Shipbound sounds like it would be a pirate-themed one.
That'd be so awesome. The high seas are terrorised by the fearsome crew of the Alternia led by the dread pirate Karkat Vantas. John Egbert is a privateer leading his own small crew, hunting pirates.
By the way, Cathartes, your fic was cool. I liked it.
That'd be so awesome. The high seas are terrorised by the fearsome crew of the Alternia led by the dread pirate Karkat Vantas. John Egbert is a privateer leading his own small crew, hunting pirates.
Damn it dude I've got, like, three ideas already. That's not fair.
Also, is anyone on here willing to look over a scene for me? I am not entirely confident in my Dave and I would like a second opinion.
It honestly doesn't matter. There have been what, five fics describing Dave and Rose in the "bad end" timeline? Since they're good they're fine to read, even if they go over the same ground. This is pretty cool, I have to admit and I'd like to see more.
More Fanstravaganza stuff, this is a continuation from Electromechanism. Doesn't really have anything to do with the word "Softly", but I was trying to capture the "low-key but happy" mood of the song a bit. Well, sort of. Probably fits the bit with John and Jade more than the bit with Rose and Dave, I dunno. Anyway:
Softly
John looked over at Rose, sleeping peacefully in her carefully arranged pile of knitwear. Just like when he first met her in person, he thought, smiling. Well, for a given value of "met", anyway. He still felt kind of guilty about the way he'd flown off before she woke up, especially as it turned out they'd only just missed each other. Even if it had worked out for the best in terms of making sure they all got born, he'd still been a bit of a lousy friend then. Maybe if he'd stayed around, she wouldn't have flown off the handle at the game like that. Oh well, he'd tried to make up for it since.
Dave meanwhile was snoozing in a chair, his pyjama-like red suit on, arms folded as if daring the universe to think he looked silly. He did look a bit silly, John thought, but that was okay. He was just a cool guy standing guard over his sister, trying his best to make sure the Gods of the Furthest Ring didn't bend her mind too far out of shape.
"Are you okay, bro?" Jade asked him, placing a concerned hand on his shoulder. "You haven't typed anything for five minutes. D'you want me to have a look at some of it?"
"Might be an idea, thanks sis." John said, standing up. "I can't really concentrate on it right now. I'm worried about those two."
"I don't think those Furthest Ring guys would deliberately do anything bad to them," Jade reassured him as she sat down at the terminal. "They're just like Skaia visions were for us. Well, still are for you..."
"Yeah... but they don't seem to be particularly sanity-preserving."
"Well, maybe sanity's overrated," said Jade cheerfully.
"Heh, maybe."
Jade frowned at the screen for a second. "Actually, one thing does worry me... Jack Noir. He's already killed my dreamself, and I think he'd've killed yours too if it hadn't been for the bunny. And he's a lot more powerful now after Bec prototyped himself to blow up my meteor..."
"... so when's he going to go after Rose and Dave's dreamselves?" finished John. "Yeah, that is worrying. 'Specially given they're living next door to him."
"Maybe he thinks it'd anger the Dark Gods if he tried it? Even with Bec's power, they're still probably a handful for him."
"Could be. That'd be ironic, me worrying about them when they're actually protecting Rose and Dave. I still wish I knew what was going on though..."
"Well, we might be able to keep an eye on them," said Jade. "We're pretty close to Derse here, after all. Have you still got your telescope?"
John checked his sylladex. "Yeah, actually. Hang on, I'll just go outside..."
He stepped through a door, glad once more that the space between planets in the Incipisphere was breathable. Derse hung in space in front of him, and he focused the telescope on its moon. Sure enough, hovering between the two dream towers, were a couple of small purple dots...
"Hey, isn't that the meteor we're on?" Dave asked, gesturing towards the Veil.
"It could be," agreed Rose. "It does look like the largest one left."
"Wonder what'd happen if we flew over there? Seeing yourself asleep would be pretty weird."
"Maybe later. Right now we have business to attend to." Rose looked meaningfully over his shoulder. "They're here."
Dave followed her gaze. He couldn't see anything. Well, yeah, he still had his shades on. Rose coughed expectantly.
"Oh, all right then," he said, taking them off. Indistinct shapes appeared in the blackness beyond Derse. The first time he'd done this, the shapes had given him a warning: a warning about stairs. It certainly explained a lot, he reflected.
Greetings, your Highnesses.
John and Jade never had to deal with this shit, Dave thought. Clouds don't treat you like you're some kind of royalty. Then again, you can't ask clouds questions...
"We found some unusual program code out in the Veil," began Rose. "We can't make any sense of it, nor can our counterparts from the Alternia session. But it's making us feel uneasy. We were wondering if you could provide us with an understanding of what it means."
What form does this code take?
"Well, it's got a fucking cycling pool ball animation in it for a start," said Dave.
"Manners, Strider," said Rose sharply, "they're only trying to help."
"Finding a goddamn animated GIF in computer code deserves a couple of swearwords, Noble Circles of Horrorterrors or no."
As if to break up the argument, the Gods interrupted. We know of this code. A copy of it is kept on one of the servers out here, much like the Princess' Document of Frequently Asked Questions.
"Really? Interesting," said Rose. And it is dangerous.
"Ah." When the universe ends, it summons a most fearful demon.
"What, a pool-themed demon?" asked Dave. Yes. An apparently indestructible demon with time travel powers: these powers happen to be themed around the pastime of American Eight-Ball Pool.
"Why?" asked Rose. One may as well ask why the Incipisphere has hierarchies themed around chess and playing cards.
"I guess it does make as much sense as anything in this whole crazy nonsense factory," said Dave. "Okay, here's a question: out of Jack Noir and this demon dude, which is the bigger problem?" That is a very good question.
"Does it have a very good answer?" Objectively, the demon is more dangerous. Noir is very ambitious, and very powerful, especially now he has the powers of the one we warned you not to create. But we can conceive of ways in which he can be stopped. They are difficult and dangerous, and require the combined power of yourselves and all of your allies throughout time and space, but they exist. However, we cannot conceive of a way to defeat the demon. There are too many copies of the code to destroy them all and, in a sense, it is already too late: one day the universe will end whatever we do, and as we have said, this demon is a time traveller - it can come back to any point in time it chooses. Indeed, it already has done, although it is currently far from here.
Which brings us to Noir. He is of course not far from here, and is very much the more immediate threat. The demon lies at the heart of the enigma that is SBurb, and you will have to deal with it at some point if indeed it is your grand purpose to break the cycle of destruction. Just because we cannot conceive of a way to defeat it, does not mean a way does not exist. But Noir should be your first priority.
"I don't suppose you could tell us some of your ideas about how to defeat him?" Dave asked. It depends on a few factors. The Prince and Princess of Prospit's Moon have been very helpful in ensuring that the White Queen's ring makes it to your Exiles: it will have a part to play. The details are hazy, but suffice it to say you will know when the time comes. We wish you luck. Is there anything else you would like to ask?
"No, I think we're done for now," said Rose. "Thank you for your time." Our pleasure, Your Highness.
Dave put his shades back on. He regretted missing the opportunity for a Horatio Caine one-liner, but he wasn't really in the mood.
"There," said Rose, "that wasn't so bad, was it? I think we learnt a lot from that."
"I guess. At least we know what that code's for now. Even if is about the maddest possible explanation."
"And we know that Jack Noir can still be beaten. A plan of action would have been nice, but it's still reassuring."
"And you don't seem to have gone batshit insane this time," said Dave. He couldn't stop the grin. "Well, more than usual, anyway."
Rose rolled her eyes. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment. So, are we going to fly over to the others, or just wake up normally? The latter would be quicker."
"Yeah, I guess. Come to think of it, it wouldn't be much fun for Jade either."
"Yes. I can't imagine flaunting our dreamselves would be pleasant for her. Let's just wake up."
Alright so, I just finished part 4. I haven't looked over it once yet so it could still be changed a lot to fix a lot of the atmosphere, etc... The first half I've looked over a lot but a lot of the second half I've just kinda spit out without looking back on (I had trouble writing it, and more so that I was just very sad writing it). I'm going to post a couple things here and in different sections. First part is going to have links to Part 1, 2, and 3 with part 4 in a spoiler. Underneath this will be the ENTIRE thing in a spoiler. I'll divided em up nicely so that you know which is which. I still need a name for this thing so I guess if someone has a good suggestion for it I'll run with it.
As the bare branches of trees often attest, the winds of late autumn carry a chill quite unlike that of any other season. Though winter winds may freeze; their gale is one that mourns a distant past. It is a settled wind; one having moved on from earlier pain. For autumn, death is a near memory. The wind is painted with the blood of the recently fallen. There is no time in autumn to mourn; the wind's pierce is fresh and the pain very real. Such was the chill streaming from the Shadow Rose as she stepped towards Rose. An icy wind expanded to cover Rose's entire room as Rose stood motionless from her shock. Her arms tucked around her torso, Rose began to shiver, “Who or what are you?â€
“Good for you, if nothing else†came the Shadow Rose; stopping a few feet away from where Rose stood, “but otherwise I'm not really sure. I have always been here, but also not. You've always heard me, but never before now. I am both you and not you.â€
“Forgive my lack of a notepad at the ready,†Rose stepped to her right before moving forward to circle the Shadow Rose. The Shadow Rose moved her head briefly to follow after where Rose stepped but kept her body facing the same direction. Rose's lips pursed into a small smirk, “Your existential crisis sounds absolutely fascinating. Would you care to tell me about your mother while I set up a bed for you to lie on? Do you have a favorite tea?†The haze surrounding the Shadow Rose continued to flicker. Rose had to admit this doppelganger certainly took her form if nothing else. Rose's feet dragged against the floor as she slowly brought herself back around in front of the Shadow Rose; an image of Rose's own face staring back as she did.
“I have many mothers,†said the Shadow Rose, “Your mother helped to create me, as did Ogologoth.†Rose's gaze began to dip; her left foot slowly inched behind her right. The Shadow Rose continued, “His teeth grind out a tune very few can hear. It rings out against the buzz of lies distorting the refrain of agony that life is. His is a virtuous melody of truth. Whether I was made by Ogologoth or simply made audible from your attunement to his thorn I can't say. However, excuse my rudeness; I didn't mean to leave out my greatest mother†A grin spread across the Shadow Rose's face; her eyes narrowed as she reached out with her right hand and lifted Rose's face so that they were once again eye-to-eye. Rose took a few steps back; “Surely filial love like this has never been matched.†The distance did little to relieve Rose. She shook her shoulders unintentionally to the cold surrounding her.
‘Surrounded' was more than apt at describing Rose; not only her dream self but her waking self as well. However, Rose in the waking world was surrounded by both good and bad things. While the flames raging around her weren't positive, the chunks of ceiling surrounding her were. A hole was made deep into the floor from the spell she cast as she fell. Although responsible for the fire endangering her, the spell also helped save Rose. The chunks of ceiling surrounding Rose helped her by blocking out the flames. However, even in their defense of Rose, the blocks also acted as a vice. There was little room surrounding Rose and she had been made hard to get to. Such was the predicament John faced as he rushed after Rose.
It hadn't taken long for the fires to spread. Fire from eldritch magic burns intensely; such fire is not fed solely by combustibles and air. No, fires enhanced with eldritch magic defy such restrictions. Although only a short pulse of magic, the flames surrounding Rose would spread as long as magical energies still pulsed inside them. John had scrambled after Rose immediately after his shock faded. The living room had already been racked with debris from the roof overhead collapsing in part. A book case had fallen in front of the doorway where John and Rose had entered; making escape difficult. Escape hadn't been on John's mind though; he had to save Rose.
“Rose!†John yelled. Flames had already erupted to block off the path between John and Rose. Luckily for John, his ectobiologist lab coat was still wet from his earlier dip in the ocean. John hitched up the lab coat over his head and started to walk towards Rose; his lab coat dampened the flames as he walked. It was difficult to see through the smoke swelling through the house but John was able to make his way towards Rose. The hole Rose laid in was largely covered by the remnants of her ceiling. There was a single entranceway just large enough for John to crawl into opposite the direction of the door. John squirmed down into the hole and found Rose lying on her stomach. John gently pulled Rose around on to her back.
“Rose! Wake up!†John said as he tried to shake Rose awake. John could hear large cracking noises as the house began to crumble from the damage of the fire. “Rose!†It didn't matter; Rose couldn't escape from being unconscious due to the effects of the Shadow Rose in her dream world. On the ground on the cusp of the hole Rose and John were in was a silver object. It was one of the remote ghost gauntlets Rose had pulled off of John's hands earlier. The reflection of the gauntlets hit John's eyes and he tried to figure out what to do. “Oh man! The gauntlets!†John said as he ran over to grab his glove. John reached for the gauntlet but pulled away quickly. They had not escaped the fire as Rose had and were too hot to be picked up.
Escape also eluded Rose in her dream world. The shadowy haze still surrounded her exits while the chilling air coming off from the Shadow Rose was suffocating. Rose stumbled to the wall as the Shadow Rose continued to press upon her.
“I do love you Rose†said the Shadow Rose, “much as your mother does.†The Shadow Rose paused as she neared where Rose had stumbled; her flickering profile loomed over. “A..And I suppose you know my mother just as well as I do†Rose shivered; the room continued to freeze. Rose bent down and wrapped her arms around her legs. A frost clung to her words as the vapor of her breath slowly faded from view.
“I do. I understand your mother better than you do,†came the Shadow Rose, “and I know you better as well.†The Shadow Rose backed away momentarily; her back turned on Rose. Rose felt the frigid air recede slightly before crashing down again. Only the brief relief the ocean gives to the shore as the moon circles; a misgiving of the tides few forget. Rose clutched to her legs tighter.
“I don't care much what you know about my mm… mother†Rose said. A fresh wave of cold air splashed over Rose as the Shadow Rose turned to face Rose again.
“Your mother has only ever wanted to make you happy. She has tried for so long to befriend you and to understand you. She doesn't know what to do about you and it's because of YOU,†the Shadow Rose's voice became louder, “it is YOUR fault that she drinks.†Rose shifted to her left; tucking her head into her wrapped arms.
“She… has shown me nothing b.bb.but derision and scorn,†Rose stuttered.
“You distrust her because she derides. She derides you because she drinks. She drinks because you distrust her,†the Shadow Rose said, “However; it all began because you wouldn't let her get close to you. It's funny really.â€
The Shadow Rose walked to Rose's side and stared down at Rose as she continued, “You are so lonely but you are to blame for your loneliness. It's just like at your school.â€
Rose lifted her head once again; her nose stung from the chill, “My classmates lack understanding. I didn't bother talking to them as their mental faculties had hardly advanced to the point of enjoying my company.â€
“You would never have given them that chance,†said the Shadow Rose, “you drive everyone away who could love you. Perhaps you are right; had they known what horrible sort of person you are they would have abandoned you. You were right to hide from them. It is a shame you didn't learn this when you were younger. You still found time to poison Jaspers.â€
Rose lifted her head and stood up. “I never did a thing to Jaspers.†Rose said. She strode up to the Shadow Rose; newly invigorated.
“Oh, but you did,†came the Shadow Rose, “you have always wondered what happened to Jaspers. The pain of his departure dug at you for years. Even now, the guilt still eats inside you.â€
“I.. I was young. It wasn't something I did,†stammered Rose. The Shadow Rose leaned in over Rose as Rose backed away to her previous corner.
“It was entirely your fault Rose,†said the Shadow Rose, “Jaspers suffered around you. He would plead for death daily just to get away from you. The day he disappeared was his wish come true.â€
“Th.. that isn't true,†Rose said; she bent down to the floor and wrapped her arms around herself again to try and warm up, “I would never… Jasper's wouldn't..â€
“All you have ever done is be a burden to everyone,†the Shadow Rose said, “you are responsible for all those who have abandoned you. Even your friends can hardly stand the burden of knowing you.†Rose shivered and tucked her head inside her arms once again. The Shadow Rose bent down next to her.
She whispered, “Did you think Jade actually liked you? She would laugh behind your back if it wasn't for how painful it was to know you. To her, you're nothing more than a lost silly girl trying to make amends for how horrible you truly are. She even knows that you think she's strange; she's always known everything. She smiles at how you actually value this ‘friendship.'â€
“Y.. you're talking nonsense,†Rose said, “none of this is true. I wa..want to wake up.â€
“My dear, you are waking up,†the Shadow Rose said as she stood up again, “I'm helping you realize what is actually happening; to turn away those lies which cloud your mind to the truth of your insignificance. Take Dave for instance; you've never really understood his irony, have you?†The Shadow Rose laid her hand on top of Rose's head; Rose's mind blanked. The cold was unbearable; she couldn't think.
“Do you realize he had the beta the entire time? He was hoping that you'd suffer,†the Shadow Rose smiled as Rose's face blushed red from the pain of the cold, “Just a slight bit off; if only he had come in a couple minutes later. He truly hoped you would burn to death. You're annoying to him; you can't hide how stupid you truly are with fancy words.â€
This wasn't real. There had to be a way to get out of this. Rose started to get desperate; her mind could barely comprehend what the Shadow Rose said anymore. The Shadow Rose took back her hand and stood up, “John though…â€
The icy frost covering Rose's mind lifted at John's name.
“The heir is dangerous; more dangerous than anything else,†said the Shadow Rose, “There is no person more capable of hurting you, us, than him.†The Shadow Rose flickered slightly; not so much like a haze but more like a fading in and out. A resolute step back to Rose seemed to bring back the Shadow Rose's vigor however.
“The heir doesn't snicker or wish you pain,†the Shadow Rose continued, “the heir pities you. He wishes that you'd be happy.†The Shadow Rose's eyes glowed a deep purple, “Yes, happy talking to someone who would actually enjoy talking to trash like you.â€
“What..†Rose whimpered; her last ounce of strengthen taken away with the shock. Rose had barely had any strength left even before the Shadow Rose had started on John. Her cheeks had started to turn black from frost-bite. It shouldn't have surprised Rose otherwise to hear the Shadow Rose continue her derision but she had been fooled by the seemingly positive start.
“People like the heir are only bound to find themselves entrapped in the snares of horrible people like you. All those late nights of ‘therapy' you've had with him. He may say that he'd ‘always stay up to help a friend' but it's only then that he ever truly wishes he never knew you. He will abandon you like all the others.†the Shadow Rose finished. Tears streamed down Rose's face; a stinging sensation felt as they froze against her skin. No… that couldn't be John… That wasn't John… John…
John captchalogued his ghost gauntlet. Perhaps if the glove was captchalogued first they wouldn't be hot when John tried to wear them? A quick burning sensation gave John a painful answer; the gauntlet tosses in frustration. John was running out of time; the house could collapse at any minute and he and Rose were still stuck in a hole in the middle of the house surrounded by debris. A thought suddenly struck John.
“Wait, I used my damp coat to not get burned before,†John thought. Damn it though; his coat had dried out from the surrounding heat. A rumble above sang out a reminder that time was fleeting; the debris above shifted and closed off the earlier crawl-space. Was he really going to die here with Rose? Rose… Her dress was still damp!
John grabbed out his ‘Barber's Best Friend' razor umbrella and quickly cut off a small patch from Rose's dress. Carefully John wrapped his right hand around the damp silk cloth and shoved it into the still-hot ghost gauntlet. The reduction in heat was just within John's tolerance for pain. He quickly activated the gauntlets and pushed aside the rubble over top with his big slimy ghost hand. John then turned to the front-door and pushed aside the chunks of roof blocking it. Their path secured, John captchalogued the gauntlet and draped Rose over his left shoulder; John's hands held Rose's legs around himself piggy-back style. His hand stung from the gauntlet's burn but there was little time to worry about that. The house shook as its structural integrity was further compromised. It was a struggle for John to move; the smoke still billowing around Rose's house made it difficult to breathe and the journey was slow. Every step felt labored for John; each rumble of the house bringing additional chances for failure. John's grip would momentarily slacken with every jolt but the doorway to safety in front of him spurred him on. A final step; a crumbling house; John willed himself forward with Rose still on his back as the house collapsed.
The Shadow Rose again flickered. Regardless on the truth of her origin, she could not escape her reliance on the Rose's wands. Their eldritch magic was the blood pulsing through the Shadow Rose's veins. Rose, in the waking world, was near death and had not touched the thorns of Oglogoth for some time. The chill suffocating Rose, in the dream world, slowly lifted as Rose regained her strength.
“John isn't like that,†Rose said as she slowly stood up. Her steps were clumsy and timid but carried resolution. “Is this really about whether John will abandon me in the end?†Rose continued. The Shadow Rose backed a few feet away from Rose; her body continued to flicker.
“The heir will hurt you! He will abandon you!†the Shadow Rose tried to yell; her voice coming coarse and weakened, “The only safe option for you, for us, is to stay away. Don't open yourself up only to have him leave and hurt you.†Warmth climbed back into Rose; her cheeks shedding their former shade of red.
“I do not fear John,†Rose said, “I've never known anyone else like him. And even though he could leave me and abandon me like others have in my life, John is worth the risk.†Rose awoke.
Lime sand and a rainbow ocean; this was all Rose could see when she awoke. Rose was laying down face-first into the sand surrounding the remains of her house. A dark grey smoke billowed from the smoldering remnants of her recently collapsed house. Rose found it difficult to breath. Although she had been breathing slowly while asleep, Rose still suffered from smoke inhalation. She coughed; her body felt weak. A patch of her dress was missing; seemingly cut away with a knife. Rose rolled over onto her back and pushed behind the ground behind her with her hands so that she could sit up. The house was gone; collapsed onto itself gutted by flames; a shame but bearable. Rose had survived, and John…
“John!†Rose yelled; to her left was John. He laid face-first into the sand much as Rose had been earlier but John wasn't moving. In fact, Rose couldn't say whether John was breathing or not. Rose pushed John over onto his back and looked for a sign of life. John was covered in soot and it looked as if his right hand was slightly burned.
“John! Are you ok?†Rose said as she checked John's pulse on his neck with her hand. The sensation from Rose's hand brought John back to consciousness. A coarse cough came from John and he struggled for breath. Rose grabbed John around his shoulders and pulled John so that he was sitting up. Although unintentional, Rose made it even harder for John to breath and she held John in her arms; a tight hug constricted John's airway.
“Ro.. Ro… Rose†John coughed out, “You're… choking… me.†Rose slackened her grip but continued to hug John.
“Sorry John,†said Rose, “I'm just glad you're ok.†Rose let go of John, making sure he could sit up on his own before continuing.
“Why did you risk your life like that,†Rose asked, “that was incredibly dangerous.â€
“Well, I wasn't just going to leave you! That'd be silly,†said John, “I wouldn't abandon you.â€
Rose kissed John once on his left cheek, “Thank you John.â€
“I uh…†John stumbled, “I uh…â€
“It's ok John,†Rose said, “Let's just rest a bit for now.†Rose grabbed John's left hand in her right. John smiled.
Whole damn thing (in spoiler): parts marked off by numbers
1)
“Rose…â€
Another Island passed by Rose. She had been traveling for about an hour since blowing up her gate and Rose could feel a slight tug on her dress. Her search for information had not gone very well so far. Although Rose had encased herself in an orb with magic, she had still been sweating for the past half hour. The orb itself was slightly porous so that Rose could take in fresh air but not so large that she would be affected by the air rushing past her or the colorful rain she passed by. The purpose was one largely of convenience; Rose was protected from things outside her bubble. However, Rose still felt fatigue from the flight much as one's legs become restless from sitting in one spot for too long. She could shift within the sphere or take a break, but Rose felt compelled to continue. There were many questions she wanted answered and the want for answers pressed upon her.
“Rose…â€
Rose wasn't even sure what answers pushed most heavily. She certainly was curious about the purpose of the game she played. This game, sburb, had taken its fair share of her time over the past day. And yet, although taking so much of her time, the most of what Rose had done while playing was to sit and wait; wait for what often times felt like approaching death. Dwelling on one's inevitable demise wasn't something Rose enjoyed to do, unlike recent acquaintances she had met through sburb. There was always a time for thought but Rose preferred to actively investigate, much like she was doing at present. However, the investigation had proved fruitless and a much more pressing issue instead had risen.
“You know you must stay away Rose…â€
A voice had grown within her mind. It would be a mistake to say that the voice had started faint. Faint would seem to imply a dimmer shade of light which had steadily increased to brightness. There was no variation within this voice. It had come sudden and had audibly bellowed for the past half-hour. No, it would be better to say that a static signal had been tuned nearer and nearer to clarity than to claim any increase or decrease in the voice itself. Perhaps if one considered clarity the medium by which a light was measured then to say the voice had started faint would be true. Regardless, the point at hand remains the voice. It matched the voice of the Gods Rose had heard recently in her dreams. The static had started shortly after Rose had alchemized her wands. However, although Rose trusted the Gods which she heard in her sleep, this voice seemed much more suspect to her. Were the wands responsible for this sudden voice? Could the Gods simply contact her in the waking world once she herself had been awakened to their presence?
“Stop Rose…â€
Rather an irritating voice really. It distracted Rose as she searched for answers. She had tried shifting directions to see if the voice would respond. Instead, all Rose heard was a constant warning; a warning that she should stay away. Stay away from what though? Perhaps the voice could feel that Rose would not be so apt to listen. She felt a sinister intent behind this voice, unlike that of the Gods. The voice seemed to hide a darker truth. Its intentions reeked like the dead turtle shells hidden in the clouds around her; spewing out candied utterances in guise of the rotting core. Rose wished John was here.
“STOP!â€
A chilling shriek spread through Rose's mind. Rose grabbed at the sides of her head as a numbness paralyzed her. The scream of the voice was so harsh that Rose felt her head would split unless held together.
“Stay away from the Heirâ€
The orb cast around Rose began to flicker. Although the spell cast to create the orb required little concentration once activated, the pain of the voice made it difficult for Rose to maintain the orb. Luckily for Rose, her sudden stop was right over one of the many islands which dotted her planet. She fell to the ground as the orb disappeared. A loud 'thwump' accompanied Rose as she slammed against the lime sand of the island. Blood started to pour from a cut above her right eye. Rose's wands landed upright in the sand to her right after having fallen from Rose's grip during her fall. The pain of the voice coupled with her fall made Rose's mind fuzzy. However, it was clear to Rose that the voice again lacked clarity. The wands appeared responsible for the voice but more so to allow Rose to hear the voice than to create the voice itself. As magic energies still pulsed inside Rose, she could still make out the voice among the static.
“St**.. aw*y…The Heir… will ruinâ€
What would John ruin? Why should she stay away from him? If nothing else, John had always been there for her. Sure, his pranks could be rather poor at times, but they were endearing. He was honest and open about himself and always willing to help his friends out. The sheer idea of staying away from John as if he was some bomb ready to explode was nonsense. Rose stood up and dusted off her dress. The wands flickered briefly as Rose reached down and gripped them firmly. “I need you both†she said. “I don't know what you think is so dangerous about being with John, but John is worth the risk†Just then, a rocketboard crashed on Rose's Island. Attached had been a sleeping John, who apparently found it in his best interest to be flung from the impact face first into the sand.
“John!†Rose cried as she ran over to where John was. Though dazed and confused, John was otherwise fine and had woken up from his second landing.
“Oh man. What is going on here. Is that you Rose†John said while rubbing his eyes clean of the sand as Rose helped him up.
“Yes John. I can't help but wonder what in the world you've been up to. Though I'd hazard a guess and say you are equally lacking in the finer details of your journeyâ€
“Yeah. Last thing I remember is talking to CG... Rose! Are you ok?†John reached up to Rose's forehead and gently wiped away her blood. “How did that happen?â€
“It's a long story, John†Rose said, “let's focus on getting back to my house for now. I hope you've been taking astute notes on what you've found in the medium so far?â€
“Oh uh….†John stumbled, “I must have lost them while I was flying I guess? I had so many notes written.â€
“Johnâ€
“Yes Rose?â€
“You didn't have a single thing written down did you?â€
“Nope! (hehehe)â€
2)
Although it may be hard for the average reader to imagine, there is such a thing known as a ‘prankster's gambit.' Contrary to the nature of such a measurement, the prankster's gambit is just as it sounds; a scale which conveys the sum total of what side an individual happens to land on for each and every prank done. This is not to say that each and every prank measures equally; far from. The degree to which one is pranked is taken into account when adjusting the prankster's gambit. As should be obvious, the proper measuring of a prankster's gambit is incredibly serious business. However, much to Rose's discharge, she had never been the whipped cream of the crop as went prank-smiths. No, Rose was much more a shaken bottle of soda placed secretly among others; so subtle that one was prone to forget the intended prank bottle which, as may be guessed, inevitably led to a catastrophic caper calamity as the frothy foam of failure sprayed over oneself instead. Not withstanding this sticky ooze of failure, Rose often found her pranks dodged as if non-existent as a result of her subtlety. Though difficult to imagine, Rose's pranksters gambit took another deep plunge as John side-stepped her own prank about the need of physical notes and instead came back with his own, however lacking, prank. Depths this low are only discussed in whisper by the highest prank-savants in dark unlit store-rooms filled with such julep one can only dream. Rose did her best to continue.
“Come on John,†Rose said, “let's get back to my house. By the way, I was only joking about taking notes. I do hope that you've been paying attention to your surroundings however.â€
“How are we getting off the island?†came John, “Oh man, did your boat sink or something? Are we close to where your house is?â€
“Yes John, we are close to my house. I was investigating the area near my starting location in hopes of answering some questions. We'll have more time to discuss once we've returned to my house. As for our mode of transport…†Rose momentarily held her wands before John. “I am sorry John, but you'll have to hold my hand.†Rose grabbed John's left hand in her right and pointed the wands in her raised left hand to the sky.
“Oh uh, ok. I don't really understand how that will…†John started before being interrupted by a loud crack followed by a quivering discharge of electricity. From the tip of Rose's wand came a puff of smoke. This puff slowly expanded with an ever growing circle within its edges as it moved down. It formed a dark orb around them both which at once seemed to be made of smoke and water. While it would be easy to say that John was amazed to see such a sight, mere description fails to fully exemplify his shock. To understand his surprise, it is best to look at his reaction minutes later. While John had taken more than a passing note at the need to hold Rose's hand (and more so delight at the opportunity), this in itself was not enough to prevent his later folly. Close to Rose's house, which had luckily not been but a few minutes away due to the changes Rose had made in her flight, John still could not help but let go of Rose's hand. Rose herself had been too shy to say anything during the flight, especially considering the shocked expression John had. However…
“JOHN!†Rose yelled as John began to plummet. The orb flapped like rustled curtains as John fell through and then quickly settled back into place. Rose stopped almost immediately once John had fallen through the orb but found herself unable to move the orb otherwise. A force was acting upon the orb and prevented Rose from following after John. Paralysis overcame Rose as the only direction she wanted to go was frozen shut. An icy chill crept over Rose reminiscent of the jolt from the voice she had heard before.
“LET HIM DROWN†the voice boomed “it is too dangerous to be near the heir. He will hurt you.â€
Rose began to thrash against the edge of her orb that John had fallen through. “I don't have time to deal with you. Didn't I tell you earlier? I'm not afraid of John. John is not dangerous. It would be in your best interest to let me save himâ€
“You don't know what's in your or our best interest†came the voice. “It will be over shortly.â€
Suddenly a deafening roar could be heard bubbling up from under the water. John, who had been wondering if Rose could take his earlier prank a bit better and not leave him as he flailed, paused in light of this recent audible change. Only a minute at most had passed since his fall into the rainbow ocean, but John had not thought to look anywhere other than Rose for help. As it stood, John was actually within a few yards swim of the shore of the island with Rose's house. John continued to flail oblivious to potential safety. This roar, however, did bring to Rose a quick decision. She captchalogued her wands and the orb quickly vanished. She fell much as John had before and barely missed hitting him in her descent.
“Rose!†John gulped “I'm sorry I let go of your hand! Something is coming up! Use your weird magic again. Please.â€
The roar grew louder and waves started to crash around them. Rose quickly grabbed a hold of the idiot (er, John) and began dragging him to shore. The waves helped to push our duo to safety just as the roar became loudest. A single tentacle could be seen under the edge of the water's surface; it slowly searched along the path Rose had just swam with John in tow but kept particular care not to break the surface. It faded back into the depths of the ocean after having completed its search. Rose laid down on her shins and hands, panting as she stared at the lime sand. To her left was John, laid down on his back with a single leg pulled up close to form a wedge and his left arm used to hold up the upper half of his upper torso. Such as it was, John could fully see the tentacle as it traced his and Rose's path before fading.
“Wow, that sure was exciting†John said as Rose slowly gained back her breath.
3)
Pesterlog:
TT: It is proper etiquette to apologize for gifts unused.
TT: I regret to say that your architecture sat dormant; a Christmas fruit-cake sitting on my counter more so for its aesthetically appropriate appeal than any other use.
TT: Are you there Strider? I'd hate for my apology to linger in similar state.
TG: im busy
TT: With what would that be?
TG: just entered my first gate
TG: having some trouble
TT: Your time would be better spent trying to break the game than be lead by it.
TT: I blew up my first gate.
TG: oh alright
TG: yeah lets just go ahead and write war and peace the strategy guide
TG: only to get shit impatient and start looking for cheat codes
TG: do you like to waste time
TT: The contrary actually; I don't think there's any point in playing by the rules.
TG: you getting wands was such a bad idea
TG: next youll be telling me a wizard is never late or shit like that
TG: stop smoking the pipeweed jegus
TT: Not all of us have quite so much control over time.
TT: I'm impressed you have time for such nonsense considering that you're busy.
TG: look i am busy
TG: shit is blowing up all around me and im supposed to meet these crocodiles or whatever
TG: oh fuck gotta go
TT: John is back.
TT: I'm not really sure where he was but we'll discuss the game and try to figure out what we can do to break it.
TG: asdaodijweal
TT: I'll leave you to your reptiles.
End Pesterlog
Rose reached up to her headband and unequipped the hubtop. The tiny green screen that had illuminated the text of her pesterlog with Dave blipped out of view. Rose had asked John's patience momentarily so that she could check on Dave. However, Dave was preoccupied at the moment. Some sort of nonsense about crocodiles. It all sounded incredibly silly; whatever was so interesting about crocodiles outside their propensity to aid old women in carrying their belongings hardly mattered when compared to figuring out the purpose of sburb. Then again… Rose could understand if focus was hard to come by. The oceans shimmered brilliantly before her. Light itself simply melted into the water; a brilliant canvas painted from an unimaginable pallet. It was easy to get lost and with John right next to her… A moment's lapse in focus, a hand stretch unnoticed, the ever brief brush of Rose's right hand against John's left; Rose took a deep breath. Only a hint of crimson lapped against the edges of Rose's cheeks.
“So uh… that tentacle thing was pretty intense huh?†John mumbled, “I have these cool remote ghost gauntlets so I'll just put those on. They're really cool and could probably come in handy. Don't think anything else about it though…†Honestly, John was rather piss poor at hiding his momentary discomfort. He couldn't be sure if Rose meant to do that or not and didn't want to make things awkward (which of course he did).
“John,†Rose let out softly, “I'm sure you have just as many questions as I do about sburb. Let's see if we can't put our individual experiences together to come up with some ideas.†Rose swung her arms to touch the ground beneath her back and pushed; stumbling onto her feet. That her dress was still soaked coupled with the uneven surface of the sand made for a rather inelegant way of standing up. Hopefully John hadn't noticed. There was little Rose could do about the sand clinging to her dress but she tried her best to sweep it off. The crunch of the sand underneath John's foot as he stood up caught Rose's attention as she turned around to face John and her house. John took in Rose's face and turned to follow where Rose was looking. Dave had done a wonderful job on the architecture. However, Rose's roof still bore scorch marks from her earlier destruction of the first gate. Grist carpeted the entire island but the imps, ogres, and liches from before had gone missing. If they hadn't been incinerated by the dark eldritch magic emanating from Rose's wand, it was a safe bet to say the survivors found retreat a more favorable prospect than death should Rose return.
“Is that a wizard statue?†John asked. To the right of the entrance to Rose's house was the statue of Zazzerpan the wizard. Buried half-way into the sand (half of what remained of it anyways), Zazzerpan's gaping mouth, tangled beard, and misaligned nose greeted John. What a detestable sight only made more horrible when Rose considered the time-capsule of deceit waiting in her house. The wizard paraphernalia collected by Rose's mother was a hoax; a disingenuous placation meant to compensate for a childhood filled with neglect and made lonely with time abandoned. How Rose hated these wizards. They were nothing compared to the truth she now knew. Rose grabbed her wands from their captchlogue card.
“Please excuse some of the grander eccentricities of my mother.†Rose said, “I've had to deal with her derision for years.†A wet flomp accompanied Rose as she headed towards her doorway. Without a proper heat source her dress would probably be wet all day; a pity.
“Wizards are so cool Rose.†John said as he followed after Rose, “They're almost as great as Nicholas Cage. Can you imagine if they ever made a movie with Nicolas Cage as a wizard?†The walk was short; Rose stopped shortly after entering into her house.
“I like wizards John. My mother only bought her collection as a means of spite. I am sorry John, but a movie like that sounds like it'd be terrible†Rose said, a thin grin spread across her face.
“What? Oh man, you can't deny how awesome Nicolas Cage is. You never know, you could even like the wizard part at least…†John paused, “We could see the movie together.†John wasn't really making it easy for Rose; another deep breath, another fight against reddened cheeks.
Light streamed in from a canvas-window to the left of where John and Rose entered and illuminated a large living room. Really, it was a stretch to call it that. The entire house was an expansive open area with sections cordoned off by furniture or different flooring. Couches outlined a sitting area to the right of the entranceway with a kitchen area still right but further away so distinguished by its alternating colored tiles. Rounded and rectangular carpets could be found periodically covering the floor with frequent wizard statues and book-shelves serving as landmarks along the expanse. It was rather amazing that none of the books had fallen from their shelves; the house had undergone frequent explosions over the past couple of hours. That each shelf was tightly packed with books seemed the likeliest explanation. Directly across from the entranceway was a staircase which led to the second floor. On the second floor were Rose's room and the observatory, among others.
“Well John, this is my house. I suppose you've already had a look at it though†Rose said. She took a few more steps further into her house and approached the staircase. John hadn't really spent much time exploring Rose's house earlier. It seemed like a violation of her privacy and adventure beckoned as well.
“I'm sorry about earlier.†John said, “You were asleep and weren't waking up.â€
“It's alright John.†Rose said as she began to climb the staircase, “perhaps we could move to my room and make ourselves comfortable? I have a lot of questions I want to ask.â€
“Oh man, I don't even get a tour of your house?†John asked. He followed Rose up the stairs.
“Forgive my transgression of the finer niceties of domestic etiquette. Though I'm not quite sure which dictum stipulates running amok in my house.†Rose said, “I don't claim to be the highest authority on such matters.â€
“Oh geez, I already said I'm sorry†John said, “and that is way too many words just to say I shouldn't be snooping.â€
“I was kidding John,†Rose said, “I didn't mind. I'm sorry I was asleep.â€
“Bluh bluh, two can play at this apology game. I didn't mind that you were asleep!†John said, and then continued without thinking “You looked pretty cute curled up on the floorâ€
A moment's pause, a single misstep; Rose's left leg slipped forward as she misjudged the next stair-step and she began to fall.
Tragedy often happens solely because the right ingredients come together at the right time to create something terrible. Rose's embarrassment at being called cute was only the first ingredient. As she fell, Rose grabbed for John's hands. Though primarily a reflex in hopes of saving herself from falling, it served another purpose all together. John's earlier discomfort at Rose brushing against his hand was yet another spice. As Rose grabbed for John's hands, she accidentally pulled off both of John's ghost gauntlets. However, the dish was only complete after Rose grabbed for her wands as she fell. Though she intended to cast another magic orb to stop her fall, a blast shot forth instead which exploded against the fast approaching floor. A massive fireball expanded from the blast and singed Rose as she fell unconscious. The ceiling above collapsed around her and cornered off the exits of her house. Fires erupted in every corner as John could only look on in horror. Tragedy was a dish served hot for Rose Lalonde.
“Hello Rose†a voice boomed. As Rose fell unconscious, her dream self awoke. Rose (cuz it's a pain in the ass to type ‘dream Rose' every time. Don't worry, I'll make it obvious here) lay on the floor of her room but the room was different. The familiar purple floor and walls still surrounded her; the neon green of numerous combinations of ‘meow' intertwined with the lighter purple swirls of her walls just as had always been the case. However, a dark energy emanated from the periphery of her room; an invisible force blocked out the doorway leading out of Rose's room as well as the window which opened onto Derse. Rose jumped; to her left stood someone. A dark haze flickered over this person, this person who looked just like…
“Rose. You need to stay away from the heir.†said this Shadow Rose.
4)
As the bare branches of trees often attest, the winds of late autumn carry a chill quite unlike that of any other season. Though winter winds may freeze; their gale is one that mourns a distant past. It is a settled wind; one having moved on from earlier pain. For autumn, death is a near memory. The wind is painted with the blood of the recently fallen. There is no time in autumn to mourn; the wind's pierce is fresh and the pain very real. Such was the chill streaming from the Shadow Rose as she stepped towards Rose. An icy wind expanded to cover Rose's entire room as Rose stood motionless from her shock. Her arms tucked around her torso, Rose began to shiver, “Who or what are you?â€
“Good for you, if nothing else†came the Shadow Rose; stopping a few feet away from where Rose stood, “but otherwise I'm not really sure. I have always been here, but also not. You've always heard me, but never before now. I am both you and not you.â€
“Forgive my lack of a notepad at the ready,†Rose stepped to her right before moving forward to circle the Shadow Rose. The Shadow Rose moved her head briefly to follow after where Rose stepped but kept her body facing the same direction. Rose's lips pursed into a small smirk, “Your existential crisis sounds absolutely fascinating. Would you care to tell me about your mother while I set up a bed for you to lie on? Do you have a favorite tea?†The haze surrounding the Shadow Rose continued to flicker. Rose had to admit this doppelganger certainly took her form if nothing else. Rose's feet dragged against the floor as she slowly brought herself back around in front of the Shadow Rose; an image of Rose's own face staring back as she did.
“I have many mothers,†said the Shadow Rose, “Your mother helped to create me, as did Ogologoth.†Rose's gaze began to dip; her left foot slowly inched behind her right. The Shadow Rose continued, “His teeth grind out a tune very few can hear. It rings out against the buzz of lies distorting the refrain of agony that life is. His is a virtuous melody of truth. Whether I was made by Ogologoth or simply made audible from your attunement to his thorn I can't say. However, excuse my rudeness; I didn't mean to leave out my greatest mother†A grin spread across the Shadow Rose's face; her eyes narrowed as she reached out with her right hand and lifted Rose's face so that they were once again eye-to-eye. Rose took a few steps back; “Surely filial love like this has never been matched.†The distance did little to relieve Rose. She shook her shoulders unintentionally to the cold surrounding her.
‘Surrounded' was more than apt at describing Rose; not only her dream self but her waking self as well. However, Rose in the waking world was surrounded by both good and bad things. While the flames raging around her weren't positive, the chunks of ceiling surrounding her were. A hole was made deep into the floor from the spell she cast as she fell. Although responsible for the fire endangering her, the spell also helped save Rose. The chunks of ceiling surrounding Rose helped her by blocking out the flames. However, even in their defense of Rose, the blocks also acted as a vice. There was little room surrounding Rose and she had been made hard to get to. Such was the predicament John faced as he rushed after Rose.
It hadn't taken long for the fires to spread. Fire from eldritch magic burns intensely; such fire is not fed solely by combustibles and air. No, fires enhanced with eldritch magic defy such restrictions. Although only a short pulse of magic, the flames surrounding Rose would spread as long as magical energies still pulsed inside them. John had scrambled after Rose immediately after his shock faded. The living room had already been racked with debris from the roof overhead collapsing in part. A book case had fallen in front of the doorway where John and Rose had entered; making escape difficult. Escape hadn't been on John's mind though; he had to save Rose.
“Rose!†John yelled. Flames had already erupted to block off the path between John and Rose. Luckily for John, his ectobiologist lab coat was still wet from his earlier dip in the ocean. John hitched up the lab coat over his head and started to walk towards Rose; his lab coat dampened the flames as he walked. It was difficult to see through the smoke swelling through the house but John was able to make his way towards Rose. The hole Rose laid in was largely covered by the remnants of her ceiling. There was a single entranceway just large enough for John to crawl into opposite the direction of the door. John squirmed down into the hole and found Rose lying on her stomach. John gently pulled Rose around on to her back.
“Rose! Wake up!†John said as he tried to shake Rose awake. John could hear large cracking noises as the house began to crumble from the damage of the fire. “Rose!†It didn't matter; Rose couldn't escape from being unconscious due to the effects of the Shadow Rose in her dream world. On the ground on the cusp of the hole Rose and John were in was a silver object. It was one of the remote ghost gauntlets Rose had pulled off of John's hands earlier. The reflection of the gauntlets hit John's eyes and he tried to figure out what to do. “Oh man! The gauntlets!†John said as he ran over to grab his glove. John reached for the gauntlet but pulled away quickly. They had not escaped the fire as Rose had and were too hot to be picked up.
Escape also eluded Rose in her dream world. The shadowy haze still surrounded her exits while the chilling air coming off from the Shadow Rose was suffocating. Rose stumbled to the wall as the Shadow Rose continued to press upon her.
“I do love you Rose†said the Shadow Rose, “much as your mother does.†The Shadow Rose paused as she neared where Rose had stumbled; her flickering profile loomed over. “A..And I suppose you know my mother just as well as I do†Rose shivered; the room continued to freeze. Rose bent down and wrapped her arms around her legs. A frost clung to her words as the vapor of her breath slowly faded from view.
“I do. I understand your mother better than you do,†came the Shadow Rose, “and I know you better as well.†The Shadow Rose backed away momentarily; her back turned on Rose. Rose felt the frigid air recede slightly before crashing down again. Only the brief relief the ocean gives to the shore as the moon circles; a misgiving of the tides few forget. Rose clutched to her legs tighter.
“I don't care much what you know about my mm… mother†Rose said. A fresh wave of cold air splashed over Rose as the Shadow Rose turned to face Rose again.
“Your mother has only ever wanted to make you happy. She has tried for so long to befriend you and to understand you. She doesn't know what to do about you and it's because of YOU,†the Shadow Rose's voice became louder, “it is YOUR fault that she drinks.†Rose shifted to her left; tucking her head into her wrapped arms.
“She… has shown me nothing b.bb.but derision and scorn,†Rose stuttered.
“You distrust her because she derides. She derides you because she drinks. She drinks because you distrust her,†the Shadow Rose said, “However; it all began because you wouldn't let her get close to you. It's funny really.â€
The Shadow Rose walked to Rose's side and stared down at Rose as she continued, “You are so lonely but you are to blame for your loneliness. It's just like at your school.â€
Rose lifted her head once again; her nose stung from the chill, “My classmates lack understanding. I didn't bother talking to them as their mental faculties had hardly advanced to the point of enjoying my company.â€
“You would never have given them that chance,†said the Shadow Rose, “you drive everyone away who could love you. Perhaps you are right; had they known what horrible sort of person you are they would have abandoned you. You were right to hide from them. It is a shame you didn't learn this when you were younger. You still found time to poison Jaspers.â€
Rose lifted her head and stood up. “I never did a thing to Jaspers.†Rose said. She strode up to the Shadow Rose; newly invigorated.
“Oh, but you did,†came the Shadow Rose, “you have always wondered what happened to Jaspers. The pain of his departure dug at you for years. Even now, the guilt still eats inside you.â€
“I.. I was young. It wasn't something I did,†stammered Rose. The Shadow Rose leaned in over Rose as Rose backed away to her previous corner.
“It was entirely your fault Rose,†said the Shadow Rose, “Jaspers suffered around you. He would plead for death daily just to get away from you. The day he disappeared was his wish come true.â€
“Th.. that isn't true,†Rose said; she bent down to the floor and wrapped her arms around herself again to try and warm up, “I would never… Jasper's wouldn't..â€
“All you have ever done is be a burden to everyone,†the Shadow Rose said, “you are responsible for all those who have abandoned you. Even your friends can hardly stand the burden of knowing you.†Rose shivered and tucked her head inside her arms once again. The Shadow Rose bent down next to her.
She whispered, “Did you think Jade actually liked you? She would laugh behind your back if it wasn't for how painful it was to know you. To her, you're nothing more than a lost silly girl trying to make amends for how horrible you truly are. She even knows that you think she's strange; she's always known everything. She smiles at how you actually value this ‘friendship.'â€
“Y.. you're talking nonsense,†Rose said, “none of this is true. I wa..want to wake up.â€
“My dear, you are waking up,†the Shadow Rose said as she stood up again, “I'm helping you realize what is actually happening; to turn away those lies which cloud your mind to the truth of your insignificance. Take Dave for instance; you've never really understood his irony, have you?†The Shadow Rose laid her hand on top of Rose's head; Rose's mind blanked. The cold was unbearable; she couldn't think.
“Do you realize he had the beta the entire time? He was hoping that you'd suffer,†the Shadow Rose smiled as Rose's face blushed red from the pain of the cold, “Just a slight bit off; if only he had come in a couple minutes later. He truly hoped you would burn to death. You're annoying to him; you can't hide how stupid you truly are with fancy words.â€
This wasn't real. There had to be a way to get out of this. Rose started to get desperate; her mind could barely comprehend what the Shadow Rose said anymore. The Shadow Rose took back her hand and stood up, “John though…â€
The icy frost covering Rose's mind lifted at John's name.
“The heir is dangerous; more dangerous than anything else,†said the Shadow Rose, “There is no person more capable of hurting you, us, than him.†The Shadow Rose flickered slightly; not so much like a haze but more like a fading in and out. A resolute step back to Rose seemed to bring back the Shadow Rose's vigor however.
“The heir doesn't snicker or wish you pain,†the Shadow Rose continued, “the heir pities you. He wishes that you'd be happy.†The Shadow Rose's eyes glowed a deep purple, “Yes, happy talking to someone who would actually enjoy talking to trash like you.â€
“What..†Rose whimpered; her last ounce of strengthen taken away with the shock. Rose had barely had any strength left even before the Shadow Rose had started on John. Her cheeks had started to turn black from frost-bite. It shouldn't have surprised Rose otherwise to hear the Shadow Rose continue her derision but she had been fooled by the seemingly positive start.
“People like the heir are only bound to find themselves entrapped in the snares of horrible people like you. All those late nights of ‘therapy' you've had with him. He may say that he'd ‘always stay up to help a friend' but it's only then that he ever truly wishes he never knew you. He will abandon you like all the others.†the Shadow Rose finished. Tears streamed down Rose's face; a stinging sensation felt as they froze against her skin. No… that couldn't be John… That wasn't John… John…
John captchalogued his ghost gauntlet. Perhaps if the glove was captchalogued first they wouldn't be hot when John tried to wear them? A quick burning sensation gave John a painful answer; the gauntlet tosses in frustration. John was running out of time; the house could collapse at any minute and he and Rose were still stuck in a hole in the middle of the house surrounded by debris. A thought suddenly struck John.
“Wait, I used my damp coat to not get burned before,†John thought. Damn it though; his coat had dried out from the surrounding heat. A rumble above sang out a reminder that time was fleeting; the debris above shifted and closed off the earlier crawl-space. Was he really going to die here with Rose? Rose… Her dress was still damp!
John grabbed out his ‘Barber's Best Friend' razor umbrella and quickly cut off a small patch from Rose's dress. Carefully John wrapped his right hand around the damp silk cloth and shoved it into the still-hot ghost gauntlet. The reduction in heat was just within John's tolerance for pain. He quickly activated the gauntlets and pushed aside the rubble over top with his big slimy ghost hand. John then turned to the front-door and pushed aside the chunks of roof blocking it. Their path secured, John captchalogued the gauntlet and draped Rose over his left shoulder; John's hands held Rose's legs around himself piggy-back style. His hand stung from the gauntlet's burn but there was little time to worry about that. The house shook as its structural integrity was further compromised. It was a struggle for John to move; the smoke still billowing around Rose's house made it difficult to breathe and the journey was slow. Every step felt labored for John; each rumble of the house bringing additional chances for failure. John's grip would momentarily slacken with every jolt but the doorway to safety in front of him spurred him on. A final step; a crumbling house; John willed himself forward with Rose still on his back as the house collapsed.
The Shadow Rose again flickered. Regardless on the truth of her origin, she could not escape her reliance on the Rose's wands. Their eldritch magic was the blood pulsing through the Shadow Rose's veins. Rose, in the waking world, was near death and had not touched the thorns of Oglogoth for some time. The chill suffocating Rose, in the dream world, slowly lifted as Rose regained her strength.
“John isn't like that,†Rose said as she slowly stood up. Her steps were clumsy and timid but carried resolution. “Is this really about whether John will abandon me in the end?†Rose continued. The Shadow Rose backed a few feet away from Rose; her body continued to flicker.
“The heir will hurt you! He will abandon you!†the Shadow Rose tried to yell; her voice coming coarse and weakened, “The only safe option for you, for us, is to stay away. Don't open yourself up only to have him leave and hurt you.†Warmth climbed back into Rose; her cheeks shedding their former shade of red.
“I do not fear John,†Rose said, “I've never known anyone else like him. And even though he could leave me and abandon me like others have in my life, John is worth the risk.†Rose awoke.
Lime sand and a rainbow ocean; this was all Rose could see when she awoke. Rose was laying down face-first into the sand surrounding the remains of her house. A dark grey smoke billowed from the smoldering remnants of her recently collapsed house. Rose found it difficult to breath. Although she had been breathing slowly while asleep, Rose still suffered from smoke inhalation. She coughed; her body felt weak. A patch of her dress was missing; seemingly cut away with a knife. Rose rolled over onto her back and pushed behind the ground behind her with her hands so that she could sit up. The house was gone; collapsed onto itself gutted by flames; a shame but bearable. Rose had survived, and John…
“John!†Rose yelled; to her left was John. He laid face-first into the sand much as Rose had been earlier but John wasn't moving. In fact, Rose couldn't say whether John was breathing or not. Rose pushed John over onto his back and looked for a sign of life. John was covered in soot and it looked as if his right hand was slightly burned.
“John! Are you ok?†Rose said as she checked John's pulse on his neck with her hand. The sensation from Rose's hand brought John back to consciousness. A coarse cough came from John and he struggled for breath. Rose grabbed John around his shoulders and pulled John so that he was sitting up. Although unintentional, Rose made it even harder for John to breath and she held John in her arms; a tight hug constricted John's airway.
“Ro.. Ro… Rose†John coughed out, “You're… choking… me.†Rose slackened her grip but continued to hug John.
“Sorry John,†said Rose, “I'm just glad you're ok.†Rose let go of John, making sure he could sit up on his own before continuing.
“Why did you risk your life like that,†Rose asked, “that was incredibly dangerous.â€
“Well, I wasn't just going to leave you! That'd be silly,†said John, “I wouldn't abandon you.â€
Rose kissed John once on his left cheek, “Thank you John.â€
“I uh…†John stumbled, “I uh…â€
“It's ok John,†Rose said, “Let's just rest a bit for now.†Rose grabbed John's left hand in her right. John smiled.
I just wanted to say, both of these fics are awesome! I really wish I could write as well as you guys! If you are looking for critique, I'd be happy to give some, for what little there is to give
If romart people want to draw me, my character is here! Done by TimeChaser, thanks a ton!
I have decided to hop onto the Fanstravabandwagon (??).
Ruins (With Strings)
A gust of wind blew through the Battlefield.
What was left of it, that is. Jacks rampage had leveled much of the Battlefield single-handedly, and everything left standing after that first wave of devastation had buckled at the shockwave from the impact of Prospit's moon. All was rubble and ruin now.
To their credit, the survivors weren't interested in fighting anymore. Their part in the War was over. Instead they slowly began banding together, in the hope of finding something meaningful to do before Skaia's defense system dropped and the meteors began coming through.
The Dersites had at first entertained some notion of returning to their planet, but Jack was clearly having none of that. Was it spite that drove him to destroy every transportalizer left on the Battlefield? Blind fury? None of the pawns would ever learn his reasoning. They knew only that Jack was their executioner. There were shuttles left, to be sure, but they were all reserved for more important passengers. The vast majority of the Dersites left would be dying alongside Skaia.
The Prospitians... didn't have a home to return to.
Some settled for chatter, some for games of chance and skill. Veterans gathered around flaming debris to pass along war stories about the heroics of days past. A few simply watched the clouds in the sky of Skaia, gazing at the various prophetic murals that they had all considered useless just hours prior.
Others chose to watch the actions of those who were still relevant to the grand conflict embroiling the Incipisphere. The Revolutionary, the Postwoman, the Boy, the Sneak...
The Tyrant.
There was talk, at first, of helping one side or the other, but the final decision was inaction. The Dersites had been betrayed, after all, and the Prospitians had suffered the tragedy of watching helplessly as their home died in front of them. There were no sides left to them. Only the shame of defeat.
Jack was the only one toward which any real animosity was felt, but he was untouchable. No assault against him could be successful, as he had made abundantly clear earlier.
The landing of a ship on the Battlefield was the only event to cause a serious clamor among the pawns (although the Boy's strange rabbit came very close). There was now a way off of Skaia, and the warriors on board looked powerful enough to convince even Jack not to interfere. Perhaps now they could return to their...
Their conflicts. Their posts in the ceaseless war between Prospit and Derse. Enthusiasm gave way to uncertainty almost immediately. Skaia was a dangerous place right now; Jack might return and finish slaying all of them. Perhaps the children would finish their tasks too late, and the meteors would come crashing down and obliterate Skaia completely. A host of grisly deaths awaited them, should they stay, and yet if they did... if they did, they wouldn't have to fight anymore.
And that suddenly seemed a lot more important than anything else.
Boy, it didn't look this long when i wrote it. I've never really done fan fiction before, or any fictional writing for that matter, so it seems like i sort of botched the length. Please don't get intimidated by the first spoiler. It's most of the story.
Spiral
Slime oozed down the ramp leading to the recuperacoon as its former inhabitant dragged himself across the floor as he did so many times before this. He had learned long ago not to track time during the routine. Not to attempt to figure out the countless minutes and hours he wasted each morning doing what others simply took for granted. It was depressing, and that's not what he wanted to be. Not anymore, anyway. His chair rolled silently across the floor once occupied. The diminutive lusus, which was currently dozing away in a ball in a corner, would have smiled in appreciation if it were conscious. Silent movement is tricky with such a wide carriage, especially in the current surroundings. Toys and paraphernalia littered the floor like a minefield without the threat of death, but just as loud. However, as with most aspects of his altered life, he had perfected the art of dodging his stray balls and dolls on the floor. These cheap distractions helped hide and disguise the pain he felt, but they could never cure it. That was a role reserved for his friends.
Trollian finally loaded after what seemed like a longer than average wait. Of course it seemed longer. He had never anticipated opening the program more than he had at that exact moment. It was needed today. It would be the catalyst that would propel him out of his long funk. The push in the back needed to take the first step out of the dark recess and back into normality for the first time in, well, it's probably best not to think about it. Friends. Real friends. Honest to goodness, he had them in spades. The list flickered on his screen. Eleven others he could rely upon in any situation. Stalwart companions to the very end. Well, maybe a few were less stellar than others, but buddies none the less. Except for maybe… NO, no. Today they ALL were friends. After all, there was a point at which he considered them all as such, and from what he understood, they did the same. It was at this point he was going to return. Like starting a game over after losing his last life. Wait, too downbeat. Like pressing reset in the middle of a rough level to stock up on extra lives. Not something he was proud of doing, but it would fit this situation. A quick message to everyone. Something simple. A greeting, an inquiry for a status update, and a request. Eleven messages, signed, sealed, and sent, or the digital equivalent of that anyway.
If the mere opening of the program seemed an eternity, then he shuddered to think of what the upcoming wait would be akin to. Best, he thought, to occupy his mind elsewhere. Correcting the state of his room seemed ideal for this. No need to be far from reach from his plethora of friends, and from the look of it the job would easily fill any amount of wait time. In fact, simply collecting the numerous fiduspawn cards strewn about should suffice. Fiduspawn: TCG(the card game) was a peculiar oddity. In essence, as its subtitle would hint, it is a game. A game best played with at least one other willing participant. Yet, despite his frighteningly large collection, he had never played a single round. Not due to not knowing the rules, however. If one were to pass a casual glance across the room it wouldn't be hard to spot several stacks of cards seemingly out of place in the neatness in which they stood. These were his competition decks. The decks he would use to embarrass the opponents who dared challenge him in fiduspawn. His cards, only the best. His strategy, perfectly crafted. He would be known as the best to ever enter the arena of card duels. Or he would have, that is, if he had ever played. In practice, the simple act of finding another troll to play with proved harder to best than the most powerful of cards. I mean, there was that one game he played with his lusus which went rather splendidly until the misguided guardian ate several rare.., no. He's not thinking about things like that.
There are other things to focus on today. For instance, the sudden increase in wind. A stray thought ponders the status of his message. Not the ones he just sent, mind you, but the one he had prepared earlier for this occasion. This was a day he was building towards. Not that the day had any meaning otherwise. It was arbitrarily chosen from many, but the important fact remains that it was chosen, and today was that day. The message, not unlike his others, was short and succinct. The most important quality of it, however was its sincerity. It carried as much emotion as could fit into a two word phrase. A flag with which he could remind the others of their importance to him without uttering a word. Not only could it convey these feelings, but would cut down on potential awkwardness he hoped. A few of his friends were not easy to talk with when it came to the idea of emotions. The letters were written large and painstakingly hung above the entrance to the hive. This is a memory that has no need to be blocked. Although it did serve to remind him of his limitations, it was the closest he had been to his lusus in a long while. With no channel of communication between them, it was hung higher than he ever could have hoped for alone. Sure, his guardian nibbled off a corner or two, but that more ended up as a reminder of why the creature was so endearing to him begin with. The lusus subsequently taking a nap in his lap worked to further this cause. Hopefully, these were good signs as to what was going to come. However, as previously mentioned, there were other things to focus on today. The sudden increase in wind, the new message alert from the computer, the uncleanliness of….
Hurriedly he rolled his way back to his computer. His inbox had already amassed a number of messages. Six, to be exact. Upon first glance, he immediately had his doubts. If he had made a list in which he ordered his friends based on when he expected them to answer, most of this group would have been at the bottom. Or they would have been, if he was making that list, but he isn't. Not today. He opened one at random. Despite his forced optimism, he couldn't help but think he knew what they all were going to say.
carcinoGeneticist [CG] is currently unavailable
His suspicions were confirmed. All six contained similar messages. He had always found these messages odd. Usually it seemed that these particular messages were delivered instantly. However, sometimes they would slowly trickle in minutes, or even hours after the original messages were sent. Sometimes they were even formatted differently. Almost like they had been forg….. Nope. Not happening. He got too caught up in other things. That's why he didn't notice them immediately. Any formatting inconsistencies could be easily chalked up to fatigue. I mean, it's not that easy for him to get rest around here. Especially when his stupid horns are too big for his stu… STOP. These messages were all the same. All carbon copies of each other. They'll respond later. Fortunately, this simple thought was enough to snap him back into focus. His room. A mess.
The act of picking up a card that is flat to the ground can be difficult enough when all it requires is bending over. Perhaps more so when a troll must drag themselves across the ground to get there first. Not to mention the habit that all cards have of somehow finding their ways into the smallest of cracks. Maybe it's their calling; their home. Despite these minor difficulties, and that's all they were, he was able to round up every loose card in the room after a lengthy period of time, save for one he had just caught out the corner of his eye. Of course, it was stuck in the most inconvenient of places. Under his ramp, nearly right where it met the ground. He began the crawl under the ramp, squeezing between two of the supports. This was harder than might initially be thought due to the side of his horns. He eventually decided the best approach would be to slide in backwards, another deceptively difficult maneuver. Eventually when his horns met the supports, he was able to barely reach the last card. Out of the corner of his eye, which seemed to be busy today, he glanced something else. New messages.
How long had they been there? No clue. Living quarter's hygiene had proven to be too effective of a time, and mind sink. He hadn't really stopped to keep track, but it must have taken him a good portion of the day to finish, and he certainly wasn't watching his computer too strictly from the ground. These messages couldn't wait. He dragged himself as fast as he could to his chair. Or, he WOULD have gotten to his chair. That certainly was his intention. However, he was stopped almost immediately after he started. Bits of his clothing had become caught in a rather frayed and dilapidated section of one of the ramps. He had been meaning to fix it, but god knows he's a stupid shortsighted….he's busy. He's been busy. He had other more important things to do. Like answer these messages but he CAN'T because he's stuck to this GOD DAMN stupid ramp that normal trolls…..
He stopped and closed his eyes. Not again. Deep breaths. After a moment, he tried again. Still stuck. Once more. It seemed like he moved even less. One last time, with gusto, and it finally gave. Unfortunately, in this case, “it†describes two things, neither particularly good. The first, were his pants which were now torn down one side. The second, and arguably more serious, was the support of the ramp. Without one, the others soon buckled. In what seemed like an instant the entire ramp collapsed on his lower body. On a positive note, the computer could now be more clearly seen, and there were undoubtedly messages waiting for him. Sadly, his legs were rendered useless by the collapse. A severe pain shot up his…. Never mind. He didn't feel a thing. Perhaps the first situation he had ever been in where it was almost an advantage to be different. His increased arm strength seemed to agree with that thought and quickly freed him from the collapse. Disaster averted. He can deal with the ramp later, but as for now he needed to answer what were surely patiently waiting friends.
This time there were four. Almost all had been answered at this point. These were all from new senders as well. None of the previous ones had gotten back to sending a real reply. No bother, he thought. Those were the bottom of the list guys. Or they would have been, if there was a list, but there wasn't. One by one he sifted through the messages attempting to pour over each word, but it was hard. He knew what they said the second he opened them. Each one the same, the same as before, but he poured anyway. Well, they were mostly the same. One wasn't. The last one. The one that left him staring blankly at his computer for an even further insurmountable amount of time. As he tore himself away from the screen, he looked franticly for something. ANYTHING. Any… one. His lusus had since departed. Maybe it had left without him noticing as he was cleaning. Maybe it had been spooked by the sound of the collapsing ramp. Maybe it was CRUSHED by the ramp and was slowly dying. Maybe it simply left and is never….he looked around again. Anything. The ramp. He needed it to get into his recuperacoon. He'll never be able to sleep without it. Repairs could take a long time. Hell, it may never get fixed. He's horrible at putting anything together, let alone anything completely shattered....
The room got small. He couldn't breathe fast enough. It was suddenly unbearably warm. He had to leave. His lance, ok great. He took it, and left. Not before disconnecting from Trollian. Something he rarely did, even before today. He was gone before he had the thought to erase the last message from the screen. Leave it. Who cares?
grimAuxiliatrix [GA] is currently not available
It was dark. More so than usual. He finally noticed. The entire day had passed while he was in his room. Some day. Some TODAY. Anger washed over him as he rolled beneath his banner. The wind continued to kick, whipping it around violently so it was impossible to read. No matter. The one person that would read it already knows what it says, and how big of a joke it is. If there ever was a point in which he needed to practice his jousting, now was the time. The dummy stood in the field, unaware, as it usually was, of the incoming punishment. Run after run was a failure. He missed every time, which was odd because he never missed. That is to say, he missed on rare occasions only. Who is he kidding, he misses all the time. In fact, he can't remember a time in which he's been able to direct his lance anywhere near the infernal dummy. He'll never be a cavalreaper at this rate. He can only hit the damn thing when he's right next to it. So he did. Thrust after thrust, he tore away at the dummy images flashing in his head of his failed day. After the fifth hit, he let out a yell. A scream of anger. Maybe frustration. Perhaps, exasperation or desperation. It didn't matter. After the eighth he couldn't see anymore, his eyes had welled with tears so thick. Better to just strip him of his vision. What does he need it for anyway? There's nothing to see. The eleventh hit ended him. His lance flew through the air several yards as he lost his grip. He had missed so hard, he even threw himself from his chair. Face down in the earth; he had no reason to move. No reason to get up. No reason to live.
“Why?†He asked. It had been an increasingly common question for him as of late. It was for the answer to this simple question that he had bothered plan this day out. Today, today, today. It was supposed to work. It was supposed to be his reminder. His answer. “Why� “You'll see,†he would remind himself. Today, and today he got an answer, albeit not the answer he wanted. Not the answer he had fooled himself into thinking he was getting. He got the real answer. He got the blinds pulled away from his eyes. His life, this was it. Down in the dirt, near helpless. A joke, and worst of all completely and utterly alo…. something landed on his shoulder. Or, that's what he thought until it started pulling him up. He finally looked, but had trouble seeing through his bottled sorrow. It can't be. It couldn't be? Could it?
) hOnK
He wanted to smile. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to do SOMETHING to match the mood of his compatriot, but all he could do was cry. The other troll didn't seem to mind. In fact, the other's mood seemed steady. Unwavering. Happy. He was helped from the ground and back to his chair, but he was in no condition to propel himself back inside. It didn't matter. The other took care of it. He always would, or so it felt. “Why,†he asked again. This is why. This was always why. For moments like these. For trolls like these. That was the last time he ever asked himself that question. It was the last time he ever needed to. Gracefully, he was pushed back inside by the other troll, no questions asked. He couldn't help but muster a smile when he passed underneath his banner again. The wind had finally died so it could once more be read.
I guess this would be part one of a rather crazy fanfic in which Rose becomes Jack Noir's therapist. (Hopefully there will be a part two!)
Unhinged - part 1
Jack's heels clicked loudly against the dark purple marble of the tiles that lined one of the many twisting corridors winding their way around the Black Queen's... around HIS palace on Derse. The labyrinthine structure was eerily empty, so soon after his return from razing Prospit to the dust. No one wanted to be anywhere near him after that. Ungrateful vacillators.
Still, even in relative solitude, the Sovereign Slayer kept his back rigid and his pace unfaltering until he reached the room that had been his old office as the Dersian Archagent. He slammed the door shut behind him and stepped across the room, careful to avoid the darkening smear across the floor that no one had thought to mop up. It was starting to stink. Jack didn't particularly care.
He sank into his old chair - uncomfortable and cramped now that he had to lift his massive wings at an awkward angle just to sit down properly - and at last let his forehead hit the desk with a low thunk, a tired hiss escaping from between his teeth. The sword through his chest ached and the scar on his eye ached and the stump where his left arm used to be ached and the ring on his right hand burned against his skin, but he refused to take it off, even for a moment's rest. SHE never had.
There was a rapping sound on the door. "Jack?"
He ignored it. Not his office anymore. Nobody was supposed to know he was here.
A hurried, whispered conversation, and then again: "Jack?" The Draconian Dignitary's voice. "Don't pull this today. It's important. About Hegemonic."
Slumped over with his face pressed to the dark wooden surface of the desk, scarred eye only half open, Jack let off another hiss. The Hegemonic Brute was just another pawn. Dumb muscle. Who cared?
"Droll had an idea, and we're going to put together a memorial service. Something small and classy, just the three of us, to see him off in style."
"I'm doing the decorating!" a small voice piped up from somewhere behind Draconian.
"And Droll's doing the decorating. We owe it to him as one of the old crew."
Jack heard the creak of the door opening, and lashed out with a tentacle, snapping it shut in Draconian's face. "There is no crew," he muttered at last, in a venomous voice muffled slightly by the desk. "There's you, and there's me, and then there's whatever flimsy veil of friendship you've conjured up between us so you can rock yourself to sleep at night. Go away."
The Draconian Dignitary paused for a long moment before responding wearily, "Take off that ring Jack. No one's around to see you."
Jack's one remaining hand clenched into a tight fist, the ever-burning ring biting into his chitinous palm. He'd take it off when his skin caught fire. A king relished his cumbersome prototypings, and reveled in their power. Their painful, exhausting power. "That 'go away' was an order, pawn."
But the door was pushed open yet again, this time forced against the winding tentacle trying to hold it shut, and Draconian stood in the doorway in his typical snazzy black suit. The squat Courtyard Droll peered out from behind him, his head at about the level of Draconian's waist and the turrets on his ridiculous hat making up for the rest of their height difference. Jack considered sitting up straight for a moment, before realizing that exhaustion and apathy wasn't going to allow for it, and so he settled for glaring at them malevolently from his pathetic slouch. They didn't deserve the effort, anyway.
"You're still crawling away to hide in your old office, so don't act like a king," Draconian stated shortly.
"I'm the king."
"I know, Jack."
"I can have whatever office I want."
"Yes, Jack." The Dignitary looked the Slayer over as Jack scowled up at him, still folded over onto the desk. "You look terrible. When was the last time you slept?"
"Kings don't sleep."
"I hate to be the one to remind you," Draconian told him flatly, in a voice that meant something more along the lines of 'I can't believe you actually have to be reminded of this.' "But you weren't born a king."
That was enough. Jack wasn't taking this from anyone, least of all Draconian. With some effort he raised a fist and slammed it down on the desk, making the little Droll jump. "I'm the king!" He shoved himself violently upright, sharp fingers raking the wooden desk, and the chair fell away with a clatter as his wings spread menacingly. "I'm the king, and I'm not taking my ring off, and I don't want you in my office! And Hegemonic was an idiot and an eyesore, so don't think for a second that I care that he's dead or that you're having some garish send-off for him, because I DON'T MOURN FOR PAWNS! I'M THE KING! IT'S ME!"
And he took two steps forward and collapsed like a house of cards.
The Draconian Dignitary lunged forward and caught Jack under the arms before he hit the ground. Dersites were lightweight and Draconian was relatively strong, but still he struggled to support the Slayer under the dead weight of his superfluous prototypings. "Jack? Jack!"
"...hate you..." Jack Noir murmured to the world in general.
"Jack, you're stretching my coatsleeves." Draconian lowered him slowly to the ground and straightened up to readjust his suit with an air of annoyance. The floor wasn't much better than the desk.
"Are you okay?!" Droll asked with genuine concern. The gaudy colors of his uniform danced fuzzily in front of Jack's vision.
"You can't make me wear that," he managed.
"What?"
"Go away. I told you to go away. I'm the king. That's a royal decree. I command you on pain of death to go away."
Droll and Draconian exchanged looks. "Let's get him somewhere where he can lie down," Draconian said at last, completely ignoring Jack. Droll nodded soberly.
"No. Go away. I will cut you to ribbons I swear."
"Yes, Jack." Draconian had him under the arms again, and was dragging him slowly and laboriously across the floor. "We really need Hegemonic for this. Write that down; we'll toast to it at the memorial."
"No, I'm... I'm the king. Don't need help from pawns. I'm..." His eyelids fluttered, and the world lurched abruptly. "I'm... not a pawn... I'm not..."
"Jack?" Draconian repeated, but a sleep-deprived and battle-drained Jack was already drifting away.
- - - - - - - - - -
It was a while later, after they'd put the Sovereign Slayer to bed, that the Draconian Dignitary stepped out into the hallway and stared without really seeing out one of the windows that looked out onto the warped and alien architecture of Derse. "Did that strike you as odd, at all?"
The Courtyard Droll, meandering out after him, gave Draconian a funny look. "What Jack said? He didn't mean that stuff about us and Hegemonic. I'm sure he's really sad about it and everything. He's just bad at showing it."
"I meant the part where he fainted because he refused to sleep, but you have a point. This isn't strange; it's just Jack being Jack. And that worries me."
"He really didn't mean it!" Droll insisted.
"Maybe. But all this; the power and the social insecurity and the prototypings dragging him down, and now Hegemonic... It's a lot to deal with all at once. And Jack notoriously does not deal with things. He buries them and lets them build up and then he snaps." Draconian was still gazing out the window, at the pristine darkness of Derse, and the black-carapiced pawns walking along the streets and bridges below. "And it's a problem, because now he's got the power to wipe out the population of a small planet."
Droll looked up at him uncomprehendingly. "Why is it a problem?"
"A Derse-sized planet. Think about it."
A long, LONG silence, and then: "Ooooooh."
Draconian turned away from the window and began pacing quickly down the deserted hallway, trailed by Droll. "This is just going to get worse, isn't it," he murmured, more to himself than to the other Dersite. "He's ranting about kings and refusing to sleep, and it's going to get worse, and there's not a thing we can do about it."
"We could get help," said Droll, half-skipping to keep up with Draconian's longer strides. "There's doctors for this stuff, right?"
"Therapists. Psychiatrists." Human words the Dignitary had picked up somewhere. Words for professions that didn't even exist on Derse. But at the thought of asking for help, another unfortunate realization arose. "We can't tell anyone on Derse about this," Draconian said aloud.
"Why not?"
"Because no one LIKES Jack. He's the king, but he's a diabolical gamebreaker and he slaughtered our entire army just to speed up the reckoning. If anyone knew he was..."
"Crazier than usual?" Droll supplied.
"Yes, thank you. There would be a panic, or a coup, or something that inevitably resulted in Jack killing far more of his own people than is really justifiable. Including you and me, most likely."
"He wouldn't do that."
"Your faith in your friends is impeccable, Droll."
"So if we can't ask for help from a Dersite," said the Courtyard Droll, straining his brainpower to its relatively short limits. "We'll ask for help from someone who... isn't... a Dersite?"
"You really don't seem to be grasping some of the fundamental concepts here," Draconian stated flatly.
"No, I mean... Isn't one of those kids - the ones playing the game, I mean - a therapist? We could ask her to help!" He grinned up at Draconian.
"You really, REALLY don't seem to be grasping some of the fundamental concepts here."
"But if we ask her really nicely...?"
Draconian considered for a moment. In all honesty, his future was looking depressingly bleak, and yet another futile errand wasn't likely to make it any worse. "Alright. Fine. We've got a few hours before the Sovereign Slayer wakes up, so why not?"
"Really?!" squealed Droll, whose ideas almost never got implemented.
"Yes, really. But if this idea of yours lands us in a convoluted mess of fiery death, that's on your head."
"We can't put it there, Draconian," Droll said seriously. "I'm already wearing a hat."
I have wanted to write this for SO LONG.
I'd comment on everything, but I've been gone a while from this thread and I missed way too much stuff to give individual comments. But it was all really good.
I guess this would be part one of a rather crazy fanfic in which Rose becomes Jack Noir's therapist. (Hopefully there will be a part two!)
Unhinged - part 1
Jack's heels clicked loudly against the dark purple marble of the tiles that lined one of the many twisting corridors winding their way around the Black Queen's... around HIS palace on Derse. The labyrinthine structure was eerily empty, so soon after his return from razing Prospit to the dust. No one wanted to be anywhere near him after that. Ungrateful vacillators.
Still, even in relative solitude, the Sovereign Slayer kept his back rigid and his pace unfaltering until he reached the room that had been his old office as the Dersian Archagent. He slammed the door shut behind him and stepped across the room, careful to avoid the darkening smear across the floor that no one had thought to mop up. It was starting to stink. Jack didn't particularly care.
He sank into his old chair - uncomfortable and cramped now that he had to lift his massive wings at an awkward angle just to sit down properly - and at last let his forehead hit the desk with a low thunk, a tired hiss escaping from between his teeth. The sword through his chest ached and the scar on his eye ached and the stump where his left arm used to be ached and the ring on his right hand burned against his skin, but he refused to take it off, even for a moment's rest. SHE never had.
There was a rapping sound on the door. "Jack?"
He ignored it. Not his office anymore. Nobody was supposed to know he was here.
A hurried, whispered conversation, and then again: "Jack?" The Draconian Dignitary's voice. "Don't pull this today. It's important. About Hegemonic."
Slumped over with his face pressed to the dark wooden surface of the desk, scarred eye only half open, Jack let off another hiss. The Hegemonic Brute was just another pawn. Dumb muscle. Who cared?
"Droll had an idea, and we're going to put together a memorial service. Something small and classy, just the three of us, to see him off in style."
"I'm doing the decorating!" a small voice piped up from somewhere behind Draconian.
"And Droll's doing the decorating. We owe it to him as one of the old crew."
Jack heard the creak of the door opening, and lashed out with a tentacle, snapping it shut in Draconian's face. "There is no crew," he muttered at last, in a venomous voice muffled slightly by the desk. "There's you, and there's me, and then there's whatever flimsy veil of friendship you've conjured up between us so you can rock yourself to sleep at night. Go away."
The Draconian Dignitary paused for a long moment before responding wearily, "Take off that ring Jack. No one's around to see you."
Jack's one remaining hand clenched into a tight fist, the ever-burning ring biting into his chitinous palm. He'd take it off when his skin caught fire. A king relished his cumbersome prototypings, and reveled in their power. Their painful, exhausting power. "That 'go away' was an order, pawn."
But the door was pushed open yet again, this time forced against the winding tentacle trying to hold it shut, and Draconian stood in the doorway in his typical snazzy black suit. The squat Courtyard Droll peered out from behind him, his head at about the level of Draconian's waist and the turrets on his ridiculous hat making up for the rest of their height difference. Jack considered sitting up straight for a moment, before realizing that exhaustion and apathy wasn't going to allow for it, and so he settled for glaring at them malevolently from his pathetic slouch. They didn't deserve the effort, anyway.
"You're still crawling away to hide in your old office, so don't act like a king," Draconian stated shortly.
"I'm the king."
"I know, Jack."
"I can have whatever office I want."
"Yes, Jack." The Dignitary looked the Slayer over as Jack scowled up at him, still folded over onto the desk. "You look terrible. When was the last time you slept?"
"Kings don't sleep."
"I hate to be the one to remind you," Draconian told him flatly, in a voice that meant something more along the lines of 'I can't believe you actually have to be reminded of this.' "But you weren't born a king."
That was enough. Jack wasn't taking this from anyone, least of all Draconian. With some effort he raised a fist and slammed it down on the desk, making the little Droll jump. "I'm the king!" He shoved himself violently upright, sharp fingers raking the wooden desk, and the chair fell away with a clatter as his wings spread menacingly. "I'm the king, and I'm not taking my ring off, and I don't want you in my office! And Hegemonic was an idiot and an eyesore, so don't think for a second that I care that he's dead or that you're having some garish send-off for him, because I DON'T MOURN FOR PAWNS! I'M THE KING! IT'S ME!"
And he took two steps forward and collapsed like a house of cards.
The Draconian Dignitary lunged forward and caught Jack under the arms before he hit the ground. Dersites were lightweight and Draconian was relatively strong, but still he struggled to support the Slayer under the dead weight of his superfluous prototypings. "Jack? Jack!"
"...hate you..." Jack Noir murmured to the world in general.
"Jack, you're stretching my coatsleeves." Draconian lowered him slowly to the ground and straightened up to readjust his suit with an air of annoyance. The floor wasn't much better than the desk.
"Are you okay?!" Droll asked with genuine concern. The gaudy colors of his uniform danced fuzzily in front of Jack's vision.
"You can't make me wear that," he managed.
"What?"
"Go away. I told you to go away. I'm the king. That's a royal decree. I command you on pain of death to go away."
Droll and Draconian exchanged looks. "Let's get him somewhere where he can lie down," Draconian said at last, completely ignoring Jack. Droll nodded soberly.
"No. Go away. I will cut you to ribbons I swear."
"Yes, Jack." Draconian had him under the arms again, and was dragging him slowly and laboriously across the floor. "We really need Hegemonic for this. Write that down; we'll toast to it at the memorial."
"No, I'm... I'm the king. Don't need help from pawns. I'm..." His eyelids fluttered, and the world lurched abruptly. "I'm... not a pawn... I'm not..."
"Jack?" Draconian repeated, but a sleep-deprived and battle-drained Jack was already drifting away.
- - - - - - - - - -
It was a while later, after they'd put the Sovereign Slayer to bed, that the Draconian Dignitary stepped out into the hallway and stared without really seeing out one of the windows that looked out onto the warped and alien architecture of Derse. "Did that strike you as odd, at all?"
The Courtyard Droll, meandering out after him, gave Draconian a funny look. "What Jack said? He didn't mean that stuff about us and Hegemonic. I'm sure he's really sad about it and everything. He's just bad at showing it."
"I meant the part where he fainted because he refused to sleep, but you have a point. This isn't strange; it's just Jack being Jack. And that worries me."
"He really didn't mean it!" Droll insisted.
"Maybe. But all this; the power and the social insecurity and the prototypings dragging him down, and now Hegemonic... It's a lot to deal with all at once. And Jack notoriously does not deal with things. He buries them and lets them build up and then he snaps." Draconian was still gazing out the window, at the pristine darkness of Derse, and the black-carapiced pawns walking along the streets and bridges below. "And it's a problem, because now he's got the power to wipe out the population of a small planet."
Droll looked up at him uncomprehendingly. "Why is it a problem?"
"A Derse-sized planet. Think about it."
A long, LONG silence, and then: "Ooooooh."
Draconian turned away from the window and began pacing quickly down the deserted hallway, trailed by Droll. "This is just going to get worse, isn't it," he murmured, more to himself than to the other Dersite. "He's ranting about kings and refusing to sleep, and it's going to get worse, and there's not a thing we can do about it."
"We could get help," said Droll, half-skipping to keep up with Draconian's longer strides. "There's doctors for this stuff, right?"
"Therapists. Psychiatrists." Human words the Dignitary had picked up somewhere. Words for professions that didn't even exist on Derse. But at the thought of asking for help, another unfortunate realization arose. "We can't tell anyone on Derse about this," Draconian said aloud.
"Why not?"
"Because no one LIKES Jack. He's the king, but he's a diabolical gamebreaker and he slaughtered our entire army just to speed up the reckoning. If anyone knew he was..."
"Crazier than usual?" Droll supplied.
"Yes, thank you. There would be a panic, or a coup, or something that inevitably resulted in Jack killing far more of his own people than is really justifiable. Including you and me, most likely."
"He wouldn't do that."
"Your faith in your friends is impeccable, Droll."
"So if we can't ask for help from a Dersite," said the Courtyard Droll, straining his brainpower to its relatively short limits. "We'll ask for help from someone who... isn't... a Dersite?"
"You really don't seem to be grasping some of the fundamental concepts here," Draconian stated flatly.
"No, I mean... Isn't one of those kids - the ones playing the game, I mean - a therapist? We could ask her to help!" He grinned up at Draconian.
"You really, REALLY don't seem to be grasping some of the fundamental concepts here."
"But if we ask her really nicely...?"
Draconian considered for a moment. In all honesty, his future was looking depressingly bleak, and yet another futile errand wasn't likely to make it any worse. "Alright. Fine. We've got a few hours before the Sovereign Slayer wakes up, so why not?"
"Really?!" squealed Droll, whose ideas almost never got implemented.
"Yes, really. But if this idea of yours lands us in a convoluted mess of fiery death, that's on your head."
"We can't put it there, Draconian," Droll said seriously. "I'm already wearing a hat."
I have wanted to write this for SO LONG.
I'd comment on everything, but I've been gone a while from this thread and I missed way too much stuff to give individual comments. But it was all really good.
Okay, I adore this. Jack, DD, and CD are all characterised brilliantly and I love how DD refers to them being part of 'the old crew'.
I guess this would be part one of a rather crazy fanfic in which Rose becomes Jack Noir's therapist. (Hopefully there will be a part two!)
Unhinged - part 1
Jack's heels clicked loudly against the dark purple marble of the tiles that lined one of the many twisting corridors winding their way around the Black Queen's... around HIS palace on Derse. The labyrinthine structure was eerily empty, so soon after his return from razing Prospit to the dust. No one wanted to be anywhere near him after that. Ungrateful vacillators.
Still, even in relative solitude, the Sovereign Slayer kept his back rigid and his pace unfaltering until he reached the room that had been his old office as the Dersian Archagent. He slammed the door shut behind him and stepped across the room, careful to avoid the darkening smear across the floor that no one had thought to mop up. It was starting to stink. Jack didn't particularly care.
He sank into his old chair - uncomfortable and cramped now that he had to lift his massive wings at an awkward angle just to sit down properly - and at last let his forehead hit the desk with a low thunk, a tired hiss escaping from between his teeth. The sword through his chest ached and the scar on his eye ached and the stump where his left arm used to be ached and the ring on his right hand burned against his skin, but he refused to take it off, even for a moment's rest. SHE never had.
There was a rapping sound on the door. "Jack?"
He ignored it. Not his office anymore. Nobody was supposed to know he was here.
A hurried, whispered conversation, and then again: "Jack?" The Draconian Dignitary's voice. "Don't pull this today. It's important. About Hegemonic."
Slumped over with his face pressed to the dark wooden surface of the desk, scarred eye only half open, Jack let off another hiss. The Hegemonic Brute was just another pawn. Dumb muscle. Who cared?
"Droll had an idea, and we're going to put together a memorial service. Something small and classy, just the three of us, to see him off in style."
"I'm doing the decorating!" a small voice piped up from somewhere behind Draconian.
"And Droll's doing the decorating. We owe it to him as one of the old crew."
Jack heard the creak of the door opening, and lashed out with a tentacle, snapping it shut in Draconian's face. "There is no crew," he muttered at last, in a venomous voice muffled slightly by the desk. "There's you, and there's me, and then there's whatever flimsy veil of friendship you've conjured up between us so you can rock yourself to sleep at night. Go away."
The Draconian Dignitary paused for a long moment before responding wearily, "Take off that ring Jack. No one's around to see you."
Jack's one remaining hand clenched into a tight fist, the ever-burning ring biting into his chitinous palm. He'd take it off when his skin caught fire. A king relished his cumbersome prototypings, and reveled in their power. Their painful, exhausting power. "That 'go away' was an order, pawn."
But the door was pushed open yet again, this time forced against the winding tentacle trying to hold it shut, and Draconian stood in the doorway in his typical snazzy black suit. The squat Courtyard Droll peered out from behind him, his head at about the level of Draconian's waist and the turrets on his ridiculous hat making up for the rest of their height difference. Jack considered sitting up straight for a moment, before realizing that exhaustion and apathy wasn't going to allow for it, and so he settled for glaring at them malevolently from his pathetic slouch. They didn't deserve the effort, anyway.
"You're still crawling away to hide in your old office, so don't act like a king," Draconian stated shortly.
"I'm the king."
"I know, Jack."
"I can have whatever office I want."
"Yes, Jack." The Dignitary looked the Slayer over as Jack scowled up at him, still folded over onto the desk. "You look terrible. When was the last time you slept?"
"Kings don't sleep."
"I hate to be the one to remind you," Draconian told him flatly, in a voice that meant something more along the lines of 'I can't believe you actually have to be reminded of this.' "But you weren't born a king."
That was enough. Jack wasn't taking this from anyone, least of all Draconian. With some effort he raised a fist and slammed it down on the desk, making the little Droll jump. "I'm the king!" He shoved himself violently upright, sharp fingers raking the wooden desk, and the chair fell away with a clatter as his wings spread menacingly. "I'm the king, and I'm not taking my ring off, and I don't want you in my office! And Hegemonic was an idiot and an eyesore, so don't think for a second that I care that he's dead or that you're having some garish send-off for him, because I DON'T MOURN FOR PAWNS! I'M THE KING! IT'S ME!"
And he took two steps forward and collapsed like a house of cards.
The Draconian Dignitary lunged forward and caught Jack under the arms before he hit the ground. Dersites were lightweight and Draconian was relatively strong, but still he struggled to support the Slayer under the dead weight of his superfluous prototypings. "Jack? Jack!"
"...hate you..." Jack Noir murmured to the world in general.
"Jack, you're stretching my coatsleeves." Draconian lowered him slowly to the ground and straightened up to readjust his suit with an air of annoyance. The floor wasn't much better than the desk.
"Are you okay?!" Droll asked with genuine concern. The gaudy colors of his uniform danced fuzzily in front of Jack's vision.
"You can't make me wear that," he managed.
"What?"
"Go away. I told you to go away. I'm the king. That's a royal decree. I command you on pain of death to go away."
Droll and Draconian exchanged looks. "Let's get him somewhere where he can lie down," Draconian said at last, completely ignoring Jack. Droll nodded soberly.
"No. Go away. I will cut you to ribbons I swear."
"Yes, Jack." Draconian had him under the arms again, and was dragging him slowly and laboriously across the floor. "We really need Hegemonic for this. Write that down; we'll toast to it at the memorial."
"No, I'm... I'm the king. Don't need help from pawns. I'm..." His eyelids fluttered, and the world lurched abruptly. "I'm... not a pawn... I'm not..."
"Jack?" Draconian repeated, but a sleep-deprived and battle-drained Jack was already drifting away.
- - - - - - - - - -
It was a while later, after they'd put the Sovereign Slayer to bed, that the Draconian Dignitary stepped out into the hallway and stared without really seeing out one of the windows that looked out onto the warped and alien architecture of Derse. "Did that strike you as odd, at all?"
The Courtyard Droll, meandering out after him, gave Draconian a funny look. "What Jack said? He didn't mean that stuff about us and Hegemonic. I'm sure he's really sad about it and everything. He's just bad at showing it."
"I meant the part where he fainted because he refused to sleep, but you have a point. This isn't strange; it's just Jack being Jack. And that worries me."
"He really didn't mean it!" Droll insisted.
"Maybe. But all this; the power and the social insecurity and the prototypings dragging him down, and now Hegemonic... It's a lot to deal with all at once. And Jack notoriously does not deal with things. He buries them and lets them build up and then he snaps." Draconian was still gazing out the window, at the pristine darkness of Derse, and the black-carapiced pawns walking along the streets and bridges below. "And it's a problem, because now he's got the power to wipe out the population of a small planet."
Droll looked up at him uncomprehendingly. "Why is it a problem?"
"A Derse-sized planet. Think about it."
A long, LONG silence, and then: "Ooooooh."
Draconian turned away from the window and began pacing quickly down the deserted hallway, trailed by Droll. "This is just going to get worse, isn't it," he murmured, more to himself than to the other Dersite. "He's ranting about kings and refusing to sleep, and it's going to get worse, and there's not a thing we can do about it."
"We could get help," said Droll, half-skipping to keep up with Draconian's longer strides. "There's doctors for this stuff, right?"
"Therapists. Psychiatrists." Human words the Dignitary had picked up somewhere. Words for professions that didn't even exist on Derse. But at the thought of asking for help, another unfortunate realization arose. "We can't tell anyone on Derse about this," Draconian said aloud.
"Why not?"
"Because no one LIKES Jack. He's the king, but he's a diabolical gamebreaker and he slaughtered our entire army just to speed up the reckoning. If anyone knew he was..."
"Crazier than usual?" Droll supplied.
"Yes, thank you. There would be a panic, or a coup, or something that inevitably resulted in Jack killing far more of his own people than is really justifiable. Including you and me, most likely."
"He wouldn't do that."
"Your faith in your friends is impeccable, Droll."
"So if we can't ask for help from a Dersite," said the Courtyard Droll, straining his brainpower to its relatively short limits. "We'll ask for help from someone who... isn't... a Dersite?"
"You really don't seem to be grasping some of the fundamental concepts here," Draconian stated flatly.
"No, I mean... Isn't one of those kids - the ones playing the game, I mean - a therapist? We could ask her to help!" He grinned up at Draconian.
"You really, REALLY don't seem to be grasping some of the fundamental concepts here."
"But if we ask her really nicely...?"
Draconian considered for a moment. In all honesty, his future was looking depressingly bleak, and yet another futile errand wasn't likely to make it any worse. "Alright. Fine. We've got a few hours before the Sovereign Slayer wakes up, so why not?"
"Really?!" squealed Droll, whose ideas almost never got implemented.
"Yes, really. But if this idea of yours lands us in a convoluted mess of fiery death, that's on your head."
"We can't put it there, Draconian," Droll said seriously. "I'm already wearing a hat."
I have wanted to write this for SO LONG.
I'd comment on everything, but I've been gone a while from this thread and I missed way too much stuff to give individual comments. But it was all really good.
I love CD in this, I can just imagine him being cute like that.
And this is such an incredibly bad idea that it just might work. (Not the fic idea, CD's idea)
Boy, it didn't look this long when i wrote it. I've never really done fan fiction before, or any fictional writing for that matter, so it seems like i sort of botched the length. Please don't get intimidated by the first spoiler. It's most of the story.
Spiral
Very long and wordy! Not bad though. You maybe depicted Tavros' situation as more depressing than it really is, but you've let that depressing-ness show through well.
Originally Posted by Red Pen
I guess this would be part one of a rather crazy fanfic in which Rose becomes Jack Noir's therapist. (Hopefully there will be a part two!)
Unhinged - part 1
I agree with what the above guys said! Very well characterised. Very fitting.
It wasn't until she opened her eyes to find herself plummeting towards the shimmering, soap-bubble waters of Lolar at terminal velocity that Rose realized she'd never had much sympathy for Jade Harley's condition. Admittedly, she knew very little about narcolepsy other than the apparent inconvenience it tended to cause. But if she were to make a list of places she'd rather not fall asleep, Rose Lalonde had to admit that speeding across an alien world in a sphere of arcane magic would probably be near the top.
Even with the rainbow waters rapidly approaching, Rose didn't bother to panic. Fumbling with her sylladex, she calmly retrieved the Thorns of Oglogoth and summoned up another sphere. With a mighty splash she hit the water, occult sphere and all, and bobbed gently to the surface, safely suspended within the dark globe.
"Well. That was-"
And again it happened. A sharp pain across her throat, like a cold knife being pressed to her skin, just short of drawing blood. It wasn't her pain; it was like trying to dream while somewhere far away someone was pinching and prodding her, trying to wake her up. Her dreamself's pain. And it was putting her to sleep.
Determinedly she jetted off once more, aiming at top speed for the nearest tiny island of barren white sand. The pain spiked and her eyes shut as if some inner switch had been flipped, but even as the magic flickered out Rose's momentum carried her. She struck the water, skipped, and hit the beach at dangerous speeds, leaving a long swatch of tossed-up sand as she skidded to a halt, the right side of her face scraped up and bleeding.
It was enough to wake her, for a few minutes. She'd lost a good chunk of her Health Vital. It didn't concern her at the moment. The advantage to these abstract gaming concepts was that she would still be perfectly functional until the meter ran out completely, and so with a little shake to dislodge the snow-white sand from her hair, she sat up and fired up her hubtopband.
-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at ??? --
TT: Dave.
TT: I believe my dreamself is in immediate peril. Wake me if my original body follows suit; I may be occupied on Derse for a while.
TT: Are you there?
He didn't respond.
TT: Strider, whatever hilarious shenanigans you're no doubt occupying yourself with, I'd appreciate it if you postponed them long enough to assure me I won't be ambushed by ogres in my sleep.
The pain against her throat twinged sharply again, and Rose caught a flash of the color she liked to call "velvet". Whatever Dave was busy with, Rose pondered irately, it had better be a matter of life or death.
TT: This is rather urgent, you understand.
TT: Answer me, Dave.
TT: Where are y
And then, somewhere in a spindly violet tower looming over the isolated moon of Derse, someone slapped her. Hard.
- - - - - - - - - -
Rose's eyes snapped open to a view of the deep purple ceiling of her dream room, partially obscured by the dark silhouette looming over her and holding a short switchblade to her throat. "She's finally awake."
The four months of excess memories her dreamself possessed thanks to Dave's many tragic excursions with time travel were enough to identify him: the Draconian Dignitary, one of Jack Noir's lackeys. Rose gazed up at him levelly. She knew she should have been frightened, and perhaps Jade or John would have been, in her place, but a quick epiphany of logic kept her calm. They weren't trying to kill her; only to wake her up.
"I wasn't under the impression that you and yours knew about the presence of our dreamselves."
"Two massive towers on the moon aren't exactly easy to miss," Draconian countered, switchblade still at her neck. "The old regime didn't want us to disturb you so soon, out of respect for the rules of the game. The new regime couldn't care less."
"Ah." There really wasn't much more to be said.
"Ask her, Draconian," someone with a slightly higher voice prompted, from just outside of Rose's field of vision. Turning her head to see who it was would have sent the Dignitary's blade slicing into her windpipe, so Rose was content to continue staring at the ceiling.
"You're coming with us for a while," Draconian commanded shortly. "Behave like a good young lady, and we won't hurt you."
"Might I ask where?"
"No."
"Or why?"
"You'll be told."
The girl narrowed her eyes. "I see. And I take it that this mysterious agenda is something you'll need me awake for, or you would have simply spirited me away, still fast asleep. An interrogation, then?" Rose could see the briefest flicker of surprise in the Dersite's expression: she'd gotten something right.
"In a way. You'll be talking to Jack."
"I'll be talking to Jack. Not, 'the Sovereign Slayer wants to talk to you,' but 'you'll be talking to Jack.' You're not operating under his orders."
Another spark of surprise from the Dignitary, and the other, unseen aggressor whispered, "See, she's really good!"
Draconian sighed in irritation.
"No, really!" The largest, most eye-wateringly garish hat that Rose had ever laid eyes on loomed into view, followed by the head that wore it - a squat little Dersite with wide eyes. "She's gonna help Jack, and everything will be fine. Sorry for waking you up like this, Miss tentacleTherapist."
"Help Jack," Rose repeated dully.
"With therapy!"
Rose gave the Draconian Dignitary a skeptical look, which to his credit he returned. "So, for the sake of coherence, you're expecting my dreamself, which you've forcibly kidnapped, to give competent therapy, a profession you believe me to be proficient in due to my internet alias, to Jack Noir, the man who doomed Skaia and serves as a constant threat to the lives of me and my allies."
"Exactly!" said the Courtyard Droll, while Draconian put a hand to where the bridge of his nose should of been, with a look that indicated he'd rather be anywhere other than right here, right now.
"I won't dispute that he needs it. But suppose I refuse?"
"We'll kill you," Draconian answered. "You seem like an intelligent child. I'm surprised you have to ask."
A slight frown crossed Rose's face. "Somehow I doubt you will. If you've stooped to this humiliating last recourse, then I assume you're desperate enough to need me. Furthermore, while I wouldn't relish losing my dreamself, I would persist in living even if it died, and my other body is significantly more powerful and protected."
Droll and Draconian stared at her dumbly.
"So my answer is no," she added, with a tone of mock helpfulness. "And I'd appreciate it if you removed the knife now. I think we're done here."
There was a long moment of motionless silence, and then the Draconian Dignitary straightened up and pocketed his switchblade. Rose got to her feet as well, with as much dignity as possible given the circumstances...
...and saw for the first time the boy who had been tied up and roughly gagged, lying against the far wall and struggling desperately against his too-tight bonds.
"Oh... oh god, Dave!"
Dream-Dave's head snapped up at the sound of his name, and Rose could make out a thin trail of blood running freely down his forehead and streaking his sunglasses. She looked to the Dignitary in shock, and he gazed back at her emotionlessly. "Fair enough. We'll kill him instead."
Rose struggled to regain her composure, but her voice shook just the tiniest bit when she spoke. "That's irrelevant. It's just his dreamself; the real Dave will be fine." She locked eyes with Dave, who gave her a defiant nod. Don't comply, Rose. They've still got nothing on us. Our dreamselves are a nice luxury, but they're expendable. Don't comply.
Draconian nodded, and the switchblade was whipped out again with a snap. Rose swallowed painfully.
"Wait..."
The Dersite, already stepping slowly towards Dave, turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. "Reconsidering?"
She couldn't watch this. Not Dave. For the briefest of moments Rose entertained the thought of leaping forward and knocking the knife out of Draconian's hands, but she knew even as she thought it that the Dignitary was taller and stronger than her, and could probably kill her even without a knife.
"I think... I think I'll humor you." She'd meant to sound cold and indifferent, but she couldn't keep her voice from shaking.
He gave her a sober smile. "You ARE an intelligent girl. Droll, knock the boy out and untie him."
Rose winced as with a thunk, the Courtyard Droll bludgeoned Dave across the back of the head with a thick crook, and the boy slumped to the floor, motionless. "That was a mean trick, Draconian," the little Dersite complained while he undid the knots binding Dave's arms and legs.
"As long as the young lady remembers that we know exactly where to find her friend, she'll do what we say." Draconian put a sharp-fingered hand on Rose's shoulder, with a detached care that implied he'd rather not be touching her.
Beside him Rose stood, silent and shaken, and stared down at the prone body of the closest thing she had to a brother.
- - - - - - - - - -
-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at ??? --
TT: Where are y
TG: alright fine that was pretty much the worst experience of my entire life
TG: no hold on
TG: second worst. demoted for not involving puppets
TG: and dont think i didnt see you having some kind of panic attack over there
TG: like some hysterical dame
TG: hysteria meter at maximum
TG: being all hysterical
TG: anyway im awake
TG: ...............
TG: and youre not
TG: so yeah, this is basically just the best day ever over here
TG: cant wait to tell john about this one
TG: "hey john guess who just got kidnapped by jack freaking noir?"
TG: .......................
TG: come on rose
TG: i could take it
TG: i could totally take it
Red Pen, these are fantastic! I would give you suggestions, but honestly, I think you're on a level of writing far above mine, and I would only make it worse! I'd like to learn from you!
On another note, I'm working on the second chapter of my Medieval Homestuck AU. I'm going to try to get a few chapters done before I go back and change any minor details to make the writing stronger. I want to keep the story moving.
If romart people want to draw me, my character is here! Done by TimeChaser, thanks a ton!
Originally Posted by Cathartes
If romart people want to draw me, my character is here! Done by TimeChaser, thanks a ton!
Eurobunny in Wales: 
) hOnK
? --