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 Posted: Tue May 18, 2010 6:07 pm
Sapphira felt her eyes close, blocking out the both artificial and natural lighting in the plane. What was with this strange terror that kept on rising up in her throat as puke whenever they were getting close to danger?
She soon drifted to sleep, cast adrift in the lands of dreams. Dreams of olden days before her father was killed. It was a pleasant one, somewhat. In her mind's eye, she saw a large room with a man and a very young girl sitting in it. One of the toys on the floor was dancing around to a tune that seemingly was going through the child's head. The man grasped the girl's tiny hand in his. He softly repeated something in her ear.
"Peace, my darling, will meet you here,
Underneath my desk.
To no such rules shall you adhere,
Just continue on your quest.
Listen, daughter, to my plea,
Find out more about old me."
Sapphira blinked in astonishment. Maybe her dad did have some sort of predicting story-telling power. Or maybe it was her own imagination. Perhaps, but since she had met Maddie and Niteshade, everything seemed possible now...
Her eyes opened and the first thing that caught her eye was her father's book, opened to a random page.
Nothing. A blank page. She blinked.
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Posted: Tue May 18, 2010 10:26 pm
Ura was so sleepy that he fell asleep and curled up in a ball. He was so sleepy he forgot to tell her about his day dream, the one about the creepy man and man with the snake.
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Posted: Thu May 27, 2010 9:54 pm
"Very well then." With a wave of his hand a fine trail of smoke slipped through the spaces in the car and seeped into his body, "I am interested as why they would seek Ireland of all places. If they wanted to be truly remote there are a myriad of other locations that would conceal them much better." Vincent caught the slight smirk that appeared on Ishmaels face for the briefest of moments, "I do believe that you have another motive in this pursuit; but I shall not pry into it any further. Of course I could use more information on this storytelling power and the Captain."
Vincent played back the images of the group in his mind memorizing every tiny detail and idea about them, "The feeble one, the one that vanished. He appeared terrified of my snake, me, and your very presence. Why?"
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Posted: Fri May 28, 2010 1:42 am
"Ireland, indeed," mused Ishmael.
It was curious that they would pick that over-romanced island of all places to hide. Perhaps they had intended to hide in plain sight, but if that were the case, anywhere in continental Europe would have been preferable, from their strategic standpoint. In any case, he had no choice but to follow the whole motley crew of them, wherever they tried to hide.
"I'll give you one warning and one warning only, as seems only courteous," he growled. Vincent was perceptive. Perhaps too much so? But then Ishmael had never had an interest in anything or anyone in so long, perhaps it showed more than he realized. "The one with dark hair and cobalt eyes is mine. Lay a single finger on her, and every ounce of the Captain's gift won't save you from me. Just remember that." Then his mind turned to remembering the fragile looking child and his power that felt...broken. "That young one is a mystery. But about your gift from the Captain; do you feel a little buzz in the back of your brain, rather like a sugar rush? That would be the power high from carrying a small piece of the Captain with you. Now, remember what I said about a butterfly's wings?"
And Ishmael proceeded to explain some of the finer points of storytelling. Good, efficient and often times the most effective storytelling was in the details. Broad strokes often had the most loopholes in them, as they were always open to interpretation. More than once, "so-and-so dies" had resulted in only seconds of actual death before the dearly departed was revived again. Also, the smaller the story, the harder it was for others to detect. Even the average, untalented human could tell when he was being manipulated if one broadsided him with storytelling.
Then, to prove his point, Ishmael started giving examples of some of the Captain's greatest work. "And so," he said," After receiving embarrassing amounts of gold and jewels from Napoleon's enemies, all the Captain did was give the little bugger hemorrhoids! The sod couldn't even sit down for tea, much less ride a horse to lead the charge. Because he weren't in the field at Waterloo, on account of his aching posterior, another, lesser commander took charge and botched the whole thing. It was bloody brilliant, I tell you!"
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ScarletFrost Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri May 28, 2010 3:04 am
"I have no problem leaving her be. I plan to use the weak one anyways. He has potential, enough that with the right... Motivation... could prove useful in the end." Vincent listened to the explanations and the tale, "So the captain has lived that long then, interesting. I figured that death would need description for a successful kill. Something along the lines of decapitation, or complete incineration should do it though."
"Yes, I do recall about the destructive capacity made with each story." Vincent replayed the group in his head one more time, certain that he had missed something. "The book! The leader of the others had some odd book. My nanites recorded a strange energy emanating from it. Perhaps it is leading them to Ireland. Perhaps another, more powerful ally for them? I tried sending my nanites into it to examine it further, but your arrival halted my attempts and the planes vibrations prevented further exploration."
"Regardless, how are we going to be traveling to Ireland ourselves. I assume you have this already thought through of course."
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Posted: Fri Jun 25, 2010 5:19 pm
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ScarletFrost Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Jun 25, 2010 6:00 pm
(I was waiting for Chronos to post. I kinda feel like he's dropped off the face of the earth, but that happens occasionally when your a parent. razz If you want to keep writing, I guess we can continue without him, and just kind of drag him along for the ride. razz )
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Posted: Sat Jun 26, 2010 2:35 am
(Sounds good to me, I've been waiting for someone else to do something...)
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ScarletFrost Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Jul 02, 2010 2:43 am
Well, we will just have to drag Niteshade along for the ride.
__________________________________________________
Ishmael shrugged. "A private jet will arrive in an hour to take us directly to Ireland. We'll be there as soon as they are, and then..." he paused to savor his own private fantasy, "then the hunt will begin in earnest. In the mean time, I find myself needing breakfast--something more than the slop you Americans call coffee."
_________________________________________
Maddie took Niteshade's silence as a yes, then looked up at him and discovered he was already dozing. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. For all the insanity of the last 24 hours, she was oddly at peace. She was going back to Ireland to see her grandfather. She had found a guy that didn't disgust her, and in fact was close to being her knight in shining armor. She wasn't quite certain, yet, if it was anything more than danger-love, but at the moment, she didn't much care. If her heart broke later, well, her heart had healed before, and it could do it again. Past pain was no reason not to enjoy the present, and presently, Niteshade's shoulder smelled really good.
It only took a minute before she was sound asleep, a small smile curled at the corner of her mouth.
The flight went by very quickly, and all too soon, she woke to the DING of the seat-belt-light. They were descending into the JFK Airport. The landing was uneventful and they quickly unloaded the airplane.
JFK Airport was busy--as was expected for the largest airport international airport in North America. Maddie took Niteshade's and Ura's hands, and Ura took Sapphira's hand, since Niteshade's other hand held Neko-kun. They wound through the crowds like a strange family chain.
"Anyone want lunch before we take off again? I have no idea what sort of food they'll serve in-flight, so we might as well eat here. We have 45 minutes before they start boarding," Maddie said.
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Posted: Fri Jul 02, 2010 2:56 am
Ura nodded. "Yes preasu!" He said smiling big. He really wanted some food. He could do with out food, but he still wanted it, he also wanted Neko-kun, very badly.
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Posted: Fri Jul 02, 2010 12:14 pm
"Yes, that does sound pleasant, I can't quite remember when I ate last." Vincent took out a small pad of paper and set to work writing down new ideas for his book.
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Posted: Fri Jul 02, 2010 5:31 pm
The car pulled around to a small restaurant that looked closed, but Ishmael knew differently. He glanced back at his companion to see him writing in a notebook.
"DON'T do that," Ishmael snapped. He reached over and snatched the paper away from Vincent. "Don't you dare waste the Captain's gift like that." Ishmael could already feel a trace of power in the page. He covertly absorbed it as he crumpled it in disgust. "You cannot write--and even speaking is risky--until you have more discipline. Power like ours leaks out at every opportunity, every crack in your concentration. Every time you start to narrate, the storytelling wants to follow the words. You must be more careful, or you will not have an ounce of talent left when we get to Ireland."
____________________________________________________
Maddie looked around for something tasty. JFK Airport had everything to offer, it seemed. Sushi, hamburgers, pizza, Mexican, Chinese--
"I could go for some chow mien. Anyone else have a vote?" she asked her friends.
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ScarletFrost Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Jul 02, 2010 5:48 pm
Ura smelled miso soup and rice, he pointed to the best smell. It smelled like his mothers cooking, that he liked. He smiled big.
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Posted: Sun Jul 04, 2010 12:39 am
"Fine then. I suppose mentally jotting down notes is also unadvised?" Vincent hadn't even noticed the power slipping into the little words he had been jotting down. "Offhand, I do wonder what the world would be like if H.P. Lovecraft had possessed the power is well; unimaginable to be sure."
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ScarletFrost Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Jul 04, 2010 10:36 pm
"Just do not say anything that is too direct. As for thinking, well, just keep an open mind," Ishmael growled. Impudent novice. They got out of the car and walked towards the restaurant. The proprietor hurried out and held the doors open for the two guests. Ishmael walked past the man as if he didn't see him and chose a table. He continued, "True Storytellers are rare, despite how many I've stumbled upon this morning. Although I can count on one hand those that have slipped through the cracks and written great novels, none of them have ever been published. I take that back, one made it through near at the very beginning, shortly after the printing press was invented. That didn't end well. Normally, their manuscripts fairly glow with power, once they land in the slush pile on an editor's desk. That's when the Captain gets a hold of them, and then I, or one of those like me, is dispatched to bring in the Storyteller. You see," he added, "there are so many better uses for their power than poultry dime-store fiction."
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