My eyes open and I'm greeted with myself up in the sky, the bright floor pushing my shadow all the way up there. Unlike the rippling light from the sidewalks with their pedestrians, my image is stable, and almost discernible. I probably should get a move on before someone says there's a corpse in the alleyway. Damn, I must look retarded.
I try to stretch, and am met with resistance from my sore muscles. Now I remember clearly, I spent last night running all the way here! Police couldn't catch me, they even sent out real live officers to help their stupid-ass drone services. A little hypocritical, perhaps, but I hope that whatever I did didn't hurt them too badly. Ain't nothing wrong with them doing their job.
Before I can convince myself to move, I see another shape break away from the shimmering masses and run down the line of cloud that was my bedroom. He trips over me before I can warn him, and calls me a bitch before he knows any better.
I take a good look at him, and he takes a good look at me, and I think we both have a good idea of what kind of people we are. I can tell he's one of the people that make Hades what it is, living proof of how they seem to make sure that all the shitheads wind up here. Young, if only by his position; doing work that's a lot more liable to get him shot than anything else, even if he's just stealing food. More importantly, he seems to recognize me.
That's not the best, but I can't help but smile a little when he calls me a witch. Makes me feel like I've done something worthy of recognition.
I slowly heave myself up, forcing every aching muscle in my leg to get me up to standing. I look at him with a smile that would be disarming a few years ago and uncomfortably wide right now. I almost feel like playing up my status, pretending to cast a curse on whatever family he has, but I feel like that'd be too much. Instead, I feel quite in need of an inflated ego, today.
"...I'll stay back alright," I rasp, taking a step forward, firmly stomping my boot into the water below. "Don't worry. Just tell me who introduced you to me, and I won't..."
I leave the exact details of my threat a mystery, only giving him a deep chuckle to hint towards something worse.
edited 27th Jul '17 1:22:35 PM by wikkit
someone
Elaine opened her eyes, insamuch as she could, the spell on her mirror activating, and the world around her playing out on her blindfold. Her mirror did not reflect much, but what it did was oddly familiar. A barge, yet no river. She heard a voice, her summoner. He mentioned Tennyson. It was clear that her Master knew who she was, beyond her class identity.
Elaine wasn't sure how to think about that, but she accepted it, as it wasn't as if she could do anything about it. She turned to face the direction the voice was coming from, and waited for him to stop talking before speaking herself. The Lady Of Shallott spoke in archaic, stilted language, formal language that made it clear that she was from a different age.
"I ask of thee, art thou my Master?"
edited 27th Jul '17 5:10:01 PM by secretlyasuperhero
[TOP SECRET]
Morning, Viviani Mansion
Beams of light drifted over Adeline's face, filtered through the gap between curtains. It woke her up. She was of half a mind to stay in bed a while longer, but there were things she had to do.
All of it stemmed from her dream. She didn't like most of it, the eerie woman, the scourged man. It seemed significant though, and merited research.
Rising from the bed, she walked into her closet. With the dream on her mind, she didn't pay much heed to what she'd be wearing, quickly settling on a dark green waistcoat with silver trims, and white breeches. She had a collared coat in the same colours, but unless she ventured outside that wouldn't be neccesary.
Once dressed, she strode down the many flights of stairs needed to get to the dining hall. She needed coffee, and bit of breakfast before settling down in the library sounded like a good way to start the day.
The Cup of Christ, the Sangreal, Ark of Ways... were those all the same thing, or simply related? She would have to start with them, regardless. An encyclopaedia could help provide a summary, and she would narrow it down from there. If the Christian aspects were central then perhaps her great uncle Clément could point her in the right direction, provided he was around of course.
Receive your mandate for the world's mending.
That line struck with her. The world's mending. Was this mending in the traditional sense? With doomsday but 7 years away, it was something sorely needed. That said, what form would this mending take? Did receiving its mandate mean she was to be its architect, responsible for the restoration of her family and humanity? The eerie woman had named her master. Master of what? There'd been mention of fighting too.
She shook her head, willing the thoughts gone. It would be counter-productive to speculate her way to a conclusion before she'd even begun.
Arriving at the dining hall, she spied Euphrosine eating her breakfast. Her cousin was seated by a round table next to the south window, which faced towards the front of the estate. From there, one had a good view of the south lawn, which reached down to the estate walls that marked the end of the family property. A path of paved stones started at the gate, twisting up the hill until it reached the steps of the mansion's main entrance. On either side of the lawn were small groves and woods, which muffled the sounds of the world beyond. Beyond the estate one could spot the monorails and roads of True Elysium, the administrative buildings and financial centres.
As Adeline entered, Euphrosine looked up and smiled, gesturing for her to join her.
edited 28th Jul '17 11:21:30 PM by joergenjetsam
Conception is sin Birth is pain Life is toil Death is inevitable
Lyudmila Petrenko - first floor flat, Djerba Rediscovered
The last traces of the dream leave my short-term memory. The sounds and sensations have retreated somewhere out of reach, leaving behind a lingering, frustrating haze. I can't shake the feeling that I'm forgetting something important, even if I only learned of it in a dream.
The bruise on the back of my hand throbs with a distracting rhythm. I'm sure I would remember bumping it.
A knock at the door. That will be Chung, with breakfast. I sigh wearily when he calls out my family's name. I've asked him not to do that, but he slips up from time to time. He must have had a busy morning, but I'm feeling oddly irritable, and there's an edge to my voice that I don't immediately correct.
"Just a minute, Chung. I'll be right there to let you in."
Even my voice feels bruised. Why can't I remember my dream? Even now, it feels very important. Magi have been known to receive prophetic dreams, but clearly those people all kept notebooks on their bedside tables just in case.
I recall something; a minute flash of recollection. "I name you Master; fight, therefore, for the cup of Christ. Seek the Sangreal." These words are unfamiliar to me, but I do know them.
I swing my thighs and knees over the side of my bed. My legs rest beside my incomplete golem. I reach down to put my legs on, one at a time, and very carefully. They aren't exactly fragile, but I've always been very careful with them, ever since my first pair were broken.
I hoist myself into my chair with practiced ease. My slight frame belies the upper body strength I've honed in order to get around. Dressed in my nightgown, I'm hardly decent, but Chung has seen me in less, back before I was able to entirely fend for myself. It's those times, in particular, that remind me I'll likely never fully repay the kindness Chung has shown me here.
I wheel myself over to the door and open it. The peephole is adjusted for my height on the inside, but appears normal on the outside, on my request. From the outside, you'd never know this was the home of a crippled girl. Chung installed the mirrors inside the door himself. He really did an excellent job.
I check the peephole out of habit. It's Chung, alright; Chung and no one else. I open the door for him.
"Thank you, Chung. Busy morning?" I ask. I don't mention his use of my real name just yet. No doubt it was harmless this time, and I don't want to start off my day scolding a dear friend.
Fournier Foundation - Girls Dormitory - Marlene Fournier's Room
"We shall meet again."
The parting words of the mysterious woman in white rung in Marlene's head as she slowly awoke in her quarters. Such a strange dream, and confusing. Also, she did not remember falling asleep. Sitting up in her bed and clearing the sleep from her eyes, Marlene slowly remembered that she had retired to her quarters after the early morning lessons. She had laid down on her bed to read in her Spellbook, and must have fallen asleep. The book in question was no book at all, in truth, but an advanced simile that could be used to store and recall a number of written works. It had been a present from her dear grandfather, and she never went anywhere without it. Right now it was filled with all sorts of books on Magecraft rituals, and probably that had been the cause of her strange dreams.
With that sorted out, Marlene could slowly start to realize the other person in the room. It was with no small surprise, however, and she gave a start at finding a stranger sitting on her writing desk. Of course, the others did not know she had fallen asleep, and Marlene had been amiss to lock the door. She would have to be more careful in the future.
Rising from her bed and adjusting her school uniform, she greeted the press gynoid politely.
"Nice to meet you, miss Estelle," Marlene replied. "I must have dozed off, so I am afraid I did not hear you knock. As for your question, I am afraid that I can not possibly give a comment. While I am, as you say, a member of the Fournier family, I can in no part speak on behalf of the Foundation. I am sure the information androids will be happy to inform you of the Foundation's stance on a wide range of topics, and that the Headmistress will be happy to meet with you if approached."
The response came cleanly and well-rehearsed. Indeed, after the Foundation was formed, the family had been subject to a great deal of media focus, and Marlene was no more spared than her cousins, she expected. Furthermore, Marlene hardly expected that aunt Sylvie would be happy to see the press gynoid, far from it.
Join us in our quest to play all RPG video games! Moving on to disc 2 of Grandia!
sword of promised halp
Zorana Dojinovac's Dilapidated Alleyway; Electric Hades
"No… no-one!"
The ration-runner's denial is instant and emphatic. He backs against the wall, black plastiglass pack scraping hard against concrete like a beached boat's hull.
"I… I mean…"
Your menacing chuckle floats by, stirs his eardrums. He turns greener than the floor. There's an obvious tremor building in his left knee.
"Everyone's heard of you," he wheezes at last, clearly fighting the urge to collapse. "You killed that old couple up on the First, remember? Threw them right off that clock-tower, one on the other, so they'd… oh, God, just please don't hurt me…"
It takes you a while, but after flicking through the good ol' mental cabinet, you realise something very strange.
You can't, for the life of you, remember doing anything like that.
Also, the schmuck mentioned God, but well, you know.
Elaine of Astolat, Ruined Barge; Demophon Raised
"Even so. I am your Master, if you will have me, and we must win the Holy Grail. We have that in common, you and I."
You see now, turning around, that, past a certain circumference, the barge and ruined riverbed simply stop. You are standing in a circle of sealed reality. Perhaps a mere mortal would have been fooled for longer, but with your unearthly blindsight you can see falseness in the very midges that hop across the rotten timbers. Motes. They lack true life.
This is not magic, surely, but it is almost certainly something close to it.
"Does the air of this place displease you, Caster? I can change it, if you wish."
Lyudmila Petrenko's Apartment; Djerba Rediscovered
"The pods are as full as ever," smiles Chung, splotched face mild and composed as ever. Then he winces in sudden realisation, before recovering admirably.
"You will forgive an old man, of course, for forgetting your preference in names," he says wryly, bowing his head over the steaming tray. "I suppose I'll have to prepare your breakfast now, by way of apology."
Before you can stop him, he's out of his slippers and through the threshold. His white singlet and gray shorts look comfortably dull in the dim morning light. Behind him, the stairwell gives you a playful wink, blue-silver smartrail glinting from the bannister.
"Have you heard the news from the First?"
Chung sets the tray on your dining table, his back to your bedroom. He doesn't look like he's seen the golem.
"Murder, they're calling it. Some poor old couple, my age or more. Terrible. You'd think, after all this time…"
He sighs, then snaps the disposable chopsticks and lays them on the bowl of rice porridge. The fried doughsticks crackle faintly as he pulls them from their oily paper bag.
"Fresh from the wok today," he says distractedly, before blinking his thoughts away. "I know you like them piping hot."
Like all other potential hazards to public hygiene, street food is technically illegal, but here in the smoky, shifting streets of Djerba Rediscovered, City Hall tends to leave well enough alone. You've never actually seen any rations from the Sixth in your time here, although you have a feeling you know where they go. More than a few cracks in this city lead to Hades.
Chatter from the streets, spiced with vulgar haggling. Chung squirts soy-sauce into the porridge from a little plastic sachet. A banal electronic tune blares from the antique stereo next-door; a massage-parlor, you're told. Perhaps if they had a stairlift, you could see for yourself.
Marlene Fournier's Dormitory; Old Athens
A flawless refusal. Lesser foes might be deterred, but not Estelle. After all, she has no sympathy node - not that you could possibly know this, of course, but it seems to be showing.
"In that case," she says, the same bright smile on her perfect face, "we'll make this a personal interview. You are, of course, familiar with what happened last night in the First Stratum?"
Her arm holoscreen runs the preview thumbnail before you can say a word.
HEINOUS MURDER IN NEW ARCADY
AGED COUPLE THROWN BODILY FROM BUILDING
CULPRIT SUSPECTED MAGIC-USER
KILLER STILL AT LARGE
The accompanying video shows a figure of indeterminate sex fleeing the balcony of a tall and twisted clock-tower, a demented homage to the Elizabeth Tower from the twenty-first century. The drone-camera flicks briefly to the broken, dumpy bodies on the pavement below, before zooming back to the scampering figure -
Clad, almost ostentatiously, in a plain gray cloak.
"Do you like it?" asks Estelle innocently. "I wrote it myself. Not my usual style, but this is a matter of considerable public import."
edited 1st Aug '17 7:30:26 AM by troydenite
'Being around you guys makes me go "wtf" instead of pondering the ever increasing dread of time' - EchoingSilence, 2023
Konrad Monday - Shelter Police Department
As I slip from my dream and slowly return to the land of the living, I try to hang on to the words I was given in that dream. Its a fruitless effort for the most part, as I feel details fading away to the back of my subconscious. They were being replaced by aches, pains, and the dull realization that I was not in my bed. I dimly recall returning to the office after another failed attempt to track down the mage killer. I don't know how many that makes now. I guess I didn't get home in time before sleep grabbed me. As my eyes open, I sit up in my chair and stare blearily as my holodesk kicks into action. In all honestly, the current decor of the office was not my choosing. The previous owner had an appreciation for the time period, and occasionally some jokester would change it behind his back and spur him to set up several security measures.
He took those passwords with him when he died in the line of duty a few years ago.
This morning was not destined to be a good one though, as in strolled Captain Stoles. Not one of my favorite people in the world. As I ran a hand through my head of mussed hair, he passed a file to my holodesk. I looked it over as I stood up and walked over to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room. With a light tap to the side of it, the cabinet rotated in space to position its self horizontally and twist to the side, revealing a coffee maker on the back of the thing. With a simple flick, the machine buzzed to life and got to work filling its self with water.
I half listened to Stoles explanation of what they wanted from the Viviani's. An 'inspection' of one of the last remaining magi families in the city. An attempt to find something out about how they remained in power. I suspect they want more than some imagined information I might be able to get from this distant relation though. They want a message sent. The Mayor is still watching. To do that, they were sending their magi attack dog. Such was my lot in life.
I respond with a simple "Understood." Not gonna rise to his pokes and prods. By the time Stoles leaves, my coffee is finished. I languidly pour myself a cup as I roll over in my head how this is going to go down. I don't expect it to go very well. I step out of my office with coffee in hand, locking the door behind me. I never was a fan of public transportation, so I decide to risk traffic. I make my way down to the garage, plodding through the dim enclosure to my old car in the corner. Its nothing spectacular to look at, but it doesn't give me any fuss. I've driven the old thing since I got my license and I see no reason to replace her now.
Getting in, I flip on the radio as I sip my coffee. My tongue only burns for a few seconds, lucky me. With a start, the ignition comes to life and I back out, tracing the best path to the mansion in the back of my mind. I'm in no rush to get there.
someone
Elaine, Demophon Raised
It was a false construction. Everything here was fake, something which didn't seem to quite be magic, but something similar. Caster shook her head. "Do not trouble thyself, oh Master mine." The woman in white reached down and touched the rotten wood, gathering the small wisps of mana around her. She breathed, in and out, and the rotten barge changed, as the riverbed filled with illusionary water, clear and beautiful, as it would've been on that fateful day. The barge became gilded with gold, as the wood reversed its rotting, until the barge became what it would've looked like in its time of glory, a single embroidered sail over warm red wood. A golden scrawl on the side gave the barge its name: the Lancelot.
"But I thank thou for thine offer," she finished, righting herself. "May I ask thee why thou art aware of who I am? Surely it would be better if thou were not aware of who I am? And who art Tennyson?"
edited 1st Aug '17 9:11:57 PM by secretlyasuperhero
[TOP SECRET]
Rain dripped down from my hood as I looked at him, what I'm guessing was a mixture of surprise and...no, probably just surprise, really. I think that's all I could come up with at the time! I had trouble taking in his words as anything but bullshit, but at the same time, I wasn't anyone yet. There couldn't be someone who just recognizes me out of the blue like that unless I did something, I was too good at covering my trail!
And what the fuck did he mean, "Pushed some old people off a tower on the First"? I hadn't been there my whole life, and if I was going to kill a mage, it sure as hell wasn't going to be something so public!
I figured that trying to scare the shit out of some lowlife could wait a bit. I gritted my teeth, and with a pretty real anger I said "Just start running already."
Waiting until I couldn't see his backside anymore, feeling a lot less satisfaction than I should be, I immediately pulled up one of my sleeves and went for my holowatch. Little thing, one of the cheap ones. Tend to break easily, and like hell I'm gonna pay for a more expensive one if this can do everything the big, fancy Seirolex ones. I swipe aside any and all of the annoying shit that clogs my screen, until I see it.
I couldn't even believe what I was seeing at first. Even with their cameras they couldn't get a good look at this person's face, but...in every other aspect, that looked like me. Same height, same strands of hair poking out, same robes...I looked at my right sleeve, and it looked like it even was tattered in the same way. It couldn't have been me, but here this image was, all but my splitting image...
...I realized the only identifying mark they had was draped around my head and shoulders. Roughly tearing my hood off, I exposed myself to the elements as I started to take off the whole of the cloak. I could feel the rain dripping through the thin spot on top of my head, and I sat back, thinking about what to do...
I couldn't imagine the who, how or why of this mess, beyond "mages". Fucking mages, man.
...Speaking of mages, that brought up the few people who I think could help. I brought back up that little projected screen coming from off my wrist, laying against the slick concrete wall and letting the water built up around my legs to soak me to the bone. The only people I could call at the time like this were my...benefactors. They used that term once, more accurate than "employer", they said.
edited 1st Aug '17 9:29:35 PM by wikkit
Konrad Monday - The road
Traffic this morning was light, though perhaps it would be more accurate to say it had not quite got going yet. Konrad made good time, despite his languid pace. Before long he took a turn off the main highway, his hover-car now skimming over a much smaller road. The road would eventually lead Konrad to the Viviani mansion, and indeed many of the other residences in True Elysium's northern quarter depending on when he thought to get off.
Before long the walls marking the start of the Viviani estate came into view. A garage was situated by the gate, though the doors were closed. The gate itself was about 5 metres across and 8 metres tall, the wall just slightly shorter. Beyond the gate, if Konrad bothered to look, was a narrow path of paved stone winding up the hill to the mansion's entrance. A well maintained lawn flanked the path on both sides, though close to the walls were woods and groves, the treetops swaying above the wall.
A lone figure had emerged from the mansion, walking briskly down the path to the gate. When he finally made it all the way down, he addressed the Special Detective.
"Welcome to the Viviani estate. Might I ask what business you have with us today, sir?"
Adeline - Breakfast
Adeline was finding it difficult to explain the dream she'd had that night, mulling over what to say as placed a piece of smoked salmon on some bread. Opposite her, Euphrosine sipped her coffee and waited patiently.
"I had a dream last night," she finally said.
A brief moment of silence ensued.
"About?" Euphrosine supplied at last, nudging her cousin along.
"I'm not sure." She took a bite of her bread, taking a few moments to chew and swallow. "I saw a pale, eerie woman who bid me seek things. Or just one thing, she may have just been using different names for it. She said I'd receive a mandate for the world's mending. It was rather disturbing however, a man's back had been torn open, and I could see his spine."
"And you think it's important?"
"As I said, I don't know," Adeline replied. "I thought to look it up in the library afterwards, the words she mentioned. Maybe ask great uncle Clément."
Euphrosine was about to reply, when she felt a jolt run through her. Adeline had felt it too, and from above the two could hear a string of curses. Evidently someone had been disturbed doing something important when the Bounded Field triggered. Peering down through the window, the two could see a lone car making its way up to estate's gate. A few moments later, after the car had parked down by the gate, a servant descended to greet the guest.
edited 2nd Aug '17 4:39:06 AM by joergenjetsam
Conception is sin Birth is pain Life is toil Death is inevitable
Marlene - Fournier Foundation Dormitories
"No, I haven't read the news yet..."
Marlene read the news article with some discomfort, and squeezed her eyes shut as the camera turned to show the dead bodies.
"...how horrible."
Peeking with one eye to see if the dreadful droid had closed the preview first, Marlene opened her eyes again. She looked a little pale.
"Why are you showing me this?"
Join us in our quest to play all RPG video games! Moving on to disc 2 of Grandia!
sword of promised halp
Elaine of Astolat; The Lancelot
"Marvelous," breathes the man, in real and obvious awe. "Using Magecraft to control a state-of-the-art simulchamber..."
He pauses for a moment, as if to master his astonishment. When he finally speaks his voice is gray and pale again, although tinged with an undisguised interest.
"Tennyson is a poet," he says. "Was, rather. Nineteenth-century, Victorian, and very famous. He wrote a poem about you. I used a fragment of that manuscript as a catalyst, and well, here you are."
A smooth, gliding whirr, like the flapping of ten hummingbirds. A rift opens in your world, slides cleanly apart like an enchanted curtain - and the Lancelot is suddenly staring into a dark green sky, mottled with square buildings, filled to the brim with the percussive, lifeless thumping of worker-machines. The illusory river surges down into the rift, vanishing as it meets the fetid air.
"This is Demophon Raised, the industrial sector of the city of Shelter. If you wish, you may go out onto the streets of men, and taste life in this present age. It is good practice, I believe, to hide in plain sight, and at any rate I know you have had enough of ivory towers."
Zorana Dojinovac's Dilapidated Alleyway
"Hello, Zozo. Heard you're in a spot of trouble - the news is such a hoot, isn't it? Come to ask for another handout, I suppose."
It's Victor Couhendove, the second son, having a five-woman pedicure in his office. Slick blonde hair, smooth cheeks, sharp suit, infuriatingly smug eyebrows - Victor deals in smarm, sleaze, and a whole lot of sex on the side. It's a good thing you can't punch a holoscreen, because Alaya knows you'd have socked his polished nails off by now. And eaten them.
Victor blows a stray tuft of hair up and rolls his blue eyes, to a chorus of girlish giggles.
"Oh, do hurry up. You are such a pain."
Marlene Fournier; Fournier Foundation Dormitories
"Because Mages are dangerous, Miss Fournier," says Estelle. "No matter how careful you or your family are with your public statements, no matter how many magic-users you take in and train in secret, the fact remains that the citizens of Shelter will not settle peacefully with those who can do what they can't. These fifty years have been a time of testing, not calm - and not everyone cares to remember that this city runs on magic. I want..."
She stops, then turns to face the door, her pink heels scraping on your chair. There's another man, standing at the door. You don't know how he got in. He's wearing a ratty green jacket and a threadbare beanie, and he stinks. He's breathing so hard you can see his nostril-hair, which is as gray and almost as filthy as his beard.
"Estelle Demophon, Shelter News Channel," says the gynoid without blinking. "And you are?"
The man shakes his head, blubbers something you can't understand, and charges at you. There's a glint in his hand and you think it might be steel -
Emilie Eberhardt; Shelter Public Library - New Arcady
Not many people even go to the library anymore, but you've always liked it as a sort of quiet, sanctuary-type place. It's not just books, either - classified historical scans, audios, videos, and holos are kept here, too, enshrined in the heart of Shelter's most rarefied district.
The first time you came here, you thought it was a church. The shelves look like they could burst out into the Atlantic Ocean if you only gave them a little nudge, and here and there librarians and archivists glide by on silent hoverpods, replacing tomes or checking microfilm. One of them, a short dumpy robot, picks up your snoring neighbor as he swoops past, carrying him smoothly into the air by the ruff of his neck. Snorers get dumped outside. Politely, but still.
It's a good thing you weren't snoring. That dream sure was something.
hey
Your glasses flash light cyan. Incoming message, from an unknown sender. You don't know how he got your tag. You can think that question back. Maybe.
got a moment
And getting smartlenses sounded so cool at the time.
I've seen you around and I'd really like to talk
trust me, I'm not selling anything
edited 10th Aug '17 2:43:11 AM by troydenite
'Being around you guys makes me go "wtf" instead of pondering the ever increasing dread of time' - EchoingSilence, 2023
Konrad Monday - Viviani Driveway
If there was one place that I never felt like I belonged, it would be here in the residences of Elysium. A lot of names with a lot of history behind them, which many take to mean that they are better than those less fortunate. It is a little weird to think that my family used to be this high up. I pulled my hovercar up to the gate, slowing to a stop as I knew it wouldn't be long until someone came out to see what he was there for.
True enough, he watched as a well-dressed man made his way from the mansion to my car. If I had to guess, he was a member of the help. With a flicker, my car door window vanished. I leaned out the window as my hand reached into my jacket pocket. I pulled out a thin piece of metal and held it up out of the car window. With a clock of a button, a holoscreen flickered to life beneath the device. It showed my name, an image of my face, my badge, and many listings of my place in the police department.
"Good Morning. I am special agent Konrad Monday with the SPD. I am here for another inspection of the Viviani family. I hope this isn't a bad time." I explain. Hopefully being polite will help this go smoothly. I'd like to get this done quickly and get back to tracking down the Mage Killer.
A dogged fellow, aren't we?
Emilie - Library
"We shall meet again"
The dark-haired teenager jerked awake with a start and a soft gasp, looking around in confusion for a few moments as the memory of that vivid dream still lingered. Where was she? What time was it? She shifted around, and the feeling of paper stuck to the underside of her forearms was reminder enough - she was in the library, of course. She'd put her head down on her arms for just five minutes, and it looks like she'd rather significantly overslept.
Straightening up, she winced and arched her back. Fantastic posture, Emilie. She chided herself as she investigated her hair for frizziness, made sure she hadn't drooled onto a library book during her nap, and tried to recall the rest of that dream. It was significantly more... gruesome than her usual, that was for sure. Absently rubbing the back of her hand, she spotted the blinking light in her glasses and reached out to slip them back onto her face.
Hello... what's this? Not her parents, as she initially assumed. She didn't recognize the tag. Reaching up, she lightly tapped the arm of her glasses, and mumbled a reply under her breath (She'd never trusted the direct thought-to-message options, and always opted to switch back to the somewhat more oldschool kinesthetic interface).
Who is this? How did you get my tag?
edited 10th Aug '17 2:51:44 AM by LittleMako
Konrad Monday - Viviani Driveway
The page studied Konrad's credentials for a few moments, then nodded.
"Of course Mr Monday. I'll let them know that you're coming up."
He pulled out a smartwatch, one designed to look like an antique clockwork pocketwatch until activated. With a few taps on the holoscreen the message was sent to all members of the household. With that done, the page returned his attention to Konrad. Stepping to the side, he reached his hand out. With a shudder, the gates parted before the special detective.
"We hope you have a pleasant stay."
Adeline Viviani - Breakfast Hall
Adeline reread the message for a second time.
A Detective is at the gates. Please prepare for an investigation.
Sighing, she shifted in her seat and sipped her coffee. Was this connected to her dream, or just a coincidence? Was someone in the family up to something? These investigations always put her ill at ease. She scowled at the mug in her hands. Anti-mage sentiment seemed stronger than ever, which seemed pointless considering everyone was going to die in 7 years anyway.
With another sigh of resignation, she gazed out the window. The idyllic scenery seemed to be mocking her now, but she was determined to wring some pleasure out of it.
Conception is sin Birth is pain Life is toil Death is inevitable
Worst of all...Zozo. I know he was fully aware of how awful that name is.
"Likewise, friend," I said, a lot less friendly than I'd like. I wonder if his lineup of whores could see who he was talking too right now, because this wasn't a mani-pedi kind of conversation. "I'm here to say something really fucking important for once, so turn off the music I know you're trying to drown me out with and listen carefully. I. Did. NOT. Kill anyone last night."
At least, I was very, very certain I didn't. You never know, mages can do some really fucked up shit. "Last I checked I was just some hooligan with barely any criminal record up until a few hours ago, so tell me if you know anyone who'd get something out of impersonating me."
edited 11th Aug '17 2:23:34 PM by wikkit
Marlene Fournier's Room
Marlene drew herself up in indignation, but her short stature was not enough to let her loom imperiously over the gynoid.
"Well, maybe everyone would get better along if the media didn't suspect magi of everything," Marlene replied icily and only slightly quivering. "And if people would just let the Fournier Foundation show how magic can be a constructive force next to-"
The appearance of yet another stranger, a man even, in the girls' dormitory (!), stopped Marlene dead in her mental tracks.
"I'm sorry, but-"
She started to say, but the appearance of something shiny in his hand made her scramble for the communicator lying on her bedside table.
"Security! Armed intruder in room 348! Please hu-"
The weight of the intruder soon crashed into her, and Marlene flailed wildly trying to get the assailant off her, panicking and screaming wildly.
"Help me! Please! Help!"
Join us in our quest to play all RPG video games! Moving on to disc 2 of Grandia!
someone
Caster, The Lancelot
"A simulchamber?" Caster inquired, copying her Master's method of speaking. Someone had written a poem about her? She did not realise she had done anything noteworthy. The world opened up around her. It was an odd landscape, full of tall buildings. "To view the world once more, to walk the earth...you are right. I have had enough of towers."
Caster raised a hand slowly to the landscape in front of her. "With your permission, I would walk this city, and view the world as best I can, O Master."
[TOP SECRET]
sword of promised halp
Emilie Eberhardt; Shelter Public Library - New Arcady
like I said, saw you around, found your Shelterlink page
sorry, didn't mean to sound like a stalker
I'm by the vending machine, right below the cameras
nothing illegal going on here, just need your help
Wait. Isn't the vending machine right behind you?
As it happens, there really is a man standing underneath those cameras. Caucasian, by the looks of it, although it really is hard to tell these days. He seems slightly older than you expected. His gray-brown hair hangs behind him in a ponytail, his eyes are cool blue, and there's a hint of stubble on his rugged cheeks. He's wearing jeans, a gray t-shirt, a pair of wireframe smartglasses several models up from yours…
Oh, and a silver spiral on a chain around his neck, set in the center with a blood-red stone. He's an Acolyte of Alaya. From the Church.
The churchman grins at you, waves, then proffers the green can of Nutritia in his hand. His smartglasses flash faint orange.
I'm John. Mind if we talk outside, Miss Eberhardt?
Zorana Dojinovac's Dilapidated Alleyway; Electric Hades
"But of course you didn't do it, you silly girl!" tuts Victor. "It was someone who looks like you, moves like you, matches you on all the scans…"
His smirk widens, and he lounges back into a hammock of coos and cloying hands.
"Not much difference, is there? At least, not to anyone that matters, woe is you. Have you ever considered finding a new line of work? I have plenty of beds that need filling, and I'm sure there's someone, somewhere, who might just consider you worth a few credits. Might."
He sighs a long and indulgent sigh, and stretches his lithe form like a fat cat before a fire. The girls tease at his ears and hair.
"I suppose I'll have to help you out, Zozo. Dearest Daddy would never let me hear the end of it. Shoo, girls."
He sits up straight. His brow furrows briefly, his hands tent over his nose, and his eyes film over, turning gray as cataracts. It's almost criminal, the way he can look so casually through time and space - his older brother doesn't make it look half as easy, and yet he's the one with the power and inheritance. Fate, it seems, has a way of playing pranks on siblings.
Like all unregistered blackmagic, it's also actually criminal, but, well, you know.
"There's a man and a girl in the Shelter Public Library, up on the First," says Victor, his voice sounding very far away. "The man's name is John Agnagnos; the girl's is Emilie Eberhardt. A churchman and a Mage girl. They're both wearing smartglasses, so you can probably track them. If you get there and find them before the clock strikes three, you might be closer to your answer."
A brief image, a sending of incredible range and power, burns itself into your brain - a man with a ponytail, and a girl with glasses. His eyes turn blue again. The girls clap their hands and make impressed noises.
"Then again," he says, "I'm not sure why you'd want to go back up there, Zozo, considering what happened last night. Maybe you can finally get rid of that dreadful outfit."
Marlene Fournier's Dormitory; Fournier Foundation - Old Athens
You can smell him on you, feel every scraggly bump on his filthy hands. He really does have a knife. It's silver and buzzing like a hornet. He tries to push it into your neck but you flail out and scratch him in the eye and he squeals -
Then something hits him in the head with a crunch and he sags on top of you, stunned. It's one of Estelle's pink high-heels, and before you can scream again the gynoid lifts him into the air with one hand, holding him by the throat like a doll.
"Filthy bot!" screams the man, bleeding from his temples. "You can't hurt me, not with those Laws in your stupid brain!"
He lifts one arm high and jams the vibroknife into her raised shoulder. It slides deep in, grates, then sticks as he gets jerked even higher.
"How rude. As if I would do anything so uncouth. I am a journalist, sir; we do have some standards. Unfortunately, you seem to have damaged my arm servos, and I can't quite control my grip..."
The man is too blue by now to respond at all. With her free hand, Estelle pinches the knife-hilt between finger and thumb and snaps it off. The blade in her sparking shoulder whines, then quivers into silence.
"Miss Fournier," she whispers. Her voice is urgent, insistent, a million miles removed from her former tone. "Listen to me, Miss Fournier. Whatever you hear me say next, you have to believe that I mean you no harm. There is a war coming. You are more important than you think."
The door falls over and the guards burst in, stunners raised. Two police-drones float in after them, flashing their lights - their guns are glowing, clearly ready to discharge at the slightest hint of resistance.
Estelle slips back into her fallen shoe, smiles and wiggles her fingers. Everyone stares.
"Miss Fournier!" says the first guard after a while. "Are you alright?"
"Estelle Demophon, Shelter News Channel," says the journalist before you can reply. "I believe Miss Fournier is mostly fine, if a little shocked. Would you mind telling me how a madman managed to sneak into the girls' dormitory with a vibroknife? I believe the viewing public would be very interested."
The lead guard opens his mouth, then turns very white. It's the two police-drones that fill in, speaking in tinny unison.
"This area is now a crime scene. We request that you unhand the perpetrator immediately, robot Estelle."
"Not yet," says Estelle, and before anyone can react, she slides your assailant down the broken blade in her shoulder. The back of his jacket and shirt fall open, and as he hits the floor you see what everyone else does -
A horrendous brand of the Earth itself, seared into his back from sacrum to shoulders, bubbling with scabs and pus.
"My God," says another guard, and no-one corrects him. "He's a Child of Gaea. I thought those bastards were all iced up."
"Clearly not," says Estelle. "This one seems like a more recent addition to the family. There is one more thing, however. Officers, I have just gathered that Miss Marlene Fournier is also part of the Children of Gaea, and thus complicit in terrorist activities. In other words, this was an attempt to get rid of me. I think you should probably take her in for questioning."
She taps the holonodes on her arm, and you hear yourself admitting to things you never did, saying things you'd never say. Laughing.
The guards gape. The police-drones, after a moment's silence, move in as one.
Elaine of Astolat; The Lancelot - Demophon Raised
"A simulchamber is… an intelligent room. Like a living mirage, almost, or a magician's glamour, only we can use it to fool every sense. The line between reality and dream gets very uncertain when you're in one. They're not very common above the Seventh, so I'm not surprised that you don't know the term."
The sound of buttons, keys tapping and chirping. The Lancelot begins to float towards the rift in the world, and its ramp descends elegantly to the edge of the vanishing water.
"Stay in spirit form as long as you can," warns your Master, "at least until you can get some less striking clothes. You'll want to visit Djerba Rediscovered, the Second, for that - not as many drones there, and they ask less questions. Take the monorail. I'll be in your head if you need me."
The rift slides shut behind you, and as you turn your mirror you see that the river is inside the doors of a warehouse, itself concealed to seem like a blank brick wall. The solid ground seems strange between your feet, and the green light stings.
Flashing signs lead you to the Sixth Monorail Station - a sad and empty affair, with hardly a soul in it. Not surprising; everyone you've passed along the way is a robot. A solitary ticket dispenser turns its gaze on you from the middle of the station, in front of the turnstiles.
"Ticket, ma'am?" it beeps, moving its sixteen arms hopefully. "Fifty credits per stop. But oh, I'm sure you knew that already…"
edited 13th Aug '17 9:03:59 AM by troydenite
'Being around you guys makes me go "wtf" instead of pondering the ever increasing dread of time' - EchoingSilence, 2023
But, whatever. I had to deal with that shithead.
I held my tongue long enough to let him work his magic without stopping for a few more snipes in my direction, but his knowledge wasn't immediately useful. "What, you couldn't just tell me who did it? I thought...oh, wait. I am dealing with you, after all, instead of someone competent," I spat out, as in actually spat right through the projection after I said that to punctuate it.
"I've got nothing better to do with my time anyway. Make sure you tell the rest of your family that I'm an innocent woman, if you're gonna do me any more favors," I said. My finger hovered over the screen for a moment, but I said "And my cloak isn't dreadful, asshat" before turning it off.
Well, then. Could've been better to have them end up in somewhere less public, but I couldn't complain. It was more knowledge than I had when I woke up this morning.
Feeling like I didn't have any time to waste going shopping,* I did the next best thing: I tore off a chunk of my cloak, just on the back where it didn't need it, and tied it around my face like a bandanna. I check my face in a puddle...dang, that actually looks good. Mhmm. Diggin' it.
New disguise secured, I headed out and up. A one-way ticket from here to The Boring Arthouse Stratum.
A dogged fellow, aren't we?
Emilie - Dealing with a stalker
Emilie's eyes narrowed as she watched the replies scroll across her lenses, her head whipping around as she remembered just how close the vending machine in question was. There was a moment of stillness as she stared at the man, taking in the older man's appearance, the Alayan spiral on his neck earning a raised eyebrow from the girl. Eventually, she turned back around in her seat and quickly shoved her books into a shoulder bag, letting the man stew for a bit longer as she stood up, adjusted her jacket, and finally made her way over.
"If it'll get you to tell me what this is all about, fine." She said, expression stern and unimpressed as she looked up at her apparent stalker, arms crossed, pointedly ignoring the drink can offered her way. Plus it'll put me in public view, in case he tries anything funny. "... how long were you standing there watching me?"
Marlene Fournier - Dormitory - Fournier Foundation
Marlene struggled to stand upright, her mind a chaos. She'd just been...and that man...and then the gynoid had just...and...what?
"Thank you for saving me," she managed to say. Even shortly after living through an assassination attempt, it was important to be polite. "I don't-"
Marlene barely managed to register what the gynoid was saying before security burst in the door, not a moment too soon. She would have to talk to the chief of security about today, before her mother heard and had a chat with them instead.
"Oh, I'm so glad you came," Marlene said, relief heavy in her voice. She collapsed in her chair, trying to gather her wits as the gynoid took care of the explaining. After all that, Marlene could hardly believe that-
"...what?"
Once more, Marlene was stunned by the development. Not before security had laid arms on her and were getting ready to take her away, did her brain start working again.
"That's not- I've never- I don't-"
Completely at a loss for words, Marlene finally remembered the gynoid's earlier statement. She had no choice but to trust it, but then again, it had also just saved her life.
"...I can explain everything," she said, slumping together, resigning herself to whatever fate now had in store for her.
...either way, her mother was going to be angry. That, at least, was a universal constant in all of this confusion, Marlene realized. It did not do much in the way of relief.
edited 16th Aug '17 12:37:37 PM by Lemurian
Join us in our quest to play all RPG video games! Moving on to disc 2 of Grandia!
Lyudmila Petrenko's apartment
"You spoil me, Chung." I play at a smile.
It isn't true, of course. One of the first things I asked him when I arrived here was to refrain from providing me any sort of kindness he wouldn't show to his other tenants. Since that day, I've been assured many times that of course Chung would prepare and hand-deliver breakfast for a tenant himself every single morning; of ''course he'd allow me to assume a false name, and that it was only natural that he expect no compensation or even thanks in return.
But he doesn't spoil me. It's simply not true.
I sample the porridge first, letting the pleasant, warm aroma of the doughsticks linger. It's tasty, of course; it always is, and I'm always thankful for it. It gets cold at night sometimes, what with proper heating being an expense Chung can't afford during periods of extended chill. On particularly cold nights, I wish bitterly for morning to just hurry itself up, because I know a hot breakfast will be waiting for me just like it is this morning. There's a sort of symbolism there, I'm sure, but right now I'm more concerned with tucking into my breakfast.
I sample a doughstick, still piping hot. Chung knows me well enough by now to have properly identified my preference for warmth. It's delicious, and my bad mood melts away the moment the first touches my lips. It's perhaps not the healthiest breakfast, but I'm lighter than most anyway, so I decide can afford the calories; I decide that every time Chung brings these to me.
"You're making sure to lock up at night? I don't want anything to happen to you." I ask between bites.
The news of another murder in Djerba is troubling, especially when the victims are of advanced age. With younger dead, it's easy to imagine them as having done something foolish or been in the middle of committing a crime of their own; that they deserved it somehow. But anyone old in Djerba enough to be a grandparent has been here long enough to know where not to wander, and was probably just minding their own business. It's worrying; doubly so when I humor the possibility of it happening to Chung.
"Mind if I see the paper, Chung? I haven't had the chance yet." If Djerba has become more dangerous, I'd at least like to know how before I venture out in the evening; not that I usually do anyway, but it never hurts to be prepared. And then an afterthought strikes me.
"Say, Chung...we have a massage parlor next door, don't we?" I ask, hiding my curiosity inside a pause and another bite of my porridge.
"I think I might stop in and see how it is. The cold has made me achy this morning, and I could use the relief."
Of course, I can't just come out and tell him I've always wanted to try getting a massage. Even while my family was alive, I never had the chance, and by all accounts, they're quite pleasant. But there has to be a reason for my wanting one, because otherwise it's just childish vanity; just like I can't come out and tell Chung I worry for his safety, and I have to tell him to lock his doors at night. I always justify my stubbornness and pride by telling myself Chung knows me well enough by now to decode what I'm really trying to say, but sometimes I wonder if that's wishful thinking on my part.
In any case, I put my request out there, and my breakfast is winding down. It's perfect, and I tell him so, though not in so many words; this I know he understands, because he gives me the same smile he always does when I compliment his cooking. This is the one thing I can be fully honest with him about, no matter what.
He doesn't spoil me, though.
Konrad - Viviani Driveway
I gave the man a polite nod as he let me know that he would inform the family that I was coming. Not much of a warning to put on their best appearances. I rub the last of the fatigue from my eyes as I wait for the gate to open. I give one last wave to the page that greeted me before I pulled through the now open gate and towards the mansion.
I slowly pull up to the end of the driveway and shift my hovercar into park. I sit back and take a moment to take in the large estate, idly wondering how anyone could make use of so much space. Carefully stepping out of the driver's side door and getting out, my eyes sweep over the grounds surrounding the mansion. I take a deep breath before focusing some of my prana into my eyes, crimson veins spreading through my corneas as I reinforce and enhance my vision. My sight telescopes at will, allowing me to see further and with greater detail as I take in the Vivani's residence. If I had to describe what doing this felt like, it was almost like tensing up a muscle, only that muscle was my eyeballs. I make sure to cast my gaze along every window that I can see before deactivating my enhancement.
I approach the large seemingly wooden doors leading to the entrance. Almost automatically I let out a sigh as I adjust my collar, mentally preparing myself for any political hoops I might find myself jumping through. I've always had a hard time seeing eye to eye with the well-off. My hand raises up and raps my knuckles against the door as I knock, announcing my arrival.
Dreams, and figments of dreams, that grow sharper when probed with sleeper's sight. A faint bruise on your hand, spreading; a woman in white with pale skin and slender hands.
"Come to the Ark of the Ways. Receive your mandate for the world's mending."
The Ark of the Ways. Not a name you know, and if you look at things objectively the world is very much past mending.
"I name you Master; fight, therefore, for the cup of Christ. Seek the Sangreal."
Christ? Ah, Christianity. One of the old world religions, along with Buddhism, Bahá'ísm, Transcendentalism. None of those around anymore, save as fads or poses. The only religion left in Shelter is the Church of Alaya. You're not sure what exactly they teach. Thoughts are so wispy in a dream.
You can't put your finger on what the Sangreal is - something to do with ancient Christian legend, no doubt - but something else strikes you. The woman's hands, with their sharp knuckles and long white nails, are scritching and scratching at a ravaged back.
The scourged man's face is in shadow, and you cannot see him no matter how you try. His spinal cord peeks through raw-pork red. It seems quite white.
The woman does not smile, but you see something like a quirk at the sides of her mouth.
"We shall meet again," she says, so clearly that her voice rings in your ears and wakes you from your dream, sending you tumbling up from your resting place with only one startled question:
Where are you?
Konrad Monday's Office; True Elysium - Shelter Police Department
Perhaps your office would have been paper-strewn, if anyone still used paper for anything. This being True Elysium, however, no-one does - the city's heart and brain is far too vital for the flimsy, flammable cuteness of historical reenactment.
Still, appearances matter.
You open your eyes to a field of cobalt blue, and as you jerk your head up your holodesk switches immediately to desktop mode, assuming the grain, smell and heft of hard mahogany. Your office assumes a business-like, late-twentieth-century air, laying out books, a coatrack, a stolid black pipe, and, to complete the illusion, dropping a number of crumpled paper wads on the stained gray carpet.
"Ground take it all, Monday. How many times have I told you? If you want to catch some shuteye, go home and do it. That, or book a hotel."
Captain Richard Stoles squints at you, lips curled faintly at the smell of tobacco smoke. He's portly, a boor, and not the most handsome guy in Shelter - some of the other cops joke that if you crossed a pig with a malformed turnip, you'd get Stoles. For all that, however, he gets things done, and he hasn't said a word to you about the Commissioner.
No, you get the feeling that Captain Stoles just hates you on your own terms.
"Mage checkup today, 1000 hours. The Vivianis this time. I'm sure you've seen their mansion coming in. Big. Blue. Snooty bastards. "
He slides the files from his smartwatch to your holodesk, which parses them as a damp and dogeared dossier, complete with yellow typewritten sheets. Inside is a blueprint of the Viviani mansion, as accurate as drone scans can make it, and a more-or-less complete family tree. Your eye alights on one of the girls, circled in red. Slim, with storm-gray eyes and brown hair falling to her shoulders. She looks suitably composed.
Adeline Thérèse Viviani, read the notes in great pounded capitals. Great-granddaughter of Ioannes Gregorios Viviani, through Alexander Leon and Charles Philip Viviani. Degree of radicalisation: unknown.
As a Special Detective, it's hardly a secret to you that the Vivianis hate the Mayor; how they manage to keep hating the Mayor from their giant estate in True Elysium is another thing entirely. Perhaps this assignment is slipperier than it seems.
"We think it's about time we had a Viviani on the inside," says Captain Stoles. "Talk to the girl, find out what she knows about her great-grandfather. Tell her the Mayor would appreciate her help very much. Just for something small."
He hisses through his yellow teeth, disgusted; whatever he is, Richard Stoles is not a devious man.
"However she takes it, we'll know. Is what they said, anyway. Try not to nod off on the way in."
He turns on his swollen heel and storms out, leaving you alone in your office, which is now trying to be helpful by pinning traffic maps and little cardboard cars on the bulletin board.
The Viviani estate is twenty minutes away by monorail. If you take your car, it'll be ten. Not counting traffic, of course. No siren for a Special Detective.
Lyudmila Petrenko's Apartment; Djerba Rediscovered - Second Floor of the Golden Days History Hub
Your atelier, you call it, although most people would call it a shophouse apartment. A Mage's workshop and sanctum, where she can tinker in peace with her creations. No-one else knows, not even Chung, or at least not all of it.
They think you make watches.
"Breakfast, Miss Petrenko."
It's Chung, naturally - proprietor and sole employee of the Golden Days History Hub. He's a slightly overbearing man, but also far too kind for his own good - there's no other explanation for the rent, or the stairlift he installed. Turns out watching podheads twist and turn in their sleep is a rather lonely job.
He brings breakfast every day, usually porridge with fried doughsticks and a steaming mug of soybean milk. Whether or not you accept it is another matter - but then again, you're usually up before this. You're usually ready.
Beside your bed, slumped by your artificial legs, is the brass skeleton of a man in a coat and winter hat. You were almost done with him before the dream took you.
"Miss Petrenko?"
He has the key, of course. It's embedded in his right thumbprint, and you only have the gel copy. He's never used it, but still…
Zorana Dojinovac's Dilapidated Neon Alleyway; Electric Hades
Alleys in this part of Shelter are hellish bright. Didn't stop you from passing out in one, but still. The ground looks like a firefly's amped-up ass.
You open your eyes, splayed out back-first on the neon floor. Which is probably fortunate, given that it happens to be a neon floor, and would most definitely blind you if you had happened to be prone. If you squint hard enough you can see your bright green shadow in the dark clouds above, looking retarded.
It's always dark in Electric Hades. And hellish bright, but you knew that. The moron decides to trip over you then.
"Bitch! Can't you pick a better —"
He freezes then, his protective goggles shining a sick and pallid neon green. If you want to stand up and glare at him proper, you'll have to shield your chin, just in case - or at least pretend to give him the stink-eye. Shouldn't be too hard, what with the hood. And your face.
"Oh, Alaya, you're her. The Couhendoves' witch."
Not that you can't grow your retinas back, but still. Goggles, climbing gear, big dumb pack, running around on ground level - that makes it clear as Arcady sky. He's a ration-runner, one of the low-level gang lackies who make it their business to steal and deal in whatever food that still comes up from the Sixth. He's probably teasing favors out of some starving family or another in exchange for a pack of day-old meat or algae biscuits, and you're pretty sure what those favors are.
"Stay back," he gasps, clutching the communicator hooked to his right shoulder. "You… you don't want my boss on you. He'll give you what-for. He'll…"
His voice trails off in a squeak. It seems the what-for is rather far away.
Marlene Fournier's Bedroom; Old Athens - Fournier Foundation
If you're surprised to see another woman perched on your study table, pink heels clicking on the back of your chair, now is probably not the time to show it.
"I'm Estelle, from the SNC." She runs a hand through her bright baby-blue hair and blows some dust off it. "The kids outside told me to come to you. Not sure if they were joking, but, well, there you have it. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Fournier."
Her eyes glint amber-orange, a bit too brightly to be contacts, and in the dim morning light you see that her nose and cheeks are just too perfect to be real.
A gynoid, then. Not the first you've seen, but definitely the most advanced. She's astounding.
As if to confirm your hunch, Estelle rolls up her shirt-sleeve and activates the holo-nubs all along her forearm. A virtual screen springs up, deliberately mirrored on the reverse, so you can see exactly what she'll be keying.
"Yeah, people usually stop for this little party trick. Now, Ms. Fournier; if I'm not mistaken, you're a true-blue member of the family itself. What, in your knowledge, does the Foundation plan to do in response to the rising rate of magical crime?"
She smiles, a perfect polished parting of her lips. Her virtual screen quivers, as if in anticipation.
Servant Caster; Demophon Raised
"You are the first."
A dried riverbed; a gilded barge, grounded in mud and grass and silt. You see that much from your mirror, although the sides and helm are barred to you. The deck creaks beneath your feet as you draw yourself from the spiritual realm, create from nothing your physical form.
"I tried my best to make it as it was for you," says the man, "although my memory is rusty. It has been far too long since I read my Tennyson."
A plain statement of facts, with little inflection, colorless and lethargic, but not disinterested. More tired than anything. You cannot see him. Magic is so weak here. The ambient mana curls around your ankles like a thread.
"This place is yours, if you will have it. There is much we must do in the weeks ahead. The rest have not yet come. Now, Servant Caster…"
He pauses.
"Now is the time, I believe, when you ask me if I am your Master."
edited 27th Jul '17 7:22:29 AM by troydenite
'Being around you guys makes me go "wtf" instead of pondering the ever increasing dread of time' - EchoingSilence, 2023