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 Posted: Mon Jun 13, 2011 7:48 am
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Posted: Wed Jun 15, 2011 12:06 am
SOLO life as it once was // word count: 579
In the late morning light a bird, a robin, was singing outside her window. That's very nice, were Linnea's first thoughts, lazy with sleep. It was Wednesday and she did not go to school. She had made the decision not to last night and come morning she feigned sickness. Mother came in, cooed, and allowed her to go back to sleep. There was a small assignment due today which she had technically finished, but at 11:00 that night Linnea had decided she didn't want to stay up and edit it. She wouldn't have that class again until Friday.
Judging from the way the light spilled in through her window, washing in a warm swath over her bed, it was probably near 10:00 or later. School was some two hours in and she thought about her friends, picturing them bored in their desks with ease. Her parents were already gone, father to an office, mother to a ladies' brunch with a number of her friends. The awareness that their house was hers alone for the next four hours made her self-indulgent. Linnea stretched, languid and careless as a cat. Her room hummed with gold, dust motes swirling in the shafts of sunlight like fire sparks and if she hadn't felt the near-magnetic pull of her dancing shoes she might have just laid there in her bed looking at them. But an impatient feeling was stirring in her limbs and eventually forced her to slide like a fish out from under her covers.
She made herself a green drink in the Vitamix and stared at the small TV on the kitchen counter as she drank it, focusing intently on a terribly boring local news story about a not-quite-talking dog. It was better than thinking about the taste of the drink. The rest of her breakfast consisted of tea eggs and the remaining quarter of a mushroom quiche her mother had bought two days before. While the tea eggs boiled she ate the quiche and rustled through the arts and theatre section of the news paper, ignoring the drone of the television anchor updating viewers on the current investigation into the strange groups of this or that. "... not yet confirmed as terrorists-" were her last words before her face and the ticker were swallowed by the black of the screen shutting off. When breakfast was finished Linnea was careful to wash and dry all the utensils, cookware and plates involved by hand. She replaced them as she'd found them - it wouldn't do if she claimed to be in bed all day but her parents found the kitchen not as they'd left it - and she thought her ruse very clever indeed.
From the time she finished cleaning up till noon she did stretches in her room. Slow, deliberate, basic stretches. Then she practiced the gentle hand and arm movements of ballet. Over and over, moving her arms in taut, concentrated circles and sweeps. Until the motion felt right. The battle was not with doing the movements correctly, for that was accomplished easily enough when she kept her focus, the fight lay in keeping her mind trained intently to tasks she had long ago learned. Every motion is just as valuable as the last, Linnea said to herself. They are all important. Linnea practiced until long shadows sprawled across the floor and she folded slowly into one limb by limb, staring at the ceiling.
Outside a bird sang.
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Posted: Wed Jun 22, 2011 10:31 am
AWAKENINGnight of the living miniskirt // euanthe, *********, iris Sailor Euanthe steps into the scene, without grace or confidence, but at least with focus.
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Posted: Tue Jun 28, 2011 11:19 pm
BATTLErain on the brain // euanthe, pollux Euanthe and Pollux kill a youma using waterpark tactics. Score 1 for team Slip'n'Slide!
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Posted: Wed Jul 06, 2011 12:37 am
SOLO at least some things will stay the same // word count: 471 She spun the pen between her fingers, considering its color, its texture, its weight. Such a little thing, but it was this important. She had at first thought that she should find some extra secure hiding place for it, but then she thought that was perhaps more suspicious than just having it in her desk drawer. It did just look like an ordinary pen, after all.
Spinning the pen was far more interesting than Linnea's summer homework (why did they do that?) - which was strewn across the entirety of the bed around her - than her dancing, than even her sweet and inattentive kitty who was making a perfect cat-shaped loaf at her right elbow. "Do you think someone would take it if I just let it sit out?" asked Linnea without taking her eyes off it. Turnip opened one eye halfway before he decided not to bother and closed it again. She didn't blame him - all she was doing was making noise to him. "It's kind of unusual looking for a pen," she continued, "not super cool but maybe someone would like it. Maybe I should hide it."
Finally Linnea's fingers were tired and she clutched the object in her palm, motionless. With a half-groan she slid languidly from the bed and made her way to the desk. Even though she doubted it would break Linnea always found herself putting the henshin pen back into its drawer very lightly. It was a thing of power, it deserved to be treated with respect.
Linnea returned to the bed and in one smooth motion scooped up Turnip and lifted him over her head. He stared down at her, unmoving and complacent. He always had been a very patient cat, even in his younger years. His eyes did not seem to be smiling at her, though he didn't protest her treatment of him, and Linnea stared back thoughtfully. "I wonder what you would sound like if you could talk." Weirdly enough it was entirely possible, and that was what made her frown. Talking cats, giant stalking monsters, her own magical powers... nothing was too weird now.
Finally Turnip began to flail his little legs unhappily and so Linnea drew him close to her for a brief, calming squeeze. She put him back down on the bed and he looked at her with an expression she thought could almost pass for friendly concern. Almost, but not quite. To her relief his face held just the right amount of vacuous cat-ignorance that made it clear that when she talked he had no idea what she was saying. Noise noise noise. How strange to be a cat.
"I'm glad you're not a magical cat, Turnip," she said. If Turnip agreed, he did so by flopping down onto the sheets and licking his butthole furiously.
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Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2011 2:26 am
SOLO
but she didn't do it the next day either // word count: 505 She knew she should call the number on her computer screen, but there were just sooo many things to be doing. Like... these... other things she was not doing.
The number in question was the information and sign up service for a local martial arts center. It claimed to teach beginners the basic moves needed to defend themselves from both armed and unarmed attackers. Useful stuff. And Linnea knew that Euanthe was going to need to know these things, or else Euanthe and Linnea both would wind up the next casualty to be found in a ditch somewhere.
Yes, she knew these things but they hadn't really sunk home yet. It was apparent they hadn't, because she'd been in life-threatening situations twice and still hadn't signed herself up for self-defense classes. She'd thought about it a great deal, sure. It even seemed kind of cool. The descriptions assured her that even someone as frail-seeming and slight of figure as her could take down much bigger opponents of they knew how and where to put their weight. Linnea also knew that it would strengthen and weaken certain muscles - muscles that were already in a delicate balance because of her dancing.
Ballet. That was the other thing - if she signed up for these classes she'd have to cut back on her time devoted to ballet. Small price to pay for staying alive, she thought, but Linnea still stalled. Which classes would she cut? She was signed up to practice with more than one instructor and all of them had their good and bad points. It seemed impossible to choose.
Linnea leaned back in her chair, stretching her neck to look critically at the screen. Maybe she should look around and learn more about different martial arts styles. This was Tae Kwon Do, but perhaps a Japanese style would be a better fit for her? If she was going to take up a new 'hobby' then it needed to really suit her. Wasn't there something called Aikido that emphasized faster motions? Or maybe she'd just picked that up from a movie somewhere. Either way, it was clear she didn't have enough information to make a decision.
Tomorrow, she decided. Tomorrow she would look up all the different kinds of commonly-taught martial arts and decide on one that was a good fit. Then she would find the best place to learn in the city. But not tonight. It was nearly 2AM, and even for her summer nightowl habits it was getting too late for any serious work. Maybe... maybe she'd even be fine as a Senshi without the martial arts. She hadn't gotten herself killed yet, she reasoned. It took her a little too long to see the obvious flaw in that reasoning.
Fine. Martial arts then. With a sigh she withdrew herself from the computer chair, the chair and her back creaking both. Oh, she was tired. Linnea belly-flopped onto her bed and wiggled under the sheets. Tomorrow.... tomorrow...
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Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2011 9:18 am
BATTLEhow deliciously awful // zinkenite vs euanthe
I am not sure you'd call it a battle so much as public humiliation.
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Posted: Tue Aug 02, 2011 9:23 am
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Posted: Mon Aug 22, 2011 9:17 pm
REGULAR in numbers // euanthe, kallichore
Euanthe meets Kallichore, another moon of Jupiter, and is recruited into the Jovian Court
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Posted: Mon Aug 22, 2011 9:18 pm
REGULAR e pluribus, unum // jovians + more
In which the first Jovian Court meeting takes place... and Euanthe gets a major dose of reality
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Posted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 7:58 am
REGULAR mercurial investigations // babylon, lina knight, euanthe
"It's very important that we can fight the negaverse without having... to resort to... kill... killing... z zzzz zzzzz...."
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Posted: Sat Sep 03, 2011 8:55 am
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Posted: Tue Nov 15, 2011 8:28 pm
SOLO quagmire // word count: 520 Some sort of listlessness settled in her. She felt brittle-boned. She felt tired.
"I have to go to school today," she said quietly. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling that flickered with the light of a passing car. She hated how dark it was these mornings. "I have to go to school today, because I skipped two times this month." Linnea had to say it, hear the words come out of her mouth. Saying it aloud made it real.
She hadn't said "senshi" all month.
The slamming of her locker door snapped her awake. It didn't bother her that she couldn't remember putting her clothes on, taking the bus to school, the events of 1st period, or even the motion of her arm shutting the metal door. She pushed off from the wall, fell into line and shuffled with the other dead-eyed faces in her school. Lack of sleep seemed to rob them of their humanity in the early mornings. Linnea had stopped looking at the faces of her peers in the morning though, a strange paranoia would take her over any time she tried. The dark bags hollowed out their eye sockets there was something accusing about the way they made eye contact with her.
No one could call her a coward, because she hadn't been scared off. It wasn't even that she hadn't wanted to really do it. Wasn't it important to not fail her classes? Her grades had taken a dip after she'd gotten the pen. They were recovered now that she'd put it aside somewhere. Wasn't it important to pursue her future? (Wasn't there a future for her there, in ballet? Wasn't there?) Her technique was sloppy, her ballet instructors criticized her until she'd figured out how to stop thinking about her fuku during lessons. Being a soldier of justice was nice and all, but that wasn't going to help her when she became - this line of reasoning was shaky, she knew - an adult.
(I wasn't even going to make a difference)
(But I can't say that aloud)
(But it's true)
It wasn't that she didn't want to do it, but she hadn't been doing it for so long now and... somehow, the thought of henshining up after so long filled her with shame. That phone ********* had given her never rang - she wasn't exactly miss super star senshi, there couldn't have been more than 5 names in it altogether - but she'd buried it under a pile of clothes in a drawer just in case. Just in case.
I am irresponsible, she thought, and tapped her pencil against her desk until someone threw a ball of crumpled paper at her.
I wasn't doing anything useful, she replied, the ball bouncing off her hands and fumbling miserably into the volleyball net. Her sigh was visible in the air.
You were a part of a team. On her paper the numbers looked like an alien language. Filling in the spaces with her pencil wasn't translating it.
"I don't remember where I put the pen." But that was a lie.
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Posted: Mon Dec 05, 2011 8:39 pm
SOLO the season for giving (prompt response) // word count: 509 Season for Giving The city wide winter food drive seems to have drawn some 'extra attention'. Two days after the city began to advertise their philanthropic event anonymous messages began to appear on senshi phones and throughout knightly letters stating: "This food drive is a great idea! Why don't we lend a hand too? Food, toys, clothing, money, whatever you can give to the needy that you think will help. It's about time we paid back all those people whose property we've accidentally damaged, and tis the season to really show you care for your fellow citizens anyway! PS. Who wants to help make the delivery? 'Terrorists' don't come bearing gifts after all!" ------- Information is going through the grapevine. Does your character want to help? Are they going to go with the bare minimum or really go out of their way to help, and if so how so? Does your character think charity is stupid and their attention is better focused on their regular duties? Does your character want to be there for the big gift delivery/publicity stunt? Keep your eyes out for information about how they can join.
Oh god, she thought, staring wide eyed at the drawer from her spot on the bed, stock still. Lene's room was as nonthreatening as it should be but the girl's expression looked like a semi was bearing down on her at full speed. This is it. This is the end. I'm out of the group. I'm excommunicated from Jovian-ness, enemy of all hard-working Senshi because of my negligence. No- Comically, she slapped her hands against her cheeks, then held on in dread. No, calm down, calm the ******** down, they wouldn't do that. I'm not out I- I should be, I deserve it oh god-
God, she had to get ahold of herself. She honestly couldn't know what the text message actually was unless she looked at it, after all. (No, no, she was sure that had to be it.) And so Lene spent no less than five full minutes pacing around her room, hand covering her mouth and brow furrowed in consternation, trying to decide if it was better to just go and open the goddamn drawer and face the music or continue on without looking at it. If it was a letter of excommunication - when had she started thinking of Senshidom as a religious institution? - then it wouldn't matter if she read it or not because she was banished (oh woe!) either way.
But what if it was a call for help?
She was stationary once more.
If someone needed her help, she couldn't ignore that. (Who would call to *you* for help? No shut up.) If someone got hurt because of her, because she was being an irresponsible idiot-
She threw the drawer open so hard it nearly flew off its hinges.
And blinked at the actual, anticlimactic message.
Oh. Oh. Lene half sat, half fell backwards onto her bed with the phone clutched in her hand. Oh, a charity drive. That was all. Well, Lene hadn't damaged anyone's property yet she thought, but if she went back to doing the Senshi thing she probably would. The people of DC really needed this, what with their city being caught in an ongoing secret war. Civilians paid the highest price and Senshi were partly responsible for the mess. There were plenty of things she could donate and the Senshi really did need the good PR. Not to mention it might be the perfect way to get back into the groove. And if she ran into one of the Jovians...
Then I'll-. She closed her eyes, slowing her still-shallow breathing. I'll take responsibility and go forward.
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