RE: The Battle Majestic (Round 4 - Magpie Skies)
06-26-2013, 08:16 AM
(This post was last modified: 06-26-2013, 08:21 AM by Pharmacy.)
"I have no idea where I am!"
The generic-looking woman screamed at nothing in particular, but honestly, she didn't expect an answer - unless hallways could talk. That would be certainly probable considering how the laws of nature worked in Magpie Skies and if she looked more closely, there was a fairly large sign with the words "SALUTATIONS WELCOME TO THE MOONLIGHT KINGDOM (grovelling stations on your right, peasants)" scrawled in the most pretentiously curly typeface. Unfortunately, Eryntse was more of a proactive sort of entity when she was in midst of histrionics. After all, she was freaking out, not freaking in, which was why she was still screaming. And crying.
"Miss--," a baritone voice called from behind. The tone was rather familar to the point of scary. In Eryntse's case, scary translated to really scary, empirically proving that hysteria has a tendency to distort observations.
"Don't touch me!" Eryntse sobbed. "Or I--" Before she could threaten to call the nonexistent police or bring up her imaginary mace, she collided with one of needlessly obstructive desks that populated the hallway. A vase shattered on the floor, spilling glittery dust everywhere. For a few seconds of clarity, the false woman had the strongest suspicion that the dust - was in fact – moondust . Then, she wailed. Again.
"Miss," the stranger puffed, slightly out of breath. Not exactly the breastplate-gauntlet combo weighing down, but rather to keep up with Eryntse twelve-legged speed with his two. "You are pretty fast."
As the man had an unexpected speed, his arrival was a surprise. As his arrival was a surprise, Eryntse too was surprised. As Eryntse was surprised, she was frightened. As she was frightened, she started to bawl. Then, she bawled even more. Her emotions were chiefly despondent but she idly hoped that the noise was enough to drive him off, or at least enough tears to drown him.
Quixotic? Perhaps. Impossible? Definitely, but at least these delusions were just enough to reign in her neuroses.
The crowded hallways with their silvery crescents and other physical homages to the celestial satellites became even more crowded with the hiccups, coughs, and other beautifully disgusting noises of the lachrymose. The man looked at everywhere but Eryntse. His expression was that of feigned concern in deference of manners but mostly because he was slightly embarrassed on her behalf as her emotional displays were especially ludicrous. It took three minutes to calm her down and an extra two for her utterances to simmer to whimpering. As the mostly-silence reigned, the man looked down.
“You are okay,” he paused. “Right.”
“I'm lost,” she sighed and let a little shudder as though she was cold. To be honest, Eryntse felt a little colder than usual. It was not a pleasant feeling.
“Of course, we all are,” he crossed his legs and leaned on his broadsword, experimenting with the angle between blade and rug. He was looking rather contemplative – or at least he was giving an air of contemplation. It was hard to tell through all those tears. “New place, new laws of physics. New everything. It's easy to get lost.”
“No, but I'm lost.”
“Mm-hm. Aren't we all.”
“I was lost.”
The man turned around on a beat. “Oh?”
Eryntse's lips were sealed and time passed to the point that the man spoke up before the two could choke to death on the increasingly awkward silence. “Go on.”
“Now, I'm lost again.”
A couple of seconds pass. It took him a while to figure out what she was trying to imply and the knowledge was certainly not interesting. However, the realization was rather interesting, sort of like a mild trivia or a fact you bring up in order to impress your drinking buddies. “The place you were stolen from – that was not your original place was it?”
Eryntse's eyes widened. She heard the statement and discerned every single letter that formed the sentence. She understood it completely but she didn't want to. Because he was saying the gosh-darn truth. The truth! And her resolved crumbled, the remains like the moon dust on the floor.
“Is it?”
She stood up and said nothing.
“Well?”
She turned around, her lips framed with her teeth (too pointy), her fingers twisted into knots (literal ones) her sadness encompassed with those watery eyes. Or were those her eyes? The man would be frightened except she was in a state that elicited pity. He almost expected her to give him an answer...
...except she went for the nearest open entrance. A rather ornately foreign panel emerged from the emptiness; a click ensure the panel was a door and the door was properly secured. Again, silence descended in the hallway – but somehow it was more depressing than stifling. It would be better described as sad.
He was too hardened to feel sadness anymore, but he was definitely concerned. Well, a little - he was not a man of scruples and especially a man of unintended consequences.
“Miss—,” he rapped the door.
“Leave me aaaalooooone!” a muffled voice cried. He swore he could hear the pitter-patter of rain echoing in the oddly large room.
“Look, I'm sorry I made a wrong impression towards you,” he shuffled a bit. “But I think it would be a rather decent idea to stay close together. Or like, a five foot distance between the both of us.”
“Is it because I am a lady,” she continued to do what she had done best, which was crying – except it took on a certain veneer of accusation.
“Heavens, no. We are in this together.”
Sobbing.
“We are lost in this together.”
More sobbing.
“We are in danger together.”
Silence.
Then a piercing shriek.
“Fucking fantastic,” he grumbled as the shrill noise sustained beyond a soprano and transcended into grating irritation. He supposed he had jinxed himself with that statement but honestly – how could he believe in misfortune when he himself could tweak probability with the aptitude of a skilled watchmaker? Is there luck in the concept of controlling luck? Interesting question, he had to admit but he had no time to muse on that; he was currently in the process of hacking a door to pieces.
---
Meanwhile, Sen-but-not-quite stared into a nearby farmpond. A charcoal-grey hat on his head tastefully contemplated the rest of his radioactive-green complexion. He was flexing and relaxing his ear crests as though completely bored. His beady eyes focused on the reflection with an intelligent intensity uncharacteristic of his behavior. He growled.
”Great, I'm a lizard-bird...thing,” he traced the enamel of his razor-sharp teeth with an experimental swipe of his slightly glowing tongue. “With sharp teeth. I'm a lizard-bird...” he glanced at himself, noticing heavy seed-pods floating serenely yet disconcertingly in green jelly. He realized his body was green jelly. Then, he realized he always had been green jelly. The physiological realization mildly surprised him, but not as much the realization he had somehow gained the ability to think abstractly.
“I'm a lizard-bird-PLANT thing,” he thought it would be more clever to use TREE than PLANT, but the sudden appearance of hindsight slightly unnerved him to silence. Mewling goats and clanging cow-bells peppered in the distance. Suddenly, the silence was broken.
“Holy shit, I'm weird.”
No seriously, holy shit. He was. Everything about himself was weird – his ostrich-like anatomy. The weird something-like-slits on his neck. His elongated phalanges which somehow support his weight despite how their delicate they looked. Hell, he had no idea whether the only two limbs he had were his forelegs or his hindlegs. What was he missing? His arms or his legs? He was a little bit frustrated, and a little bit confused, but mostly, he felt a little lost.
To be fair, Sen was not much of a thinker to begin with. Or himself, lately.
What am I going to do, Sen nervously paced back and forth, marveling at how grotesquely fluid his gait was. Of course, he knew what he was supposed to be doing (planting the seeds, which he already did) and what he had done in the past – but planning for the future was something that fortune (as in the hat, hint hint) had not graced him. Or was that actually him? Was everything what it appeared to him? He was nervous, very nervous – and he desperately sought to fill the emptiness that was the things yet to come.
Balloon.
Oh, balloon?
Think balloon.
Well, certainly out of the blue – and totally unexpected but its not like he had anything else to do.
Yes.
No harm in doing so, right?
Yes.
Okay then.
Good.
Somewhere in the clouds, a particular balloon found itself energetically charged in a way it never felt in centuries (though that time estimate might be a exaggeration, it had a tendency to exaggerate, you see) and proceeded to escape – smashing though the goldfish bowl was its prison, junk, mortars, bricks, surprised knights, even more junk, pornography magazines, swords, useful swords, useless swords and more, obliterating everything in its path until it felt the cool air of freedom on its rubbery skin. It was pleased, its escape was unimpeded. Plus, it knew what to do.
Meanwhile, Six For Gold Police Department had lost their only power source. It would take approximately thirty minutes to fix this fuck-up before the entire place had a rather unpleasant meeting with the ground.
The generic-looking woman screamed at nothing in particular, but honestly, she didn't expect an answer - unless hallways could talk. That would be certainly probable considering how the laws of nature worked in Magpie Skies and if she looked more closely, there was a fairly large sign with the words "SALUTATIONS WELCOME TO THE MOONLIGHT KINGDOM (grovelling stations on your right, peasants)" scrawled in the most pretentiously curly typeface. Unfortunately, Eryntse was more of a proactive sort of entity when she was in midst of histrionics. After all, she was freaking out, not freaking in, which was why she was still screaming. And crying.
"Miss--," a baritone voice called from behind. The tone was rather familar to the point of scary. In Eryntse's case, scary translated to really scary, empirically proving that hysteria has a tendency to distort observations.
"Don't touch me!" Eryntse sobbed. "Or I--" Before she could threaten to call the nonexistent police or bring up her imaginary mace, she collided with one of needlessly obstructive desks that populated the hallway. A vase shattered on the floor, spilling glittery dust everywhere. For a few seconds of clarity, the false woman had the strongest suspicion that the dust - was in fact – moondust . Then, she wailed. Again.
"Miss," the stranger puffed, slightly out of breath. Not exactly the breastplate-gauntlet combo weighing down, but rather to keep up with Eryntse twelve-legged speed with his two. "You are pretty fast."
As the man had an unexpected speed, his arrival was a surprise. As his arrival was a surprise, Eryntse too was surprised. As Eryntse was surprised, she was frightened. As she was frightened, she started to bawl. Then, she bawled even more. Her emotions were chiefly despondent but she idly hoped that the noise was enough to drive him off, or at least enough tears to drown him.
Quixotic? Perhaps. Impossible? Definitely, but at least these delusions were just enough to reign in her neuroses.
The crowded hallways with their silvery crescents and other physical homages to the celestial satellites became even more crowded with the hiccups, coughs, and other beautifully disgusting noises of the lachrymose. The man looked at everywhere but Eryntse. His expression was that of feigned concern in deference of manners but mostly because he was slightly embarrassed on her behalf as her emotional displays were especially ludicrous. It took three minutes to calm her down and an extra two for her utterances to simmer to whimpering. As the mostly-silence reigned, the man looked down.
“You are okay,” he paused. “Right.”
“I'm lost,” she sighed and let a little shudder as though she was cold. To be honest, Eryntse felt a little colder than usual. It was not a pleasant feeling.
“Of course, we all are,” he crossed his legs and leaned on his broadsword, experimenting with the angle between blade and rug. He was looking rather contemplative – or at least he was giving an air of contemplation. It was hard to tell through all those tears. “New place, new laws of physics. New everything. It's easy to get lost.”
“No, but I'm lost.”
“Mm-hm. Aren't we all.”
“I was lost.”
The man turned around on a beat. “Oh?”
Eryntse's lips were sealed and time passed to the point that the man spoke up before the two could choke to death on the increasingly awkward silence. “Go on.”
“Now, I'm lost again.”
A couple of seconds pass. It took him a while to figure out what she was trying to imply and the knowledge was certainly not interesting. However, the realization was rather interesting, sort of like a mild trivia or a fact you bring up in order to impress your drinking buddies. “The place you were stolen from – that was not your original place was it?”
Eryntse's eyes widened. She heard the statement and discerned every single letter that formed the sentence. She understood it completely but she didn't want to. Because he was saying the gosh-darn truth. The truth! And her resolved crumbled, the remains like the moon dust on the floor.
“Is it?”
She stood up and said nothing.
“Well?”
She turned around, her lips framed with her teeth (too pointy), her fingers twisted into knots (literal ones) her sadness encompassed with those watery eyes. Or were those her eyes? The man would be frightened except she was in a state that elicited pity. He almost expected her to give him an answer...
...except she went for the nearest open entrance. A rather ornately foreign panel emerged from the emptiness; a click ensure the panel was a door and the door was properly secured. Again, silence descended in the hallway – but somehow it was more depressing than stifling. It would be better described as sad.
He was too hardened to feel sadness anymore, but he was definitely concerned. Well, a little - he was not a man of scruples and especially a man of unintended consequences.
“Miss—,” he rapped the door.
“Leave me aaaalooooone!” a muffled voice cried. He swore he could hear the pitter-patter of rain echoing in the oddly large room.
“Look, I'm sorry I made a wrong impression towards you,” he shuffled a bit. “But I think it would be a rather decent idea to stay close together. Or like, a five foot distance between the both of us.”
“Is it because I am a lady,” she continued to do what she had done best, which was crying – except it took on a certain veneer of accusation.
“Heavens, no. We are in this together.”
Sobbing.
“We are lost in this together.”
More sobbing.
“We are in danger together.”
Silence.
Then a piercing shriek.
“Fucking fantastic,” he grumbled as the shrill noise sustained beyond a soprano and transcended into grating irritation. He supposed he had jinxed himself with that statement but honestly – how could he believe in misfortune when he himself could tweak probability with the aptitude of a skilled watchmaker? Is there luck in the concept of controlling luck? Interesting question, he had to admit but he had no time to muse on that; he was currently in the process of hacking a door to pieces.
---
Meanwhile, Sen-but-not-quite stared into a nearby farmpond. A charcoal-grey hat on his head tastefully contemplated the rest of his radioactive-green complexion. He was flexing and relaxing his ear crests as though completely bored. His beady eyes focused on the reflection with an intelligent intensity uncharacteristic of his behavior. He growled.
”Great, I'm a lizard-bird...thing,” he traced the enamel of his razor-sharp teeth with an experimental swipe of his slightly glowing tongue. “With sharp teeth. I'm a lizard-bird...” he glanced at himself, noticing heavy seed-pods floating serenely yet disconcertingly in green jelly. He realized his body was green jelly. Then, he realized he always had been green jelly. The physiological realization mildly surprised him, but not as much the realization he had somehow gained the ability to think abstractly.
“I'm a lizard-bird-PLANT thing,” he thought it would be more clever to use TREE than PLANT, but the sudden appearance of hindsight slightly unnerved him to silence. Mewling goats and clanging cow-bells peppered in the distance. Suddenly, the silence was broken.
“Holy shit, I'm weird.”
No seriously, holy shit. He was. Everything about himself was weird – his ostrich-like anatomy. The weird something-like-slits on his neck. His elongated phalanges which somehow support his weight despite how their delicate they looked. Hell, he had no idea whether the only two limbs he had were his forelegs or his hindlegs. What was he missing? His arms or his legs? He was a little bit frustrated, and a little bit confused, but mostly, he felt a little lost.
To be fair, Sen was not much of a thinker to begin with. Or himself, lately.
What am I going to do, Sen nervously paced back and forth, marveling at how grotesquely fluid his gait was. Of course, he knew what he was supposed to be doing (planting the seeds, which he already did) and what he had done in the past – but planning for the future was something that fortune (as in the hat, hint hint) had not graced him. Or was that actually him? Was everything what it appeared to him? He was nervous, very nervous – and he desperately sought to fill the emptiness that was the things yet to come.
Balloon.
Oh, balloon?
Think balloon.
Well, certainly out of the blue – and totally unexpected but its not like he had anything else to do.
Yes.
No harm in doing so, right?
Yes.
Okay then.
Good.
Somewhere in the clouds, a particular balloon found itself energetically charged in a way it never felt in centuries (though that time estimate might be a exaggeration, it had a tendency to exaggerate, you see) and proceeded to escape – smashing though the goldfish bowl was its prison, junk, mortars, bricks, surprised knights, even more junk, pornography magazines, swords, useful swords, useless swords and more, obliterating everything in its path until it felt the cool air of freedom on its rubbery skin. It was pleased, its escape was unimpeded. Plus, it knew what to do.
Meanwhile, Six For Gold Police Department had lost their only power source. It would take approximately thirty minutes to fix this fuck-up before the entire place had a rather unpleasant meeting with the ground.