Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

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Frigid Ingrid
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Frigid Ingrid »

Ingrid followed the others to the dining room, but it took some effort not to stop and gawk at the decor and furnishings of the magnificent New England mansion. Superficially it bore a strong resemblance to her own home in Portland, but there was an indefinable quality to the real thing, a feeling of age and tradition and... memory.

"If these walls could talk..." she silently mouthed the cliche.

Talking was something the room could use more of. The odd collection of guests Marlowe had gathered did not represent any kind of cohesive social group. Most of them were as much strangers to each other as they were to their mysterious host. Diyar was the only one she really knew herself, at least to have socialized with in the past. Others were known to her, like Ves who was easily recognizable and seemed friendly enough. The same could be said for Val, the snake girl. Then there was Timothy and Barjnal, an oddly matched pair if ever there was one. They'd never spoken, but she'd been keeping an eye on them, always suspicious of anyone who's aura she couldn't read. Like Marlowe, they seemed to be deliberately masking theirs.

Most of the others she couldn't even name, like the trio of loner girls ahead of her. In her head, Ingrid labelled them as "50's Hair", "White Hair", and "Purple Hair". Then there was another girl she seemed to recall had some kind of reputation as a trouble-maker. Certainly not someone she'd have expected Marlowe to be friends with, but then it was already obvious that Marlowe had something other than friendship in mind when he drew up his guest list.

"Seems to be a lot of girls here," she mused, briefly wondering if Marlowe was not quite as "quite" as rumour made him out to be. Then she noticed the boy taking the seat next to hers. The one they called "Zombie". Looking at him, she thought she knew why. He was fairly cadaverous looking, reminding her of some of the hopeless addicts she'd seen in the poorer parts of Paragon. He had a friendly smile though. Given how tolerant the general run of Saint Joe's students were, she found it strange he'd been saddled with such a mean-spirited nickname. Out of habit, she gave his aura a quick read.

"Oh..."
ImageImage

Ingrid: "Last night was great, except for all those walking slabs of meat and muscle trying to puke all over me."
Rudi: "Vahzilok mission?"
Ingrid: "No. After-game party with the football team."
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QueenCobra
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by QueenCobra »

Val followed the rest of the crowd, quietly. She recognized all of the people. There was of course her roomie Ves, her good friend Kiery, and Bri's friend Ingrid. As she looked and recognized all of the students, her mind was tangled.

Okay, why were we all invited? We have like, absolutely nothing in common.

She sighed, and figured she wouldn't have too bad of a time.

She was seated across from Kiery, and next to Dmitri. The farthest from Marlowe, woo hoo.

She sat through his long dialogue, but as he described the dinner, her mouth watered with anticipation. She hasn't had this nice of a dinner in a while.


Whilst the others were gossiping and waiting for the appetisers to be served, Val felt she needed to get up and do some exploring of this humoungous mansion. When Marlowe's butler passes by, Val tapped his shoulder and asked, "Could you please point me towards the ladies' room?"

So Val sneaked towards the hallway she was directed to, and looked down the various hallways adjascent from her.

Wow... big place. I could get lost out here.

She turned away, but as she did, something gleaming caught her eye. She turned back and saw the paned window, normal as ever. She shrugged, used the bathroom, and sat back down as the starters were being served.
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Timothy Bastian
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Timothy Bastian »

Timothy glanced musingly at the other students who were present, looking for any patterns among them that might shed some clue on why they were chosen. The only commonality they seemed to share was their attendance at St. Joseph School. Perhaps the reason was in their differences. They did comprise a coarse sampling of some of the school's diverse social groups. Was Marlowe targeting the whole school through them as a proxy?

Good King Wenceslas began to play softly, its soothing melody flowing through the room. Timothy noted that the other students quieted further. He listened warily, knowing that music could be a means of magic. Do you sense any magic about it, Barj?

About what, the music? Barjnal glanced at him. No, it sounds safe to me. Do you?

He listened more closely. There was a faint, almost inaudible quality to it, almost like a hiss underneath the music. It took him a moment to realize what it was. I think it's just a record playing. I don't sense any magic, either. That wasn't as comforting as he'd like, though. He knew that neither he nor Barj had much experience with aural magic. He tried to remember the words to the carol. There was something about the king going out in the winter weather to do something for a peasant, but he couldn't recall what. He wondered briefly if perhaps Marlowe saw himself as a monarch, doing his good deed for Christmas by inviting them all to supper.

The sharp sound of a bell brought his focus back to Marlowe for a moment before moving on to Marlowe's manservant. He studied the man closely as he began to distribute champagne glasses. There was a strong aura of demonic magic about the man, but neither he nor Barj could discern anything through it. When he was handed his glass in turn, he regarded it cautiously. How about this, Barj? He glanced at Barj, who was squinting at his own glass.

I don't see anything on it. He sounded wary as well.

Me either. Of course, if the drinks were drugged they'd have no way of sensing that by magic. He was glad he'd put wards on them both against mind-altering substances and poisons, though he doubted that something so direct as that fit Marlowe's style.

The manservant spoke briefly to Marlowe, then left the room. Marlowe delivered a short speech, explaining the Feast of the Winter Solstice as a family tradition that he was looking to revive. He had to wonder what hidden significance the event held for the Faust family. Marlowe finished his speech, issuing up a toast.

"Zum Wohl." Timothy spoke the words neutrally, then drank. It was indeed grape juice, and nothing seemed odd about it except for its exceptional quality.

Timothy and Barjnal walked with the rest of their peers through the foyer to the dining room, then sought out their seats.

Timothy... Barj's anxious voice cut into his thoughts.

He looked over at the seat Barjnal had stopped at. It was next to the head of the table, at Marlowe's right. Timothy didn't think that was a good sign, but didn't mention that to Barj. Instead, he conveyed a sense of reassurance through the bond. I'm right here, across the table from you. You'll be okay.

Timothy hoped he was right.
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Elly
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Elly »

There were 13 students here. So what?

It wasn't just the number, though. The entire mansion had been giving Elly a hint of heebies with a side of jeebies from the moment she stepped inside. It was as if there was something just out of the corner of her eye that was simply wrong. Or maybe something that should have been there but wasn't.

Without thinking about it, she rubbed her sleeve. The bracers underneath had tingled again.

It was probably her imagination, but the host seemed to note the gesture and smile in an odd way. She was no longer interested in kissing him.

Did he know about the bracers? Was that why the invite? She didn't really know any of the other guests save Diyar, and him only through Myshka, but the group as a whole seemed to lean heavily toward the mystic end of the freak qualifications (save, obviously, the robot girl). Of course, she was pretty sure that the rest had been at it a lot longer than her, and many of them likely understood how they did what they did. Maybe they all knew why they were here and thought she did as well. Was there going to be a spellcasting? A sacrifice? Double double, toil and trouble, that sort of thing?

No, she was getting paranoid. Not like it was Halloween or anything, it was just the start of winter. She was in a weird gothic mansion with a weird gothic student, but nothing here should scare anyone over the age of ten. She'd lived on the streets of the Row. She'd been nearly killed twelve times over the past three months. That was scary. This was just a damn house.

The glasses reached her. One sniff told her well before Marlowe did that she wasn't going to sneak around her probation with this drink. She raised it in the toast anyway, but subbed out whatever Marlowe said with a "sieg heil." In sync with the others, but someone seated near her caught her words and snorted quietly.

Elly smiled and drank, then followed the rest into the dining room. The Spark Princess strikes a heroic blow against creepiness.
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Karakuriya
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Karakuriya »

Why am I here?

It was the only consistently well-formed thought in Aeon's head as she politely swept through the motions of listening and toasting and dining and banter. That, and by being the only one, at least in her mind, appropriately attired aside from the host, she felt self-consciously over-dressed, as usual.

Her eyes scraped across each of the guests, and for the first time she was anxious at the whirring--and at every other little click and creak her body made, even though she was likely the only one to hear the vibrations telegraphing up her bones.

Barjnal: he was a demon of some sort, Vesper certainly appeared to be one herself. Timothy was attached to Barj. Elly was the girl with the irremovable bracers and Diyar was similarly bound by some ancestral power. April wasn't shy about her control of the nether, nor was Ingrid about her unnatural chill. Bob was a voodoo zombie and Valerie was a snake girl. The only unknowns here were Kierin and Dimitri, though Aeon guessed they weren't simple mutants.

And then there was Marlowe, an enigmatic young warlock, wizened beyond his years, darkened by something that felt vaguely familiar.

His guest list read like a Who's Who of the M.A.G.I.-affiliated students at Saint Joseph School. And in the midst of them sat this calligraphic ink blot: the girl engineered to hold the correct fork, yet hold no appetite for such a cultured menu.

She picked at her vegetables, eschewing the vinaigrette, getting down as much of the pasta as she dared. So why had she been invited? It must have been a mistake. She took an indelicately large sip of wine. There wasn't an inch of mysticality to her. Mystery, sure, but, she didn't know a spell from a Spätzle recipe. A polite smile, another sip.

A pillar of ice shot down her spine, so unexpected and uncharacteristic of her automatic responses, that Aeon paused with the glass halfway lifted, the color and expression drained from her face in acute keenness. Slowly she craned her neck to see Marlowe gazing knowingly down the length of the massive hardwood table at her. Violent green iris blades retracted to engage the threat. She felt suddenly peeled away, transparent.

She wondered, What was it that he saw sitting there?

"When we fall in love / We're just falling / In love with ourselves / We're spiraling" -- Keane, "Spiraling"
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Marlowe J. Faust
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Marlowe J. Faust »

Marlowe rang the small silver bell that he kept at his right hand. Once again, the chime seemed louder than it should have. This spoke more about the uneasiness of the diners and the quiet of the room than the sharp tone.

There had been some talking, that was true enough, but it was sporadic and in hushed tones. Marlowe was disappointed in himself. The vague memory he had of his parent’s last celebration was of a raucous affair with wine and laughter, by comparison his had become a somber affair. Any attempt the young host had made at striking up an exchange seemed to spark a few quick answers or statements and would rapidly fizzle back to silence.

Robert entered the dining room to collect the plates from each of the young man’s diner guests. Most seemed to eat sparingly, with one or two just politely poking at the meal, but Robert carried no completely empty plates with him back to the kitchen. The polite demeanor never slipped from Marlowe’s face as we wondered what had possessed him to invite this stranger’s into his home, his one sanctuary from the prying eyes of this world and the ones beyond.

Even Marlowe himself had not known why this group had been the one invited; yet he had hand written all the invitations himself. At the time; it had seemed like the names of these twelve had simply been at the front of his mind, somehow he had known that for whatever there reasons that these twelve students would come to his home.

They almost imperceptible squeak of the service cart’s rear wheel drew nearer as Robert brought in the desserts. The flame haired young man at the head of the table watched as the small cakes and ice cream were served to each of his guests in turn as the cart made it’s way counter clockwise around the perimeter of the table.

Robert finished handing the guest’s their desserts as he wheeled the sterling silver cart to Marlowe’s side; the older man leaned into the boy’s ears and began whispering. Momentarily, the slightest look of concern flashed across the young sorcerer’s face. The host stood up from the table.

“I’m afraid, you all must excuse me for the briefest moment,” Marlowe said to his quests. He then turned and made his way to the front entrance. As the teenager left the room, Robert quietly returned the serving cart to the kitchen, leaving the collected guests alone in the dining room.

The boy opened the large front door. The door was almost pulled from his grip as the howling winds outside nearly slammed the door back against the foyer wall. Marlowe looked out into the winter storm that had a few hours ago had merely been a picturesque winter snow flurry. The storm had intensified severely since the group had sat down to the table, the front lawn of the estate coated with snow at least ankle deep. There was very little to be seen past the doorway, he whiteout of the storm had hidden from view even the end of the drive.

Marlowe slowly with great effort shut his door on the fury of the storm raging along the Providence coastline. The boy calmly brushed at his dinner jacket, wiping away the white flakes that had blown in and landed atop his clothing.

He made his return to the dining room and looked across the faces of his gathered classmates; Marlowe took notice of the few who seemed to have a look of interruption, as if they had been speaking in his absences yet ceased immediately upon his return.

“I am afraid, my dear friends, that forces greater then we have conspired against us,” he smiled with the statement intending it as a jest. “A snow squall seems to have settle in atop of us. From what little I can see outside and what Robert has just shared with me, the roads are near impassable. It seems that you all should probably, remain my guests for the rest of the evening as well.”

As Marlowe spoke to his company, Robert returned from the servant’s hallway and caught his young master’s eye. The host then motioned to the older man. “Robert, will should call the school and alert them to the weather and that we are unwilling to risk the safety of our guests in order to risk a return trip this evening. Let them know that we have plenty of rooms available and please reassure the sisters that you are here in order to chaperone.” The boy then turned to the group of teenagers, “We have enough bedrooms for everyone, do not worry. There is a telephone in the lounge, where you all may call those who may be waiting for you.”

“After you have called the school, Robert, please ready the third floor rooms. After we have finished our dessert, we shall adjourn to the fireside in the Hall.” With that sentence, Marlowe returned to his seat at the head of the table. While he settled into the high back chair the boy thought ahead to what this strange night may hold in store.
"Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it. Thinks thou that I, who saw the face of God and tasted the eternal joys of heaven, am not tormented with ten thousand hells in being deprived of everlasting bliss?" - Mefistofele
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Sunfire Dervish
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Sunfire Dervish »

Diyar raised his napkin to his mouth, letting out a small burp. He looked up at Ingrid, blushing, but the girl was engaged in very polite conversation with zombie sitting next to her. He smirked a little, then turned his attention back towards Marlowe.

I don't trust him.

Yeah, and I don't really trust you. What's your point.

Diyar winced as a headache suddenly crashed in right behind his eye.

Hush. I'm serious here. You saw the house, you know how uneasy YOU were feeling.

Diyar sighed to himself, then turned back to look in front of him. He had eaten most of the food, but much of it was way too fancy for him, and the taste...

No, it really didn't taste very good.

At least we can agree on THAT.

The butler was back in, passing out what looked like ice cream and cookies. When it was set in front of Aeon, Diyar grimaced a little. It really didn't look appetizing, and when it was placed in front of him, he closed his eyes, the look on his face matching the feeling of dread in his stomach. Politely, he lifted his spoon to sample the ice cream when he noticed Marlowe standing up, concern etched on his face like on a stone. He walked off, and Diyar heard the faintest rumbling of a door opening somewhere off in the house.

Marlowe wasn't out of the room two seconds before the noise in the room was deafening.

"Oh my gosh, what WAS that..."
"...the lamb wasn't so bad, but the vegies were..."
"...he just gives me the creeps, I mean..."
"Yeah, and this house sure doesn't help either."

Glad to see we're not the only ones. Who is this Marlowe?

Diyar took a bite of the ice cream, surpised that it actually seemed edible, but was sure to stay clear of the jelly, whatever it was. He downed the two cookies pretty quickly as well, and smiled. He actually started feeling full from the dinner.

I really don't know. I know he's a student, but other than that...you're asking the wrong person.

April was turned and trying to get Diyar's attention, when Marlowe came back into the room, his face unreadable. The room was instantly quiet.

The host looked around at his guest, then smiled. "I am afraid, my dear friends, that forces greater then we have conspired against us. A snow squall seems to have settle in atop of us. From what little I can see outside and what Robert has just shared with me, the roads are near impassable. It seems that you all should probably, remain my guests for the rest of the evening as well.” He beckoned to the butler, who had just reentered the room. "Robert, will should call the school and alert them to the weather and that we are unwilling to risk the safety of our guests in order to risk a return trip this evening. Let them know that we have plenty of rooms available and please reassure the sisters that you are here in order to chaperone.” He turned around and left the room, and Marlowe looked back at the group. “We have enough bedrooms for everyone, do not worry. There is a telephone in the lounge, where you all may call those who may be waiting for you.”

Diyar's eyes widened. It was one thing being in the house for dinner and a party, even if the party wasn't what he'd have called a party, but to spend the night? The idea of a massive slumber party in the main hall near the fireplace flashed into mind as being much more enjoyable.

And probably safer.

Diyar looked up towards Marlowe. He had still been talking, and now was sitting back down, a look of contemplation on his face. Diyar wondered what he could be thinking, sitting there atop his throne. It was odd. Usually Diyar could read someone like a book, know how nervous they were or if they had something to hide. But Marlowe...it didn't look like he was even breathing at times. His eyes seemed cold and lifeless. His face too perfect, almost exaggerated at times. He didn't know why he felt so uneasy around him, but the feeling was still there. And the house seemed to only magnify the feelings.

Diyar shuddered a little, looking down at his ice cream, and finished off the last few bites before looking back up, scanning the room of friends, smiling at Ingrid and Elly. Then he glanced at Marlowe, and their eyes locked, just for a second. He felt a shudder, then blinked, breaking his gaze and looking back down very quickly at his plate, trying to strike up a conversation with April. There was a growl in the deepest corner of his mind.

At least we can agree on that...
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Elly
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Elly »

"Look, it's a damn blizzard! How could I have had anything to do with it?" Elly glared at the phone; this accomplished little but at least made her feel better. "Look, you guys wanted me to stay here until I got picked up. You want me to leave now, you can send Bert out in this mess to get me. 'Cause I sure as hell ain't walking back to town through that."

The person on the other end could be heard discussing things with someone -- probably that "Wintor" bastard -- before finally responding. "Very well. Stay on the property. No alcohol, no--"

"I know that part!"

"We'll send someone when the roads clear. Be ready for retrieval by 7 am." He hung up before Elly could object to either the early wakeup call or being "retrieved" like a package. Ass.

She had half-hoped that they would send someone just to spite her, maybe a weather wizard of some kind to clear up the storm. Dinner had been okay after she'd adjusted to the oddities of the place, but spending the night? Snowbound in a huge empty place like this, with only the company of twelve very loose acquaintances and one butler? Wasn't that how murder mysteries and slasher films started?

Said butler led her upstairs, and to her mild surprise she found herself in the doorway of a luxurious bedroom. She'd known the house was expensive, but she'd been too distracted by the creep factor to realize what this would mean about sleeping arrangements. The fear factor drained away as she looked the room over. "Whoa... okay, this'll do. Dibs on the bed."

"'Dibs'?" The butler didn't seem to know the word.

"Well, I'll work it out with my roommate. Who'd I get tagged with?" She wasn't sure the bed was large enough to share comfortably, since she was a tosser in her sleep, but the couch looked more comfy than her bed back at the dorm. On the other hand, she might roll off it...

"No roommate, Miss Smith. This room is yours alone for the night. Have a good evening; I shall be in the first floor vestibule until 10pm if needed."

"....get out!"

The butler was already doing so literally. Elly looked around the room again with a rather silly grin on her face. All hers? She'd shared spaces a third this size!

Her coast, scarf, and boots got tossed in a corner, then she flopped out onto the bed and stretched out comfortably. Hell, this was worth getting murdered in her sleep over!

The bracers chose that moment to tingle again. She slammed her wrists against the mattress in a futile attempt to quiet them, but the mood was, pardon the expression, killed. Suddenly the dark colors of the room and the howling wind outside dominated her attention.

She wondered how sturdy that door was.
Sometimes I lie awake at night and I ask, "Why me?", then a voice answers "Nothing personal, your name just happened to come up." - Charlie Brown
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Sunfire Dervish
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Sunfire Dervish »

Diyar turned the bolt, locking the door after the butler had left. He pulled off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair in the room, then quickly tore off the bright red bow-tie and threw it toward the jacket. He unbuttoned the top couple buttons of his shirt and the ones on his cuffs. He looked into the mirror opposite the chair and smiled a bit, much more comfortable. He began to look about the small guest room, which very easily could have been the size of the room he shared with Mike, Arkady, and Garrison. The bed was plush and comfy, the furniture all dark in color yet seemed very inviting, a stark contrast to the rest of the house.

Damn...no TV. Oh well...

"I think this is hardly the time to worry about your late night shows, Shon."

Diyar groaned and plopped onto the bed. He looked back towards the mirror, and could begin to see a flame, and then a shadow behind his reflection.

"I told you not to let your guard down."

"Get off it. Besides, everything is fine."

The flames behind his reflection got darker for a moment. "You know THAT'S a lie. You've been on edge ever since YOU arrived at this...place." A shiver ran down Diyar's spine.

Diyar shook his head. "Whatever. Leave me alone, jeez. I'm exhausted, a bit cold, and very lazy after that meal." He laid down on the bed for a moment, then suddenly got back up, staring intently at the mirror. The flames still shown brightly behind his reflection, the shadow still there. "Say something."

"What?"

Diyar's eyes widened. The voice had come, but he realized that he hadn't said a thing; his mouth had been closed the whole time, even in his reflection.

Do it again. Say anything, I don't care what.

"This seems rather pointless, Shon. What's going...on..." Diyar felt the sense of realization sink in with The Flame.

"What's going on here?"

The flames in his reflection darkened again, and Diyar could hear a low growl in the room.

"I do not like this place."
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Elly
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Elly »

"This better be important."

The acolyte on the phone sounded nervous. And confused. "Well, sir, it's about the Princess."

"Smith?" Ariphorex Wen Tor checked the time; the diviners had planned to check her location about thirty minutes ago. "Don't tell me she was actually stupid enough to leave in a blizzard."

"Well, sir, we... we aren't quite sure."

"...you aren't sure." His tone suggested he had better things to do than wait for the desired elaboration.

"Yes sir, we had a very hard time, well..."

"She's permanently bonded to a pair of Ishtar Class artifacts. What's so hard about finding her?" Tor had other heroes under his supervision, but "the Princess" took up ninety percent of his attention these days. He'd considered himself blessed when he been assigned the latest of the Tian-Mu line for his care... then he'd met the girl. The gods had a sense of humor, and it was malicious.

"We did... eventually. But there seems to be a shroud on her location. It took us nearly half an hour just to pierce it enough to confirm--"

"Then you are sure she's there."

"Well... as sure as we can be. But sir, if there's a shroud--"

"The manor is owned by a registered MAGI hero, it's got a long history of mages owning it, and it's the Solstice. Use your damn brain. MAGI headquarters sure as hell has defenses against scrying set up today; who knows what weirdness might be attracted to that many mages in one place otherwise? That Faust kid probably set it up himself to protect his property."

"...sir?" the cowed acolyte replied eventually. "Then what should we do about the Princess?"

"Remember what I said about your brain? No, probably not. Look, wake me again if she's left the property or she's dead. Other than that, I don't give a damn." He slammed the phone down. The girl was really more trouble than she was worth sometimes.
Sometimes I lie awake at night and I ask, "Why me?", then a voice answers "Nothing personal, your name just happened to come up." - Charlie Brown
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Elly
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Elly »

She feels like she's been wandering through the manor for days, though it can't have been more than an hour. The wind still howls outside, and her bedroom is nowhere to be found.

With relief, she suddenly discovers faint orange light coming from under a door. A fireplace? Fireplaces require someone to light them. The thought drives her as she opens the door.

But there's no one to greet her, no fire either -- although the room is certainly warm considering the weather -- just an empty room with a pale orange glow, and another door at the far end. The far door is an oddity, solid oak, and looking almost like a section of wall, but a wall from somewhere else in the house entirely. In this room, it stands out dramatically, especially since the orange light seems to be concentrated around it. Curious, she walks forward and touches its surface...

and she flew at an alien battleship and the plasma struck her and she was dead; and she defended two crying girls from a cyborg and metal pierced her and she was dead; and she faced an army of soldiers and the bullets tore through her and she was dead; and she was dead, and she was dead, and she was....

She bolts. Away from the door; whatever lies behind it has killed her a thousand times and she'll be the thousand and first if she doesn't get away...

...the door she entered through is closed. It refuses to budge.

She pounds on it, biting back the urge to scream for help, pulling on the handle with all the strength she can muster. She's finally rewarded with the sounded of hinges creaking... until she realizes the sound came from behind her...

The room has become hotter, the orange glow brighter. The scent of blood enters her nostrils. She hears breathing, heavy breathing, something very large and toothy, and she knows if she turns to face it, it will eat her whole...

The voice comes thick, echoing across the room. "This door is mine. This manor is mine. Who are you to intrude!"

The last place she wants to be is near the door or in the manor. She'll gladly leave.

"That was not my question." The voice seems to come from all the walls, the entire house, but she knows for certain the speaker is right behind her. "Who are you! Name yourself!"

She is... she... what was her name?

"Who are you!"

Not amnesia. Amnesia means you forget everything, right? She remembers Saint Joe's: Brianna, Myshka, Ty, that asshole Marlowe who thought it would be fun for everyone to spent the night here. She remembers the bracers, MAGI, Azuria. She remembers the Row, as much as she'd like to forget it: her foster parents, being chased by Skulls in alleys, hiding in empty warehouses. Why the hell couldn't she remember her own #&$^ing name? Does she even have one?

She can almost hear the voice smile as that last thought entered her head. "You don't have one, do you."

She doesn't.

"She does."

There's a second voice behind her, female, determined. She's heard the voice before, she's sure, but it's in the same place as her name, locked away, lost.

"You are right to fear her. But you will not challenge her today."

"I do not fear her. I can destroy her right now. She doesn't even know who she is!"

"I do. She is mine. And you cannot have her."

The entire world growls. "Stop me from taking her, then."

And the orange glow behind her suddenly goes white as the second voice, now strained yet fierce, cries out, "Awaken! If only a little, awaken, Princess--!"

And the Princess flies up, fleeing the battle, as the entire manor begins to collapse around Her bracers were sizzling against her skin.

Elly's eyes opened to stare at the ceiling. That... she... she was in the guest room again... it was a nightmare. That's all. A very intense nightmare... it wasn't real. Nothing at all to fear.

She was still awake anyway when the sun rose.
Sometimes I lie awake at night and I ask, "Why me?", then a voice answers "Nothing personal, your name just happened to come up." - Charlie Brown
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Sunfire Dervish
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Sunfire Dervish »

"This is foolish. He will not help us."

"For the last time, shut up. Jeeze...I thought it was bad enough being able to hear you in my head..."

The two figures crept forward, the fire from the spirit giving off a soft orange glow that illuminated enough of the hall to see a few feet ahead.

Diyar scratched his arm a bit, more out of anxiety. The two had been roaming the halls of the house for what seemed like hours now, walking in circles most of the time, trying to find the master bedroom. The detour to the kitchen for snacks hadn't helped either.

Diyar stomach grumbled, and he stopped, covering it with both hands and turning back to The Flame. If its eyes had had pupils, he was sure they were directed upward; the sigh it let out and the slight intensity in brightness of the fire that poked out of it here and there showed its annoyance. "You cannot seriously be hungry again."

The boy shrugged. "I can't help it." He turned back around and was about to go forward when a low moan came from in front of them. Diyar pressed against one of the walls, instinct taking over, trying to stay as hidden as possible. The moan came again, and Diyar could feel a slight movement of air infront of him. He turned his head towards the spirit and motioned for it to move forward to give him more light. As the fire lit up the hall in front of him, Diyar could see two large wooden doors in front of them. There was a slight opening between them, and the air coming out was much colder. "Help me open these..."

The Flame moved forward, gripping the handle of one of the doors while Diyar held onto the other. They both pulled, and without even a whine or a rumble the massive doors opened up to a large hall. Couches lined a few of the walls, and one entire side seemed like it was nothing but windows. Large, heavy curtains covered them all, but here and there the blizzard outside could be seen sweeping over the mansion. The wind howled eerily outside in the night.

"Shon..."

Diyar turned towards the spirit behind him. The flames that poked out from it and encircled its head had turned a bright blue. Its mouth was drawn up in what could only be a smile, but the stony face could show no other emotion. Its voice was relaxed, elated, drugged almost. It opened it arms and let its head lean back. The air around it crackled excitedly, and Diyar could feel a small tingling on the back of his neck...
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Karakuriya
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Karakuriya »

"This way miss."

The old butler held open the door to one of the guest rooms, his other hand clutched against his abdomen. Aeon nodded and moved, unsure, into the room, her steps minced by the cut of her gown.

"Lavatories are down the hall. Please do make yourself comfortable. Good night."

With that, the door closed nearly on top of her and she was alone. She might have felt fear if her brain worked right.

Outside the storm tugged at the window, the glass clattering against the old panes; though, mysteriously, it didn't draft. The room smelled of musty disuse and a strange, mystic scent Aeon couldn't place, though she'd first noticed it upon entering the house, so was not unusual in that respect. However, the distinct absence of dust on any of the furniture, perhaps, was. It was a small room, the full array of amenities in dark hardwoods crowding each other in a display of the priorities of another age. Aeon found her hand on the busy wallpaper, taken in by its familiarity.

Trapped, as though in a dream that had yet to take its unexpected turn.

Its clasps released, the silk organza disengaged and poured to the floor, pooling around her feet like the clotted blood of whatever small creature had given up its career in living to become clothes. Carefully, Aeon scooped up the gown and placed it on a hanger in the wardrobe; she had curried too many favors to return it slept-in. She felt the chill cascading from the window now that she stood in her underwear, an awkwardly posed doll awaiting her next role in the cutaway house.

Sleep would end it. She would wake up and the storm would be over and she could dress up and take the train home and it would be picturesque and she could forget that any of this had ever happened.

Aeon turned out the light, carefully slid beneath the foreign sheets of the creaky bed, and waited for the night to claim her.

"When we fall in love / We're just falling / In love with ourselves / We're spiraling" -- Keane, "Spiraling"
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Karakuriya
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Karakuriya »

We have captured a ghost. Her skin is alabaster, as delicate as rice paper, glistening like mica. Her hair is the color of wet wood violets in the shade, and the locks dance like kelp fronds about her empty face that holds eyes made from wells of ink, weeping black. Her hands hang slack; her legs and feet are barely there, coming and going as a cloud passes through a moonbeam.

Her face betrays the truth: she is alive, she suffers. Perhaps it is a glamor and she merely invokes such poetics, but that is why she was brought to us. She will save the Perdix Commission--if only we can save her soul from her body.



  • Every time I wake, I feel like I might drown. The ether is all around me, inside me. Sometimes I try to see through the glass; I peer at the shadows that move beyond the walls of my aquarium. It is all I know anymore. There is not much time to think about anything else. I only have seven seconds of distraction from the pain.

    Every seven seconds, four-hundred milliamps pass through my body. The ether--my cradle, my grave--it sings to me.

    Just like the ones I used to know. Hail the moonlight cocktail. Am I dreamin'? I can hear her screamin'. With her eyes of night and lips as bright as flame. This is why I never fell.

    Every seven seconds I am saved from the brink of death in an epileptic dance.




Schwimmen für uns, kleine Fische.

"When we fall in love / We're just falling / In love with ourselves / We're spiraling" -- Keane, "Spiraling"
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Karakuriya
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Re: Feast of the Winter Solstice (Closed)

Post by Karakuriya »

  • Minerva dances on clouds and flies through waves. The virgin goddess with inkwell eyes slides down the sliver beam, descending to alight on the belly of the girl in repose. She places her crown of gold and violets on the girl's head and then, smiling, buries her hands in the girl's chest. The ghost coils around the girl's heart and sleeps as well, gripping it in her nightmares.
Aeon woke with a start. Minerva. The unnamed donor of her powers, the soul she and Sydney had split between them...and the others of their strain who had not survived. Her name was Minerva. The name rang so clearly. But how could she so vividly recall a woman she had never known?

"Finally starting to really remember?"

The voice was oddly familiar, like hearing herself on a tape recorder. It reverberated around her, off the stone ceiling roughly cut into the bedrock, the source obfuscated. Where was she? The rafters were hung with old lamps, though the ceiling was also splashed with a wedge of light, presumably from an upstairs hall. Cheery and warm, Aeon felt the hope drain from her as it shrank to a sliver and disappeared with the click of a door latch. A wooden staircase creaked. She tried to turn her head but found her forehead secured.

Into her vision moved a girl who couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen. Her hair was a dark, shiny sheet that glowed cherry red underneath, her round features doing little to soften her spiteful and calculating almond-eyed gaze as she peered down at Aeon.

"Because it would be a shame if you didn't know why we were doing this."

The girl disapepared again and there was a soft grunt of exertion followed by the turning of ancient gears, and the world began to rotate around her. Aeon was strapped to an enormous wooden slab, arms and legs and mechanical wings splayed out and secured by petrifying leather straps, plasticky and chipped with age and use. Thirteen points immobile.

She could see the girl now as she moved across the room, a neon purple triangle peaking above the waist of skinny, cropped pants in the gap left by the tank top as she bent. She returned with a fire axe, little biceps straining with the weight as she thumbed the chipped edge contemplatively. It passed muster and she awkwardly shouldered the thing, turning to Aeon who, somewhere between noticing the girl's bellybutton ring and the pinching of a strap on her left thigh, remembered lucidity and sentience. She almost formed the shape of, "What," with her mouth before, all too quickly, the girl's eyebrows furrowed, her body heaved, and the axe head came down through her upper right arm. The pain didn't register as much as the horror; the disembodied thing writhed in the restraints, muscles rolling up inside it like window shades. Red gutted everywhere with the initial pressure of the blow, now reducing to an oily ooze down the wood and her side, circulation automatically isolated from the severed limb.

The girl half-tsked, half-groaned. "Goddamnit, missed." Arms strained to raise the axe again, higher this time.

Aeon snapped to action in a sudden, too-late panic. Two point of the restraint gone, she wiggled just enough to angle her remaining blade up through the wrist cuff.

"Don't move! Hey!"

In seconds she was free, having slid down from the slab, and was now running for the stairs. The younger girl faltered as she attempted pursuit, high-laced wrestling boots sliding in a puddle of hydraulic fluid, the weight of the axe throwing her off.

"No! Damnit, stop!"

Aeon heard a clang and the slap of flesh on the stone floor, but the pounding of her own feet on the stairs and the blood terror in her head obscured anything afterward. Across the foyer, she wrenched the heavy front door of the mansion open and was gone.

The snowy family graveyard gave way to a stretch of meadow, a break in the surrounding forest. She sprinted through the drifts as best she could, squinting against the icy wind.

"Give it back!"

The shriek came from not far behind her. The axe girl was gaining, the loss of Aeon's arm hampering her balance and speed. No, it wasn't that she was slow, this girl was fast. She wouldn't make the forest, she would have to turn and fight.

The girl's eyes narrowed as she readied the axe, sliding to a stop across the snow-wet grass. "One last time or I just kill you: give it."

"Give what?"

Aeon barely dodged the weapon and the girl squirmed out of the single blade's arc in return. This child was just a human and the axe far too large; how could they possibly be evenly matched? Then, in sudden realization, Aeon angrily set her jaw. She knew this body, this speed, these tricks. They were her own--had been her own once. But no longer. The axe swing carried the girl an extra step and Aeon lunged in for a backhand slash.

It passed through. The axe blade buried a few inches in the loamy soil, the girl simply straightened and began to laugh. Invisible walls held it from the wind and it reverberated around them, bitter and humorless.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the girl crooned. "Have you forgotten how to do that, too?"

Overcome with a rare impulse, Aeon launched a flurry of blows intended to startle, though not connect, and then she brought her forehead down onto the girl's own and she flew back dazed. Aeon staggered blearily after her and they slid over the lip of a small hill and into a snowy ditch. She tumbled to pin the girl on her stomach with luck and weight alone, pressing her check into the rough, icy grass. The girl sputtered and giggled, misting the snow red. Now what?

The stench of burning oil invaded Aeon's nostrils. Along the side of the road in the near distance, a twisted steel mass gutted a plume of black into the night sky. The quiet geometry of a girl obscured it slightly, ghostlike, in a white-and-pink-rosebud sundress despite the cold. Skinny white legs beneath a white rectangle under a black sphere. She turned, then, and regarded them as if a pile of dismembered and grease-slicked twins in a roadside ditch was somehow mundane and melancholic. A sharp pang of longing struck Aeon like a gong, spreading, growing, bittersweet.

The axe girl snorted snow and wet leaves and cackled morosely. "You can't ever be that girl again." She squirmed and smiled up at Aeon as blackly and twisted as the smoking wreck. "You never were her."

"When we fall in love / We're just falling / In love with ourselves / We're spiraling" -- Keane, "Spiraling"
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