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 Posted: Thu Apr 24, 2014 3:38 pm
The Rat's NestWord Count: 546 Arriving at her apartment exhausted and weary, Angel heaved an exasperated sigh. Her key found the lock easily enough and she leaned against the door to gain passage into the admittedly messy apartment. Since discovering her second identity as Astarte, Angel afforded little time for cleaning and other housekeeping duties. And as she scanned her apartment for the particular books she intended to comb, she found nothing but clutter. And filth. And dirt. Even though she never fancied herself a clean freak, Angel grimaced in disgust.
As she entered, her feet touched the floor only rarely. The remainder of the hardwood lay buried beneath discarded newspapers, paper plates from her reluctance to buy real dishes, old pizza boxes, printed articles, candles, an ash tray, several grease pencils, and a myriad of books accompanied by photographs. Essentially the apartment looked as though someone set off several grenades and added a twister for good measure. How was she supposed to uncover one damned scrap of information in this mess? And how had she been living here all this time? She never recalled her apartment looking this messy before.
Then again, she hardly came home lately, save to pass out on her bed.
"Angel, Angel Angel... What have you done to the place? And what if Ash drops by and sees this rubbish dump of a flat? She'll turn her nose up in a jiffy, she will..." As she spoke to herself, the black-haired girl stooped to pluck various candles off the floor. The majority sported thick streaks of wax down their sides, war medals of continued use. Afterward she stuffed them away into a curio cabinet, but her living space sported far more clutter than just a handful of simple candles. Still, her resolve never wavered; Angel regarded the mess with the posture of fearlessness, and after a short trip to the kitchenette, armed herself with a feather duster and trash can as well.
She took to the sty with a vengeance, tossing the majority of the collected newspapers and placing the rest in a single neat pile atop her laptop keyboard. Her grease pencils came next, easily plucked off the floor and deposited in their allocated pencil tin just next to her computer. Then came the pizza boxes and paper plates, easily stacked into one another before she shoved the low of them into her largest trash bag. Photographs were piled atop the desk where she intended to sort through them at a later date, the ash tray was hastily discarded, and her printed articles found a home in a neat stack atop her desk. That left her various books strewn about from lounging on the floor during research, and she pursed her lips as she considered how to best sort through them.
Suddenly she stopped herself. "Shite, Angel, what were you looking for? You sorted through this mess for a reason..." Tapping her finger against her chin, she desperately sorted through her last hour of effort to come up with the reasoning behind her actions. "It wasn't just to clean, it's never just to clean. Oh bullocks, I'll find it after a nap..." With a defeated sigh, Angel shuffled toward the bedroom where she fully intended to sprawl across the bed without even bothering to change.
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 9:22 pm
OblivionWord Count: 700 She stayed up for hours afterward.
Never before had a dream affected her so thoroughly, no matter the subject matter therein. Many times, as a child, she dreamt of subjects spanning bogeymen and creatures from the darker depths of the mind... But never had she fathomed total and utter annihilation before. And now that her rattled nerves found solace in a cup of warm chamomile tea, Angel realized the bare potency before the horror latent in her nightmare: emptiness. A world devoid of life, of death, of spirits and the supernatural. Nothing existed there - not even possibility. How could she dream of a realm like that?
"Get ahold of yourself, girl." The words never found echo in her apartment due to the sheer volume of books, papers, candles, and other paraphernalia strewn about the place. However, her words felt every bit as hollow as an empty room. The moment they left her tongue, she knew she never put stock in them. Staring toward the vague reflection in her cup, she found herself thinking of Canopus.
I wonder if you ever dreamt you'd be walking through mirrors. Even with my background, I never fathomed that. Guess there's not much sense in writing off an apocalyptic dream as impossible when teenagers can teleport around and pass through mirrors. I don't like this at all... Angel's gaze shifted to her knuckles, now fully healed from that night some weeks ago. When I touched the mirror, I felt it solid. It's not much different from that dream, isn't it? I can't bring it into my reality, just like how I can't pass through the mirror. Oh, shut it, Angel, I'm trying to convince you that you're safe from armageddon. Can't go doubting me forever, when it's for your own good.
Angel stood from her small, plastic chair next to her small, plastic table and approached the small, unimpressive window that looked out to her small, plastic patio set. She watched the city beyond and how it bustled with the advent of morning, as it always did - the early hours lulling with car horns blaring out of impatience. Small sounds signaling the pulse of the city reassured her slightly, but not even the combination of hot tea and old comforts assuaged the goosebumps risen on her arms.
You're really out of your element now, girl. Come to think of it, you never quite righted yourself after that lot of rubbish some weeks ago. Who thought power outages could be that climactic... That whole mess was one distraction after another, and I never fully got to the bottom of it. I wonder... If Canopus and I ever reached the final floor, would we have found the true purpose behind that night? Oh come off it - dwelling on all that rot won't somehow rewrite the past. I doubt whatever transpired beyond the stairs would've been any good for me. Likely more fighting... Those energy signatures were telling enough.
Then there was that girl... Canopus' princess. Leto, I think I heard. Angel raised the hot glass to her lips and took a light sip. Sounds right enough. She looked ready to kill me for a moment there, but she backed off a touch. They must have a solid kinship, Canopus and Leto. I wonder if there's anyone quite like that in my Court... And why the White Moon's so against the Dark Mirror. None of theirs ever tried to strike me down. I wonder if the start of this little blood feud happened between that redheaded showoff and Leto... Or maybe it had something to do with Remarque. Or Ares, whoever that is. I suppose I'll never quite know.
Best to get started with the day, now, Angel. These nerves won't let you go back to your warm bed now - best to lose yourself in research while the going is good. That book won't write itself.
Damn, would I kill for a stiff drink right now. Angel finally retreated from the window, rounding the cluttered countertop. She paused just before the sink where she poured out her tea over the mess of dishes within.
By the good graces of hell, it's five o'clock somewhere.
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Posted: Mon May 26, 2014 9:45 pm
A Breath Before DrowningWord Count: 538 "Now's as good a time as any, girl." Astarte sat with her legs framing a single rung of the railing before her.She sat with her back to the cheap sliding door to her apartment, where a quick glance backward confirmed the presence of candles atop papers atop books atop more papers. They stood as sights of comfort now - signs of how far she came since she first moved to the city. London had its own charms, she mused readily. That rotten old rubbish pit was more home to the dead than the living. I loved it there. I would've moved straight into the Tower itself if they let me. But... Even with all the good times we shared, I think Destiny City absconded with my heart. This quaint little ripoff of London sports quite a few more supernatural phenomena.
But this... It's a bit of a departure from just moving across countries. Sure, the trip over the pond was tiresome and all that rot, but I made it and everyone here speaks something similar to English, nothing's quite bitten my head off yet and the rent's cheap enough. Job's doing well. Things panned out alright, even with this new possession of the body of a demon. Yet, that's right where my troubles lie... Astarte sighed aloud, shoulders visibly sagging into the nest of tiger lilies surrounding her biceps. She glanced toward their quiet petals, where the evening sun played up their brilliance. She wondered if the land she intended to visit sported fields of the orange flowers as far as the eye could see.
"You've always loved haunted houses, but a haunted planet takes the cake." What might she find there? Already she ran across a fair number of youma, and their constituent handlers. There were just too many possibilities. The entirety of the place might be overrun by those wretched beasts, or she'd happen upon some dull and grey chunk of rock with absolutely nothing left for her, or she'd find it was a veritable slice of hell and a demon's haven to boot. The Primer encouraged visiting, if only to find her own answers, and never hinted toward any potential disasters therein. Still, it also spoke ill of the Dark Mirror that she found rather welcoming.
The option to visit Astarte sat highlighted on her cell phone's screen, glowing dully toward her as if the whole of the operation exuded normalcy. "I guess I'm just supposed to hit 'accept' and wait for some kind of instructions? Never done this before." With a huff, she pressed gloved fingers into her cheek. "This better not be some kind of ridiculous hoax." Suspicion's a great way to deprive yourself of experiences, though. You never waded this deep into the supernatural due to skepticism. All it takes is a little belief, and new doors open up in no time. Besides, the day's been boring enough with no leads to take and most research hitting dead ends. What's a spot of fun in visiting a whole different planet? Certainly couldn't hurt, compared to what's in store for the rest of the day.
Her nerves now assuaged, the Senshi of Malice managed one anticlimactic click of the keys before she vanished.
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Posted: Thu Jun 19, 2014 9:24 pm
The Hills of AstarteWord Count: 477 She never felt silence so heavy before.
Astarte stood atop a grassy hill, painted in rustic yellows by the twin planets illuminated in the sky. Stars spanned infinitely across the blackened sky, and she marveled at their texture for a great while. As her eyes adjusted, Astarte saw vibrant streaks of dark purple swirled through the sky, something she never dreamed of seeing on earth .They spread like breezes through the desert, whisking behind pinpricks of light or curling toward the larger rock that glowed a brilliant red. She considered that it looked like a setting moon, but she knew far too little about the planet to confirm such a suspicion.
Her curiosity flared up almost immediately, and Astarte looked out toward the rolling hills framed by forest on its outskirts. Far in the distance, she noted some kind of city-structure and wagered that she needed to head in that direction. Her first steps confirmed the ground as firm, yet soft enough for her heels to sink just slightly between blades of grass. Though not a cloud lingered across the starry sky, Astarte guessed by the fresh scent that it rained somewhat recently. Soon her walk led to a trot, and her trot led to a run as a sudden, striking sense of nostalgia washed over her. It felt utterly delightful to simply scramble down the hill as fast as she possibly could, parting through tall grasses that reminded her of autumns she never felt she truly knew.
As Astarte reached the second hill, standing taller than the first, she looked out toward the remainder with renewed interest. Each hill bore a few rocks buried into its surface, veritable boulders at that, but none offered streams or hedges or even an errant tree. And curiously enough, all the trees behind her sported curious colors found only on a sunset: reds, golds, and even purples tipped leaves that stood green on the earth that she knew so well.
Finally she descended toward another hill, and a faint smell greeted her halfway down. It smelled slightly of an herbal mixture, with sage and thyme intermingling with a hint of cinnamon. She thought she picked up lemongrass as well. Without further hesitation, Astarte gave into her need to know more and sprinted up the next hill, ever vigilant toward the horizon. Her legs burned with fatigue already, like the amount of effort demanded by her planet stood significantly higher than that of earth, but she never minded it. Much like rigorous exercise, she found it somehow appealing... Somehow familiar, like she ran these hills a thousand times before in returning home.
Over several hills she ran, crowning the next and the next, until she saw with great clarity what awaited her at the edge of the plains. She gasped, every fiber of her body coming awake to witness the scene.
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Posted: Thu Jun 19, 2014 9:43 pm
Music of the SpheresWord Count: 513 The wind picked up when she entered the city; music sounded in a lulling ambience, a relaxing tune that punctuated the breathless breeze. She found it relaxing, though mystifying that the enchanting song came from both nowhere and everywhere at once. She walked into the village, sporting easily recognized housing with steep roofs of handmade shingles, shining in some kind of deep blue, iridescent material. She never saw its kind on earth before, and the roofs extended far down enough that she could just brush her fingertips across the edge. While she never picked up the texture through gloves, she could tell by the glide that the material was mirror smooth. Drawing away, she smelled her fingertips.
Strangely, the roofs smelled of clove. Astarte could not fathom why.
Rounding the corner, she realized that each building sported several windows, mostly circular with a cross-shaped centerpiece that divided the glass into wedges. Comparatively, the walls of the houses offered a rough, chiseled texture as if carved of some fibrous material. It gave off an aroma that she smelled previously, a lemongrass scent mixed with cinnamon, and continued prodding revealed that the material offered some give. Finally she used her added strength to break off a small portion of the wall for examination. Pausing just before the window, she admired the piece under the moonlight night, and found nothing unusual about it. Pale yellow, dotted with orange, fibrous... It reminded her of a squash somehow.
In a fit of curiosity, Astarte bit into the piece. immediately she blanched, spitting emphatically before she wiped her tongue across the back of her arm to rid herself of the bitter taste. "Yuck!" She exclaimed loudly before she chucked the remainder at the ground. "Brilliant idear, Angel... Just taste test everything that vaguely reminds you of food on a foreign bloody planet." She sighed.
She glanced toward the apex of the roof, where a circular device composed of thin wire stood at the top. Various shells dangled inside the wire, and as the wind blew, they chimed together to participate in the curious melody haunting the village. "Well isn't that a touch bizarre... Wonder what that's for. There's got to be a library around here somewhere... If it doesn't share a bit of insight about that contraption, it might tell me how to build it. Surely there's folklore around here too... Might not be too terribly much of a loss if the books survived." And why wouldn't they? For the most part, this place looks alright. Missing all the people, don't know where they went, but aside from the eerie solitude it survived its time pretty well.
A particularly strong gust kicked up, whipping the senshi's tamed hair around violently while a great chiming sounded from a central building. Astarte looked toward its spire to find an infinitely more confusing contraption, somewhat resembling a mobile crossed with the noise machines crowning each of the presumed houses.
Looks like that's my next destination, she thought with determination as she started down the faintly glowing stone steps toward the central structure.
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Posted: Fri Jun 20, 2014 8:16 pm
Key to a MelodyWord Count: 501 The central spire of a building stretched skyward, and Astarte's gaze traced the curious obsidian tower toward its zenith. She marveled at the rune patterns stretching around its girth, each luminescent blue sigil bearing an uncanny resemblance to the runes painting her gloves and boots. At the base of a building, just before the walls, a singular stand housed a set of crystalline objects like those she saw crowning the houses. Reaching out, a gloved hand brushed the strange metal chimes, and a set of monotonous notes followed. Frowning, Astarte began to fiddle with the device.
She soon discovered that the stand offered no lateral movement, no relocation or even so much as a creak when she attempted to bend it. The metal sigils inside offered no additional clues either, and her studies turned up nothing further. "What in blazes is this thing?" She asked aloud, fingers strumming the unconscionably smooth symbols to no avail. "I'd wager it's some kind of a lock, or perhaps even a key, but there's no way I could get it out of the ground... And if it's a lock, I don't have the sequence this bugger might want." With a huff, Astarte folded her arms and rested them atop the circular housing for the device.
A cacophony of clanging tones followed, and Astarte gasped in sudden shock.
The jumble offered nothing toward recognition of the key - not like the sense of nostalgia that washed over her. Astarte's eyes glazed momentarily while a faint melody came to mind - one that implored she recite its melody on the musical instrument that taunted her so. After a long measure of hesitation, Astarte set about slowly learning the notes offered by the device. With no musical background to fall back on, she lacked even a rudimentary understanding of how to name the tones that sounded, let alone arrange them in a meaningful manner.
Yet, she realized that she didn't need such a stuffy education.
As she forced herself to relax and quit picking so relentlessly at the device, her fingers found the notes in relative accuracy. And as she closed her eyes, focused on the impulses guiding her hand, the melody slowly formed amidst ample meditation. Several tries ensued, each slightly more familiar than the last, until finally she struck the objects at the proper pace to render the melody that caught so heavily in her mind. And surely enough, with the final note still resounding on the wind, a possible doorway opened in the side of the spire.
Initially the portal started as a swirl of purple, much like the gaseous streaks of color marring the sky, though this one grew and whorled into a veritable doorway judging by its shape. The purple shifted from deep to vibrant at its center, and as Astarte reached forward to touch its middle, her runes shifted to a similar hue.
When the doorway opened finally, yawning wide to expose its inner sanctum, Astarte stepped forward without a second thought.
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Posted: Fri Jun 20, 2014 8:17 pm
Dessicated FlowersWord Count: 531 Similar stands to the one outside housed a shallow bowl with an arcing thread of metal dangling a single symbol overhead. As Astarte approached, the symbol glowed brightly, casting a cold blue light throughout the space. It was then that she realized the bowl offered sanctuary to a cluster of tiger lilies suspended delicately on water. She gasped slightly, eyebrow raised at the displace. And as she walked forward to touch it, a second light caught wind of her presence and offered its own cold, brilliant glow.
The tiger lilies themselves offered a feel far different than the ones of earth - rather, she found them uncannily similar to stone. When her fingers met their delicate petals, their very visage cracked beneath the pressure and broke away before the whole of the flower fell to dust. Soon the rest followed suit until nothing remained within the bowl but stagnant water and dust particulates. Astarte sighed, dispatching the remainder of the crumbled flowers.
As she surveyed the room, Astarte noted the presence of bookshelves against both visible walls, and what looked like a glass covering protecting them from the elements. A quick glance to her left rendered the beginnings of a spiral stairwell that likely spanned the length of the building, and at intervals she found similar runes to those now casting light. "Perhaps that's Astarte-ese for light," she mumbled thoughtfully. The staircase itself offered curves reminiscent of nature, with rolling arches rendered in a similar material as the houses outside. The fibrous texture sported tufts and tresses of leaves, with intermingled vines tied around the girth of the banister. The stairs themselves offered the same obsidian stone that she found outside - complete with the very same runes.
When Astarte approached, the runes poured forth the same vibrant purple that she recognized outdoors, rippling outward as though she touched a still pool. Her hand found the banister easily enough, and with each wary step, she slowly ascended the staircase. Around and around it wound, offering the occasional light sigil to cast new glow over the recurring bookcases built into the wall. Her legs soon warned her of the length of her climb, the weariness that now burned in her hamstrings and calves, but she persevered out of sheer curiosity toward the top of the building. Surely enough, as she climbed she spotted great cascades of thick, netted greenery dotted by tiger lilies - and every leaf among them offered similar sunset colors to those outside.
Finally Astarte crowned the top of the staircase and soon met double doors with great, lengthy handles paralleling the crack. Embedded in their spongy material were several sigils, along with carvings akin to planetary symbols. Pursing her lips, Astarte tried the handle to no avail - even with the strength of a scout, the doors never budged. She aimed a swift kick toward the entrance, but it echoed with no effect. While she considered calling forth her power, something told Astarte that she faced a similar puzzle as the one she used to enter the spire. Finally she reached forth to touch the sigils marking the door, starting with her own planetary symbol.
And it opened.
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Posted: Fri Jun 20, 2014 8:19 pm
Apex of the StarsWord Count: 647 What opened before her stole her breath away. Looking as some cross between a topiary garden and an observatory, the top of the tower offered sights she never dreamed of on earth. A great portion of the floor sank in places where a sculpted pond sat within the ground, long crystallized from abandonment, yet the symbol looked readily recognizable as Astarte's. The walls themselves curved into a dome shape, constructed entirely of glass, with interwoven fibrous material as if those very roots grew into the vast view. And from the roof of the spire hung a great basin, clear with an encircled border of jet black dotted with runes. Within it nestled several tiger lilies amongst their pool of water, and several cascades of foliage stretched toward the ground, forming a tube beneath the bowl.
Near the edge of the strange room sat several desks, each complete with miniature housings for scrolls and books. Writing implements sat out lazily, as if the previous occupants simply rose from their seats and never returned. Even a few chairs sat askew from the desk to indicate such. However, Astarte paid them little heed as her attention beelined to the single ornate chair that seemingly floated beneath the sunset foliage.
She parted the thick netting to the best of her ability, but largely the former greenery fell away as dust painting the floor. She ducked beneath the detritus that now fell away in clumps, nearly seeking shelter beneath the large basin. And as the last of the grandiose cascade crumbled away, Astarte looked about at the sudden desolation with keening sadness - yet for why, she didn't know. Perhaps only nostalgia haunted this place now, she realized, as she looked toward the remaining petrified foliage. No one lives here now, and no one died recently. Why mourn it, Astarte? How did you lose your home?
You will see.
Astarte jumped visibly, drawing in a quick breath as she looked about for the source of the voice. However, nothing but the sullen room stared back at her - which offered no consolation to her growing nervousness. Heaving a sigh to still her heart, Astarte collapsed into the ornate chair that sank just slightly beneath her weight.
Suddenly the sigils lining the basin glowed to life with a pitched buzz, much like electricity tracing through wires. The Demon looked skyward toward the soft brimming light tracing the bottom of the basin until another, equally bright glow caught her attention before her. As she looked toward the source, she found that a book lying next to the chair now projected its own obnoxiously bright glow, and Astarte stooped to snatch it from the floor. When she opened the strange tome, she found nothing within its pages but similar light - no writing, no symbols, not even a glimpse of the ghostly purple gas that traced the outside of the building.
Heaving a sigh, Astarte leaned back in her chair - and then it dawned on her. With the opening of the book, the image on the basin changed dramatically: she now looked at some portion of the sky through what she now considered a lens. Surely enough, a surfeit of stars traced the familiar blackness, shifting ever slightly as her gaze focused on differing stars. While it followed her vision, she immediately found certain portions that marked the edge of the projection's field - it would reach no further.
"An observatory..." She muttered, breathless. Suddenly a thump jerked her attention from the display, and she soon realized that the book slipped through her fingers. Another glance toward the basin confirmed she saw nothing more than water intermingled with dust; the unusual display finally concluded.
"Well, that was downright bizarre." Astarte stood with a huff, dusting herself off of the detritus. "Bizarre, but undeniably fascinating. A queer place you're from, Astarte, but it's terribly fascinating."
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