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 Posted: Fri Nov 06, 2020 2:08 pm
 [The Arrival]
Aimee finds herself dumped in a strange, creepy town, afraid, alone, and surrounded by magical weirdos.
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Posted: Fri Nov 06, 2020 2:13 pm
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Posted: Fri Nov 06, 2020 2:15 pm
[one foggy night]
The nightmare in the strange village concludes with a confrontation against a powerful monster.
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Posted: Fri Nov 05, 2021 11:43 pm
out alive
[wc: 1004 words]
The Rift had nearly been a disaster.
Mirzam didn't want to reflect on it long, but she did know that she had hated absolutely every second of it. She'd struggled, and fought, and ended up nearly losing her little brother in a monstrous transformation. Yeah, sure, it had all been fake, an illusion, but the thought that Cleeia might have been irrevocably changed stuck with her. She hated the idea of losing him. Hated the possibility of seeing him go mad with whatever the Rift did to people who were turned into beasts.
But they had succeeded. They'd made it back to the surface, and Cleeia was still Cleeia, and Mirzam was so proud of her little brother for how well he'd handled the whole thing. He had, in truth, been less scared than she was, she suspected; but perhaps that was a factor of the fact that it was happening to him, and that he didn't have the weight of guilt on his shoulders.
She'd brought him into the Negaverse. She'd convinced him to go on this mission. If anything terrible had happened, it would have been her fault. She hated that knowledge, hated the firm feeling that she was in any way responsible for what could have been. Especially since it was all speculative, all should have would have could have, and there was no proof at all that anything she did or didn't do could have changed any step of the process.
Maybe she and Stanti didn't go, and then they entirely lost out, and looked bad to their bosses. Maybe they did go and it was better. Maybe they were both better at dodging and didn't get hit with the beastie's scales.
Maybe, maybe, maybe. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Not a dance Mirzam at all enjoyed, speculating.
Mirzam really did not enjoy the feeling of guilt, in general. It itched under her skin, made her squirm uncomfortably. She didn't like feeling as if she'd done something unidentifiably wrong, like she had caused pain she hadn't meant to cause. If she was going to hurt people--and she certainly had few qualms about that, all things considered, especially when she was powered up--she wanted to do it on purpose, and with purpose. And she certainly didn't want to hurt Constantin.
Her poor, bratty, genius little brother, who worked so hard to be seen by a world that that didn't like who he was or what he showed them. Who fought to stand out, fought ot be recognized, fought to be himself. Who deserved to experience the feeling of freedom that Mirzam experienced every time she powered up. But he didn't, because instead of something beautiful and freeing, for Cleeia, magic was fear.
She needed to help him overcome that, and the way for it was certainly not having him almost be youmafied.
But there was no way to change the past, and he'd survived, and she certainly wasn't going to look that particular gift horse in the mouth. He had come home with her, and he was himself, and that was what mattered.
The rest could work itself out. She believed that.
He would learn, eventually, she was sure; learn to feel free and powerful and magical.
For now, though, she had to look back on the sum total of what they had found and accomplished down there.
They had been separated the entire time, except for their rest hours during the mission, but nothing she'd heard from the combat team suggested he had been anything other than competent. At least, no one had told her if he'd ******** up somehow. And she had been with tracking, and it had practically been boring, not at all like what she'd heard whispered about. She'd thought, by the time they set up camp, that the whole experience was going to be a letdown. But oh no, she had certainly found the danger and near-doom she had expected in the Rift.
There was simply no other way to put it: she had wished for something, and gotten it, and it had not at all been what she expected. "Be careful what you wish for" was, in her eyes, the stupidest possible phrase, next to "money can't buy happiness" (her parents; inheritance had certainly bought her and Stanti and Desiree plenty of happiness, if you asked her), but she supposed there was a tad bit of truth ot it when you wished for excitement in a realm full of monsters and you sure did get excitement in a realm full of monsters.
There had been losses, he knew that--had seen a corpse or two with her own eyes, had noticed people missing that she had seen on their way down. But she wasn't one of them. Stanti wasn't one of them. No matter what the Rift had thrown at them, they'd made it out.
That knowledge carried her. And it meant that although guilt tingled at her spine, although she squirmed with the weight of it, she didn't drown under it. She knew that she had done the best she could; that she had made sure that she and Stanti made it out alive. And that was all she cared about, truth be told. The rest could hang themselves; she cared about herself, and her little brother, and that was it.
Besides, he didn't exactly seem irrevocably scarred by the experience, or anything. Mostly, as far as she could tell, he seemed quite content. Or he was burying his feelings. Certainly not an impossibility, but a fairly unlikely outcome.
Maybe the excitement of surviving was keeping him going. She didn't want to guess, really.
In the end, they had done their best. They'd fought, and won, and come back out alive.
And that was all Mirzam could ask for. They didn't need to be perfect soldiers. They didn't need to be unimaginable badasses. Not now, at least. They could work up to all of that.
All they needed for now, by Mirzam's measure, was to stay alive.
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Posted: Sat Nov 06, 2021 12:26 am
project: start
[wc: 564 words]
Meeting Helena had been like...a wonderful gift, bestowed upon Mirzam personally. She was so pretty, and so enthusiastic, and so pliable, and....hmm, Mirzam wanted to get to know her as well as possible. That, she supposed, was the only reasonable reaction to a pretty girl that practically melted into her arms. That called her a vampire, a succubus, flattered her by comparing her to such mighty and powerful supernatural beings, and suggested that she was pretty enough, seductive enough, to be a vampire or a succubus, a creature that stalked the night and stalked pretty girls to devour them. Though, of course, the devouring she had in mind was a bit less dangerous than Helena had implied. Or perhaps it was exactly as dangerous.
More than anything, she wanted to get her hands on the lovely little thing that had been so perfectly deposited in her lap. Wanted to tangle with her, wanted to dance, wanted to make her hers. And that was going to take time and effort, but she believed in her own persistence. After all, this was a beautiful; naive girl, who had practically swooned the moment Mirzam started flirting with her. She could only imagine what kind of terrible things she could get up to, given more time to bend Helena to her will. So that, she supposed, would have to be her project.
And a lovely project it would be, she was sure.
It would have to be taken in steps. Would have to be done thoughtfully. Would have to involve wrapping Helena around her finger, though she was fairly certain she already had a good start on that. She would have to convince Helena that she wanted to submit, wanted to belong to Mirzam and Mirzam alone. And if she was very lucky, it would even be true.
There were so many possibilities. There were so many options for how to do this. And Mirzam was excited for every single one. The idea, of course, would be to break her down until she agreed, willingly, to corrupt, because Mirzam had made herself the center of Helena's lovely little world. But that was the ideal. And it certainly wasn't the only option.
Mirzam understood that a forced corruption meant a complete memory wipe. She couldn't help but be intrigued by the possibilities inherent in that--the possibilities inherent in having someone at her fingertips that knew nothing else, and who only knew what she was told.
Did Mirzam know that this made her a terrible person? Of course she did. It was monstrous, to think of breaking someone that way, to ponder all the possibilities inherent in the potential to have Helena broken and corrupted and made into her precious pet. But she didn't care; it didn't matter to her that she might be judged, morally. Having that sort of thing matter to her implied that there was someone whose judgement she cared enough about to care if they were displeased, and frankly, short of the General-Sovereigns and her siblings....there was no one. And she doubted Constantin would judge this particular choice. The General-Sovereigns likely wouldn't care, as long as she wasn't foolish.
So she would do this. Would make Helena hers. Would do whatever it took to become the monster Helena thought she was--seductive, sultry, deadly.
It would be, Mirzam was certain, the most fun she had ever had.
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Posted: Sat Nov 06, 2021 12:40 am
possibilities
[wc: 553 words]
It had been a test. A little spin of her magic, to see how the people she targeted reacted, and it had gone beautifully.
Morzam was sparing with the use of her spell; it was too unpredictable, and there were too many variables in the desire to cause "bedlam and chaos." Too much chance that someday, someone would look at her as an acceptable target. But hitting tow people at once? The Page and the civilian? It had been delicious.
She wished she could have watched. She wished she could have stayed. She wished she could have seen more, seen how long they tangled, seen the Page's face when he realized he had been diverted from his enemy to attacking an innocent civilian. But of course, she couldn't stay, couldn't risk the magic wearing off too quickly. So she had booked it out of there as quickly as she could, and now she was riding the high of knowing that she had absolutely ruined both of their days. At least, she assumed she had ruined that poor Page's day. Maybe the civilian wouldn't even realized what had happened to him, what he'd been so affected by. Maybe the Page had desperately tried to explain himself, tried to salvage his image in the eyes of this poor b*****d....hmm, all so delicious.
There were so many things she had never even considered doing before this moment, and now, she couldn't stop thinking about all the possibilities before her.
She hummed, practically skipping, as she sought out a replacement target for draining. Perhaps she ought to perform these sorts of little tricks more often. Perhaps she ought to see about using her magic more creatively.
Perhaps she ought to wait and see what terrors it had in store as she got stronger. There was, after all, plenty of time ahead of her. And plenty more magic to learn.
She was, she realized with a sort of smug pleasure, a nightmare. There was so much awful potential to her magic--and it had taken that beautiful moment, the charming crystallization of understanding, to realize it. To realize what she could do. That she could turn Order against itself, turn the city against Order--hell, with the right targets and the right time, she might start a proper riot.
There would be few opportunities to pursue that kind of thing, of course. She suspected the Negaverse would frown on her causing chaos for chaos's sake, which was ironic, given how they branded themselves. But that wasn't discouraging. Merely, it was an understanding that she could not do this willy nilly. That she would have to be patient.
That she would have to wait for the right time, the right circumstance, the right situation to strike again.
That was alright. She could be more than patient. She could lie in wait for as long as it took to ensure that she got to have her fun. And in the meantime, she would poke, and prod, and test.
She would stretch her magic to the limit, and in the end, she would learn.
She found another civilian, another idiot out too late, and drained him until he, too, was unconscious at her feet. And when she found a Captain to take her in to turn in her quota, she was still smiling.
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Posted: Sat Nov 06, 2021 12:50 am
plans
[wc: 515 words]
The knowledge of Senshi homeworlds was something Mirzam had not expected. For all that she had known that they were named for stars and planets, she had never expected to be able to see one. She was still carrying the memory of Albireio with her in her chest when she got home that night, powered down, and sank into a nice, hot bath.
She gave herself the benefit of a nice galaxy bath bomb, filling the tub with color and glitter and the room with the wonderful scent of peppermint. Sweet, a little candy-like, and an absolute delight, it made Aimee relax into the warm water. And while she relaxed, she planned.
She and Helena were meeting regularly enough, now, and Helena was eager for everything Mirzam could give her. That meant that the plan was proceeding apace, as far as Aimee was concerned; there was no way she could foresee it going poorly. And this new knowledge opened up a new, wonderful opportunity: the opportunity to convince Helena to take her to space. To have a long, private evening, with just the two of them. No substitute for getting to bring her home properly, of course, but that was alright. It would be quite some time still before she could do that.
Oh, but she did look forward to the day when she could. Having Helena all to herself would be a magical thing, and she wanted it more than she had expected. It was strange, and a little odd--she had meant for this to be a power play, a game, a pursuit, but she found herself growing fonder and fonder of her awkward, sweet girl the more they spent time together. Perhaps, she suppose,d she actually cared, and that wasnb't so bad.
It wasn't as if it changed anything; her growing fondness and affection just meant that she was more determined than ever to ensure that Helena was hers and hers alone. That no one else would get their hands on her, romantically or as a threat. Because the thought rattled around in her head quite a lot--what would she do if she discovered that someone on her own side had hurt her sweet girl? That would simply not do, after all; Helena was precious, and deserved to be love,d and adored, and protected. So the sooner that Mirzam brought her home, the better. Once she was corrupt, after all, Mirzam could protect her properly.
At least there wasn't a sense of urgency. Not just yet. Nothing Mirzam had seen suggested Helena was in any danger, and so she could continue her plan apace, slowly building trust and slowly breaking down Helena's every resistance.
And the next step in that plan absolutely had to involve space. It could involve a lovely evening for the two of them, long and delightful and warm, but it had to be off this polnet, so they wouldn't risk interruptions.
And if she was going to do this, Mirzam would have to be prepared.
She smiled to herself.
Yes, this was all going to work out very nicely.
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