Thorn Writes Junk *sparkly glitter puffs*
Oct 3, 2015 3:26:26 GMT -5
Gelquie, Tiger, and 6 more like this
Post by Thorn on Oct 3, 2015 3:26:26 GMT -5
EDIT: Those who were drawn here by the inescapable lure of Profile Notifications should check the commentary/explanation boxes to find out why I have tagged them. c=
Hoi Gois. c=
This is mostly just a dumping ground for silly 'Town' things at the moment. I don't write a lot of Actual Decent Things, so you may not see much else. But I said I would post some things so HERE I AM.
I was going to put off doing this until I had something which was more than just one scene long, but the most likely candidate is proving Troublesome and so might not make itself known for some time yet (I'm hoping to send it to a friend for advice within the week, though).
I will arrange these by lead character for now, with their names in alphabetical order.
*tags Lizica because I said I would, but the one you wanted to see isn't here because I am verrrrry unhappy with it and would also need to ask some peeps about borrowing their characters, but maybe another time!*
*hides her face and flings non-physical pages at the fourth wall, the most praiseworthy of walls*
***
Doormat [Ezekiel Ward]
Chosen (Alternate death) (Written: August or September 2015) (POSSIBLY T-rated violence? I dunno, it's pretty vague)
Commentary on the Above
No Idea What To Call This (September 2015)
Explanation of the Above
Afterlife Crisis (July 2015)
Explanation of the Above:
On The Nature of Ghosthood and Our Daily Bread (August 2015)
Commentary on the Above
Gwen Ward
Interrogation Snippet (Written: July 2015)
False Confession (Written: July 2015)
Notes on the Two Above:
Hoi Gois. c=
This is mostly just a dumping ground for silly 'Town' things at the moment. I don't write a lot of Actual Decent Things, so you may not see much else. But I said I would post some things so HERE I AM.
I was going to put off doing this until I had something which was more than just one scene long, but the most likely candidate is proving Troublesome and so might not make itself known for some time yet (I'm hoping to send it to a friend for advice within the week, though).
I will arrange these by lead character for now, with their names in alphabetical order.
*tags Lizica because I said I would, but the one you wanted to see isn't here because I am verrrrry unhappy with it and would also need to ask some peeps about borrowing their characters, but maybe another time!*
*hides her face and flings non-physical pages at the fourth wall, the most praiseworthy of walls*
***
Doormat [Ezekiel Ward]
Chosen (Alternate death) (Written: August or September 2015) (POSSIBLY T-rated violence? I dunno, it's pretty vague)
Doormat was typically very good at remaining unseen. He’d managed to tail Tout without being detected, which should have been the difficult part, really. So he flinched back when Ronan Vudal suddenly turned from greeting the flower-seller, locked eyes with Doormat, and smiled.
“That answers that, then.”
Doormat raised the gun, growling whatever generic threat first sprang to mind. But a third figure leaped into his field of vision and knocked his revolver from his hand, and he was recoiling-moving-retreating-uncertain-scared. He was always scared though, and he could deal with that- and besides, now he knew the identities of the remaining Resistance members, with the final one being-
He frowned. Coriander Nix?!
They were moving towards him so much more quickly than he would have liked, and with knives-and-worse, and was Coriander going for the gun…? He retreated more rapidly, tried to hide himself amongst the apple trees, intending to lose these criminals before heading back to City Hall. Few people would be there at this hour, but surely there’d be some official around who could let him in, and he could tell them everything and put an end to this whole sorry mess. But he didn’t know the area well- funnily enough, Doormat didn’t make a habit of hanging around in orchards- and somebody was behind him and a blow to the head and-
He fell against a tree, stunned. There was movement around him but the light dipped down, out of focus, black, grey, sunbursts-and-haze-audio-and-visual. After a few moments of confusion-forgetting-forgoing, it registered that there was a hand grasping the back of his neck, another pressed into his ribs to keep him from falling. He tried to pull away, shaking his head, but this person was strong and Doormat wasn’t back to normal yet. Something glinted in his field of vision, a knife, and somebody stepped towards him and-
He cried out as the blade plunged forward. The scream quickly tailed off into an inhuman gurgle. They let him go. Ezekiel Ward collapsed to the ground, blood drenching the earth and soaking into the fibres of his coat, life vanquished in a shower of brilliant red.
“That answers that, then.”
Doormat raised the gun, growling whatever generic threat first sprang to mind. But a third figure leaped into his field of vision and knocked his revolver from his hand, and he was recoiling-moving-retreating-uncertain-scared. He was always scared though, and he could deal with that- and besides, now he knew the identities of the remaining Resistance members, with the final one being-
He frowned. Coriander Nix?!
They were moving towards him so much more quickly than he would have liked, and with knives-and-worse, and was Coriander going for the gun…? He retreated more rapidly, tried to hide himself amongst the apple trees, intending to lose these criminals before heading back to City Hall. Few people would be there at this hour, but surely there’d be some official around who could let him in, and he could tell them everything and put an end to this whole sorry mess. But he didn’t know the area well- funnily enough, Doormat didn’t make a habit of hanging around in orchards- and somebody was behind him and a blow to the head and-
He fell against a tree, stunned. There was movement around him but the light dipped down, out of focus, black, grey, sunbursts-and-haze-audio-and-visual. After a few moments of confusion-forgetting-forgoing, it registered that there was a hand grasping the back of his neck, another pressed into his ribs to keep him from falling. He tried to pull away, shaking his head, but this person was strong and Doormat wasn’t back to normal yet. Something glinted in his field of vision, a knife, and somebody stepped towards him and-
He cried out as the blade plunged forward. The scream quickly tailed off into an inhuman gurgle. They let him go. Ezekiel Ward collapsed to the ground, blood drenching the earth and soaking into the fibres of his coat, life vanquished in a shower of brilliant red.
Commentary on the Above
Did I heavily plagiarise the beginning from the ACTUAL beginning of chapter three? You can bet your bottom dollar I did!
The title is also taken from that post, but it's less obvious.
Ahem.
First off: I like his canon death better. It forced me to make the character less one-dimensional, and also he got death buddies and so we all entered the death chat at the same time, which was p. rad. This is just an exercise in "what if?", what could have happened if Ronan hadn't been targeted that night.
Anyway, obviously an actual Narrator post would have been entirely different- you can't exactly reveal the identities of killers when they're still in the game, of course! But while the actual start of chapter three cannot be beat, I was curious about how things might have gone if Ronan hadn't been targeted chapter three (and my choice to investigate Ivan that round was utilised). Plus, Doormat is such a wuss. It wrote itself. It actually wrote itself twice, but I didn't like the other version as much.
To be fair, this version doesn't thrill me either. But. I thought it's good to share, and enjoy. c=
Gelquie Celestial Elcie This is obviously non-canon anyway, but if I did anything especially unwanted to your characters (besides make them look like total jerks- role reversal, yayz!), please let me know.
Maybe bad chaotic writing is a reference to Ranumgen's chaotic nature? Yes? Let us pretend it is, yeah, that sounds good.
The title is also taken from that post, but it's less obvious.
Ahem.
First off: I like his canon death better. It forced me to make the character less one-dimensional, and also he got death buddies and so we all entered the death chat at the same time, which was p. rad. This is just an exercise in "what if?", what could have happened if Ronan hadn't been targeted that night.
Anyway, obviously an actual Narrator post would have been entirely different- you can't exactly reveal the identities of killers when they're still in the game, of course! But while the actual start of chapter three cannot be beat, I was curious about how things might have gone if Ronan hadn't been targeted chapter three (and my choice to investigate Ivan that round was utilised). Plus, Doormat is such a wuss. It wrote itself. It actually wrote itself twice, but I didn't like the other version as much.
To be fair, this version doesn't thrill me either. But. I thought it's good to share, and enjoy. c=
Gelquie Celestial Elcie This is obviously non-canon anyway, but if I did anything especially unwanted to your characters (besides make them look like total jerks- role reversal, yayz!), please let me know.
Maybe bad chaotic writing is a reference to Ranumgen's chaotic nature? Yes? Let us pretend it is, yeah, that sounds good.
No Idea What To Call This (September 2015)
“#Justbeinghonest.”
Doormat stared. “I, ah- I don’t…”
He was drawing a complete blank! How was he supposed to deal with this man? Enthusiastic-clasping-nudging-loudly-talking-notebook-waving…who was he? Why was he not leaving Doormat alone? The young man was being very still, and very much minding-his-own-business, and not saying very much at all- so why had this stranger approached him like this?
(Oh gods and he has a pink book and it looks official and I don’t want to talk to you!).
Unable to think up a smoother way to exit the situation, Doormat bolted.
He wasn’t sure if the man was pursuing, but he dug deep and summoned every ounce of energy and speed and will to run towards City Hall. It would be safe there, probably. At least, all those officials might help to keep the enthusiastic-man at bay.
“You lost?”
He’s still there what is he why…
He flailed momentarily, before managing to get his limbs under control and take off into the western district. And now another voice had joined the first- higher, more feminine, but just as enthusiastic.
“Sebastian…They have a stunning depiction of the Wall on the- wait, I have coupons!”
What is wrong with you people? He wanted to shout, but the words caught in his throat and all that came out was “you people”, as he kept running and felt very-silly-foolish-alone-uncomfortable-harried, but he had to keep running because stopping would look even more stupid, and that was the travel agent and…yes, no, he was not going to live this down any time soon.
Doormat stared. “I, ah- I don’t…”
He was drawing a complete blank! How was he supposed to deal with this man? Enthusiastic-clasping-nudging-loudly-talking-notebook-waving…who was he? Why was he not leaving Doormat alone? The young man was being very still, and very much minding-his-own-business, and not saying very much at all- so why had this stranger approached him like this?
(Oh gods and he has a pink book and it looks official and I don’t want to talk to you!).
Unable to think up a smoother way to exit the situation, Doormat bolted.
He wasn’t sure if the man was pursuing, but he dug deep and summoned every ounce of energy and speed and will to run towards City Hall. It would be safe there, probably. At least, all those officials might help to keep the enthusiastic-man at bay.
“You lost?”
He’s still there what is he why…
He flailed momentarily, before managing to get his limbs under control and take off into the western district. And now another voice had joined the first- higher, more feminine, but just as enthusiastic.
“Sebastian…They have a stunning depiction of the Wall on the- wait, I have coupons!”
What is wrong with you people? He wanted to shout, but the words caught in his throat and all that came out was “you people”, as he kept running and felt very-silly-foolish-alone-uncomfortable-harried, but he had to keep running because stopping would look even more stupid, and that was the travel agent and…yes, no, he was not going to live this down any time soon.
Explanation of the Above
Non-canon as can be.
Lizica and I were discussing what might have happened if Jayeee 's Sebastian had at any time approached Doormat. After a while we concluded that Sebastian probably would have gone to offer unsolicited advice to somebody else if Doormat bolted (it was determined that he would either run off, or just stand still and pretend Sebastian wasn't there); but that wasn't as amusing to write and so I got an Idea and This Happened.
As always, let me know if it is not okay to post this. I know, I should ask BEFORE stealing people's characters. But I figure if it's in a minor capacity, it may not matter so much...and hey, if it does, just let me know and I will more than happily take this scene down. =)
Lizica and I were discussing what might have happened if Jayeee 's Sebastian had at any time approached Doormat. After a while we concluded that Sebastian probably would have gone to offer unsolicited advice to somebody else if Doormat bolted (it was determined that he would either run off, or just stand still and pretend Sebastian wasn't there); but that wasn't as amusing to write and so I got an Idea and This Happened.
As always, let me know if it is not okay to post this. I know, I should ask BEFORE stealing people's characters. But I figure if it's in a minor capacity, it may not matter so much...and hey, if it does, just let me know and I will more than happily take this scene down. =)
Afterlife Crisis (July 2015)
...long dark evenings up in the watchtower, the ground beyond the Wall eerie in the moonlight and the treetops tinted silver. He hadn’t done a lot, but it had made him feel important. And in the watchtower, or on the occasional other shifts along the Wall or down in the streets, he’d known companionship. When those people had said his name, it felt like a compliment. Like he’d always imagined it was (doormats were there to welcome people and make places seem friendly, after all!), before his school friends had sat him down and explained that, no, it probably wasn’t intended that way.
He missed the watchtower. He wondered who was there tonight.
Wondered if they missed him.
He imagined reaching out with his mind to envelop the whole world in some kind of thoughtful embrace. Felt how empty it all was, between these dark rustling trees and the strong Wall. Then he felt beyond that, to Melville itself, felt…somebody, there.
“Hello?” he whispered, half fearfully. “Who are you? I’m Ezekiel- Doormat.”
“Ezekiel…so you’re Ezekiel! I’m really sorry about throwing the scarf on you. You don’t have to worry about that message anymore. I’m more than willing to listen—let’s get you at peace. Others may not have heard you out, but I will.”
“Scarf-lady?” he said. “Where are you? I- I am at peace, I- I think. Never really been that peaceful…”
And suddenly he couldn’t stop talking, and everything was rushing out at once:
“I died, scarf-lady. And I hope Morris did okay without his message. And I have your scarf, it’s on the table beside my bed, I think I saw you but I didn’t have it on me…I folded it though…and I’m dead, scarf-lady. The flower-seller shot me, and I…Ronan Duval…he’s dead too, but it was so bad and I- A-Agnes and Gwen, and Wi-Will. I hope they’re okay, but I don’t- I’m here- they’re all I had and I- I hope they’ll be okay.”
He missed the watchtower. He wondered who was there tonight.
Wondered if they missed him.
He imagined reaching out with his mind to envelop the whole world in some kind of thoughtful embrace. Felt how empty it all was, between these dark rustling trees and the strong Wall. Then he felt beyond that, to Melville itself, felt…somebody, there.
“Hello?” he whispered, half fearfully. “Who are you? I’m Ezekiel- Doormat.”
“Ezekiel…so you’re Ezekiel! I’m really sorry about throwing the scarf on you. You don’t have to worry about that message anymore. I’m more than willing to listen—let’s get you at peace. Others may not have heard you out, but I will.”
“Scarf-lady?” he said. “Where are you? I- I am at peace, I- I think. Never really been that peaceful…”
And suddenly he couldn’t stop talking, and everything was rushing out at once:
“I died, scarf-lady. And I hope Morris did okay without his message. And I have your scarf, it’s on the table beside my bed, I think I saw you but I didn’t have it on me…I folded it though…and I’m dead, scarf-lady. The flower-seller shot me, and I…Ronan Duval…he’s dead too, but it was so bad and I- A-Agnes and Gwen, and Wi-Will. I hope they’re okay, but I don’t- I’m here- they’re all I had and I- I hope they’ll be okay.”
Explanation of the Above:
Okay so when Laurie died and Mostly Harmless (flufflepuff) wrote a bit where she spoke to Doormat, I was all like "woohoo! Imma imagine how he would react to this."
And so I did.
The first paragraph or so has been cut, because it doesn't really work- but I wanted to keep in the bit about doormats being welcoming, because I really liked that.
According to Word I've spent 31 minutes editing this in total- I just wasn't really intending to post it until I re-read it today and decided I actually kinda like this piece.
(also on an unrelated note, when I try to talk about ordinary ol' doormats on my phone, autocorrect chucks in a capital. Perhaps I should have considered this before naming a character after an Ordinary Household Object, haha).
And so I did.
The first paragraph or so has been cut, because it doesn't really work- but I wanted to keep in the bit about doormats being welcoming, because I really liked that.
According to Word I've spent 31 minutes editing this in total- I just wasn't really intending to post it until I re-read it today and decided I actually kinda like this piece.
(also on an unrelated note, when I try to talk about ordinary ol' doormats on my phone, autocorrect chucks in a capital. Perhaps I should have considered this before naming a character after an Ordinary Household Object, haha).
On The Nature of Ghosthood and Our Daily Bread (August 2015)
Ezekiel Ward, aged twenty-three but entirely incapable of looking anything over eighteen-and-a-half, sat cross-legged on a tin roof and regarded the freshly-baked bread in his spectral hands.
“This is bread,” he said.
Aerona, reclining on the opposite side of Kree, looked at him and frowned slightly.
“Of course it is, Ezekiel. What did you think it was?”
He inhaled deeply.
“No, I mean…I can actually smell it! And hold it. Real, actual bread. Do you think…?”
“You probably can’t eat it,” she interjected. “It seems fairly solid.”
Kree, having pulled herself up into a sitting position, craned her neck to sniff at the bun. He held it out towards her, marvelling at the feeling of warmth running through his forearms as he clasped the presumably-delicious-edible-goodness.
“It’s warm,” he said.
Aerona squinted up into the sun, just now starting to peek over the top of the Wall, and shrugged her shoulders.
“That makes sense.”
Ezekiel smiled to himself as he tore away half of the bread and gave it to Kree, mushing the remainder into his left palm.
The ghost had appeared as the baker was tending her oven, the suddenness of his arrival and his oddly thin voice startling her into flinging a chunk of fresh bread in his general direction. That hadn’t been bad, per se. He’d apologised. She’d given him the bread. It had turned out well in the end. The baker had even invited him back to help test some cupcakes, but he’d said no, because he had lots of things to be doing. And because he couldn’t really eat much in his current state. Which he hadn’t said, but which had probably been inferred from his generally horrendous acting and long, wistful glances cast towards a tray of peanut brownies.
Aerona said something, but he was too busy recollecting earlier events to register what it was. With a small gasp, Ezekiel’s attention snapped towards her.
“Um, I’m sor- what was that?”
Aerona smiled. “I asked if you were planning to eat that.”
He looked down at the mushy bread.
“You said I wouldn’t be able to.”
“I did. I’m teasing you, Ezekiel. But I think Kree might like it.”
Kree looked at him expectantly, and said…something about bread tasting good, or being good with chickpeas, or something. He still wasn’t very good at the Shadowkyne-language-stuff. Biting his lip, Ezekiel tried to meet Kree’s gaze with as little guilt as possible.
“I, ah…want to try it, first,” he said.
“Suit yourself,” Aerona replied.
Her tone was far from hostile, but Ezekiel felt the need to defend himself regardless.
“I mean, I haven’t had bread in years,” he began. “And this loaf feels real to me, you know?”
“That has something to do with our ties, I would think. I think maybe the longer we stay in this world, the more strongly we’re bound to it.”
“Yeah, but…” he set his jaw. “I am going to eat the bread.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
Ezekiel glanced from Aerona, to Kree looking on expectantly, to the bread in his hands. It looked more mushy than appetising now. Perhaps he should see if the brownies were as tangible…or just talk to that Ene girl, who could make all kinds of things for ghosts. Some of the drinkable stuff made your thoughts pretty fuzzy pretty quickly, but mostly they were alright. Perhaps if he asked really nicely, she would make brownies. No, cookies. Oatmeal raisin cookies. The best kind!
“Maybe…” he began.
Kree mentioned being curious, and possibly also a donkey that she traded for some nutmeg, but he doubted it. The main point was, she was curious. He had to do this. For her, and for the good of all ghostkind. If he could convert this bread to spectral energy, than what else was possible? Probably a lot of things, really. They could have cake! Curry! That weird salad with croutons! He would be doing them all a service.
Ezekiel took a deep breath, lifted the bread towards his mouth, and parted his jaws.
(He’d long since gotten over the strange sensation of…well, of having no sensation, of muscles or anything shifting as you opened your mouth).
He tried to bite down into the bread, but it was as though he were snapping at thin air. Or waving a piece of bread at thin air, depending on whether he focussed on his hands or his face. Frowning, Ezekiel concentrated on the taste of the food- just as he had earlier concentrated on the texture, and the warmth- at the same time as he focussed on the best and worst colours the world had to offer, his personal path to tangibility. With a feeling of immense satisfaction, he felt his teeth sink into the bread. The spirit made a small triumphant sound as he tore the mouthful free.
The morsel fell from his jaws and slid off the roof, into the lamplit street below.
Kree, wasting no opportunity, leaned forward to take the remainder of the bread from his grasp. Ezekiel let her, forcing a small smile as he looked over at Aerona. He’d had such high hopes! Well, insofar as the prospect of eating real bread counted as a ‘high hope’. It had been something to look forward to, though. Even if he did like oatmeal cookies better.
Aerona was silent a moment longer, her brow creased, scanning the surrounding area with something which wasn’t quite interest, but couldn’t really be disinterest either, or else why would she bother? Before Ezekiel could further ponder the peculiarities of human behaviour, she shrugged and looked over at him.
“There are some teenagers just over there, spraying lewd graffiti all over the fountain. Obviously the guards haven’t noticed. Perhaps a good haunting could set them straight?”
Ezekiel perked up a little. That sounded like an idea. Even if he couldn’t do lots of things living people could…at least he could still help deal with lawbreakers, and that was something! It was so much easier in this form, it was super simple to act brave when you knew there was nothing they could really do to harm you.
“Okay!” he said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, clambering to his feet. “Let’s go, Kree!”
Perhaps he wasn’t the same anymore, and perhaps he was missing out on a lot of the things he loved. But he was useful, and he had friends who knew how to cheer him up, and Un-life was Good.
“This is bread,” he said.
Aerona, reclining on the opposite side of Kree, looked at him and frowned slightly.
“Of course it is, Ezekiel. What did you think it was?”
He inhaled deeply.
“No, I mean…I can actually smell it! And hold it. Real, actual bread. Do you think…?”
“You probably can’t eat it,” she interjected. “It seems fairly solid.”
Kree, having pulled herself up into a sitting position, craned her neck to sniff at the bun. He held it out towards her, marvelling at the feeling of warmth running through his forearms as he clasped the presumably-delicious-edible-goodness.
“It’s warm,” he said.
Aerona squinted up into the sun, just now starting to peek over the top of the Wall, and shrugged her shoulders.
“That makes sense.”
Ezekiel smiled to himself as he tore away half of the bread and gave it to Kree, mushing the remainder into his left palm.
The ghost had appeared as the baker was tending her oven, the suddenness of his arrival and his oddly thin voice startling her into flinging a chunk of fresh bread in his general direction. That hadn’t been bad, per se. He’d apologised. She’d given him the bread. It had turned out well in the end. The baker had even invited him back to help test some cupcakes, but he’d said no, because he had lots of things to be doing. And because he couldn’t really eat much in his current state. Which he hadn’t said, but which had probably been inferred from his generally horrendous acting and long, wistful glances cast towards a tray of peanut brownies.
Aerona said something, but he was too busy recollecting earlier events to register what it was. With a small gasp, Ezekiel’s attention snapped towards her.
“Um, I’m sor- what was that?”
Aerona smiled. “I asked if you were planning to eat that.”
He looked down at the mushy bread.
“You said I wouldn’t be able to.”
“I did. I’m teasing you, Ezekiel. But I think Kree might like it.”
Kree looked at him expectantly, and said…something about bread tasting good, or being good with chickpeas, or something. He still wasn’t very good at the Shadowkyne-language-stuff. Biting his lip, Ezekiel tried to meet Kree’s gaze with as little guilt as possible.
“I, ah…want to try it, first,” he said.
“Suit yourself,” Aerona replied.
Her tone was far from hostile, but Ezekiel felt the need to defend himself regardless.
“I mean, I haven’t had bread in years,” he began. “And this loaf feels real to me, you know?”
“That has something to do with our ties, I would think. I think maybe the longer we stay in this world, the more strongly we’re bound to it.”
“Yeah, but…” he set his jaw. “I am going to eat the bread.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
Ezekiel glanced from Aerona, to Kree looking on expectantly, to the bread in his hands. It looked more mushy than appetising now. Perhaps he should see if the brownies were as tangible…or just talk to that Ene girl, who could make all kinds of things for ghosts. Some of the drinkable stuff made your thoughts pretty fuzzy pretty quickly, but mostly they were alright. Perhaps if he asked really nicely, she would make brownies. No, cookies. Oatmeal raisin cookies. The best kind!
“Maybe…” he began.
Kree mentioned being curious, and possibly also a donkey that she traded for some nutmeg, but he doubted it. The main point was, she was curious. He had to do this. For her, and for the good of all ghostkind. If he could convert this bread to spectral energy, than what else was possible? Probably a lot of things, really. They could have cake! Curry! That weird salad with croutons! He would be doing them all a service.
Ezekiel took a deep breath, lifted the bread towards his mouth, and parted his jaws.
(He’d long since gotten over the strange sensation of…well, of having no sensation, of muscles or anything shifting as you opened your mouth).
He tried to bite down into the bread, but it was as though he were snapping at thin air. Or waving a piece of bread at thin air, depending on whether he focussed on his hands or his face. Frowning, Ezekiel concentrated on the taste of the food- just as he had earlier concentrated on the texture, and the warmth- at the same time as he focussed on the best and worst colours the world had to offer, his personal path to tangibility. With a feeling of immense satisfaction, he felt his teeth sink into the bread. The spirit made a small triumphant sound as he tore the mouthful free.
The morsel fell from his jaws and slid off the roof, into the lamplit street below.
Kree, wasting no opportunity, leaned forward to take the remainder of the bread from his grasp. Ezekiel let her, forcing a small smile as he looked over at Aerona. He’d had such high hopes! Well, insofar as the prospect of eating real bread counted as a ‘high hope’. It had been something to look forward to, though. Even if he did like oatmeal cookies better.
Aerona was silent a moment longer, her brow creased, scanning the surrounding area with something which wasn’t quite interest, but couldn’t really be disinterest either, or else why would she bother? Before Ezekiel could further ponder the peculiarities of human behaviour, she shrugged and looked over at him.
“There are some teenagers just over there, spraying lewd graffiti all over the fountain. Obviously the guards haven’t noticed. Perhaps a good haunting could set them straight?”
Ezekiel perked up a little. That sounded like an idea. Even if he couldn’t do lots of things living people could…at least he could still help deal with lawbreakers, and that was something! It was so much easier in this form, it was super simple to act brave when you knew there was nothing they could really do to harm you.
“Okay!” he said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, clambering to his feet. “Let’s go, Kree!”
Perhaps he wasn’t the same anymore, and perhaps he was missing out on a lot of the things he loved. But he was useful, and he had friends who knew how to cheer him up, and Un-life was Good.
Commentary on the Above
Tagging Lizica because I told her I would, long ago, before I decided not to post this. =P
I enjoyed writing with Sporty and Tiger , and when we'd finished our Massive Collabpiece of Doom (TM) I couldn't help but think about what a fun little trio our guys would make! I imagined them getting together to help guide townsfolk in their new excursions into the Outside, arguing about faction-related thingsaerona how could you he thought you were coooool!..and having silly conversations like this one here. Which I thought was far too silly to post, but now, I've decided I want to share it anyway. Enjoy. =)
Tiger- I don't think I ever had the best handle on Aerona as a character, so apologies for any oocness here. I did love the way you wrote her though! And if you ever finish that picture of her, I would be keen to see it. xP
Sporty- I think Kree would like bread? And let's ignore the fact that she was totally learning Humanese, for the sake of amusing mistranslations, for which I have an especial weakness.
(same goes for Kree- if you ever draw her again, you should let me know because I will always adore seeing Kree!)
I enjoyed writing with Sporty and Tiger , and when we'd finished our Massive Collabpiece of Doom (TM) I couldn't help but think about what a fun little trio our guys would make! I imagined them getting together to help guide townsfolk in their new excursions into the Outside, arguing about faction-related things
Tiger- I don't think I ever had the best handle on Aerona as a character, so apologies for any oocness here. I did love the way you wrote her though! And if you ever finish that picture of her, I would be keen to see it. xP
Sporty- I think Kree would like bread? And let's ignore the fact that she was totally learning Humanese, for the sake of amusing mistranslations, for which I have an especial weakness.
(same goes for Kree- if you ever draw her again, you should let me know because I will always adore seeing Kree!)
Gwen Ward
Interrogation Snippet (Written: July 2015)
“Where were you really, miss Ward?”
She shook her head again, perplexed. “At home. Asleep. I’ve said this. My brother, he can-“
“Ezekiel?” the guard interjected.
Gwen gritted her teeth together, gesturing with a quick snap of her hand towards the door of the interrogation room. “Willard.”
“Carry on.”
“My brother can attest to this. We stayed in the main room until midnight. Then I went to sleep.”
“You couldn’t have snuck out without him knowing?”
“I guess I could, but-“ Gwen hesitated, perplexed. “What kind of interrogation is this?”
“A thorough one,” the guard snapped.
She shook her head again, perplexed. “At home. Asleep. I’ve said this. My brother, he can-“
“Ezekiel?” the guard interjected.
Gwen gritted her teeth together, gesturing with a quick snap of her hand towards the door of the interrogation room. “Willard.”
“Carry on.”
“My brother can attest to this. We stayed in the main room until midnight. Then I went to sleep.”
“You couldn’t have snuck out without him knowing?”
“I guess I could, but-“ Gwen hesitated, perplexed. “What kind of interrogation is this?”
“A thorough one,” the guard snapped.
False Confession (Written: July 2015)
“Miss Ward?”The official doubled back towards her, surprised.
Gwen jutted out her chin a little and met his gaze steadily.
“Lights,” she repeated. “In the park.”
“Why didn’t this come up during the interrogation?”
“Because I thought nothing of it, really. When I can’t sleep, I go outside for a little air. And last night and…the two nights before that, at least, I spotted lights in the park. I thought it was nothing, probably just some kids. But maybe it wasn’t nothing?”
“I’m not sure,” the official frowned. “What kind of lights were they?”
“I don’t know. Lanterns, maybe? Not an electric light, they flickered too much for that.”
“Anything else?”Yeah. They were carried by people in dark, hooded robes. Who chanted nonsense phrases while dancing around a cauldron.”
“No,” she said, simply. “That’s about it. They stayed there for a few minutes, and then left.”
The official nodded slowly. “Thank you, miss Ward. We’ll have the place investigated tonight.”
“Thank-you.”
And what will they do when they find nothing there?
Gwen jutted out her chin a little and met his gaze steadily.
“Lights,” she repeated. “In the park.”
“Why didn’t this come up during the interrogation?”
“Because I thought nothing of it, really. When I can’t sleep, I go outside for a little air. And last night and…the two nights before that, at least, I spotted lights in the park. I thought it was nothing, probably just some kids. But maybe it wasn’t nothing?”
“I’m not sure,” the official frowned. “What kind of lights were they?”
“I don’t know. Lanterns, maybe? Not an electric light, they flickered too much for that.”
“Anything else?”Yeah. They were carried by people in dark, hooded robes. Who chanted nonsense phrases while dancing around a cauldron.”
“No,” she said, simply. “That’s about it. They stayed there for a few minutes, and then left.”
The official nodded slowly. “Thank you, miss Ward. We’ll have the place investigated tonight.”
“Thank-you.”
And what will they do when they find nothing there?
Notes on the Two Above:
So I wrote both of these at roughly the appropriate point in the roleplay, back when I was considering making Gwen my primary NPC. The interrogation scene was originally much longer, but I just selected a tiny section to post. Um. Mainly because the rest is unedited and terrible and well yeah, no, should never see the light of day. But I like writing dialogue, so posted that.
The bit with the lanterns, in the final Gwen piece? I wrote that before Aerona was revealed as Resistance, and Gwen is totally making things up- but it still amuses me.
*waves arms and dances and distracts you from the fact that she has posted pretty much nothing*
The bit with the lanterns, in the final Gwen piece? I wrote that before Aerona was revealed as Resistance, and Gwen is totally making things up- but it still amuses me.
*waves arms and dances and distracts you from the fact that she has posted pretty much nothing*
(Also now I'm reminded that I still have to write all those Kreefics >.>; )
Usually I wouldn't do this, but I love the idea of roleplaying a taniwha.