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Post by ♥ Azzie on Oct 18, 2018 23:08:01 GMT -5
OCtober Day 18: SleepMore big ol' Wrighton spoilers! When Tarso woke up, they were surrounded.
They noticed that before anything else; before they even noticed that they'd actually gone unconscious, and that that probably wasn't good. As their eyes opened they saw several familiar faces. Mirier, Renou, S'siri looking at once worried and stern. Trell and Theo and Iki and several other faces. Tarso was ashamed and guilty; these people must have worried about them.
"I'm sorry about that," they said. It came out as a croak. "I'm all right."
"No, you aren't," S'siri told them, sounding a bit annoyed. "Look at your hand."
Tarso did, and stifled a groan. Its round shape was a gray-green, darker and far less vivid than it ought to be.
"All right, maybe I need a couple of days-"
"What you need is to take better care of yourself." Jasy put her hands on her hips. "Doc, you've been working yourself into the ground."
"I'm just doing my job," Tarso protested, closing their eyes again.
"Your job is to take care of the medical needs of the people on this voyage. That includes you." S'siri told them sternly.
"You're no use to anyone if you aren't taking care of yourself," Mirier agreed.
"Also- people do care about you, too, you know," Iki told them.
Tarso was quiet. "I'm sorry to worry everyone. I overdid it." They sighed. "I'll try to do better in future."
"Thank you," Iki said, concerned. Renou nodded firmly.
Theo looked up at S'siri. "On the topic of Dr. Tarso's job, weren't we just discussing the issue of Kolra's broken glasses? And your pen?"
"And I believe there was a shortage of paperclips some time ago, yes." She looked at Tarso. "None of which you had to fix."
"I get the picture," Tarso groaned. "It's just habit."
"Then you'll have to break it. Spreading yourself too thin is never good- as you yourself have told me," S'siri added.
"All right," they said, burying their face with their hands. The grayness of them was still unnerving.
No doubt their companions noticed this, because they began picking up bags and sweaters and a couple headed for the door.
"All right. Now, you need to get some rest. Is there anything you need?" Trell asked. "We'll take care of things while you recover, all right?"
"Rest, food. Maybe a walk." Tarso closed their eyes again. "I'll come for dinner later on. And please come and get me if anything happens-"
"It won't," Renou said firmly. "Get some sleep."
As his friends said goodbye and filed out of their room, Tarso drifted into the small tethasi on the table. S'siri turned and watched as they settled into it.
"Take your own advice and be good to yourself," she said, a bit more softly.
And Tarso, though they couldn't respond, resolved to do just that. Little notes: -I wasn't sure who'd show up at the pseudo-intervention; ergo I only mentioned people who I knew Tarso was friends with (and who gave me permission on the OOC thread.) More people might've been there!
-Doc needs a nap, seriously.
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Post by Thorn on Oct 19, 2018 15:53:03 GMT -5
OCtober Day 19- Work (Riley Wells)
Wrote this one quickly- wanted to get back into writing Werewolf Story characters. It's Riley angsting about going to Streamfarm! "They're sending me to Streamfarm," Riley groaned, face in hands.
Her companion chuckled. "Yeah, that's the worst. There are like five people there and most of them are probably witches and seers and fey and stuff. Those little towns are freaky."
Riley shook her head. "That's not it at all! There might be werewolves involved- and they're sending me. I don't know anything about werewolves. I know a little bit about vampires, but werewolves, Nate? Werewolves? I don't know where to start."
"Werewolves? And you don't get somebody with you on this one?"
"No. We're not sure they are werewolves yet, but I feel it in my bones. The account was pretty graphic. I've never heard of normal wolves behaving that way, or of wolves being so big. And I don't know what to do! I can read up a bit but in practical terms, I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm still in training! You've got a year on me, why don't they send you?"
After a long moment, Nate came and placed his hands on her shoulders. She frowned but didn't flinch away.
"Because they trust you, Rie. They know you can do it."
"But I don't even trust me!"
"Have some faith. This will be dangerous, sure, and you can bet I'm going to advocate to send somebody with you. But I have full confidence in your ability to see this through. You've got a good level head on your shoulders, you're practical, and I think you'll do some great work here and show them what you're made of, werewolves or otherwise."
She forced a smile. "You think so?"
"I know it." OCtober InspiredSo because of a significant misinterpretation, we ended up needing to wait two and a half hours in Roma Termini station for our train to Venice. We spent half this time sheltering in McDonalds, where I wrote this piece to vent and to pass the time. I call it 'OCtober Inspired', because I wouldn't ever have thrown these guys together if not for these exercises! “This is ridiculous,” Nerin huffed. “How long do we have to wait?”
Zazz shrugged effortlessly- which took some talent, considering he currently had both feet up on the table and a strawberry milkshake in one hand, the other extended in front of him as he examined his nails.
“Two hours, I believe,” Ursh was licking salt from their hands.
“Are we going to hang out in this McDonalds for two hours? That seems so pointless. Can’t we at least find a bookstore, or trade away that glowing dagger? I have a bad feeling about that thing, and what good is it to us anyway if the rogue won’t use it?”
Until then, she’d been content scrawling on napkins- presumably poetry in whichever of her six billion languages took her fancy. Ursh couldn’t tell. They were perfectly happy to just sit here and partake of this burger. And Zazz’s burger too- they’d somehow convinced him to get a combo deal, even though he’d gone in saying he wouldn’t buy anything at all. He ate like a bird, and Ursh knew they’d end up with the leftovers.
The alleged bird had experimentally dipped a fry into his milkshake. “Nerin, what are you talking about? This is disgusting!”
“It’s the only real way to eat them,” she said, completely straight-faced. “Otherwise they’re just so much salty hot mess.”
“You’re a salty hot mess,” he countered, passing the remaining fries to Ursh.
“I’m only a little bit salty.”
“I must be the saltiest of salty beings,” Ursh said, wiping grease from their mouth. “Or at least of medium humanoids. Because everything here is covered in salt, and I love it!”
Floral phased through the floor, sniffed at Nerin’s boots, and just as quickly floated back down to haunt whichever cashier it liked best. Zazz reached behind Nerin and picked up a sample of napkin-poetry. His lips silently moved as he deciphered it.
“That’s pretty,” he said at length. “A little too archaic though, don’t you think?”
She glared at him. “That’s your opinion.”
“Can you write in Undercommon?”
“No. I presume you can?”
“Tch, what kind of question is that?” he scrawled something in slanted, flowing hand on a stray napkin. Somehow he’d ended up with Nerin’s True Owl Quill. She wasn’t too sure how that happened, but at least he didn’t resist when she took it back. It was valuable in more than just a monetary sense, after all.
“What does it say?”
He hesitated. “Really mystical, secret drow stuff. Probably not allowed to say.”
“That just says ‘milkshake’.”
“We don’t have a word for ‘milkshake’, okay? I assure you, the rest is highly mystical.”
“That word there is very similar to the Elven for ‘cream’. That one is Elven for 'strawberry', if you switch out the u for an a.”
With an overly dramatic flourish, Zazz flung the napkin into the bin beside them. “Total coincidence.”
“You’re not even trying.”
“I’m offended.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Ursh cut in, “but that dagger is glowing really weirdly. And muttering. Can you hear that? Daggers shouldn’t be muttering. Nerin’s right, we need to get rid of this thing before it corrupts us or turns us all into goblins or something.”
Zazz warily side-eyed the weapon in question, wrapped in cloth and stashed under the table. “I’m not touching it.”
“Why don’t we just bin it?” Ursh suggested. “Put it in the paper bag, cover it in the rest of this rubbish, chuck it all in the bin? Who’s actually going to go looking for it?”
“You do have a point,” Nerin murmured. “Nobody wants to go pawing through an actual rubbish dump. Not even the grimiest of rogues.”
“But what about the gold?” Zazz interjected. “We could get a good deal for this thing.”
Nerin glared. “We are not letting somebody fall victim to a clearly evil, probably sentient piece of equipment, just for a few coins!”
“Even for several hundred gold? Probably somebody really stupid. They'd totally deserve it."
She took the dagger and threw it in the bag, before tossing the whole thing into the bin beside them, without even breaking eye contact.
Zazz sighed and looked away. “Okay, then. That’s fine too.”
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Post by ♥ Azzie on Oct 19, 2018 21:47:56 GMT -5
OCtober Day 19: Work(Note: This is set in 2013, and functions as an alternate POV semi-sequel to this! Vague references to GW3, too.) It was nearly seven, and Minerva was still at the library.
The returns cart was backed up, there was an order of movies to be picked up and catalogued, patrons to help, and someone had gotten glitter all over one of the sofas. (Ordinary, non-magical glitter; it was much worse than the magical stuff that eventually faded away.) None of which could wait, because there was a reading happening tomorrow at ten, and she couldn’t delegate because her only source of help had decided to bug off to who-knew-where with only a message.
She was allowing herself to fume over this; it had only been two days since Argent’s disappearance, and she figured she deserved a good few days, at least. It had been a very rude awakening to arrive at work, check the library messages, and hear “Morning Minerva, I’m sorry about this, but there’s been an emergency. I have to go and I hope it won’t be long but I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I’ll fill you in later if all goes well.” And then that very afternoon Shadow waltzed in with the news that some sort of war was going on in the kingdom to the east. Nobody had mentioned that since, thank heavens, but it was still very inconvenient, very rude, and very tiring. Minerva wasn’t sure how she was going to manage if Argent was gone long- maybe hire some temps. Maybe hire someone permanently, come to think of it. She wouldn’t fire him- not really, when he knew the place as well as he did- but he could certainly use some reminding that he had a job, not a playground.
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Post by ♥ Azzie on Oct 20, 2018 22:16:18 GMT -5
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Post by Thorn on Oct 22, 2018 4:40:55 GMT -5
Just wanna say, Azzie: wow, that's such a creative and cool use of the prompt! =O And all these dresses are lovely- I think visually my favourite is Cortica's gown, but in terms of the background/all the thought which went into it I really like Mina's. *** EDIT: 21- Game NightI'm still working on 20, will hopefully post it alongside 22. Decided for Game Night, I would think about what kinds of games my different characters would want to play! Five days of constant excitement has caught up with me and I don’t have a story in me right now, but this idea seemed fun. xD I was inspired by Azzie's quirky, cool interpretation of several prompts. Nyx and Dion will hopefully get added to this list later. =) Ursh- the one time they had anything resembling a games night in-universe, it was them and Andry playing drinking games with a bunch of guards. Our DM assigned us all a modifier based on CON score and body size, and we used that in our rolls to beat an increasingly difficult DC until “passing out under the table”, as he put it. But Ursh won! I was so proud!
In general, I think they prefer games of chance over games of skill. They like the dangerous feel of the random element. So for a games night, Ursh would want to play fairly classic dice and card games. They’d be up for other games too- they just like having fun! As long as there’s no reading involved. They try really hard to hide the fact they can’t read.
Nerin- games like Scrabble and Scattergories, which challenge a player’s understanding of words and concepts. If you manage to beat her? You obviously cheated. But she won’t bring it up, because she Knows This, so why would she need to? She’ll just never play the game with you again. Because you obviously cheated!
Doormat- Doormat loves colours and mystical-feeling things. He’d really love Dixit! He's very timid so would take a while to get fully involved in whatever game was in place, but once he's comfortable he'd get really enthusiastic and invested.
Zazz- my brain keeps going back to ‘arcade games.’ I think he’d especially like rhythm games- moreso ones like Guitar Hero and Pop ‘n’ Music than ones like DDR, because he’s a dextrous thieving scoundrel but probably not much of a dancer.
He does like traditional games, especially ones he knows how to cheat at, but in terms of sheer 'fun' I think he would be so enamored of the (semi) modern Arcade.
Kohimu and Te Tai- this one was tricky, because a) they’re not human/human-equivalent, and b) I don’t know many traditional Maori games that Kohimu might have enjoyed back when he was human.
I found a document describing quite a few, and decided Mengamenga is a game Kohimu would have enjoyed. There’s a board with four squares in different colours, and players manipulate coloured stones in strategies to let them remove their opponent’s pieces. I can almost imagine him as a human, perched on a boulder talking away and teaching the game to Te Tai...of course he would have to move the latter’s pieces for him, but he’d still have fun! |
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Post by Thorn on Oct 23, 2018 18:33:17 GMT -5
23. SchoolFloren from Werewolf Story! <3 I haven't written them in so long and never as a child, this was an absolute joy. Written in ~20 minutes. "Floren, are you paying attention?"
They froze. "Of course?"
"What did I say?"
It was quite rude of him to call them out like that. For one, they were nearly eleven. Which was old enough to be allowed to make your own decisions! So what if they didn't learn everything about addition and subtraction and whatever that thing over there was with the sets of beads? They'd learned about vampires last class, and that was heaps more interesting and way more useful. It wasn't like they'd ever need to know how to deal with bloodthirsty numbers attacking people in the dead of night!
The beads were probably a clue though. They stared but, drawing a blank, cleared their throat noisily and shrugged.
"It's okay. Mildred's teaching me all this."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Oh, absolutely! Just ask her. She says I'm a natural- the most natural student she's ever met."
"Florentine..." their teacher seemed at a loss. "For one, I wouldn't want people thinking you're being educated by a witch."
"Mildred's a good witch!"
"Even so. For another, you're lying. Do you know how I can tell?"
"I'm not."
"Really? Look at me."
They did as they were told. They immediately felt their face betray them, a series of sharp little twitches accompanied by a gross, guilty heat. It wasn't fair! Nicholas never got in trouble for lying, and he lied absolutely all the time. This was a huge injustice. It was probably because he was older and smarter, and he had that cool spinning top with the silver reflective bits, and everyone was nice to him so they could have a turn with it. But Floren never got a turn! Nicholas was an awful brother.
"Floren, stop scowling."
"I'm not!"
He sighed and adjusted his glasses. "You've disrupted this lesson long enough. Go and sit in the corner."
"Nicholas never has to sit in corners," they muttered, but did as they were told.
"Because Nicholas knows how to behave. Be quiet." Side Notes:
With hindsight the comment about bloodthirsty numbers is HILARIOUS, because generating random numbers is precisely how I decided how to distribute roles, and who the werewolves attack each night.
These exercises are very useful- I'd forgotten Nicholas was older! According to my character document (very helpful when, for example, I go for months without working on this thing...), he's 28 and Floren is 26 in canon. So 11 and 13-ish here!
Things I learned from writing this...
*Child-Floren wasn't as good at masking their emotions as their adult version.+
*Child-Floren wasn't so much a brat as just...constantly distracted.
*Nicholas is a kewl kid, apparently.
+Excluding the chapter where they spend the whole time crying, of course. Special circumstances and all!
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Post by Liou on Oct 24, 2018 15:47:02 GMT -5
I don't own a calendar, so every day I post is the correct day. (Hero City backstory x 2) 8 - ComfortSherrie's head snapped up at the noise. For a second, her head was filled with the shrill, screaming thought that there was someone in her house and that she should move immediately, take her phone, take Tina and get away.
Her surroundings swam back into focus - her notes scattered on the coffee table, the couch sagging under her, the television quietly droning in the dark sitting-room - and Sherrie remembered that she was in hers and Mayu's house, and that of course there was someone in it, because Mayu had entrusted Sherrie with her own two children. Tina's new siblings.
There was Nao, who had worked herself into a screaming fit earlier, outraged that someone who was not her mother dared to instruct her on how to prepare for bed when she clearly knew how to do it herself. Tina had been woken up by the ruckus and wailed, of course, and Sherrie had had to calm her down before resuming her studies.
She put her head in her hands and dug her fingers into her cheeks. After hours of ramming her sleepy mind into a wall of food safety regulations, she was no wiser and no more prepared, and her wife might still realise she was not smart enough for this and a waste of resources, and someone out there might realise they'd made a mistake giving her custody of Tina, and Sherrie was still foolish enough to stay up instead of quitting and sleeping.
Gathering her courage and responsibility, she pushed herself out of the sofa and shuffled towards the source of the noise. "Nao?" she whispered.
Nao's younger sibling sidled guiltily out of the downstairs bathroom.
"Jun?" Sherrie whispered. "Are you okay?"
They nodded and rocked on the balls of their feet, eyes fixed on their fluffy bunny slippers.
"Did... did you need a glass of water?"
Jun tilted their head from side to side uncertainly. "I don't know if I brushed my teeth, Sherrie," they whispered.
"I'm pretty sure you did."
They continued to sway back and forth. "And... I don't know if I packed my things for school tomorrow," they added, as though seeking more reasons.
"We can check that in the morning, Jun." Sherrie wondered what signal they were expecting from her. "Can't you go to sleep?"
They shook their head.
Sherrie kneeled. "Well, how about you blow really hard on my face?"
Jun's rocking stopped abruptly.
"That way, I can smell if you brushed your teeth and we'll know for sure."
The child opened their eyes very round, but was too docile not to do as told. Jun dutifully drew in air, puffed their cheeks like a hamster's, and exhaled over Sherrie's face. She saw the corners of their mouth lift, unable to resist this funny gesture, and the tired lines around their eyes relaxed.
"You smell tangy-fresh and minty-clean, Jun. Now we know you brushed your teeth." Sherrie glanced at the glowing numbers under the TV screen behind her. "So you can go back to bed, okay? It's really late."
Jun didn't move from their spot and resumed contemplating their bunny slippers, twisting their toes inside. Sherrie was beginning to feel herself sway from fatigue.
"What is it?"
"I can't sleep."
"Do you know why you can't sleep?"
"I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"I'm scared I won't go to sleep ever," Jun said in a barely audible whisper, "and I'll be tired tomorrow, and I'll be dumb in school, and Mrs Madison will be mad at me, and I they won't let me go to school anymore, and Mum will be mad at me, and Nao won't like me anymore, and Mum will send me away, and I'll have to go live with someone else."
Sherrie's jaw dropped. She felt her eyes prickle. "Do you... really think that will happen?"
"No," said Jun, also on the verge of sniffling. "I don't know I'm scared."
Sherrie looked back towards the television screen and the spot where she'd been wrestling with her studies, biting down on her lip. She could not crack in front of Jun, she could not reveal the exact same fears they felt and burden this child with double their anxiety.
"It is very scary," she choked out.
Jun nodded weakly. Sherrie stood up and reached for a tissue to hand them, taking advantage of it to grab one for herself. Jun blew their nose very quietly, turning away from her.
"You know your mum would never do that, right, Jun?" Sherrie asked, almost fearing their answer.
"Yes. Just scared."
The stairs seemed much too far up. Sherrie walked back to the couch unsteadily and patted the cushions next to her. "Do you want to stay with me a bit longer?"
Jun followed her, leaned forward and rested their chin on the couch instead of sitting.
"You don't have to go to school tomorrow if you're tired. It'll be okay. I'll talk to your teacher. She'll be nice. I'll help with homework. And Mayu is coming home this weekend, and you can always, always stay with us. Okay, Jun?" Sherrie stretched more comfortably on the couch. "And tomorrow we can brush your teeth twice."
That got a smile out of them.
Sherrie opened her arms, too exhausted to offer them anything more. For a moment, she tensed, fearing this was too much, too early for Mayu's child; but Jun clambered up and nestled against her, just as warm and soft as Tina felt, and with a gentleness of their own.
"Goodnight, Jun."
"'Night Mum," they mumbled in reply.
The echo of those words floated through the drowsy haze of Sherrie's mind, repeating itself endlessly, slowly seeping into her memory. It was the first time either of Mayu's children had called her "Mum". Under the frail weight of Jun, Sherrie made peace with her unfinished studies on the table, and she made peace with the fact that she wouldn't be able to carry them to their bed. Before falling asleep, she reached for the remote and turned off the background drone of the television, and the house was quiet. 11 - HaircutMayu Ikeda set the damp dish towel on the drying rack. She stretched languidly in the comfortable cotton T-shirt that floated around her tiny frame. After another long work week, she had reunited with her family and home, with the security of her own name on the letterbox and her shoes in their spot in the hallway. She'd feasted on the excellent dinner served by her chef of a wife and lounged peacefully in her chair, before taking over the clearing of the dishes as her wife, in turn, put her feet up.
She smiled absently at the distant sounds of the television and the sisters discussing films to order.
"Mum, can you take me to get my hair trimmed tomorrow?"
Mayu turned to her middle child, who stood in the doorway. Her eyes focused on a spot a few inches too low, out of habit, and she had to glance up at their face. "Another hair trim? Wouldn't that be the second time this month, Jun?"
"No, the third," said her wife Sherrie, bringing her empty wine glass back to the kitchen. "I took them last weekend too."
Mayu inspected Jun's hair more attentively. Mere months earlier, it had been almost identical to her own thin, chin-length, feathery black hair, minus the severity that her narrow spectacles added to her square style.
"Just how short do you want your hair, Jun? We could have it done in one go if you told us."
"I only want it to stay like before."
"We should get a refund from the salon. It doesn't look like they trimmed anything at all."
"But they did," Sherrie said pointedly, "they took several inches off."
The two women's eyes met. Ever since the accident and the sudden burst of Jun's superpowers months ago, they had been very cautious when bringing up the topic, even more cautious than usual around their anxious child.
"Your hair's been growing very fast lately, Jun. It's looking much thicker too," Mayu continued. "And glossier than mine ever was."
"Well it shouldn't," Jun said in an unusually mulish tone, holding their head a little straighter.
After years of seeming to grow into a smaller, thinner version of their mother and sister, of easily fitting into the family line-up, the teen had shot up in height and grown gangly limbs like those of a tottering fawn. They were already an inch or two taller than Mayu and showed no sign of stopping. They were simply growing faster than any human teen should.
"Jun, we can't afford that many haircuts."
"I don't want it to grow faster. If you won't take me, then I'll have to learn to trim it myself, and it'll be uneven and nasty."
Their obstinacy was nothing in the face of the one from whom they'd inherited it.
"Suit yourself," she said in her steely conference voice. "You know what will happen next as you grow, Jun? Other things about you will change, besides your hair. You won't be able to trim those at all. You can't expect to keep on looking the same, even if you weren't a metahuman. You can't hide and undo every little thing that happens to you forever."
Jun remained silent. Mayu tried to look into their eyes, suddenly worried. She continued in a softer, gruffly casual tone.
"Your hair growth might be a temporary reaction to your powers coming out. It might stabilise soon enough and go back to the way it used to be, who knows? We can ask the metahuman-doctor about it. You're going to go through a lot of changes in any case, some of them much bigger than hair growth. Why don't you try leaving your hair alone for a while. It'll be like practicing getting used to change, starting with a small change. You can pin it up if it gets in the way."
Still no response. Mayu stepped closer to them, clutching her own elbows nervously just like Jun did. They seemed so fragile to her, yet she felt incapable of seeing at what point they might break, and the thought of failing them nagged her like a gaping void.
"Are you going to be okay, Jun?"
At last, they gave her a nod.
Mayu patted their shoulder, gave her wife a pleading glance and joined the others in the sitting-room.
Sherrie had taken out a few snacks they might indulge on during movie night. She pushed a bowl of tangerines towards Jun. "Your hair looks very nice in any case, honeybunny. Sure, the thickness makes it harder to style, and maybe to cut if it keeps going the way it is, but it's very sleek. You really don't like the way it looks?"
They shook their head, pushing back their healthily shining shoulder-length locks. "It's different now."
"Different from what?"
Jun gestured vaguely with their hand. "From everyone's." They had not found specific words, but Sherrie knew that they had been pointing towards the rest of their family in the other room.
She smiled. "If you think your hair looks less like Mayu's and Nao's, don't you think it's starting to look more like mine and Tina's?"
Jun looked up at her long braids, glossy from tender care and soft-scented products. Sherrie always looked forward to the time she spent at the salon with her daughter, when they went to have their naturally coily hair styled together. No matter how close they felt as a family, Jun never realistically expected to be a part of that.
"But, that's not really how that works," they said with a confused frown.
Sherrie raised her hands. "I'm just saying that your hair looks a little bit more like mine and Tina's now than it did before, Jun. It's what I see."
"I do like the sound of that, Mum." Notes: Mayu is the mother of Nao and Jun.
Sherrie is the mother of Tina and the wife of Mayu. |
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Post by Thorn on Oct 24, 2018 15:47:32 GMT -5
24. Desserts (Urshmek) “I made cake,” Gulgg said.
She slammed a mug containing a mish-mash of dry and wet ingredients onto the table. Ursh sniffed it.
“I’ve never made you anything,” they protested.
“Today’s your birthday. Andry told me, so I made cake. It’s no-bake cake because we’re orcs and only humans need to heat the flavour out of everything.”
“Yeah, we’re orcs!” Ursh perked up a little at that. “Do you want to share with me?”
She shrugged. “I ate half in the kitchen. Not going to lie. Happy birthday.”
“Thanks Gulgg. Mmm, orangey! Where did you find oranges?”
“The Sentinels gave it to me. Being a diplomat has its advantages.”
“Thanks Gulgg,” Ursh repeated. “How should I thank you?”
“It’s a gift. You just say ‘thanks’, you don’t have to earn a gift.”
“I could kiss you?”
“I’ve neglected to file my tusks. I’d probably cut you. That would suck. Not in the mood for human stuff anyway.”
“We could go for a nice walk?”
She stood at once. “Sounds good.” Notes: Gulgg is one of Ursh's baes (unlike Truespark, this one actually went somewhere!) She's an orc diplomat from Orcland (it's a pun on 'Auckland', and yeah, I know it's awful. Blame my brother, it's his campaign.)
Her diplomacy often takes the form of yelling at people while brandishing the biggest weapon she can (she has to tone it down when dealing with humans, of course.)
What did I learn from this? I guess I learned that despite being super educated, Gulgg isn't very verbose when that's not required. Also that she's worldly enough to understand that Ursh observes a lot of human customs, living among humans and all, so she goes out of her way to mark their birthday in a way they'll like. (also if anyone missed it, Liou posted just before me and their contributions are so sweet and wonderful!)
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Post by Thorn on Oct 27, 2018 6:12:52 GMT -5
27. Cold (Izazdin ft. River) I started with an idea of Zazz, who is from a warmer underground environment, being cold; and River, who is half water elemental, being like WUT EVEN IS YOUR PROBLEM BRUH? It turned into something else, and is entirely non-canon, because it contains small aspects I think we'll be able to touch on better and more organically in roleplay. I would work on this more but I have to get to work soon (sob, it's not even cool work today), so I'll just post now as an exercise in Character Development and Completing Most of These Challenges. (River's roleplayer suggested I should write a 'retelling of that time River removed half his clothing to explain his various scars, and Zazz's brain fried', which I could do for '??!?', but I don't think I could do it. I couldn't do it justice. But at least 'Cold' was fairly easy, and I'm excited to have a Free Day tomorrow to write whatever I want!) “I’m cold,” Zazz complained.
He was wearing as many layers of clothing as possible, sacrificing style for comfort for the Greater Good, and it still wasn’t enough. Even below deck, he could feel the wind whipping through the hull, and almost taste that revolting salty sea spray. Intrigue in the High North hadn’t told him it would be revolting, it had made everything sound so nice.
At least he could feel his toes. Up on deck, that was a non-existent luxury. And of course, he would spend half the night on watch; because his eyes were better, or maybe because the others were lazy, or perhaps because he did keep volunteering for it. He always felt more alive at night, even if the days were currently so cold he couldn’t properly trance, and everything just kinda sucked.
Mc C and Mr River were made of water, or something, and didn’t seem to care. At least Mr Rio was a bit more sympathetic, when he wasn’t blithering about tortoises and turtles and whatever other creatures shared that vague body plan. Zazz didn’t really talk to the actual sailors, for the main part, which suited him just fine because he didn’t much care for any of them. Except Carla and Valen, of course, and they weren’t sailors so much as wizards hired for...some purpose or other.
River was in the room now, taking inventory of his own possessions. Or maybe just checking nobody had stolen them, that was probably a good idea with all these human sailors about. But ‘taking inventory’ sounded much cooler.
The genasi spoke without looking up:
“What I don’t understand is why you’re here in the first place. You don’t like the cold, or the sun, or the ocean-”
“The ocean’s fine. The only thing I don’t like about it is that it’s ruined my hair. Apparently it’s great for your skin though, so I sort of forgive it?”
“Okay, well, you clearly don’t want to be here in general. So why are you here? You said you just want to help people but- Zazz, you could have done that anywhere.”
“Not these particular people,” he countered. “Saving prisoners from one of Arcadia’s worst enemies?”
“You’re not even Arcadian. You don't even like them.”
“I’m sort of Arcadian,” he insisted. “We lived beneath Arcadia, anyway.”
“Different culture. Different accent.”
“I can change my accent. You should feel privileged I trust you enough to use this one.”
“You’re diverting. Tell me why you’re here.”
Zazz sighed, folding and refolding his arms.
“Okay. But you have to promise not to laugh.”
“I promise.”
“I read a lot. You know that, right? I think we have similar tastes. Shortly after I came to the surface, I found this amazing trilogy based around high-seas adventure. There was an emphasis on sparkling waves- which I did imagine as, you know, more like candlelight rather than pain and death and suffering, but oh well. There were handsomely rugged people with deep and tortured souls, finding love and treasure, and there was usually a woman disguised as a man for reasons which made almost no sense. There was very little actual sailing, come to think of it, but I guess that would be too boring to read. It’s a very popular genre, I must have read ten or so similar stories. So when I saw an opportunity to have my own high-seas adventure, I jumped at it.”
“I see,” River nodded. “I have to admit, that sounds more like you.”
“Yeah, but it’s ridiculous. It’s not like I went to sea for love, or my country, or because I’m noble. I just wanted an adventure, but without any of the driving forces which compel people to adventure. Which is probably why it’s not working out.”
“Another day or two and we’ll be there. We can rescue the team, get out, and be on our way back before you know it. Then you never have to set foot on a boat ever again.”
This was true. And Zazz was good at being stealthy- he knew that. He’d be much better at sneaking in and getting people out than he was at doing magic. Most of the time that just frustrated him, but when it came to rescuing poor frightened Arcadians...boy, wouldn’t the others be impressed! Notes: *River, Rio and C are fellow party members. Carla and Valen are an NPC wizard and her apprentice. I'm convinced Carla is secretly evil, but Zazz has no idea and thinks she's Awesome and Brave.
*This piece takes place very shortly before they reach their destination, everything goes wrong, and then two days later they're all imprisoned by vampires. Two of them are STILL imprisoned by vampires a full session and a half later. We are not good at this. ;-;
*This piece is half-true. Zazz is an idiot, but he does have some slightly more compelling reasons factoring into why he's on the ship. Wanting an adventure was absolutely one element in all of that though.
Things I learned from this piece: *Accents! I was like 'hmm yes he probably does have a different accent, worth noting.'
*He's really just a street magician. That's his main occupation when he's not trying to Have Adventures. He does steal a lot too though so, like. A shady street magician.
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Post by Moni on Oct 27, 2018 9:18:36 GMT -5
25. The Fam Bro! probably my only OCtober contribution to this thread but... I'll be gosh darned if I didn't do what I was gonna say I'd do! Hurrrrarrrrghasdfas. also... i need help with writing actually short sentences... I LIKE MY SENTENCES LIKE I LIKE MY CANDY... very large and sugary... also... i just realize i wrote this in a way that this will mean 0 to anybody who doesn't already know the character rip in pepperonis. pepperonis. also really angsty for no real reason, but like... i listened to nickelback before writing this so. There was nothing quite as sad as a beautiful day. when you saw the rays of sunlight reach out, like extended arms, into the rolling hills and the warm, brittle leaves of autumn. Lissandre leaned back into a ruddy brick wall as she put her book down on the porch. Unusually, she hadn't been reading anything serious or groundbreaking. The book contained some whimsical story about a girl trapped in a tower without long hair for her to escape with; truthfully, Lissandre would have so superciliously derided it as being a complete waste of time--on any other day, that is.
Even a mind as industrious and assiduous as hers could not function in tip-top shape forever. Sometimes, she needed to find an escape in some tale or other, and it was always best to lose oneself in one of somebody else's making, and not dwell on the significantly stupider ones she'd had as a child. They were, in retrospect, much sillier than anything she'd read.
They ended on a worse note, too.
In this one moment, these hopes and memories came back to vitiate a perfectly beautiful scene. Nothing about sunlight or trees or even the thought of autumn giving into the terrible cold of winter struck any cord with her, but all of them together, well... she used to dream about them a great deal.
What it would be like to run through grass and see a little squirrel deftly running up a tree. What it would be like to pluck a flower from its bed and put it in your hair. What it would be like to watch a sunset dip into a sparkling river, at a picnic with her brother. Just like the books said.
Now she had it. Now she had it, and it was lacking. She'd gotten stung by a wasp while running through grass barefoot, attempted talking to squirrels, added plants to her sartorial dictionary, and watched so many sunsets disappear into so many objects that the objects the sun dipped into became more interesting than the sunset itself.
But he wasn't there to share it with her; her "brother" was somewhere in an urn, her mother may as well have never existed, and what use was anything beautiful after that? She'd had it--the thing she wanted to have with them, and they were gone--ignominiously, to say the least. Maybe she would have gone the same way. Should have.
Should have, but neither fantasy nor tragedy ever worked out the way they should have. With a sigh, she shut out her train of though, picked up her book again, and opened it to page 256.
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Post by ♥ Azzie on Oct 27, 2018 16:49:05 GMT -5
OCtober Day 26: Hot and Day 27: ColdOkay, so I didn't exactly mean to post these together. It's just last night I was extremely tired and went to bed immediately after finishing writing Hot. But then today I thought it might be fitting anyway. Completely blatant Wrighton spoilers here, for Atif specifically, and vague hints for the RP as a whole (but those probably aren't noticeable unless you've read it anyway.) Either way, proceed with caution!
The hottest days of summer were when Atif wished most that he understood what had happened to him, and that he didn’t have to hide it.
He almost never thought about it. “Not hiding it” was so far removed from reality that it felt dangerous to even think about it. And it wasn’t that he especially wanted to share with anyone. Atif believed in keeping his own business to himself, and that was good.
But occasionally, on the very hottest of days, Atif would allow himself the petty thought that sometimes keeping to himself was annoying.
Atif was not, as a rule, fond of the heat. Heat waves tended to bring people in larger numbers to the hospital suffering related health complications, and things that resulted in more people getting sick were not among his favourites. Even aside from that, it was tiring and sweaty. Mina certainly kept to the cool of her shop enough, trying to keep the plants from dying. Atif rather suspected nobody really liked the overwhelming heat.
Except that as a teenager he had discovered that, when he transformed, he didn’t mind it nearly so much.
He had no idea why. Maybe it was something in his green skin, or the airy way he floated along. But what had felt like oppressive heat before now felt like a pleasant, warm afternoon. He was no cooler than before, but he was quite a bit more comfortable. His father used to tease that he was jealous, that he wanted to be able to “turn into a sunflower” on hot days too. Atif always laughed at that, and one year bought him a sunflower plant for Father’s Day.
But it was a bit frustrating, because Atif was jealous too. He wanted to go enjoy the sunshine. But there was nowhere to go. Even the woods at the edge of town saw their fair share of hikers, and Atif didn’t want to be the grain of truth behind the next cryptid rumour to float around town.
On these occasions he usually headed back to work, to see if there was anything extra he could do, or else wandered over to the flower shop. It was better to keep busy when he was feeling irritated; there was no use in dwelling on it, after all.
Besides, the hospital and flower shop both had air conditioning.
This one contains absolutely zero Wrighton spoilers!
Mina Khouri loved when summer segued into autumn, and the first chill began to drift into the air.
Sure, it made her work more expensive to keep up with, but it was worth it. Autumn meant she could pull out her long sweaters and scarves, and make use of the new scarf or two she always bought at the summer festival. And the cooler weather always brought her brother visiting, and he always made his famous brown sugar pork chops that Toni liked so much (Mina loved them too, but it was a family tradition that Toni always got the first one ever since they'd stolen an entire plate as a kid.) And the autumn just smelled nice, like a low excitement and the edge of something new. She'd loved that smell even as a child, and its familiar return always felt comforting to her.
Warm weather was nice, but Mina had a special place in her heart for the cold.
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Post by ♥ Azzie on Oct 29, 2018 22:56:33 GMT -5
OCtober Day 29: Horoscopes (I pretty much renamed this to "Constellations" because none of my characters know a whole lot about horoscopes and neither do I. XD) The stars were always a slightly strange sight for Shadow.
It's always jarring to go somewhere far from home and see that the stars aren't where you're used to them being. For Shadow it was even stranger; these stars were completely different ones from the ones he'd grown up with. And though he'd had years to adjust, it still took him a second each time. He'd memorized the constellations; The Dreamer shone bright over Meridell, and The Thief twinkled cheerfully on the clearest nights. There might have been constellations here, but Shadow had never learned their names. Instead he made them up, connecting stars in his mind as he stared up at the night sky. There was the River, and the Book, and the Old Moon. (The last one wasn't really a constellation; Shadow was fairly sure it actually was the remains of the moon from the last time it had been blown up.)
Strange as it was, the unfamiliar sky never actually bothered Shadow. It was almost comforting. As fond as he'd been of Neopia's stars, it felt good sleeping free from their influence. A truly fresh start. And every time he remembered that the sky was different here, he felt a twinge of gratitude for whichever stars had been the ones to lead him here.
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Post by Thorn on Oct 30, 2018 12:17:25 GMT -5
30- History
*Decided to work on Laurel's character history! He's one of my main candidates for Next DND Character (although I highly suspect once I'm given the campaign blurb I'll create a new character entirely...still, it's good to have him on standby!)
(I can't believe this campaign will not only have MINIS, but also BUILDINGS and TERRAIN I am so overjoyed.)
Laurel is hundreds of years old so there's a lot of history I COULD write, but as always it's good to leave things fairly simple when starting out.
*Also worked on Resolve, a tiefling doctor (homebrew rogue subclass) I have on standby, awaiting her own campaign! When creating Resolve, I rolled a lot of random elements from Xanathar's Guide. Today I just fleshed these out, altered or removed ones I don't much like, and her basic story is now a lot more to my liking. It made her mother more awesome too, which is a nice bonus!
Resolve is 25 so there isn't as deep a wealth of Experience to consider as Laurel.
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Post by Thorn on Oct 31, 2018 13:29:46 GMT -5
31. Celebration (Kaztae/Izazdin, and a few members of his family dredged up from my notes.)
"This is an important occasion, Kaztae, so stand straight," his sister hissed, tugging none too gently at his collar and fastening the clasp.
Erafaen wore pauldrons shaped like spiders- each body following the curve of her shoulder, the legs wrapped around her triceps, rubies winking from each head. They were impressive, if purely ceremonial. By contrast Kaztae, with his formless black robes and plain silver arachnid clasp, looked very plain. He stood only a little shorter than his sister, and besides his height was indistinguishable from nearly every other wizard present.
He didn't like that in the slightest.
Erafaen, finally content, went to stand with her mother. The other wizards didn't look around as Kaztae approached, but he could feel them watching him. Evaluating him. He stood tall and reminded himself that his mother was Castivris Vrinelle herself and that he should be assessing their suitability, not the other way around. His eyes flickered to meet the gaze of a particularly careless young drow. Kaztae curled his lip, doing his best to mimic his father when confronted with people he didn't like, and the other quickly looked away. Kaztae felt a little burst of pride, turning back to face his mother and sisters.
His middle sister, Stavra, wore the ornate ceremonial circlet reserved for only the most significant occasions- if the crowd of witnesses wasn't testament enough to the importance of current proceedings. The other house was larger and more influential, but Mirzel wasn't the child of a matron mother, which Kaztae suspected was the only reason House Zyraen consented to this union. Not that he'd ever say it aloud. Stavra and Castivris seemed happy with the match, which he supposed was the main thing.
He stood straight and still for a lot of talking, nodding when appropriate and making sure that he was Looking Attentive whenever Castivris glanced his way, but eventually it was over. Kaztae stifled a yawn and waited for his father, currently preoccupied with someone Kaztae didn't recognise, to consult him and his older brother Zorithal.
As the space around them cleared, Kaztae whispered: "I'm so bored."
"I know, right?" Zorithal hissed back. "We've still got hours of mingling to go, kill me now, these people are so boring. Maybe I can find myself a wife because let's be honest, no better houses are coming our way."
Kaztae giggled. "You're awful."
"I'm right," Zorithal reminded him. "I hope you know what you're going to tell our dear father?"
Kaztae nodded. "I think so."
"Good. Looks like he's finished with old Targi, prepare yourself for the grilling of a lifetime."
"If you make me laugh again I will hit you."
Notes:*As soon as I envisioned spider-pauldrons I was all over it. Spider allll the things!
*Until this stage I wasn't sure if I was using Matron Mothers (my DM told me to do what I like with drow, since he has no plans for them besides the assassin-brother-in-lore who is hunting Zazz), but I'm using just enough Forgotten Realms lore that it makes sense. Since this piece isn't fully canon (I just went through a list of Zazz's siblings and who is married to whom, and went from there), don't think it matters too much even if I end up changing my mind again.
*I realised during this piece that some of older-Zazz's personality comes from his brother.
*This was 30 years ago so they're about...83 and 100.
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Post by ♥ Azzie on Oct 31, 2018 21:04:53 GMT -5
So. Yesterday's prompt, History? Completely blew up. I've been writing it almost nonstop since yesterday and it's still not done, oops. But I had to take some time and do today's, so, without further ado: OCtober Day 31: Celebration
"Boo!"
Ben pounced out from behind the door, alien spring-eyes bouncing. The goat-queen who was probably Trie jumped in mock surprise, giggling. Ben giggled too, and she bopped his spring-eyes.
Meanwhile, across the room, a very tiny Indiana Jones was talking seriously to an older woman dressed as a banshee and a prince-child, who seemed to be paying close attention. Kindrin waved dramatically and Eddy and Minerva gasped, waiting for him to continue the story.
Asa and Cortica were chatting, too- trading fashion tips. Asa had let her hair go straggly and wore the sickly-blue horse ears of a kelpie, while Cortica had painted much of her face and arms with gold and silver, to resemble a robot. Asa pointed out the real metalwork on Cortica's arm, and cooed over it, while Cortica admired the ornamental earrings on the kelpie-ears. Buckie sat, content, on Cortica's shoulder, the little top hat and moustache he wore evidently not bothering him.
In a corner, a man in a cape, top hat and suit was watching the party. With his stoic stare he almost looked menacing, at least before a rather short Batman poked him in the side and asked him why he wasn't wearing a costume. Indignant, Argent answered that he was from Sailor Moon, at which point Shadow laughed and said "Gotcha!" Argent responded by poking Shadow with a plastic flower, but his face softened into a grin, and he told Shadow he'd better not let Ben steal everyone's candy. Batman's expression was uncharacteristically worried, and he scampered off.
Three latecomers arrived, a man in a very oversized green ogre mask leading in a lady dressed as a queen and a man covered in fur, with a fake bear nose. Jamil tried to keep his head from bumping anyone as he went over to Argent and introduced himself. (To his credit, Argent didn't laugh. To Jamil's credit, he'd been expecting laughter and was a bit disappointed.) Mina went directly to Asa and Cortica to compliment their costumes, and Atif went to ask Ben about his.
Mingling, none of them quite sure what to do, were a number of other people- all of them dressed as witches. Zephyr looked the most natural, with her green skin and hair, but all of them had had fun with their costumes. Leo looked for all the world like Shaggy with a witch's hat on, even carrying a little plush dog, and Arnie was looking around uncertainly. He was by far the most imposing witch. Even Lou- quiet Lou- had put their best effort into the costume, trying for a Sabrina-like look.
All of the witches carried brooms. All looked uncomfortable. Aside from Lou and Arnie, they had not planned their costumes together.
And outside, watching the festivities through the window, a young woman smiled. "Thank you for bearing with me," she whispered. "I love you guys."
But none of them saw her, and when they looked to the window, all they saw was moonlight, and the party continued on into the night.
Now that OCtober is done, I'm going to tidy these up and organize over the next while! I want to stick all my NTWF-character-relevant ones in my story thread, and also put up the three I never posted on their days. (Plus an older thing I wrote that goes with one of them. And I still need to finish History.) This is the most I've written in forever and I'm so grateful to OCtober. ♥ |
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