makes it an absolute genius by the standards of the rephaim.>

It craned closer to Bianca and added, <if the creature I describe is truly the elder manifestation you think of, I ask that you not compare me to the filthy thing again.> There was a hint of anger in its tone. <I am not so petty as a coalescence of flotsam and detritus left by silenced resonances.>

Morbidly curious to see what Bianca makes of Kokabiel's sudden outburst — she had never seen the thing brag like that before unless it was trying to goad somebody — Samira remained silent.

---

Again, Zacharias looked over at Jonathon in mild confusion and worry, before he turned back to Vince. "Er... nice trick," he said, clearly a bit disturbed. "But... uh, are you okay? You looked a bit out of it when you were, uh, doing that thing with the pieces..."

He coughed nervously. "Anyways, your son seems very nice, though I won't lie, it must have been hard to raise him. Is there anything we should know about him, so we don't, well, hurt him?"

"I've never spoken to an elder Manifestation. They're rare and elusive," Bianca says calmly. "I hypothesized, drawing from experience with their more common brethren, that perhaps your attitude towards mortals was similar. That was all. But please, tell me more about the one you met on the train. As far as we know, Manifestations do form that way."

The last battle's curtains will open on stage!

Kokabiel nodded. <I talked with it for some time — that a rephaite could speak at all astounded me. It traveled with a man named Angelus — each was a fair match for the other in terms of intellect. By which I mean they knew only lust and bloodlust.> It paused, trying to recall if there was anything else significant. <Oh, and it spoke of the genocide of all humanity, a species my creator needs alive if it is ever to regain its true power. This blather was a mistake for which my creator would have normally sent my brother Bezaliel to remind the rephaite and its pet mortal of their places in the universe. Rephaim are accidents and slaves, no more. Unfortunately, it was otherwise occupied.>

If Kokabiel seems unusually dismissive of the very clearly powerful elder manifestations, it's because the very thought of respecting a rephaite/manifestation is absurd to it. For a similar result, grab a time machine and try convincing an 18th century cotton plantation owner that in the 21st century, we elected a "negro" President of the United States.

edited 19th Mar '12 3:36:27 AM by KillerClowns