MSPA Fanfiction III

[BlastYoBoots]

Charge of the Fire Brigade

A well deserved eulogy.

Please, everyone... a moment of silence.

:'(

[Katrika]

Yes, this counts as a TROLL disney song, and you'll see why.

Droog's Lullaby

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Wait some, Aradia
For now you must stay
Once you’ve got a new body
You will make her pay

I've been exiled, persucuted
Left alone with no defense
When I think of what that brat did
I get a little tense

But I dream a dream so pretty
That I don't feel so depressed
'Cause of her my life got shitty
Now this helps me get some rest

The sound of Vriska's dying gasp
Her new friend squealing in your grasp
Her lusus and sprite’s mournful cry
That's my lullaby

Now the past I've tried forgetting
And my foes I could forgive
Trouble is I knows it's petty
But I hate to let them live

So I found myself somebody who'd beat Vriska to a mush

Oh, the battle may be bloody, but I kind of get a rush

The screaming of the angry mob
A counterpoint of painful sobs
A symphony of death, oh my!
That's my lullaby

Derse is gone... but Droog is still around
To guide this little troll
Till she learns to be a killer
Nursing grudges in her soul

Fight, or be a weakling!
Make that bitch feel like helpless prey
Now you’ve got a new body
You will make her pay!

The pounding of her heart, pumping
Her blood depletes, now she’s slumping

The joy of vengeance
Testify!
Can’t you hear the cheering?
Megido won’t die!

Payback time is over
And now my flag will fly
Against a blood-red sky
That's my lullaby!

From Lion King 2.

(Vriska's manipul8ions DID get the guy exiled, after all.)

[ceruleanTresses]

Charge of the Fire Brigade

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Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
O'er the flames of Death
flew the six hundred.
"Fly on, the Fire Brigade!
"Ready the Barbasol!" he said:
Across the Green Tragedy
flew the six hundred.

"Forward, the Fire Brigade!"
Was there a salamander dismay'd?
Not tho' the Secret Wizard knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
O'er the flames of Death
flew the six hundred.

Imps to right of them,
Ogres to left of them,
Flames in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shaving cream and pie,
Boldly onward they fly,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
flew the six hundred.

Flash'd all their jetpacks bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Bombing the imps there,
Charging an inferno, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in that damned green flame
Which caused their commander to exclaim;
"How can shaving cream be so flammable!?"
Reel'd from the explosive burst
Shatter'd and blast'd.
Then they flew back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Imps to right of them,
Ogres to left of them,
Flames behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shaving cream and pie,
While jetpacks burst and hero die,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Fire Brigade,
Noble six hundred.

Apologies to Tennyson.

Oh god yes.

Edit: Ninja'd by ADDITIONAL AWESOME. Katrika, you are amazing.

[Katrika]

-sweeping bow-

I'll do something for Nepeta later.

[raequiem]

Couldn't get this idea out of my head for some reason. (Yep, I'm twisted.) No particular characters in mind. Just rambling hate. Rated T for excess violence and ohgodwhy.

To My Kismesis (A Hate Letter)

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To the one I despise the most,

Thank you so much for that little gift you left me. I did manage to find the antidote just in time, but you'll be pleased to know there are still some lingering effects. Every time I vomit rainbows, I think of you and vow to make you pay.

Oh yes, you will pay for this. I've been planning something for just such an occasion for sweeps. Originally I hoped to keep it secret, but I've since realized that letting you know what will happen in advance only increases the pain I can cause you.

I know I've been promising to utterly destroy you for as long as we've been caliginous, but this time I plan to make good. This may take some time, but you'll know exactly when it begins. And you will be powerless to stop me.

First, that lusus of yours. Getting on in years, isn't he? It would be such a shame if he were to, I don't know, be accidentally caught and killed by a FLARPer or two. Or three. Or a hundred. Well what do you know, someone put a reward out for whoever can capture him alive and/or turn in his pelt. Be interesting to see if they can do both at once.

Next I think I'll meet with your moirail. Cute little thing, isn't she? But I think she'd be even cuter on fire. What do you think? That bright orange licking over her hair and face, brighter even than her nasty gutter blood. (When I first heard she was an orange, I was surprised - I thought you'd have better taste. Then again, it's you.)

Oh, by the way, you're going to get to see this all firsthand. You keep forgetting that I'm a stronger psychic than you, so you'll get to be there to hear your lusus's death keen. You can look into your moirail's eyes as she burns, and she can look into yours, knowing you won't save her. I imagine her look of betrayal will be apparent just before her eyes melt from the heat.

But you'll get to do more than just participate. I'm saving the best for last - your matesprit. You two are so sickeningly sweet together, I decided I wouldn't separate you for this. You'd do anything for him, wouldn't you?

I'll let you be the one to kill him.

After you're the one who makes him wish for death.

And then, only then, will I start on you. Only after everyone you've ever given half a damn about has learned to curse you just before they die, only after you're hated and alone, only after your spirit is flayed and broken will I do the same to your body.

I think you know how it will go. I will hurt you, and you will deserve every drop of blood I shed. You will know with certainty that you, that your failures as a matesprit and moirail and friend, deserve every ache. You will hate yourself for what you've done. Almost as much as I hate you.

You will not beg for death, because you'll know you deserve worse than death can ever bring you. But I will kill you anyway, and you will go happily to burn in the deepest and blackest hell ever conceived.

This is what I will do. Somehow, someday, when you don't expect, when your guard's down, when you're happy, I will take that joy away.

Look forward to it, and tremble.

With all the hate I can muster,
Your Kismesis



Dear ranting bulgesucker,

Promises, promises. You keep getting me all hot and bothered with letters like this, and you never deliver. I'll believe it when I see it.

-

... yeeeeeeah. I dunno.

[ceruleanTresses]

Couldn't get this idea out of my head for some reason. (Yep, I'm twisted.) No particular characters in mind.

To My Kismesis (A Hate Letter)

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To the one I despise the most,

Thank you so much for that little gift you left me. I did manage to find the antidote just in time, but you'll be pleased to know there are still some lingering effects. Every time I vomit rainbows, I think of you and vow to make you pay.

Oh yes, you will pay for this. I've been planning something for just such an occasion for sweeps. Originally I hoped to keep it secret, but I've since realized that letting you know what will happen in advance only increases the pain I can cause you.

I know I've been promising to utterly destroy you for as long as we've been caliginous, but this time I plan to make good. This may take some time, but you'll know exactly when it begins. And you will be powerless to stop me.

First, that lusus of yours. Getting on in years, isn't he? It would be such a shame if he were to, I don't know, be accidentally caught and killed by a FLARPer or two. Or three. Or a hundred. Well what do you know, someone put a reward out for whoever can capture him alive and/or turn in his pelt. Be interesting to see if they can do both at once.

Next I think I'll meet with your moirail. Cute little thing, isn't she? But I think she'd be even cuter on fire. What do you think? That bright orange licking over her hair and face, brighter even than her nasty gutter blood. (When I first heard she was an orange, I was surprised - I thought you'd have better taste. Then again, it's you.)

Oh, by the way, you're going to get to see this all firsthand. You keep forgetting that I'm a stronger psychic than you, so you'll get to be there to hear your lusus's death keen. You can look into your moirail's eyes as she burns, and she can look into yours, knowing you won't save her. I imagine her look of betrayal will be apparent just before her eyes melt from the heat.

But you'll get to do more than just participate. I'm saving the best for last - your matesprit. You two are so sickeningly sweet together, I decided I wouldn't separate you for this. You'd do anything for him, wouldn't you?

I'll let you be the one to kill him.

After you're the one who makes him wish for death.

And then, only then, will I start on you. Only after everyone you've ever given half a damn about has learned to curse you just before they die, only after you're hated and alone, only after your spirit is flayed and broken will I do the same to your body.

I think you know how it will go. I will hurt you, and you will deserve every drop of blood I shed. You will know with certainty that you, that your failures as a matesprit and moirail and friend, deserve every ache. You will hate yourself for what you've done. Almost as much as I hate you.

You will not beg for death, because you'll know you deserve worse than death can ever bring you. But I will kill you anyway, and you will go happily to burn in the deepest and blackest hell ever conceived.

This is what I will do. Somehow, someday, when you don't expect, when your guard's down, when you're happy, I will take that joy away.

Look forward to it, and tremble.

With all the hate I can muster,
Your Kismesis



Dear ranting bulgesucker,

Promises, promises. You keep getting me all hot and bothered with letters like this, and you never deliver. I'll believe it when I see it.

-

... yeeeeeeah. I dunno.

D'awwwww! That's so SWEET! *hate-swoons, somehow*

Edit: Also, the end was hilarious.

[gingerale]

Charge of the Fire Brigade

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Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
O'er the flames of Death
flew the six hundred.
"Fly on, the Fire Brigade!
"Ready the Barbasol!" he said:
Across the Green Tragedy
flew the six hundred.

"Forward, the Fire Brigade!"
Was there a salamander dismay'd?
Not tho' the Secret Wizard knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
O'er the flames of Death
flew the six hundred.

Imps to right of them,
Ogres to left of them,
Flames in front of them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shaving cream and pie,
Boldly onward they fly,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
flew the six hundred.

Flash'd all their jetpacks bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Bombing the imps there,
Charging an inferno, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in that damned green flame
Which caused their commander to exclaim;
"How can shaving cream be so flammable!?"
Reel'd from the explosive burst
Shatter'd and blast'd.
Then they flew back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Imps to right of them,
Ogres to left of them,
Flames behind them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shaving cream and pie,
While jetpacks burst and hero die,
They that had fought so well
Came thro' the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Fire Brigade,
Noble six hundred.

Apologies to Tennyson.

That's pure gold, Wigmund. Wonderful.

[Katrika]

That was EXCELLENT, Rae.

[sebastian]

Couldn't get this idea out of my head for some reason. (Yep, I'm twisted.) No particular characters in mind. Just rambling hate. Rated T for excess violence and ohgodwhy.

To My Kismesis (A Hate Letter)

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To the one I despise the most,

Thank you so much for that little gift you left me. I did manage to find the antidote just in time, but you'll be pleased to know there are still some lingering effects. Every time I vomit rainbows, I think of you and vow to make you pay.

Oh yes, you will pay for this. I've been planning something for just such an occasion for sweeps. Originally I hoped to keep it secret, but I've since realized that letting you know what will happen in advance only increases the pain I can cause you.

I know I've been promising to utterly destroy you for as long as we've been caliginous, but this time I plan to make good. This may take some time, but you'll know exactly when it begins. And you will be powerless to stop me.

First, that lusus of yours. Getting on in years, isn't he? It would be such a shame if he were to, I don't know, be accidentally caught and killed by a FLARPer or two. Or three. Or a hundred. Well what do you know, someone put a reward out for whoever can capture him alive and/or turn in his pelt. Be interesting to see if they can do both at once.

Next I think I'll meet with your moirail. Cute little thing, isn't she? But I think she'd be even cuter on fire. What do you think? That bright orange licking over her hair and face, brighter even than her nasty gutter blood. (When I first heard she was an orange, I was surprised - I thought you'd have better taste. Then again, it's you.)

Oh, by the way, you're going to get to see this all firsthand. You keep forgetting that I'm a stronger psychic than you, so you'll get to be there to hear your lusus's death keen. You can look into your moirail's eyes as she burns, and she can look into yours, knowing you won't save her. I imagine her look of betrayal will be apparent just before her eyes melt from the heat.

But you'll get to do more than just participate. I'm saving the best for last - your matesprit. You two are so sickeningly sweet together, I decided I wouldn't separate you for this. You'd do anything for him, wouldn't you?

I'll let you be the one to kill him.

After you're the one who makes him wish for death.

And then, only then, will I start on you. Only after everyone you've ever given half a damn about has learned to curse you just before they die, only after you're hated and alone, only after your spirit is flayed and broken will I do the same to your body.

I think you know how it will go. I will hurt you, and you will deserve every drop of blood I shed. You will know with certainty that you, that your failures as a matesprit and moirail and friend, deserve every ache. You will hate yourself for what you've done. Almost as much as I hate you.

You will not beg for death, because you'll know you deserve worse than death can ever bring you. But I will kill you anyway, and you will go happily to burn in the deepest and blackest hell ever conceived.

This is what I will do. Somehow, someday, when you don't expect, when your guard's down, when you're happy, I will take that joy away.

Look forward to it, and tremble.

With all the hate I can muster,
Your Kismesis



Dear ranting bulgesucker,

Promises, promises. You keep getting me all hot and bothered with letters like this, and you never deliver. I'll believe it when I see it.

-

... yeeeeeeah. I dunno.

I think someone need a good auspitices.

Not to nitpick, but I don't think "healthy" kismesis works like that. that is exactly the sort of things that would make impossible for a society to work, even one messed up as that of Alternia.

Actually I think it would count as black infidelity, you should hate your kismet, not everyone he is related to. In human terms it is like being in love with a girl so much that you sleep with her sister/best friend.

Nice ending, tho.

[FieryBlacksmith]

Yes, this counts as a TROLL disney song, and you'll see why.

Droog's Lullaby

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hide spoiler

Wait some, Aradia
For now you must stay
Once you’ve got a new body
You will make her pay

I've been exiled, persucuted
Left alone with no defense
When I think of what that brat did
I get a little tense

But I dream a dream so pretty
That I don't feel so depressed
'Cause of her my life got shitty
Now this helps me get some rest

The sound of Vriska's dying gasp
Her new friend squealing in your grasp
Her lusus and sprite’s mournful cry
That's my lullaby

Now the past I've tried forgetting
And my foes I could forgive
Trouble is I knows it's petty
But I hate to let them live

So I found myself somebody who'd beat Vriska to a mush

Oh, the battle may be bloody, but I kind of get a rush

The screaming of the angry mob
A counterpoint of painful sobs
A symphony of death, oh my!
That's my lullaby

Derse is gone... but Droog is still around
To guide this little troll
Till she learns to be a killer
Nursing grudges in her soul

Fight, or be a weakling!
Make that bitch feel like helpless prey
Now you’ve got a new body
You will make her pay!

The pounding of her heart, pumping
Her blood depletes, now she’s slumping

The joy of vengeance
Testify!
Can’t you hear the cheering?
Megido won’t die!

Payback time is over
And now my flag will fly
Against a blood-red sky
That's my lullaby!

From Lion King 2.

(Vriska's manipul8ions DID get the guy exiled, after all.)

Excellent. I was thinking of this very song, but done by Vriska instead about how she's going to kill Jack Noir, or to put it in her own words:

"The sound of Jack Noir's dying gasp,
His Droll squealing in my grasp,
His Dignitary's mournful cry,
That's my lullaby!"

With Tavros as that goofy lion, and Nepeta as the ADORABLE kitten.

[ceruleanTresses]

Not to nitpick, but I don't think "healthy" kismesis works like that. that is exactly the sort of things that would make impossible for a society to work, even one messed up as that of Alternia.

Actually I think it would count as black infidelity, you should hate your kismet, not everyone he is related to. In human terms it is like being in love with a girl so much that you sleep with her sister/best friend.

Nice ending, tho.

The kismesis replies at the end that the writer never actually goes through with the threats, though, so it seems like a pretty healthy kismesis to me.
Plus, I didn't get the impression that the writer was caliginous for his/her kismesis's matesprit and morail; more that they were vehicles for expressing his/her hate for the kismesis.
Personally I friggin' loved it. So awesome.

[BPrinny]

I don't know who originally wrote the Homestuck/SCP crossovers, but thanks to you, all I did yesterday was read SCP files.

THANKS

[Katrika]

Guys, do you have a link to that troll quirk translator thing?

I need it for my next song.

[X15lm204]

Here you go.

Holy shit there's been some good stuff on here lately.

[Katrika]

I love Nepeta and Equius's vibe.

So much.

forever!

:33 < i just can't wait to grow up

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:33 < i'm gonna be a mighty cat
:33 < so all preybeasts shiver!

D --> Well, I've never seen a hunting beast
D --> With quite so little fur

:33 < i'm gonna be the mane event
:33 < like no huntress was before
:33 < i'm brushing up on sneaking round
>:33 < i'm working on my roar

D --> Thus far it’s undeserving of applause

:33 < oh, i just can't wait to grow claws
D --> There’s rather a lot you don’t know, Nepeta,
D --> if you think
:33 < with a soft fluffy tail
D --> I wouldn’t hold my breath
:33 < and two soft fluffy ears
D --> Is this a joke
:33 < and four soft fluffy paws
D --> I said I won’t roleplay
:33 < and two mouths with sharp fangs!
D --> Nepeta

:33 < fr33 to run around all day
D --> I’m not listening, you know
:33 < fr33 to hunt and purr and play!

D --> I think it's time that you and I
D --> Had an important talk

:33 < *play with me, she purred
:33 < to the grumpy but clever hawk*

D --> If this is where this short visit is headed
D --> Count me out
D --> Out of patience, out of lesiure time
D --> I wouldn't hang about
D --> This girl is getting wildly out of my hand

x33 < oh, when i grow up, i’ll be grand!

:33 < *everybody look left*
:33 < *everybody look right*
:33 < everywhere you look i'm
:33 < getting ready to bite!

D --> Not true

x33 < let all the prey go for broke and run
x33 < *the mighty huntress steps into the sun*
x33 < i’m gonna catch my food and have my fun

xDD < oh, i just can't wait to grow up!
D --> Oh, I really wish she’d grow up
xDD < oh, i just can't waaaaaait ... to grow up!

[raequiem]

forever!

This. So hard. Loving these songs, Katrika.

@everyone Thanks! I was terrified everyone would go "wtf rae what is wrong with you", so I'm glad you enjoyed it.

@sebastian: What cT said. The writer only hates his kismesis' other relationships insofar as the kismesis gets joy from them. And most of it's fairly impotent ranting - he always threatens, but rarely actually does anything and would in fact be crushed if anything happened to hurt their relationship. His kismesis is used to it, and occasionally gets exasperated by it, but it's a stable relationship with plenty of "fun" (violence) to be had on both sides. So I think it's healthy.

Or as healthy as blackrom ever is :d

[ceruleanTresses]

:33 < i just can't wait to grow up

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:33 < i'm gonna be a mighty cat
:33 < so all preybeasts shiver!

D --> Well, I've never seen a hunting beast
D --> With quite so little fur

:33 < i'm gonna be the mane event
:33 < like no huntress was before
:33 < i'm brushing up on sneaking round
>:33 < i'm working on my roar

D --> Thus far it’s undeserving of applause

:33 < oh, i just can't wait to grow claws
D --> There’s rather a lot you don’t know, Nepeta,
D --> if you think
:33 < with a soft fluffy tail
D --> I wouldn’t hold my breath
:33 < and two soft fluffy ears
D --> Is this a joke
:33 < and four soft fluffy paws
D --> I said I won’t roleplay
:33 < and two mouths with sharp fangs!
D --> Nepeta

:33 < fr33 to run around all day
D --> I’m not listening, you know
:33 < fr33 to hunt and purr and play!

D --> I think it's time that you and I
D --> Had an important talk

:33 < *play with me, she purred
:33 < to the grumpy but clever hawk*

D --> If this is where this short visit is headed
D --> Count me out
D --> Out of patience, out of lesiure time
D --> I wouldn't hang about
D --> This girl is getting wildly out of my hand

x33 < oh, when i grow up, i’ll be grand!

:33 < *everybody look left*
:33 < *everybody look right*
:33 < everywhere you look i'm
:33 < getting ready to bite!

D --> Not true

x33 < let all the prey go for broke and run
x33 < *the mighty huntress steps into the sun*
x33 < i’m gonna catch my food and have my fun

xDD < oh, i just can't wait to grow up!
D --> Oh, I really wish she’d grow up
xDD < oh, i just can't waaaaaait ... to grow up!

Hahahaha! Equius Nepeta is such an awesome pairing, and there is no doubt that that was the absolute perfect song for it.

[SataiDelenn]

All of the things are awesome. All of them.

[crash826]

Homestuck, Nerd Bastion

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Oh, there's John, who really loves to fawn
over a movie where the villain threatens a bunny with a gun

And Rose, I suppose, knew that she had chose-
n the nerd way when she wrote that wizard fanfiction!

Also, Dave is cool but nerd-depraved- he plays games all day
and writes a bad webcomic (though it's critically acclaimed)

And also Jade had made a nerdy name for herself-
she spent her time with old cartoons before she got in the game!

Oh EN-TI-RE HOMESTUCK IS NERDS
The cast of characters is just too geeky for words
Except for Dave, who's pret-ty cool (he is!)
But he's still!
A!
NERD!

Composed badly by myself. I may add to this later.

[Sionnan]

Yet more Strider fiction.

Bec Noir takes a few seconds to take in the sight of a fallen adversary.

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The human process of dying was a much more intricate affair than that of the Dersians or Prospits. It feels like hours, but it is really only seconds, and Jack savors every one of them. He never knew what nuance lay beneath the pliant skin of these creatures; mostly because he never had the opportunity to kill any of them, but mainly because he never really stole a few moments to watch. It never really struck him as something worthwhile, but something in this encounter gave him pause. Maybe it was because with his newfound powers, it seemed as if the fabric of time had been stretched, and still yet had to resume its normal course. So Jack is taking a moment to take in the air. Smell the witchfire.

It is no secret that he is something of a professional voyeur. He has to be- had to be, anyway- with his job. But of course, that street went several ways, and Jack was as much object as he was viewer. He could be innocently watching one of his agents beat the living crap out of somethig one moment, and the next have his mighty and just ruler sticking her face directly in front of him. He wished she would stop doing that. It gave him nightmares. Which, of course, was a very moot point now.

But that digression took entirely away from this very immediate and perhaps too intimate moment. Jack mainly watched unfolding carnage from behind glass, himself unseen. With the human male sprawled before his feet, this was something entirely different. It sent a dark thrill through his carapace, watching a foe so formidable as this at his feet. Well... his fierce black joy was dampened somewhat by that which is duly fascinating. The human process of death may be an intruiging one, but it also seems to be a prolonged one. It is taking him eons to die.

The beautiful sword, one that Jack privately appreciated as such an implement in battle, seemed to have siphoned off a piece of the fallen man's life. It jolts in place with each stutter of the ruined heart that encases it, and the steel glistens with garnets and peridot, reflecting blood and flame. The man reaches up, his face a pale mask, fingers brushing the metal, as if trying to make as little contact with it as possible. The air is pregnant with the thick musk of blood. It has a different quality than the Dersians or Prospits. It is a richer smell, a smell that Jack, if he had a mind to compare it, smelled very much like sorrow. The foe takes in a deeper breath, one that crumples his face with pain, and he lets it out in a choke that carries more of the thick fluid. Good; his lungs are filling with blood.

He won't be long now, Jack posits.

The skin gradually blanches from the hectic flush of exertion and emotion. Maybe blanches isn't the proper word. It slips from his skin. Drains. A tinge of white steals around the edges of his lips as they twitch, move without producing speech. Even the man's red hair seems to bleed of color. It is an illusion that Jack is in some way rattled by, in some part of himself that is hidden from the beings that warp his body and mind. It is as if the very essence of the man is escaping him, leaving only a dull sheen to his eye like windows in an empty house. They flick in a way that Jack would have called sightless, except that he realizes that his gaze is taking in the scattered feathers dusting his body and the surrounding ground. There is something his his eyes that Jack has never quite seen before.

Jack leaves before the man dies. Though he would never admit it to anyone else, he decides that it would take a greater abomination than he to truly revel in the intricacies of a dying human.

[Spritelog]

Davesprite: bro
Davesprite: bro its okay bro
Davesprite: just relax man
Davesprite: no dont fight it, it just hurts more
Davesprite: just relax
Davesprite: itll all be over soon
Davesprite: im here, man
Davesprite: itll be ok
Davesprite: itll be ok

[lucidSeraph]

Yet more Strider fiction.

Bec Noir takes a few seconds to take in the sight of a fallen adversary.

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The human process of dying was a much more intricate affair than that of the Dersians or Prospits. It feels like hours, but it is really only seconds, and Jack savors every one of them. He never knew what nuance lay beneath the pliant skin of these creatures; mostly because he never had the opportunity to kill any of them, but mainly because he never really stole a few moments to watch. It never really struck him as something worthwhile, but something in this encounter gave him pause. Maybe it was because with his newfound powers, it seemed as if the fabric of time had been stretched, and still yet had to resume its normal course. So Jack is taking a moment to take in the air. Smell the witchfire.

It is no secret that he is something of a professional voyeur. He has to be- had to be, anyway- with his job. But of course, that street went several ways, and Jack was as much object as he was viewer. He could be innocently watching one of his agents beat the living crap out of somethig one moment, and the next have his mighty and just ruler sticking her face directly in front of him. He wished she would stop doing that. It gave him nightmares. Which, of course, was a very moot point now.

But that digression took entirely away from this very immediate and perhaps too intimate moment. Jack mainly watched unfolding carnage from behind glass, himself unseen. With the human male sprawled before his feet, this was something entirely different. It sent a dark thrill through his carapace, watching a foe so formidable as this at his feet. Well... his fierce black joy was dampened somewhat by that which is duly fascinating. The human process of death may be an intruiging one, but it also seems to be a prolonged one. It is taking him eons to die.

The beautiful sword, one that Jack privately appreciated as such an implement in battle, seemed to have siphoned off a piece of the fallen man's life. It jolts in place with each stutter of the ruined heart that encases it, and the steel glistens with garnets and peridot, reflecting blood and flame. The man reaches up, his face a pale mask, fingers brushing the metal, as if trying to make as little contact with it as possible. The air is pregnant with the thick musk of blood. It has a different quality than the Dersians or Prospits. It is a richer smell, a smell that Jack, if he had a mind to compare it, smelled very much like sorrow. The foe takes in a deeper breath, one that crumples his face with pain, and he lets it out in a choke that carries more of the thick fluid. Good; his lungs are filling with blood.

He won't be long now, Jack posits.

The skin gradually blanches from the hectic flush of exertion and emotion. Maybe blanches isn't the proper word. It slips from his skin. Drains. A tinge of white steals around the edges of his lips as they twitch, move without producing speech. Even the man's red hair seems to bleed of color. It is an illusion that Jack is in some way rattled by, in some part of himself that is hidden from the beings that warp his body and mind. It is as if the very essence of the man is escaping him, leaving only a dull sheen to his eye like windows in an empty house. They flick in a way that Jack would have called sightless, except that he realizes that his gaze is taking in the scattered feathers dusting his body and the surrounding ground. There is something his his eyes that Jack has never quite seen before.

Jack leaves before the man dies. Though he would never admit it to anyone else, he decides that it would take a greater abomination than he to truly revel in the intricacies of a dying human.

[Spritelog]

Davesprite: bro
Davesprite: bro its okay bro
Davesprite: just relax man
Davesprite: no dont fight it, it just hurts more
Davesprite: just relax
Davesprite: itll all be over soon
Davesprite: im here, man
Davesprite: itll be ok
Davesprite: itll be ok

oh wow

there's something almost sensual about this in a really really twisted way

beautiful and terrible

*e* by which I mean, FREAKING AMAZING

[raequiem]

Why.

Why must you do this thing.

I was almost kinda over it. I had almost moved on.

That spritelog... Fuck. ;_;

[Douhneill]

I...


I want to say something here. I really do. But I can't come up with any words to describe what I think of this or any kind of witty response that could do this justice.

So here I am, writing how I can't come up with the right words. Dang. I mean, wow. Just...

Kudos.

[QuetzaDrake]

Beautiful.

[ceruleanTresses]

Yet more Strider fiction.

Bec Noir takes a few seconds to take in the sight of a fallen adversary.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

The human process of dying was a much more intricate affair than that of the Dersians or Prospits. It feels like hours, but it is really only seconds, and Jack savors every one of them. He never knew what nuance lay beneath the pliant skin of these creatures; mostly because he never had the opportunity to kill any of them, but mainly because he never really stole a few moments to watch. It never really struck him as something worthwhile, but something in this encounter gave him pause. Maybe it was because with his newfound powers, it seemed as if the fabric of time had been stretched, and still yet had to resume its normal course. So Jack is taking a moment to take in the air. Smell the witchfire.

It is no secret that he is something of a professional voyeur. He has to be- had to be, anyway- with his job. But of course, that street went several ways, and Jack was as much object as he was viewer. He could be innocently watching one of his agents beat the living crap out of somethig one moment, and the next have his mighty and just ruler sticking her face directly in front of him. He wished she would stop doing that. It gave him nightmares. Which, of course, was a very moot point now.

But that digression took entirely away from this very immediate and perhaps too intimate moment. Jack mainly watched unfolding carnage from behind glass, himself unseen. With the human male sprawled before his feet, this was something entirely different. It sent a dark thrill through his carapace, watching a foe so formidable as this at his feet. Well... his fierce black joy was dampened somewhat by that which is duly fascinating. The human process of death may be an intruiging one, but it also seems to be a prolonged one. It is taking him eons to die.

The beautiful sword, one that Jack privately appreciated as such an implement in battle, seemed to have siphoned off a piece of the fallen man's life. It jolts in place with each stutter of the ruined heart that encases it, and the steel glistens with garnets and peridot, reflecting blood and flame. The man reaches up, his face a pale mask, fingers brushing the metal, as if trying to make as little contact with it as possible. The air is pregnant with the thick musk of blood. It has a different quality than the Dersians or Prospits. It is a richer smell, a smell that Jack, if he had a mind to compare it, smelled very much like sorrow. The foe takes in a deeper breath, one that crumples his face with pain, and he lets it out in a choke that carries more of the thick fluid. Good; his lungs are filling with blood.

He won't be long now, Jack posits.

The skin gradually blanches from the hectic flush of exertion and emotion. Maybe blanches isn't the proper word. It slips from his skin. Drains. A tinge of white steals around the edges of his lips as they twitch, move without producing speech. Even the man's red hair seems to bleed of color. It is an illusion that Jack is in some way rattled by, in some part of himself that is hidden from the beings that warp his body and mind. It is as if the very essence of the man is escaping him, leaving only a dull sheen to his eye like windows in an empty house. They flick in a way that Jack would have called sightless, except that he realizes that his gaze is taking in the scattered feathers dusting his body and the surrounding ground. There is something his his eyes that Jack has never quite seen before.

Jack leaves before the man dies. Though he would never admit it to anyone else, he decides that it would take a greater abomination than he to truly revel in the intricacies of a dying human.

[Spritelog]

Davesprite: bro
Davesprite: bro its okay bro
Davesprite: just relax man
Davesprite: no dont fight it, it just hurts more
Davesprite: just relax
Davesprite: itll all be over soon
Davesprite: im here, man
Davesprite: itll be ok
Davesprite: itll be ok

No quantity of tears of black liquid sorrow can do this justice. This single one is, therefore, symbolic of infinite copies of itself.