Author Topic: Amra's Atrociously Asinine A-something or other drabbles.  (Read 5873 times)

Amraphenson

  • The problem is, you're a friend that likes to talk!
  • *
  • ...well, I am too!
So I copied Rou got an urge and wrote some 200~ word drabbles on random topics. Here's what I got so far.

TAC: Bees.

    Wriggle liked bees.
     
    They worked really well together, knew what they were doing, and had a set hierarchy. There wasn't any madness, wasn't any dispute of position, nor was there any derivation from the norm. Bees were bees.
     
    While she watched the chaos of her friends' interactions, having refrained from showing up to join just yet, she noted with no small amount of embarassment that she envied bees, to an extent. There wasn't a perpetually hungry, though endearing, bottomless pit constantly questioning the validity of statements. There wasn't a perpetually cocky ice fairy declaring herself to be the absolute best in all regards. And there most certainly weren't two, saner members of the group trying to keep everything nice and calm. Not in a proper, functioning hive.
     
    Wriggle liked bees.
     
    They had the efficiency of ants compounded with flight capabilities, and they were far less violent when it came to other insects. They weren't particularly dangerous unless you enraged them, and certainly wouldn't attack you out of nowhere from under the shroud of a ball of darkness. Nor would they randomly make you night blind while you were trying to get something important done, and they most certainly wouldn't freeze your very treasured friends, as small and arachnid as they may be. No. Definitely not.
     
    Bees did have some problems though. They weren't very intelligent beyond the hive mind thing, weren't very interesting beyond notes about their efficiency and such, and weren't very emotive. Those were somethings Wriggle's usual group had in spades.
     
    Except maybe the intelligence part.
     
    Wriggle liked bees.
     
    But as she watched her friends wave enthusiastically at her as she emerged from the forest line, as she watched the smiles on their faces and listened to their warm and heartfelt greetings, and as she gave back a smile just as warm herself, she noted something else.
     
    Wriggle liked bees.
     
    But she also liked Cirno. And Rumia. And Mystia. And Daiyousei.
Sugoiiii~
[23:02] <~Iced> You have sown the seeds of your own destruction Amra.
[23:20] <Stuffman> enjoy your personally crafted hell Amra

Amraphenson

  • The problem is, you're a friend that likes to talk!
  • *
  • ...well, I am too!
Re: Amra's Atrociously Asinine A-something or other drabbles.
« Reply #1 on: June 04, 2012, 05:21:44 AM »
Capth: Patchouli finds the Elder Wand

"Ugh, where am...I?" began a bespectacled, scarred young adult as he tried to blink the dust out of his eyes. His question was interrupted when said eyes met a vaguely interested purple.

"Oh, it seems that the focus is linked to you...wasn't quite expecting that," came the voice, just as vaguely interested as the eyes. Harry blinked...then immediately got to his feet, wand out.

He was experienced with forced teleports, after the Triwizard Tournament's horrendous climax. That, and this strange purple haired woman's words, put him on guard instantly. Was this another attempt on the Elder Wand? He asked as much.

"Who are you and what do you want with me?"

She seemed amused, now, and somehow Harry felt a little irritated at what he interpreted was a condescending smirk. "Merely information regarding this interesting thing I found called the 'Elder-"

Harry cut her off there, leveling two Stupefies in rapid succession. Three years of Auror work, seven years of dealing with Voldermort...yeah he wasn't risking anything with this.

It was to his utmost surprise and worry when a wall of what appeared to be pure emerald sprouted up between the two, completely nullifying his initial attack. It was to his further surprise and dread when his abducter suddenly floated up from behind the barricade, completely ignoring magic conventions. Physics seemed to have sat down a little harder that day. So Harry grit his teeth and prepared for yet another fight against some powerful wizard out to get his wand, except this was an actually very attractive wi-

Bad thoughts. Bad usage of words.

"Oh? A duel? I'm feeling quite well today, so I'll be glad to accomadate your desires." Her smile was now less irritating and more disconcerting. Harry had never seen a blatant display of magical force such as this; wandlessly and wordlessly using an expensive material as a shield, and then flight? This was bad. Very bad.

And then the purple haired woman pulled out a card, and Harry knew pain.

----

Harry had never hurt quite so much as he did then. That wasn't a surprise. What with the balls of fire, pillars of water and earth, flying bloody swords, and other such assortments of projectiles, Harry would've been very surprised if he wasn't hurting. Or dead.

And, of course, his attacks did as much as his first two did. Reducto did nothing to destroy the barriers, everything else bounced off the barriers, and even the less scrupulous spells had little to no effect. He had briefly considered the Unforgivables, but his personal morals, and more importantly the encroaching wall of white beams he could only describe as lasers, stifled that thought.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he was actually surprised that it hurt. Because he wasn't dead. Despite those balls of fire clearly burning, the pillars of water and earth clearly beating him into a bruised and near-dead pulp, and the bloody swords clearly impaling him, he...was fine. In absurd amounts of pain, slightly singed, slightly bruised, and slightly bleeding, but alive. That was...confusing.

Not that he was complaining.

"Seems you lost," his adversary intoned, as if the ridiculous barrage of magical might she'd call to bear was completely normal. Harry shivered, realising it probably was. At no point did she seem like she was spending any considerable effort on the duel. Slowly, she floated down to Harry's battered body.

"Ugh...who are you?" Harry managed, somehow.

Her mouth curled up very slightly in that smile of hers that Harry was rapidly growing used to. "Just a one-week magician."
« Last Edit: June 04, 2012, 05:23:35 AM by Amra »
Sugoiiii~
[23:02] <~Iced> You have sown the seeds of your own destruction Amra.
[23:20] <Stuffman> enjoy your personally crafted hell Amra

capt. h

  • Only sane townie
Re: Amra's Atrociously Asinine A-something or other drabbles.
« Reply #2 on: June 04, 2012, 03:15:55 PM »
Well, these are fun. Good job!

Amraphenson

  • The problem is, you're a friend that likes to talk!
  • *
  • ...well, I am too!
Re: Amra's Atrociously Asinine A-something or other drabbles.
« Reply #3 on: December 17, 2012, 11:35:33 AM »
THREAD REVIVAL, MORE DRABBLES.
=woo let's combine SAO and monster girls==
Playing this game was fun sometimes. Even if losing meant death, hey. Live a little, lose a little. I can't take things like this seriously, so might as well go all the way around and make a big joke out of it. Don't get me wrong, this was all very dire, but it was still a game. Just bigger stakes.

And people wondered why I didn't party up often; other way around guys. I don't blame them for getting frustrated. I'd be frustrated at me too.

The fat arm of something gorilla like swings in at me. I deftly flip over it, three arrows readied and launched in a split second. Triple Shot, staple skill of any archer type in these parts. Though individually slightly weaker, the three seperate applications of any added damage from enchantments and the seperate critical modifiers made it a very useful skill. The gorilla mob's HP sharply decreases as I land, more arrows readied. Two fly into the sky as I hop again, avoiding yet another blow even as I twist around and finish off my first target with two swift kicks, curtesy of the Twin Hammer unarmed skill.

As a cascade of death falls down on two more enemies behind me, I leisurely notch an arrow and let it free. The aptly named Arrow Deluge and Impaler skills make short work of the rest of the group.

Another clash, another clump of experience points for me. A little gold, a little xp, some useful item drops; all well and good, but my main goal here wisn't farming.

It's finding someone.

The minimap wasn't helping. Neither was the usual buddy tracking system, or any of the other helpful system assisted options one could use to find a person. Which wasn't a surprise at all, seeing how easy it was to just take yourself off the grid. Nothing to help you there if said person didn't want to be found.

Benefits to maxing the Hiding skill, I guess. The sneak attack modififer maxed at around three fourths of the way, but apparently there was use in going all the way. Use in annoying me, yes, but use all the same.

I digress.

My annoyances aside, it wasn't too big a deal. This is a pretty low level area relative to me, so I don't have too much trouble just clearing the entire place in my search. I didn't bring enough arrows, but I don't mind spending the extra mana to turn on Spirit Ammo.

When it came to her, not a lot could really annoy me. Pretty much anything was worth it. I'd honest to god clear a dungeon meant for a 50-man raid group solo if it meant keeping her around. This, in comparison, is nothing.

Even if my skill build is bad for extended bouts of solo play, I don't mind. Even if I put myself at risk of death just to look for her, I don't mind. Even if she's been lying to me this entire time, I don't mind.

I'm not an idiot. I understand why she did what she did. I understand why she ran away from me. I understand why she's afraid to face me. All I want to do is set things right with her.

More mobs. The game system is sensing the increased rate of death for the enemies, and it's adjusting accordingly. No matter. Pew, pew. Arrows fly, lots of arrows. To the face, to the gut, to the foot, sometimes to the knee when I feel funny. My armored feet and fists get their fair share of action too; can't keep my distance forever, after all.

Even as they disappear in droves, I can see my HP bar slowly depleting. Maybe it's starting to get sorta exciting, but I'm growing too irritated to really tell.

Dark Ballista. Vorpal Missile. Sky Render. Really pulling the big guns here, solely out of aggravation. If anyone else was around they would've either run for the hills or told me off for wasting good skills on trash mobs. The desolation and destruction slowly piles up higher and higher until the point where I'm using skills you wouldn't find out of place at a boss fight.

And then silence. It's a sweet silence. No more trash in my way. The normally nice looking field now more closely resembles a battlefield post war, but hey. Eggs and omelettes.

With my energy reserves sufficiently depleted and my HP lower than it really comfortably should be, I step into the clearing. Last place you look is always where you find what you want.

Wide river just shallow enough to wade in, tall tree with roots poking into said river, river banks wide enough to set up camp on. It's textbook. Her image at the river's side, half in it and half not, only added to the beauty.

The sane side of me always found the top half of her gorgeous. Long hair, a bit of a tan, slender limbs, stuff anyone could appreciate. The slightly insane, and more dominant side of me I might add, found all of her gorgeous. The mottled patterns in the scales, the long profile, the elegance in her movements, all of it was just mesmerizing. As both a woman and lamia, she was beautiful. That was not a lie. It never was.

"Hey," I call out.

She doesn't say anything back, but I see her shiver slightly. Crying, probably; her hair obscures her face from me. I wait a few minutes; not a peep, so I shrug. Can't blame her for being mortified.

"I had my suspicions, you know. The transfer of conscience isn't nearly as malleable as what the administrators lead us to believe, and humans can't really control tails or fins like you all can. Switching from two legs to the lower body of a snake, or a horse, or whatever, would be pretty difficult. And yet you all have been rocking it since the early beta."

No response still. Whatever.

"Do I really care that the government has been using virtual realities as a simulation of how you guys would integrate with us? No, not really. I feel a little left out the loop though. Does anyone else in our guild? I don't think so. Maela might be a bit freaked out that Sylar actually has tentacles in real life, but I don't pretend to understand Maela's tastes. But let's not elaborate on that; dark territory."

I can't see her face, but I can feel the smile on her face in my gut.

That sounded better in my head.

"Long story short, I really think you're overreacting. It's just like you to think that you committed some sort of irreversible sin by hiding this from me. But, I assure you, you've committed no such sin. I'm completely okay with you being...a lamia? Echidna? I'm not sure."

"...echidna," she whispers. I smile, happy to hear her say something.

"Awesome. In any case, think of it this way. The admins wanted this to happen. They wanted to split the playerbase up so that they could watch more of us squirm and die. Do you really want to give them satisfaction?"

After a pause, she shakes her head and finally turns to face me. She was indeed crying, but there's a look of determination there that makes me grin.

"Then comeon. Everyone back at the guild is waiting."

I extend a hand.

She takes it.

Just another day in the world's most popular virtual reality MMO.

-----
Months later, after we escaped from that death trap, was our agreed upon time. It was the same for lots of people. Closure.

A few weeks after the existance of non-humans was made public to the world, their largest public appearance in the history of mankind would happen in the center of the world's largest and most prominent tech centers. Humans and non-humans alike were coming from all across the world to meet up, to see and discover the people who had suffered in that botched government VR project with them.

Were we nervous? Fuck yes. Were they nervous? Probably.

But that was the beauty of it. Living in that world, where the strange was commonly accepted because it was a 'game', had already made us used to each other. It wasn't any different from that 'game', just without the health bars and magic. Some of us would look different, yeah, but who cared?

I didn't. I wanted to see her for myself. I wanted to hold her hand, hug her, laugh, and, hell, probably do a bunch of other things. She was as much of a person as I was.

It was a sight to see. The humans got there first, for whatever reason. Nerds of all flavors, all dressed up nice and fidgeting in place. As momentous as this was, it was still an offline meet; plenty of us were seeing each other for the first time, human or not. There was a bunch to talk about.

And then they started showing up; boy, were they a sight for sore eyes. Centaurs, lamias, arachnes, slimes, werewolves, vampires, dullahans, harpies, all sorts of people. Not monsters, at least to us.

All the tension we started building up before they got here just dissolved in about two seconds. We smiled, we laughed, we cried out in joy, we ran to hug each other. We cried, we bawled, we hugged some more. These people were just friends we hadn't seen in a very long time; that was all that mattered.

Of course, I couldn't find her. She got lost a lot in the game, made sense she'd get lost here. Hell, even I was getting a bit lost amongst all the friendly faces.

And, of course, I bumped into her like the climax to some bad romance movie. In retrospect, it should've been easy to find her, but hindsights 20/20 and my prescription's old.

There weren't words. There were tears, yeah, and smiles, and choked out laughter, and maybe the beginnings of words, but there weren't any words. There was a hug, and maybe a kiss, and definitely more hugging, but there were no words.

We didn't need any. Not even when our old guild leader somehow managed to get a harpy to lift him to the the top of a traffic light with a megaphone.

"Alright! Seems like everyone's here!"

There was an uproar of agreement. The very heart of our entire operation grinned his best grin.

"In that case, to celebrate our reunion, let's party until we all drop!"

More screams. Applause. People ending up in places you don't generally find people, like on top of cars and in the air. Lots of laughs, lots of smiles.

She and I still didn't say a thing. All we did was join in, and it was fine like that. Nothing needed to be said between us, or to anyone else. Anything we could have said would've been painfully obvious.

Well, alright, I lied. We did say something to each other, but it was only three words. Nothing big.

Anyways, that's how I met your mother. Now are you going to put those tail stockings on yourself, or am I going to have to remind you personally how cold it gets at Grandma's house?

----
We're not always the hero of the big story, but we're always the heroes of our own. And sometimes the best resolutions happen on the side.

----
Javier Heidrick: A desk worker with a passion for VR. He helps with marketing the various VR games that have sprung up over the few years, and as such plays them quite a bit himself. It helps that he can do his work while 'linked in', as they call it. Two years ago he was locked into the 'Integration Incident', where a VR MMO project meant to begin relations between human and non-humans went horribly wrong. He was one of the strongest archers within the game, but he was most infamous for his Close Combat archery. In game name: 'Yumiteru'

Rosalin Halliwell: A writer and echidna, Rosalin jumped into VR games as a way of inspiration. A fairly well known writer of contemporary fantasy and sci-fi. She was unaware that the particular MMO she chose was in fact a government project; just the way they liked it. Two years ago she too was locked into the 'Integration Incident', and she soon became well known for her amazingly effective yet difficult poison damage claw and grapple user. Often partied with Javier. In game name: 'Wilt'

Sugoiiii~
[23:02] <~Iced> You have sown the seeds of your own destruction Amra.
[23:20] <Stuffman> enjoy your personally crafted hell Amra

Amraphenson

  • The problem is, you're a friend that likes to talk!
  • *
  • ...well, I am too!
Re: Amra's Atrociously Asinine A-something or other drabbles.
« Reply #4 on: December 17, 2012, 11:37:23 AM »
More. more.
=experimenting with Dark Souls, ie whatif it was a more traditional multiplayer==
It was only a little bit warm, but it was warm all the same. It was their little slice of peace, the one time they could relax. Tucked inbetween each other, laying with an arm wrapped around another, armor stripped, weapons left to rest. Helmets set aside, hoods pulled down, smiles radiant even if their features weren't human at the time. Even if they were emanciapated, drained dry, rendered absolutely hideous by the Dark Sign, they were beautiful. Their smiles, their happiness, their laughter, all of it was gorgeous

Even if I only watched from the sidelines, still fully armed and my face obscured as always, I loved that warmth they shared. I basked in it, I wanted to protect it, I wanted to join but I could never muster the courage. Even when I fell in love with something more, someone else, I was too afraid. All I could do was watch their backs, protect them from the shadows and ambushes, die in their place and toe the line between suffering and insanity. I felt, foolishly, that I was never worth their attention. That simply being near such a joyous gathering was enough for me.

To this day it is still my greatest regret that I never spoke to them. Never once.

I remember each and every failure. I remember returning to the last Bonfire each and every time so that I was there to put their former companion to eternal rest, so that they wouldn't have to. And I remember taking the souls they carried inside them, cradling them to my chest as if I would be forgiven.

Once in the Depths.
Once in Sen's Fortress.
Once in Anor Londo.
Another in the Painted World of Ariamis.
Two in Lost Izalith as we struggled to understand our final foe there.
Another in the Abyss itself.
And one last in the Kiln of the First Flame itself.

She, unlike the others, was aware of my existence. And so I held her as she faded away and listened to her last words, the ashes of this forlorn place stirring.

Go. For yourself, not us.

The eight 'Chosen Undead', as that bastard snake had called them, were gone. It was just one straggler, one shadow without a body of its own.

I faced Gwyn alone, carrying the remnants of souls and humanity they all left behind. I died too, many times. Enough to drive me hollow twenty times over, but by some twisted turn of fate I didn't. Or perhaps I did. Who knows? I don't.

Even if Gwyn cut me into two, even if he grasped me by the head and reduced me to ash, even if he killed me a million times over, all I needed to do was kill him once.

So I did.

He leaped at me, blade raised for a colossal slash. I stepped forward and lunged.

HIs attack missed, soared over my shoulder and smited the ground behind me. Mine plunged through his chest, his very heart, and tore free of his back.

So as Gwyn dissolved, as I was left alone yet again, as the flames of the Kiln consumed me, and as I felt myself melt into nothing, I screamed.

It was first time I had ever made a sound during this entire quest.
Sugoiiii~
[23:02] <~Iced> You have sown the seeds of your own destruction Amra.
[23:20] <Stuffman> enjoy your personally crafted hell Amra

Amraphenson

  • The problem is, you're a friend that likes to talk!
  • *
  • ...well, I am too!
Re: Amra's Atrociously Asinine A-something or other drabbles.
« Reply #5 on: December 19, 2012, 09:59:42 AM »
Sort of a snippet of something I have planned.
=====
I had helped others cross that marsh for very long by then.
The sole light to guide our way was the lantern that dangled from my staff, the same staff I use to steer us through the sometimes treacherous waters. Even with such little help, the journey had become second nature to me. It gave me time to watch, listen, and feel the things around me. But that became monotonous after a while, no matter how interesting the marsh itself was.
So I watched my passengers. Watched, listened, and on occasion felt them a tad.
Most were a tad boring. Quiet. Cold. Nothing interested at all. Sometimes I wondered if they even noticed me. All most of them did was get on and get off at their stop.
Some realized the nature of the trip and begged to get off. They held on to me, shook me. Occasionally they'd try to dive off my boat or they'd make threats. Most who tried bailing came back onto the boat and didn't make another noise. The rest simply didn't make a noise.
Fewer still were actually calm. Quite calm actually. Mostly the older ones, though occasionally young ones at well. They spoke with clarity, acceptance, and on occasion wit. They were always a pleasant surprise, one that filled me with wonder. It was hard to believe that anyone could be so positive about the journey through such a dreary place like this.
I recall one in particular. A young girl with an elegant posture, both hands folded in her lap. She flinched perhaps once or twice, but the usual trembling and cowering was not there. There was simply a somewhat sad smile there, barely noticeable.
"So what are you here for?" I ventured. Rare. I wasn't usually the one to start a conversation, but this girl intrigued me. Not many people, let alone women, made this journey in armor. But people often came here in what was most comfortable to them; that meant many things about this one in particular.
"Nothing in particular," she responds, voice light and with a tad of accent. "I reached the end. 'tis all."
"Of what?" I follow. So many ways that could be interpreted.
"I'd prefer not to say."
My head nods. "Alright."
There was silence, nothing but the occassional creak of the boat or the stirring of my oar. Even if this bog was somewhat unsettling, it had never ceased being peaceful in my eyes. It still hasn't. Moments like that weren't bad, they were simply chances to contemplate. To think back to times before, to wonder what things could have or would have been like. Journeys are always like that to some degree, mine being no exception.
"Tell me," she started, breaking the quiet. "What does one do at the end of a long journey?"
I tilted my head, though I'm not sure she could even see it from her position. "Prepare for the next." I wasn't sure what she was expecting out of me by asking that. Steering this boat through my marsh was all I did.
Silence followed again. I was honestly somewhat curious as to what she meant by that question, but before I could gather the courage to ask we had already arrived.
A small stretch of land with a smaller cottage, a warm light filtering through the windows. One lantern, like my own, hung over the door frame. I had seen it many times before, but that time...that time it seemed warmer than ever.
"You'll find a warm meal inside, and a warm bed as well. Rest up," I tell her, just as I told so many others. "The next will come soon enough,"
She dismounts, turns, and smiles. "Thank you, ferry man."
Despite myself, I smile back and wave. "Rest well."
She turned around, as did I, and then we both went our seperate ways.
I had helped others cross that marsh many times by then.
More followed of course. They always did. A man with small glasses who took a swim in the marsh for a while, despite what I thought was a grave disease. A woman with goggles and a leather jacket who said she was simply 'lost', and that she'd fly again (of which I didn't doubt). Then another man with a somewhat silly mustache who I found rather interesting, who simply shook his head when I asked him where he came from. And others, some more remarkable and some less, but always interesting. More so as time passed. They always seemed to have a story to tell.
I enjoyed my job. I truly did. Others would have called it monotonous, but I always found some entertainment in it. Solace as well, and occasionally relief.
Some time after, as the number of passengers began to dwindle, and I found myself with greater and greater time on my hands, I wandered the sprawling waters of the marsh alone. No one was due for a good time longer, so I felt comfortable with a bit of exploring. Never had the chance before hand with so much work to do.
The pale lights, the will o' wisps that were my only companions that night, floated peacefully around me as I floated without real direction. A push there, another there...I had time to waste. Time to think.
It was always 'oh, off to the next passenger' or 'have to hurry, ho hum'. This was a new sensation. An odd one. Not having anything to do was unheard of in my profession.
"Can you feel it?" someone said. I did not see it, but I heard another boat come close.
"It's ended," another whispers, creaking into place beside me.
"There aren't any more," a third continues.
Other boats, other ferry men, slowly filled the marsh. Our lanterns lit the boggy waters as far as the eye could see, covering us in a green glow. I watched them, in the simple hooded robes with the lantern laden staffs of our trade, and I joined them in our discussion. Even if we had never seen each other before, we all knew.
"It's over."
"They're gone."
"We're...free."
Panic slowly settled in. I could feel it. Boats began to tip.
"What do we do?"
"Why? Why isn't there more?"
"There aren't anymore to bring to the other side!"
"Maybe...," I whispered, thought it may have very been a yell for the silence it caused. I don't know what came over me then. I don't know what could've caused me to say what I said then, but I did. The memories of all of my passengers, of all the smiles they had given me, of the wisdom and acceptance, and humble elegance they showed, came to the forefront of my mind and banished my uncertainty.
"Maybe we're meant to cross now."
Whispers traveled amongst us. Nods of agreement, eventually. Then groans of old wood as we all began to reach for the water.
Warm. Warmer than I had ever thought it would be. Inviting. One by one, we all began to reach deeper, go deeper. First our hands, then our elbows, then our heads and everything else. We dived.
The marsh water embraced us like a long lost lover, pulling us deeper and deeper towards a gentle light. We dived, we dived, and we dived until we saw nothing else.
I had helped many others cross that marsh by then.
I had never expected that I myself would reach the shore as well.
« Last Edit: December 19, 2012, 10:18:08 AM by Kanzaki.RAmrako »
Sugoiiii~
[23:02] <~Iced> You have sown the seeds of your own destruction Amra.
[23:20] <Stuffman> enjoy your personally crafted hell Amra

Amraphenson

  • The problem is, you're a friend that likes to talk!
  • *
  • ...well, I am too!
Re: Amra's Atrociously Asinine A-something or other drabbles.
« Reply #6 on: January 06, 2013, 06:08:09 AM »
since I teased you guys with the first part...
======
Fire. Fire everywhere. Everything was fire, was flame, was burning. Ash and soot saturated the air, embers glowed bright and blinded the eyes.  Debris fell haphazardly and the foundations of the building itself were crumbling into dust. It was hell on earth.
But I didn't feel the heat. I breathed just fine. I staggerred from room to room, head ablaze with a migraine but with nothing else holding me back. What was going on? Why was I here?
Those were simpler questions, and only required a moment's thought.
I was Charles Thane. I worked odd jobs around this suburb. My parents were dead and left a hefty inheritance. This week I was helping out at a haunted house for Halloween, an old mansion at the very edge of town.
But why did the graveyard seem to call out to me? Why did this estate seem so strange yet familiar to me? Why was there an eerie sense of comfort in the vines, the cracks, and the age of this place?
No. Those weren't the important questions. Those could wait. The important questions were stuff like 'how do I get out?', 'why am I not dead?', and 'who else is here?'
The children. The other workers. They were in here when the fire started, and they're probably still inside. I could hear sirens outside, firefighters most likely, but the blaze is too intense to even penetrate. It's too late for them, for us.
"----"
...something. A voice. A pitiful cry for mercy barely even a whisper. But I heard it all the same over the crackling flames.
"----!"
Again, but with greater urgency. I stumbled forward past room after room, searching for that voice. Sometimes I passed other people, or their remains. Still bodies with nothing left behind but charred flesh. But I didn't see them, not really. I couldn't, or else I would have stopped. I had to keep moving. That voice was still there, still alive, and I was the only one there who could do anything.
Another explosion. All the dust in this place makes it dangerous. I was staggered from the shockwave, but I got up all the same and kept walking. Banisters fell around me, but none ever seemed close enough. The flames expanded and raged, but there was always a clear path for me to go.
I had to reach that voice. I had to. There wasn't any choice in the matter, I simply had to.
"...help...I...don't...to..."
It was clearer. The voice had definition to it now. I could almost reach it, almost grab that hand...!
That burned, unmoving hand.
Another corpse. Fresher than the rest, but a corpse all the same. I stared at it. I didn't really see it. I just stood there, as the fire raged around me, as more questions formed without answers in my head.
Then who was calling out? Where was that voice coming from? What do I do now?
"Please...mama..."
...okay. I still heard it talking, calling, begging. It told me one last thing before falling silent. It spoke the name of a single person. The implication was simple and what I had to do was even simpler.
I had to bring this kid out. Amongst the inferno, the hell, and the death trap, I had to bring this kid's body out.
More debris. My knees felt like jelly. I couldn't see. I felt weak. I felt inconsequential, an affront to the strength of nature. An anomaly. I felt out of place as I stumbled forward step by step, I felt like the burning building was sorely trying to kill me but couldn't even get close to try. Like when a subordinate glares at you in resentment, in anger, in hate.
I kept walking forwards. Screams. Crying. Beckons from outside the building. There was only one real exit, and that was the front door. So that was where I had to go.
When I stepped into the entry hall, covered in soot and splinters, I felt something wrong. More wrong than the unnatural flames that couldn't touch me, and yet familiar at the same time. It was like looking into a circus mirror and seeing a distorted version of yourself.
At the foot of the grand staircase was another man, as unblemished as myself. He grinned maniacally and held out a hand.
"It's amazing, isn't it? All the regrets of this town concentrated into one tiny mansion and graveyard. Completely outstanding. Enough fuel to keep this fire going on for days! It's great, ain't it?"
What was he saying? I didn't really understand at the time. I just stared without words or thoughts.
"We're still the same. We're still the same! We're not human, man! We're the same as we were before, before we all left our marsh!"
...he's crazy. He must be.
"We're still the ferry men of the dead! You have to realize that! The fires fueled by the desires of those passed away, the will o' wisps that lit our lanterns still answer to us! This around us, all of it, is proof!"
He was in the way. He was mad, violent, and probably a pyromaniac, but most importantly he was in the way and that needed to change.
"Look at what we command! We're superior! We're humans with all of our old powers! Think of what we could do, Chiron!"
"Go. Away."
Something shifted and distorted when I stepped forward. It was if I was guided by some force to the spot right in front of him, crossing twenty meters in what couldn't have been anymore than a second. My fist was reared back, already flying in with a hook.
Crunch. His chin gives way. My left hand came in with a thud, stealing the air from his lungs. The violence rose steadily, each blow finding its intended target with ease, staggering him with precision if not force. The fire raged on while I beat him.
Part of me wondered why I was beating him. He obviously knew something about all the oddities going on, so why not question him? With all the questions I had, answers would have been a major relief.
But a larger part of me was disgusted by him. It felt like he was a disgrace to something or everything, a heretic that needed to be silenced.
Another swing, another impact, and he crumpled to the floor without another word. I stood over him for only a second before I turned and dragged myself up the stairs.
That kid still needed to be brought to his mother. I still had a task to do. I had to ferry this kid to his final destination, even if it meant the end of me.
When the stairs collapsed at the top, and I fell ten feet into darkness, I honestly thought it really did mean the end of me.
Waking up in the hospital was a nice change from what seemed like an eon in that fire. They said it was a 'miracle', that it was a 'blessing'. I wasn't really injured. Just minor scratches and fractures. The only survivor of an unsourced fire that completely massacred all the children and workers there. Corpses were still being identified, evidence was still being gathered.
I cared. I really did. But what confused me was what I cared about.
It was a tragedy, they said. There were so many victims of this freak accident that I should have been glad to be alive. I should have been thankful that I was sparred. But that wasn't there.
I felt disappointed. I felt like I'd let someone down. I felt unfulfilled. More than anything, I felt like I failed that kid. I couldn't bring his body back to his mother outside. I couldn't bring his lingering sentiments any sort of peace, I couldn't bring him closure. That bothered me more than anything else.
Hospital discharge was soon. Not like I really had anything serious to take care of. The media swarmed me with questions I didn't want to answer, questions I didn't have the answer to.
Of course, the victims weren't really highlighted in anyway. The search for any possibel culprit continued while the newspapers and channels drowned me in interviews. Any time I stepped outside my house, I was flooded with cameras and microphones. It was the biggest event to have happened to this place in years, if not decades.
But I was never concerned with it. The lingering feelings of sadness and the echoes of that child's voice in my head were haunting me. And the words that guy said, the one who most likely started the fire, weren't helping.
I was walking around late at night while I thought about it; a habit I was picking up just to get away from all the attention.
Chiron...that's what he called me. Research told me that he was the ferryman of the River Styx, the guy who brought souls to the afterlife. But why would he call me that? And then he talked about pulling the regret from the dead, using it to make the fires, will o' wisps, all sorts of confusing things that didn't do anything but give me more questions to ask.
A breeze blew over me. The leaves stirred. Something moved and I was on edge in a second. Same feeling as before. An odd sense of not belonging, followed by one of familiarity.
"Hi Chiron," someone, a girl, said. I jerk around to face her, body tense. She was simply dressed: shirt, jeans, jacket. Hair tied up in a ponytail. Generic asian features. I would've ignored her in any other situation, but this was too much of a coincidence.
I narrowed my eyes at her. She seemed sheepish, but all the same she made me worry. Was she like him? What was she going to do? "Who are you?" I asked first.
She smiled while she responded, anxiously rubbing her hands together in the cold. "Shina. Shinigami. Your call. It's been a long while, but I can tell you don't remember."
"Remember what?"
"Before. Before all this. Agni...Angus...tried to tell you in the fire, I think. He probably started it because he was a little overwhelmed by remembering everything. Was always the way he did things. Wasn't their time though; wasn't any of their times. Can't just go around-"
Before she could continue rambling, I interjected. "Wait, what are you talking about? I don't have a clue what you're going with all this!"
Her smile softened. It was as if she pitied me, or felt sorry for my situation. "You really don't know do you? You're late...most of us have already remembered. I can't help you with that, Chiron."
"My name is Charles, not Chiron, and what on Earth are you-"
"Nothing on Earth," she interrupts, turning. "Think about the names. Agni. Shinigami. Chiron. Think about what they are...what we are. Maybe the fire will guide you there."
And then she was gone. The wind blew, the leaves came into my face, and then she was gone before I could clear my vision.
That was only the first of our encounters. As I tossed and turned from day to day, trying to figure out what was going on without any sort of clue, she kept visiting me. Dropping cryptic hints and sayings.
It wasn't hard to figure out what she meant. Agni, Shinigami, Chiron. Psychopomps. Supernatural beings meant to bring souls to the afterlife. The guy she called Agni was apparently responsible for the fire. She herself just disappeared as soon as she was done, like her namesake. And apparently I...was a boatman?
It didn't make sense. I wasn't a boatman on the river of souls. I was just Charlie Thane. I was a normal person. I had been a normal person since birth. Ghosts didn't talk to me, not until that fire. And if I was Chiron, then who was taking care of the Styx? I laughed a little when I imagined a small sign hanging on the boat saying 'Out Living', but it was a hollow and bitter chuckle.
Life went on. Days passed, weeks even. I still didn't have a clue, still couldn't get answers from her or anyone else.
It was a few weeks later, almost two months after the fire, when I finally got closure. And funnily enough, it was on a boat.
Just a rental motor boat on the local lake. I was finding it a peaceful way to spend my time and calm down from all the insanity going on in my head.
Putt putt putt putt. The sputters of the boat engine were repetitive. Calming. The rocking was the same way, and I found the mist in my face refreshing.
And then that sensation again. A sudden jerking, as if I had been shaken half out of reality. One foot in, one foot not. Wrong and surreal, and yet at the same time familiar. It was almost as if the world was slightly blurry or done in watercolor; with no freaky stalkers around, I had a bit of time to examine it. Then I sighed and turned my head around, anger obvious on my features.
"Who is it then!?" I shouted. "What do you want with me?"
"Hey! Mind giving me a ride to shore?" was my response. I blinked, confused at how close it sounded, and looked down at the lake a moment later. He was soaked to the bone, his shirt nearly transparent and his hair flat against his face. He looked tired, but a little happy as well, and extended a hand towards me before I could even respond. "Give a guy a hand?"
I grasped it before I even knew what I was doing and pulled him up into my rental with a heave. He flashed a grin and laid spread eagle, apparently glad to be on something solid.
"How long were you waiting?" I asked, slowly revving the motor back to life. His response was a backwards glance and a whistle.
"Dunno really. Long time most likely. Been waiting for someone to fish me out!" He laughs like that. Even though I can already guess what he really is, he still laughs.
"Um...just the shore then?" My voice was unsure and a tad meek. Didn't I need to take him to the afterlife? And besides, wasn't I denying this whole thing? Why was I playing along?
But then I remembered that kid. That kid who I failed to guide to the end. And then I looked at this guy in my boat and I thought 'No. Not again.'
He nodded twice. "Just the shore. Gonna be good to get my feet back on solid ground," he states happily.
"...alright," I said lamely, and that was the last word I said that entire ride.
He kept talking. He told me about his family, about his job. About how he loved fishing and how he probably should've taken better care of his boat, else he wouldn't have been in that situation. And then he just talked about inconsequential things. Fun things. Jokes that made me chuckle along and anecdotes that had me rapt with attention. Was the lake always that wide, I wondered? I couldn't tell, but it wasn't really the end that mattered to me. It was the journey. It was deja vu, it was like slipping back into the seat of an old, faithful car.
And then we hit the shore, he got off, and he walked away.
The sense of disjunction, what I would soon learn was called The Way, dissolved and left behind the normal world in its place. There wasn't a trace of him. No footprints on the shore, no water in my boat. He really was like a ghost.
Or was a ghost, rather.
I smiled for some reason and turned my head, along with my vessel. Soon I'd buy the thing, along with some handrails. A better paintjob, a better motor. But at that time it was enough. And when The Way came back into view, and the numerous heads of those passed-yet-not-resting turned to meet my gaze, I simply smiled a little wider. Guess I was Chiron after all.
I had a lot to learn. About my abilities, about The Way, about the spirits I had to ferry across. But that would come in time.
My name is Charles Thane. My name is also Chiron.
These are my Ferry Tales.
Sugoiiii~
[23:02] <~Iced> You have sown the seeds of your own destruction Amra.
[23:20] <Stuffman> enjoy your personally crafted hell Amra

Amraphenson

  • The problem is, you're a friend that likes to talk!
  • *
  • ...well, I am too!
Re: Amra's Atrociously Asinine A-something or other drabbles.
« Reply #7 on: January 06, 2013, 09:33:13 PM »
mooooore.
=====
Laying Down Tracks
It was about a year later when I learned an important lesson about The Way. I had learned quite a few things by then, and the memories of my 'life' before were slowly trickling in. Little details and facts were remembered every day. But there was always more to learn.
For example, The Way wasn't really a world in and of itself. It was a parallel copy of any and all worlds, one step away from it. That's why I didn't burn in the mansion; the fire didn't follow me into The Way. It was a special dimension where the supernatural could go about their tasks and jobs without being interfered with. It's why the strange and magical things of the world were still secret.
That was the subject of my lesson that time. But let's not spoil. Let's get into the story.
Again, it was about a year after my decision to go along with the whole psychopomp gig. And it was a pretty fulfilling job, as I vaguely remembered it being in the 'world before' that I kept getting vague memories of. Talking with my passengers was pleasant, and I felt a little warmer with every successful journey. There were a lot of waiting customers though, and I was only one guy, but eventually I'd clear them out and send them along their way. It wouldn't take too long, and I certainly didn't mind.
It was after a longer journey, after returning back to the normal world, when I noticed something...off. More so than usual. There was a strange smell in the air, a hair-raising sensation that made me feel as though I was being watched.
I closed my eyes, focused for a moment, and opened them again to find The Way back in place. The beginnings of night were exaggerated, putting the lake around me into a sorta penumbra, even with the way lit by one of my simple green flames.
This was what Agni was talking about back in the fire. All of us could draw the regret and lasting sentiments out of spirits, making it easier to guide them into the afterlife, and make guiding flames with it. Agni was apparently much better, as all I could do then was make a small ball of fire over my hand.
But that tiny sprite sufficed and illuminated my way as I returned to the opposite shore. "What's going on?" I wondered out loud, engine low. I'd never sensed this sort of disturbance before; it was nothing like the usual ghosts and specters. This seemed more...alive. Vibrant. But at the same time the presence felt more out of place here in The Way, and it felt like it was being rejected by it.
I got my answer when I got back to the dock.
It was an odd sight. My dock was generally full of waiting ghosts and smiling, if somewhat tired, faces. Human ghosts, mostly, though sometimes someone would bring along a pet or two or would ask that their pet go first. Sometimes the ghosts were a little rowdy, or they started something weird like the occasional party, but otherwise things were pretty normal.
Now, seeing a collection of wolves and humans, ones that were most definitely alive, was not something I was expecting.
"These aren't our hunting grounds man. I'm not really okay with being here...," one of the humans muttered, glancing to and fro with a tense expression. Pretty clearly on edge there. A few of the wolves barked in what I could only assume was agreement.
"I get it, but we don't have much choice. We can't let that bastard get away with what he did to us! That sort of thing...bah, I can barely even think about it without getting angry," another of the humans responded with almost a snarl. Again, there was a multitude of canines echoing his sentiments in their own way.
The first guy to speak up clenched his fists and grit his teeth. As I got closer, I noticed his toes were curling too; no shoes to speak of. And his clothes were ripped all over. All of the humans' clothes were. "Then what do about this stupid lake? Every path we take leads back here, no matter what we do, and the water...well..."
Mm. The waters of the lake, when within The Way, were anathema to the living. I'd seen people stumble into the water before, and not one ever came out. And with how The Way worked, I wasn't surprised that they kept coming up to my lake either. The geography of this place wasn't always linear, even if it was a copy of the real world.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and gave them a holler as I slowed down and cruised into dock. "Anything I can help you folks with?" I ventured, throwing them an uneasy smile.
They stared as if I was a ghost, which in hindsight is sort of funny. There was a good minute of silence between myself and the group of...whatever they were. A minute of me spent floating back to shore, then another passed as I roped myself to bay. "...well?" I continued eventually, raising an eyebrow at them.
The second man to speak, a burly guy in thick jacket and rough jeans, blinked twice before responding. "You...you're...," he muttered.
"The boatman of this lake, yeah," I responded while I leaned back, rocking the boat a tad. "From what I heard you were having trouble with finding someone?"
I was trying to maintain a straight, professional face there, but their look of confusion and possible fear was actually sorta amusing. At the time, anyway.
To my immense surprise, the wolves began...shifting. Morphing. Fur to skin, claws to nail, canine to...human. I blinked at the assembled crew of people as they all began to converse amongst themselves.
Well, no, people was wrong. These were werewolves.
You know, the original meaning of that word has been kinda lost in modern media. 'Were' is human. 'Wolf' is just wolf. Werewolves are traditionally humans that turned into wolves during the full moon, not manwolves or hybrids or anything like that. At least, that's how I understood it.
"Uh..." I started, not sure how to respond to the sudden mass metamorphosis. The second man, who I could only assume was their leader, stepped up.
"Your...people..." He seemed to struggle to find the right word. "Haven't been seen for ages, ferryman. This is your lake?"
"Yeah," I responded. "Don't get werewolves very often around here. Or at all."
He frowned, lips drawn into a thin line. "Did...did you happen to see anyone else pass here?"
I shook my head while I casted a gaze out towards the lake, which was eerily still. "No. Haven't seen any living people in The Way for a while now. But, well, you know how this place works. I could probably take you to the other side, and you'd probably find whoever you're looking for there."
Really nonlinear. The Way was a strange place. Intent mattered more than actual direction.
"Are you trying to entice us into death, reaper!?" someone shouted. There were murmurs of agreement, again. Really group minded, those guys.
"Just don't touch the water and you won't die," I respond calmly. "I've ferried my share of living people, I assure you."
"And how many of them were still living afterwards?" came the retort.
I frowned. "Not all," I replied, honestly. Some came here seeking closure, the final kind. Some didn't wait to die to go to the afterlife.
There was a rising tide of arguments amongst them. I half-considered just leaving with a few ghosts and going about my business, but then their leader intervened.
"Everyone shut up!" he screamed, and there was a strange undertone to his voice. It was almost howl-like, and it carried a sort of commanding tone within that nearly floored me. It certainly quieted them down. "I apologize for my pack, ferryman. Many of them are still new to this place, and they should know better than to disrespect someone of influence such as yourself."
I smiled. "No, it's fine. I barely even started this myself. But the fact remains that my lake seems to persistantly keep in your way, and I have the only boat around. Your call mister...uh?" It was then when I realized I didn't have his name.
"Grant. We're all the Gravelscratchers," he introduced.
I held out a hand in the friendliest way I could manage from down in my boat. "Charles Thane."
Somehow we managed to fit all twelve of them in my little boat, though sometimes things got a little bigger or smaller to compensate. Didn't have to make sense.
Grant had taken the seat closest to me, while his pack had taken the seats furthest. Fine by me, really; Grant seemed the most pleasant to talk to.
"I suppose he could've tricked me into thinking he was a ghost," I admit. "But I do the oldest ones first, and that would've been one hell of a trick."
"It's possible. He was trained in the old wicca, so he might have disguised himself that way," Grant stated, warily throwing looks out at the lake around him. Didn't blame him since it wasn't really his territory.
Putt putt putt putt. Took me a long while to find a good engine that still had that sound. It was almost therapeutic to listen to the steady beat of it. But beyond that and the splashing of the water under us, there wasn't anything else.
"What brings a bunch of werewolves to my side of The Way, anyways?" I asked finally. It was in my head for a while and I had to ask it eventually.
"Pilgrimage!" he responded immediately, and with a certain pride as well. "We've been following the traditional hunting path of our progenitors. It's a right of passage for us, one most of my pack wouldn't have had the chance to take."
"Oh?" I whistled out, steering the boat a little to the left. "Why's that?"
He puffed his chest out and grinned magnificently, despite the words that were going to follow. "We are the abandoned. The mongrels. The whelps and the rogues. I took these kids in so that none of them would have to know the pain of loneliness. What of yourself, ferryman?"
He kept calling me that despite knowing my name. I hummed. "Woke up to this about a year ago. Was normal until then. You know there aren't a whole lot of us around? It's kinda sad how few of us there are. Sad for the dead, at least." And I meant that. Eons of ghosts just sitting around, messing up the balance of the place. I wondered if no one cared that it was eventually going to cause some sort of of major meltdown.
"...To be honest, Charles, you disturb me a tad," he admitted.
"Oh?"
"I'm on the boat of a spirit guide. I would be mad not to be disturbed. I can't help but get the feeling you're pulling me into the afterlife."
I smiled. "Smart. But don't worry. All I do is guide people to their destinations. The destination for most ghosts just happens to be the end of the line. All lines, really. Or maybe it's the start of a new line. Who knows? I don't. 'm just the driver."
We came to the edge of the lake, and I was a tad surprised to see a winding path there leading into a thick forest. Usually there was a house to leave them at, within which lied wherever they were supposed to go. "Huh," I quipped as we slowly drifted onto land. "That's weird. Seems like I gotta take you guys a bit further."
Someone called from the front of the boat. "We can take care of ourselves, thank you." There were murmurs of assent as everyone began to depart, but...
My head shook as I drew out a lantern I picked up from an antique store. A green lit in it a second later with only a thought. "It isn't over. This forest isn't here usually...something's up."
Grant was silent, probably in thought. The murmurs amongst his pack got steadily louder as they all began speaking up.
"We've spent long enough on this boat, let's go."
I sighed.
"Comeon Grant, sooner we get away from this guy the better."
I held a hand up to my face and groaned into it.
"We can find our own way now, so thanks for-"
I put out the lights. Both lights. The one on my boat and the one in my lantern.
"Be silent." It was only a whisper.
The penumbra that permeated The Way exploded into full on darkness. You were lucky to see three feet in front of your face with any sort of clarity. Whatever complaints they had were silenced by the isolation and the shadows, the near absolute darkness that threatened to consume us like a tiny morsel, that clenched us like the claws of a terrible beast.
It encroached upon us. It advanced, inch by inch, making matter itself dissappear into an endless void. There was nothing there. It was nothing. It was doom, it was worse than death, it was-
I turned the lights back on.
The fires burned once more, and the ebony veil dissipated. That was exactly why we, the psychopomps, were necessary. For reasons I still wasn't sure of, The Way was just simply insurmountable in some places. There was always one way, and one way alone, to get past any patch of it. I happened to be the special ticket for this lake, and a bit further, so without me those wolves weren't going anywhere. It's why they were stuck at the dock, it's why the ghosts would never be able to reach the end without me, and it's why I still needed to stick with these guys.
I let out a breath and dismounted the boat first, past all the shocked werewolves. The display of this place's real danger, when my flames weren't lit at all, probably humbled them a bit. Just a bit. "And that's why I'm going with you guys. In my stretch of The Way, you'll need someone to guide you," I said simply. After dusting myself off, I turned and faced the strange forest, lantern held above me "Now comeon. I got a feeling the guy you're looking for is somewhere in here."
There wasn't a single word of argument that time. Though I swore I heard Grant chuckle.
A long walk followed. Grant came up to walk beside me while the rest trailed behind in what I vaguely recognized as a formation. "So what are we looking for, again, and why?"
He grimaced. "A traitor. We used to number more than twice this, but he betrayed our journey to one of the larger packs for the promise of a spot, but that was a lie and now he's on the run from us all. We need to find him before the rest, and he ran into the Hunting Grounds, so we decided to follow. Any more waiting and the Bloodsickles would have gotten him first."
Hunting Grounds was apparently the werewolf name for The Way. Otherwise, the explanation made sense. I felt a little weird leading a manhunt, but it wasn't my business. It was their's. On the other hand, there was something about this that bugged me. The logical result of revenge, especially amongst werewolves (or at least I assumed this), was something that meant I had to get involved.
"What's his name?" I asked, not looking anywhere but forward. Grant must have blinked at me for a few seconds, because there was a pause.
"Why does it matter?"
"I like to know the names of those I guide."
There was a collective halt. Everyone stopped while I took another three steps, still not looking anywhere but forward. As I expected, they had an issue with this. Why wouldn't they have an issue? When an opportunity presents itself, people take advantage. My presence provided the opportunity for the greatest revenge possible, to not give him the peace of the afterlife, and it crossed their minds just as it had crossed mine.
"You're going to ferry him across? The traitor?" Grant muttered. I knew what was following. I didn't really listen. "He doesn't deserve-"
Instead, I turned my head sharply and narrowed my eyes. The lantern dimmed just a tad, and the world around us dimmed in response. "What makes you think you have a choice in the matter?"
They all looked conflicted. Wary and on edge to boot. I had literally threatened all dozen of them without an ounce of fear in my voice.
A sigh escaped my lips and I gestured forwards. "Comeon. Not long now."
And without another word they followed.
We got jumped in the middle of the walk, now that I remember. It was pretty uneventful beyond the whole shapeshifting thing, and how they turned from a bunch of whiny humans into an organized pack of mankilling wolves within seconds. Of course, what had jumped us was a bunch of humanoid shadows, who dashed from spot to spot and could slice you open with only a touch, but that didn't seem to bother them. Sure as hell didn't bother me, considering I had the biggest light around.
It was almost like a dance, watching the wolves dash in and out and weave inbetween foes who were pretty content to do the same. One step in, one step out. Make a false move and you'd be cut up or mauled. It was sorta scary, but at the same time I got a sense of excitement just watching. Even after a year I only really knew about my part of The Way; this was the first of many views into the greater picture.
Of course, whenever something tried to go for me, it was met with fire and flames. And against a bunch of living shades, that's more than enough.
Some time later we came across a clearing after pushing past a number of vines. We took a bit to appreciate the sight, as it was peaceful, and without the sense of eeriness the rest of the forest carried. I got the distinct feeling that I wasn't in my zone anymore; I'd just stepped out of my part of The Way. The Gravelscratchers seemed relieved themselves, but Grant and I were already paying attention to what lay before us.
A single tree stump, and leaned against it was a corpse. Fresh, too, with a long wound through his torso. There was a trail of blood leading up to it that started from where we were; wouldn't surprise me if the forest had simply consumed the fluid after he left. And standing above that corpse was a ghost, looking forlorn and conflicted as he stared at his former body.
"Seems like you got your man," I muttered, stepping forward. The corpse was still, but the ghost looked up at me, confused, though there was a glint of recognition in his eyes. There always was. I smiled. "And it seems like I got mine."
There weren't any more words. I just walked back towards the forest with the deceased werewolf slowly trudging forwards behind me. I thought there would have been some sort of conflict when I decided to go straight through their group, but they simply parted and let me go.
Goes to show that no matter what you are or who you are, you gotta respect the reaper.
I didn't need to guide them any further than this. The Way ahead was bright and without the shadows of my lake; heck, they'd probably fair better around there than I would have.
"Charles," Grant said suddenly. I didn't bother looking back, but I did stop. My companion almost bumped into me; he really seemed out of it. I thought he might have been regretting something. They always were regretting something.
"Yeah?" I answered.
"His name is Joseph."
I smiled and started walking again, lantern bright and eyes brighter. "Comeon then Joseph. Journey back won't be too long. And Grant? You're welcome to take my boat whenever."
The darkness of the forest consumed my passenger and myself a second later. I would see the Gravelscratchers again, eventually. I'd come to see many other dwellers of The Way in the time to come, but for the purpose of this story they were the most important. Werewolves. Who woulda known.
They were laying down tracks for my experiences to come, I guess.
Sugoiiii~
[23:02] <~Iced> You have sown the seeds of your own destruction Amra.
[23:20] <Stuffman> enjoy your personally crafted hell Amra

Amraphenson

  • The problem is, you're a friend that likes to talk!
  • *
  • ...well, I am too!
Re: Amra's Atrociously Asinine A-something or other drabbles.
« Reply #8 on: January 15, 2013, 06:48:07 AM »
For a certain diver fanatic.
====
I felt the water rush past me. Cold, yet comforting, like a brisk shower after a long stretch of exercise. A shiver up my spine and a lingering tingle followed, making me sigh in relief. The penumbra of the lake slowly gives way to light, brighter and brighter, until finally I surface.

Another successful warp, making me smile. I lifted myself from the surface, delighting in the sensation of each drop of water dripping off me. The lake was exquisitely pristine, and when I looked around me I knew why.

Breathtaking. A mountain valley filled with water, shallow enough to walk in when not being used as a portal to another realm. The sky was immaculate, the water clear, the land untarnished. I found myself smiling at the simple beauty of the place.

In the distance I saw a small island, and a wooden building atop it that resembled a shrine. I made my ways toward it as I snapped off my mask and let it hang around my neck. The hood of my wetsuit came after, freeing my hair from its confines. The straps of my tank came off next and hung loosely from my elbows before I set them upon the veranda.

As always, I had a little difficulty with the zipper. Getting the wetsuit off was also a nightmare, as usual, but I simply let it hang from my waist instead of getting it all off. Freeing my skin to the open air was benefit enough.

Calm and peaceful. Those words described this place amply, though at the same time that made it a little boring. Ah well. A break was a break.

Somehow a pot of tea and a small cup found its way to my side, and though I was a little miffed at the size of them I accepted them nontheless. My claws found it a little difficult to manipulate the pot with any sort of precision, and the cup was hard to use, but the tea was excellent.

The water stirred. I raised an eyebrow as the surface of it shifted, rose. Or at least part of it.

And with the disturbance, she came.

I smiled. As usual, the water clung to her form rather well. As did the wetsuit.

"Nice swim?" I called, taking a long drag of tea to follow. Like myself, she began divesting herself of clothing and equipment as she sauntered over. Lots to appreciate in that sight.

"As usual," she responded, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. A few whips of her fluffy tail sent water every which way. It was almost funny to see all of her fur pressed down to her body like that, even if was only her forearms and forelegs.

She nochalantly pressed her face into my breasts and closed her eyes, as if it was most comfortable resting spot. "So what next?" she asked, glancing out towards the water that surrounded us.

I leaned back, humming in thought. "Who knows?" I muttered. We had all the time in the world.

She's a kitsune. I'm a dragon.

We dive through the dimensions.
Sugoiiii~
[23:02] <~Iced> You have sown the seeds of your own destruction Amra.
[23:20] <Stuffman> enjoy your personally crafted hell Amra

FinnKaenbyou

  • Formerly Roukanken
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  • blub blub nya
Re: Amra's Atrociously Asinine A-something or other drabbles.
« Reply #9 on: January 15, 2013, 07:23:21 AM »
<3

Amraphenson

  • The problem is, you're a friend that likes to talk!
  • *
  • ...well, I am too!
Re: Amra's Atrociously Asinine A-something or other drabbles.
« Reply #10 on: March 02, 2013, 08:32:10 AM »
AN: AFTER A LONG TIME I POST SOMETHING.
you may have noticed an emotional theme.
-----
When I slept, I was looking forward to the future. I had my entire life sprawled out before me. College, job prospects. My family was supportive. I had great friends, and a wonderful girlfriend. It wasn't all perfect, but in comparison to many I had nothing to complain about.

But when I dreamed...when I dreamed, I saw the world destroyed. Raped. Sundered. I saw a future where there was nothing for me or anyone, where the apocalypse took everything from us and more than we could ever conceive. The Great Divide happened.

I watched as the population of South East Asia simply disappeared. Without trace and without source. Simply...gone.

I watched as the west coast of the United States was shattered by an earthquake, killing 99% of the people there and leaving the rest wandering souls, without life or purpose and better off dead.

I watched as Australia was consumed by the ocean itself, becoming a modern day Atlantis and leaving no survivors whatsoever.

I watched. Watched, and did nothing. Watched, and could do nothing but watch from the haze of my slumber.

Civilization picked itself up, eventually. What humans were left hid themselves away in massive fortresses, and those braver than them became scavengers that were paid for their services. Bartering became the main form of commerce. Thus the Conclaves were born, and the start of a new world.

But...I didn't want a new world. I wanted the old world. I wanted what was denied me, what was taken from me. I wanted what the Great Divide made impossible.

So did the Earth. The world felt those feelings too. It felt anger and indignation, sorrow and agony. It didn't want to be treated like this, to be made the stage for some cataclysm.

They say that when the feelings of two things coincide, when their minds are of the same thought, their very souls meld together and become one being striving towards a greater purpose.

Thus, as I slept, as I raged and flailed, my feelings synchronized with the world's. We became one in both feelings and purpose.


This is not right. This is not yours. This is ours. You can't take this from us. This is our territory. You can't have it. It's mine.

And that was enough. That was enough for me to break the chains that binded me, for me to surface from the void of slumber that bound me.

I stirred. I woke.

But not fast enough.

As I woke, I watched as the soldiers of the apocalyspe followed the vanguard of disasters. Gargoyles, demons, devils, the walking dead. Heaping monoliths of flesh and hate. Formless wraiths.

I watched the world change inexplicably somehow, and stared in awe as miracles never before seen arose. Magic. Honest to gods magic. And then I reeled in horror as the abominations spawned by the Taint utilized it as well.

And, when I finally awoke, I watched a world with no hope. No love. No future that I had ever predicted, or wanted. I woke with the full force of the Earth behind my every movement, the very ground below me tremoring with the sheer force.

So I raged.

I sought out. I killed. I destroyed, I sundered, I became death itself. I ripped the spawn out of their hives and mutilated them. I grabbed them and tore them to pieces. I became to them what they were for the Earth.

But even the greatest of beasts may be felled by numbers, and in that state I was nothing more than a beast. Too many.

An unseen blow hit me, and my left eye saw no more. Something slashed my legs, forcing me to my knees. Then they piled on, smothering me in corruption until I sank back into the void I had only just awoken from.

Thus I slept, until a girl with amber eyes awoke me.

----
"So we're in agreement then!" It's not a question.

"No...no, we're not in agreement. But I doubt you'll listen so-"

"Good, good. I'll expect the package by the end of the week, Albert. God speed."

"...so whatever." I sigh, one hand running through my hair as he starts to walk off. A door opens automatically for him. "You're going to get us killed, Lorenzo. You're going to get us killed and then the most productive scavenger squad the Conclave has is gone. Forever. Think about that for a second."

He turns to face me and smiles tranquilly, infuriatingly so. "Have a nice evening, Albert." And with that shut, the doors shut.

So many things to say, so little opportunity. So much frustration and anger, but that's not productive at all. I glance around and find everyone else in the corridor staring.

My face contorts into a snarl. With the numerous scars on my face, the starburst shaped tissue over my left eye prominent amongst them, it must have made for quite the sight. "What're you all gawking at?" I spit venomously.

They clear in second, leaving me alone. Just me and a barely lit corridor, lights barely even flickering.

"Fuck me," I mutter.
----
In this concrete and steel complex that stretches into the ground and into the sky, the garden in front of me is one of the only spots of life and vibrancy. It's jarring how well kept it is, and how authentic the fake sky and sun look. The real things aren't nearly as bright anymore.

Sure enough, the reason I'm here reveals herself rather quickly.

"Oi you little brats, respect your elders a little more!" comes the voice, distinctly feminine but harsh and rather rough sounding. Laughter follows, young children coming into view from behind a tree. She follows, chasing after them with a look of faux anger on her face.

After the Great Divide, humans were exposed to the Taint in various degrees. Many didn't survive, some got out okay, and others didn't make it out without a few extra additions. And the children of those hybrids, the beastkin as they were generally called, have been part of society since.

Unlike most, who were closer to real animals, she is more of a salamander. A dragon? Who knows. I didn't really know. She breathes fire and she has scales. Whatever.

Crown, one of my three squadmates, blinks when she notices me and stands at full height. Not that her full height is much, just shy of five feet. Barely any taller than the kids she was playing with. "Oh, hey Al. Done talking with the old codger?" she asks, the kids she was playing with already doing other things.

I grimace. "About that."

Her expression turns deathly hostile in about half a second. "Don't tell me the fucker put us on another death sentence-"

"Crown, language," I admonish. "Kids are around. And...yes. He's sending us another operation."

She groans, stamps a foot, and exhales a quick puff of flame from her mouth. Her usual expression of annoyance. "He really...he really wants me gone, doesn't he?" she asks, softly. There's a look in her eyes that I see often, and one I want nothing to do with.

"Us, Crown," comes my correction. Both my hands come up in a shrug. "It's not your fault. He doesn't like any of us in Druid Squad, but we do good work. He can't just let us go with our results."

"But that gives him an excuse to keep sending on stupid suicide runs," she retorts, amber eyes glimmering with anger. "And if we complete them, then he sends us on more. And if we don't, he gets what he wants."

"I know Crown." This isn't the first time we've had this conversation. But there's nothing to do. I turn and gesture for her to follow. "Let's...let's just pick up Fawkes and Sandra and go. It's just a looting op. We'll organize it back home."

Not that I know where Fawkes and Sandra, the rest of our squad, is, but...

My foot falls back onto the floor. The world throbs for a moment, just a moment, and then I know. I lead the way with confidence.

Crown is by my side immediately, anger still lighting up her face but professionalism dictating her actions. "What's the target?" she asks, matching me stride for stride as the garden gives way to corridor after corridor.

"Clothes. The kids are growing, and they need clothes."

"No hand me downs? Old clothes? Nothing?"

"You really think Lorenzo would do that when he could send us to get fresh stuff?" I note, turning a corner.

She clicks her tongue and spits another miniature tongue of flame. "Point taken," she admits.

Another corner, another set of doors, and we're in the Conclave Archives. Books line the walls from the floor to the ceiling, and between the aisles there's barely enough room to even walk. Figures he'd be here.

"Oi, Fawkes," I call, beating a fist on a nearby table.

"Betcha that soda you're saving," Crown suddenly says, still outside the room. Her and lots of old, dusty paper didn't really mix well.

"Fool's bet," I respond, smiling wryly.

Somewhere from deep inside the archive, the sounds of rummaging and grunts of exertion emerge. Then a great ruckus, as if a large number of books had fallen. Then a simple, very loud curse.

I turn back to Crown to find her grinning. "Told you," I say. She only laughs.

After clearing more books, the third member of Druid Squad looms over us. "Hey guys. Done with Lorenzo?" Fawkes asks, dusting himself off.

"Yeah. Another op."

"What? Is the old man trying to kill..." He may have tried to finish the sentence, but the looks Crown and I gave him were enough. "...really. He's...fine."

Another shrug rolls off my shoulders. "Nothing we can do until that is done." There's a pause, but something makes me smile a tad. "Where's Sandra?"

Fawkes blinks. "Sandy? She was somewhere around-" And then he interrupts himself with a decidedly unmanly scream of shock.

Two of us break into laughter. One tries to catch his breath. The last of us, the silent spectre named Sandra, simply pouts fiercely at Fawkes. Not entirely sure how, but she pouted rather fiercely regardless.

"Dammit Sandra!" the largest of us exclaims, one hand grasping at his chest as it rises and falls with his desperate breathing. "You keep doing that!"

"And you never get used to it!" Crown adds, still trying unsuccessfully to stifle her own laughter. I'm doing a better job, but not by much.

Such is life for Druid Squad.
----
No place quite like home. For the four of us, that applied more so than usual.

In the world following the Great Divide, civilization was spread out into Conclaves, where the noncombatants and civilians lived. Surrounding them were the Scavenger Squads, who lived in their own bases out in the more dangerous territories near a Conclave.

Most squad bases were, like the Conclaves, partially or completely underground. But with the Taint causing unforseen mutations in the wildlife and plantlife, we had a rather unique base. It's the reason for our namesake.

"So," I start, waving a hand over our city map. It's really nothing than a large room formed by the intertwining roots and branches, but it's big enough for all our purposes. A raised portion of wood served as our discussion table "It's a pretty normal op, as far as ops go."

Crown, leaning against one of the natural walls of our treetop base, snorts. "Except for the fact it's in the middle of nowhere. That's uncharted territory Al."

"The last venture into the northern sector of the city was...maybe forty years ago, Al. By the last Conclave that was setup here. And it was a bigger Squad, to boot. They didn't return. It's...not very safe," Fawkes notes as he flips through the pages of a notebook. "At all."

"What're we looking at then?" I ask, glancing towards the north. From how high up our base is, it's a damn good view. And like he says, the northern sector of the city doesn't look very welcoming.

"Feral beastkin, Taint swarms, Taint pools, bandit groups, bad weather, and a two day trip. At least."

Joy. I sigh and run a hand over my face. "Any bright side to this clusterfuck?" I venture, not really expecting anything pleasant.

"We're the biggest badasses this side of the Conclave?" Fawkes quips, shrugging.

Crown barks out a laugh. "Damn straight!" she exclaims. I'm restraining laughter of my own.

There's nothing left to say once Sandra brings in dinner.
----
The sunset from up here, in the massive trees that have taken over Central Park, is an astounding sight no matter how many times I see it. Past the atmospheric distortions caused by the Taint, the sunlight filters into a dazzling array of colors. Depending on where you were, it was like being treated to the Aurora Borealis right at home.

I sigh as I nurse a soda, the same one Crown tried to cheat me out of just a few hours ago. Another sip follows.

"No point delaying it then," I mutter silently.

My foot taps against the floor below me once, then twice. I breathe deeply and wash out the noise of the wind and the rustling leaves. And then, I feel.

Take a moment. Take a deep breath. Forget everything. Forget your memories, yourself. Lay back and let yourself sink into the ground, let yourself be absorbed by the greater presence of nature.

Can you hear it? The beat of the world. The heartbeat of the Earth. I can. And it's crying to me, sharing its anguish and suffering. Its indignation, its pain, its sorrow and all of its agony. It doesn't want to be this way. It wants the Taint gone. It wants the hurting to stop.

It wants. It needs. It takes and demands from me, bit by bit and more and more until I-

"Al?"

I start, nearly leaping into the air at the sound. "Wha-?" My breathing's short, my skin wet with sweat. I stare forward, not really seeing.

Crown frowns at me as she comes up to my side and leans over the window, watching the same sunset I was only seconds ago. Minutes? I'm not sure. "You were pulsing again," she states. More of an accusation than anything.

A grimace is my only answer for a few seconds. "I...yeah, I was," I admit.

The Earth didn't take the Divide sitting down, after all. It installed its own countermeasures in the most dangerous species it had ever created, and that's apparent in me. That's what pulsing is. Feeling the Earth's heartbeat and its emotions, and utilizing it for all sorts of purposes. It's what let me locate Fawkes and Sandra so easily. But it doesn't come without its risks.

After all, even Atlas was disabled by the weight of the world. What's a human in comparison?

"I let it go back in the Conclave because it was only for a second, but now...," she starts, but I already know what she's going to say. And she knows that too, so she sighs, sparks flickering in her breath. "I'm so goddamn worried about you sometimes Al. You know that?"

Shame enters my features. "...sorry, Crown," I mutter.

She turns and smiles at me sadly. "You're still looking for it, aren't you? The reason you're here." With her, most questions are more like statements. You may have noticed that by now.

My own smile is bitter in comparison, and no less sad. "Yeah. I need to know why...I need to know why, Crown."

She simply stares at me, scrutinizing me. But I'm not ashamed in that statement, at the very least, so I don't back down. Her eyes, like molten gold, bore into my soul for what feels like an hour. But, finally, she sighs again and turns out to face the sun. A wind blows over us, tousling her hair. "Alright Al. I have to admit, I'm pretty curious myself."

I can only nod in response. "After all, there's gotta be an explanation for why I'm here, right? Eighty years in the future and all." Not like I remembered anything.

And so we watched the sun set, she watching over me and I reminiscing of a world long gone.
Sugoiiii~
[23:02] <~Iced> You have sown the seeds of your own destruction Amra.
[23:20] <Stuffman> enjoy your personally crafted hell Amra

Amraphenson

  • The problem is, you're a friend that likes to talk!
  • *
  • ...well, I am too!
Re: Amra's Atrociously Asinine A-something or other drabbles.
« Reply #11 on: August 23, 2013, 06:40:57 AM »
I need to stop reviving this thread.

Touhou for once.
----
Marisa was used to this situation. Being outgunned in terms of specialties, in terms of some sort of power or innate ability, was something Marisa was really quite familiar with. So she wasn't too worried about what was going on currently.

Actually, she really was having a blast. The mask girl's danmaku was fun. She couldn't say that anyone else she had matched up against had the same sort of dance-like grace to their movements; no, probably the closest was the Scarlet Mansion gateguard, and even she had a sort of rigidness Marisa's current opponent lacked even if the practiced ease the both of them had was similar.

Twin fans disappeared and flickered into an azure naginata, swinging forwards to release a sequence of delayed lasers that resembled a fan itself, but that wasn't the end of it. No, definitely not, because the girl's masks were still there, receiving every other laser before releasing their own unique bursts, all aimed roughly in her direction...

Marisa swung her broom violently and throttled it, launching her into a blisteringly fast ascension before the mask fire could get her, but of course her path was soon obstructed by more lasers and aaaah Marisa was honestly having too much fun with this.

She really couldn't help it, even if this was sort of a serious incident. When it came to good danmaku, Marisa counted herself amongst some of the best, and it would be a gross disservice to this girl to call their current exchange anything but beautiful.

That's what danmaku was, wasn't it? About being beautiful. At least that's what it was for her, and when the stars and lasers of her own return fire laced with Kokoro's, Marisa did nothing to keep the smile off her face.

But even so, even though this was so much fun, that nagging thought still ate away at Marisa's conscience as endless barrage after barrage flew between the two of them.

This girl was without hope. What would that be like? To go through the days, not believing, not hoping, not keeping a light in your heart for good things to come...Marisa couldn't imagine that. She spent every day hoping, every day working towards greater and greater magic, towards better and greater danmaku, and without that Marisa really didn't know what she'd be.

So she understood this girl. She really did. She understood the confusion and pain Kokoro must have been going through, and how frustrating not being complete would be.

But Marisa wasn't the kind of girl who could really talk someone down, who could really help someone out of a funk like that, and really for Kokoro she wasn't really sure she could. Would it be possible to replace this missing mask, or help her until she could make a new one on her own? She knew many of the tsukumogami could regenerate bits and pieces, but this seemed...worse. More severe.

In the end though Marisa didn't feel like she could help in that regard. She was human, and this was a youkai affair, but there was one thing she could do. Would do, as she had done for so many of these incidents before.

Marisa could sure as hell danmaku.

And things generally work out when you danmaku well enough.

As Kokoro donned a massive dragon like mask, a blinding yellow energy shrouding her form as she dived forwards with an echoing roar, Marisa once again wrenched her broom around. She pulled and kept pulling, both to the side and backwards, until the exhaust began sending her into a chaotic upwards spiral, trailing stars everywhere she went in a slowly growing cone.

Higher. And higher. Until the entire village was blanketed in her danmaku, bathing the unnaturally dark village in a glittering light. As she reached the clouds her acceleration trickled away until she was left in gentle upwards float, and even though Kokoro was still harassing with her own fire Marisa did not dodge. No, up here, in the sky, covered by the veritable galaxy she just created, Marisa felt safe.

There wasn't much noise up that high. Just the soft persistant sound of her stars and occasionally the click of a graze as a red, green, or blue laser passed her.

Marisa breathed. Hanging loosely from her broom, eyes cast downwards, she breathed. Hakkero primed at the end of her broom, now pointed downwards, with it slowly gaining a brilliant glow from every bit of mana she was feeding it, she breathed.

One more breath. Just a few more words, and then she then maybe she could figure out a solution not involving liberal danmaku usage. It's not like Marisa exercised any other method of solving incidents, anyways.

"Magicannon: Final Spark," she said, voice trembling just like the many celestial bodies below her.

Because when it really came down to it, Marisa didn't have much else to use at the moment besides the one thing she worked for, the one thing she prided herself above everything else.

Power.

There was a second's lull, where nothing came to be save for the echoes of the witch's words. Then the signature humming, like a thousand fervored bees, of Marisa's favorite card roared into full bloom within half a second, bathing everything below her in pure laser as every star she left behind in her reckless ascension descended like comets, exploding into many more constellations upon impact with the floor. Such was the sheer energy of the spellcard that the very sky lit up, the clouds parting as if fearful of the sheer amount of firepower just displayed.

Over. Just like that, it was over.

Floating downwards, Marisa grinned at the sight of Kokoro sprawled out on the floor spread eagle, clothes torn and eyes gazing blankly upwards.

"You're...strong," the mask girl said finally.

Marisa's grin turned into a smile, her eyes soft as she rested a cheek on her broom. "I'd hope so."
Sugoiiii~
[23:02] <~Iced> You have sown the seeds of your own destruction Amra.
[23:20] <Stuffman> enjoy your personally crafted hell Amra