Re: The Phenomenal Fracas! (GBS2G6): [Round Two: Witch's Haunt]
11-02-2010, 10:35 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.
Miq was confused. You weren’t just whisked away from some great big tower in the middle of nowhere, forced to sit through some great big monologue, shown some great big mansion, then left alone in some great big attic to mull over your thoughts. Things like that typically culminated in some sort of opulent ceremony, followed by fine dining and more speeches. But no, she’d just been sent to some attic somewhere. Granted, it was a nice attic, but there wasn’t anyone around. Nobody to dine, nobody to make more speeches, nobody to go dancing to the latest mechanipiano concerto piece or whateverthehell they did in places like this.
After a few minutes of growing restless, she finally realized that there wasn’t anybody to hide from, either. Then she was in heaven. The attic was filled with a ridiculous volume of boxes and miscellany, plenty of things to rifle through and inspect for value. But as Miq looked about, she found everything was either too big or too boring. A crib, an old pair of wooden oars, a few fancy portraits – and all the boxes mostly contained clothes and pictures and books and toys that had long since passed out of usefulness; nothing of any value but the sentimental kind, and who cared about that?
So she tried getting in one of the boxes. After all, a wastebasket is not typical fare for an indoor environment, and Miq was naturally inclined to blend in as much as possible. These boxes were all over the attic, and wouldn’t seem too out of place in the rest of the house while she searched for something more suitable. They were the natural choice of camouflage, so Miq slipped out of her trash can and into one of the emptier ones.
The fusion ritual initiated immediately upon contact with the crate. Various three-dimensional alchemic glyphs appeared in the air surrounding the box, radiating soft light of every color. They spun about, smaller ones appearing and disappearing in patterns only a trained eye would be able to discern. The symbols oscillated faster as Miq settled into the box, tendrils flowing out and sticking to the sides. Prime arcane schemata blurred into a single glowing sphere, vanishing in a cloud of smoke as the ceremony concluded.
Before she could wonder why her teeth hadn’t grown in, the box unceremoniously flung her out.
She panicked and scrambled for her old shell. She took a moment to catch her figurative breath, shed a few flakes of glass, and figure out what the hell just happened before moving on to the next logical step.
She tried again.
Several times.
The boxes grew progressively better at deflecting her attempts to control them, and the Mimic finally gave up when she stopped being able to touch the boxes entirely. Oh, but what did she care if the boxes didn’t want her? She didn’t want the boxes either! They weren’t even very good boxes, anyway. All flimsy and cardboard and hang on what’s this
Carelessly knocking down the same precarious stack of packages for the third time, the wastebin tottered over to an ornate wooden chest. Unsurprisingly, it was locked, but locks were easy when your body was malleable semifluid. Miq popped it open, and was immediately disappointed. All it contained was a moldy sunhat, a framed picture, two books, a pair of keys, and a gold locket. Wait. Keys and a locket? Score.
Really, it was too bad that the boxes around here didn’t want her to get in them. This one was fairly roomy, but not too much hassle to maneuver. Just the right size for her to make off with it, even taking the hat and books into account. Plus it was a chest. You like chests, don’t you? Of course you do. Just hop right in, would you? There's a good girl.
Some seconds later, and the trashcan with teeth was just a trashcan with teeth. Miq smiled and skittered about, testing her new chassis. Usually new shells weren’t so responsive right away, but this one seemed to have taken a liking to her. Now she just had to run along somewhere they won’t find you. Hmm… Where could you… Oh! The garden! I used to play there all the time as a child...
Miq wasn’t quite sure who “they” were, but not being found was just what she was good at. Now she just had to figure out a way down from the window oh of course why hadn’t she thought of that before?
On the way down, the newly-turned chest had enough time to wonder if she had thought it, before being distracted by all the pretty hedge sculptures and running headlong into the ground.
Miq was confused. You weren’t just whisked away from some great big tower in the middle of nowhere, forced to sit through some great big monologue, shown some great big mansion, then left alone in some great big attic to mull over your thoughts. Things like that typically culminated in some sort of opulent ceremony, followed by fine dining and more speeches. But no, she’d just been sent to some attic somewhere. Granted, it was a nice attic, but there wasn’t anyone around. Nobody to dine, nobody to make more speeches, nobody to go dancing to the latest mechanipiano concerto piece or whateverthehell they did in places like this.
After a few minutes of growing restless, she finally realized that there wasn’t anybody to hide from, either. Then she was in heaven. The attic was filled with a ridiculous volume of boxes and miscellany, plenty of things to rifle through and inspect for value. But as Miq looked about, she found everything was either too big or too boring. A crib, an old pair of wooden oars, a few fancy portraits – and all the boxes mostly contained clothes and pictures and books and toys that had long since passed out of usefulness; nothing of any value but the sentimental kind, and who cared about that?
So she tried getting in one of the boxes. After all, a wastebasket is not typical fare for an indoor environment, and Miq was naturally inclined to blend in as much as possible. These boxes were all over the attic, and wouldn’t seem too out of place in the rest of the house while she searched for something more suitable. They were the natural choice of camouflage, so Miq slipped out of her trash can and into one of the emptier ones.
The fusion ritual initiated immediately upon contact with the crate. Various three-dimensional alchemic glyphs appeared in the air surrounding the box, radiating soft light of every color. They spun about, smaller ones appearing and disappearing in patterns only a trained eye would be able to discern. The symbols oscillated faster as Miq settled into the box, tendrils flowing out and sticking to the sides. Prime arcane schemata blurred into a single glowing sphere, vanishing in a cloud of smoke as the ceremony concluded.
Before she could wonder why her teeth hadn’t grown in, the box unceremoniously flung her out.
She panicked and scrambled for her old shell. She took a moment to catch her figurative breath, shed a few flakes of glass, and figure out what the hell just happened before moving on to the next logical step.
She tried again.
Several times.
The boxes grew progressively better at deflecting her attempts to control them, and the Mimic finally gave up when she stopped being able to touch the boxes entirely. Oh, but what did she care if the boxes didn’t want her? She didn’t want the boxes either! They weren’t even very good boxes, anyway. All flimsy and cardboard and hang on what’s this
Carelessly knocking down the same precarious stack of packages for the third time, the wastebin tottered over to an ornate wooden chest. Unsurprisingly, it was locked, but locks were easy when your body was malleable semifluid. Miq popped it open, and was immediately disappointed. All it contained was a moldy sunhat, a framed picture, two books, a pair of keys, and a gold locket. Wait. Keys and a locket? Score.
Really, it was too bad that the boxes around here didn’t want her to get in them. This one was fairly roomy, but not too much hassle to maneuver. Just the right size for her to make off with it, even taking the hat and books into account. Plus it was a chest. You like chests, don’t you? Of course you do. Just hop right in, would you? There's a good girl.
Some seconds later, and the trashcan with teeth was just a trashcan with teeth. Miq smiled and skittered about, testing her new chassis. Usually new shells weren’t so responsive right away, but this one seemed to have taken a liking to her. Now she just had to run along somewhere they won’t find you. Hmm… Where could you… Oh! The garden! I used to play there all the time as a child...
Miq wasn’t quite sure who “they” were, but not being found was just what she was good at. Now she just had to figure out a way down from the window oh of course why hadn’t she thought of that before?
On the way down, the newly-turned chest had enough time to wonder if she had thought it, before being distracted by all the pretty hedge sculptures and running headlong into the ground.