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 Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 12:41 am
[ Blessing of the Strong ]
"Teams, who needs them, right? Just need a partner, that's all, someone to watch your back."
****** straightened her weapon, and thought about what was going to happen. She punched Zel's shoulder, and smiled. When she fought next to him, everything felt good. It felt right. And she'd never had someone like that before; never someone who was strong when she was, who would go with her when she went, whom she wanted to follow, too. She barely knew what to do with these feelings at all, really.
"Alright... ready... and... GO!"
And she went. She ran with everything she had. The memory blurred, so many pieces, so many fragments were gone. She felt nauseous just trying to remember it all. It meant so much.
"So, ****** ... You um, want to go to the Scarentines Festival with me?"
Someone wanted to go somewhere with her. Not just because they pitied her, or because they were friends: Zel wanted to go with her because she was her. She did not know what it meant to be asked that kind of question, because no one had tried, before. And normally, she would have been utterly unreceptive to the idea.
But they fought together. They needed to. It was right. And...
"--only if you promise me one thing. If you want to leave me one day, you have to fight me first."
Please don't give up on me.
She couldn't say what she meant, then. Some things you lose, and you cannot get them back-- the rest of the memory, what happened after, it was all lost.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 1:12 am
[ Blessing of the Gifted ]
If you came from an abyss, if you came from darkness, from emptiness, if you came from nothingness, would you not try to fill the void? This memory began with such a feeling: ****** couldn't understand why her insides were all in knots, why this problem wouldn't go away. She'd made a fake family, she'd made friends, and yet it was these two before her that were fixing her now. She was handing her phone over to Freya and Kettil.
"I have been charging it to use it for Critter. Could one of you keep this for me for a little bit? I don't know that I am willing to keep it on while I wait for a reply, but if I turn it off then I do not receive any replies and I am faintly concerned about this entire thing-- Ah, have I mentioned lately that I..."
Freya was suddenly yelling HITS HIM! and Kettil shook a fist.
"Haha! Sudden love attack~"
She remembered gratitude. She remembered a mess of arms and cuddling and she remembered being enveloped by Kettil as she cuddled into Freya. These things, she remembered. And, finally, the barest whisper of her voice: "Freya, Kettil... love you."
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 1:34 am
[ The Memory of a Proud Event ]
"Hm? Guess they're all gone."
****** was looking right at Olivia and Faustus, feeling distinctly exhausted. She was also introducing Mea to the both of them, and trying to come to terms with what had just happened. She heard Faustus' voice, she heard Mea's, she heard Olivia's... and yet, the one thing in the memory that caught her attention was the rock that Olivia threw at the grey Phoenix rising from insanity and suffering and the collapse of the islands.
If she could have seen this, if she could have laughed, *** would have. She was locked inside the memory, however: bruised, exhausted, the Islands lost forever. But she was so proud of that ghoul, the little Wight who was full of surprises.
That would never change.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 1:42 am
[ The Memory of a Creative Incident ]
****** was trying to bake, for probably the first time, really. Nightmare visions of lighting things on fire at Conquest, or tripping in a fancy dress and smashing her face on the ground, ran through her memory. However, this time, she was trying something new: baking cupcakes, and she was doing it to show Xiu, as she signed up for baking club.
She had no idea it would turn out so well, though. When the dreaded icing step arrived, she even went so far as to create an ornate flower and trail loops of sweet pink highlight across the creamy icing. Everything she had been feeling but did not know how to express, all her pain and her joy, all of her fears and her aspirations, they all melted away as she cut a little chocolate lotus out and adorned her cupcake with it.
She smiled, and held up her one last plain cupcake, before setting it down gently and presenting Xiu one of her lovlier ones.
"I did not even need the fire extinguisher."
Somewhere shortly after, she heard a very familiar voice yelling: EXTREME CUPCAKE MAKING!
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 1:52 am
[ The Memory of a Reproachful Incident ]
It was a long time ago.
****** was standing in front of Sparrow, quite resolute, and very young. "I think you owe me some conflict resolution. Ideally through battle, I must admit that is the only way I can get rid of my bad mood now. I must insist." He was just practicing, and she interrupted him. She basically just picked a fight with him, over absolutely nothing, to make herself feel better.
Sparrow tried to puzzle it out: "You are fighting me...to find some sort of cathartic release?"
She had a different view; a piece of her own voice drifted to her in between blows: "I'd like to disturb this endless calm I feel-- do you know that? That feeling of something without end," she'd said.
Sparrow had told her she could not do this. She could not just fight others because she wanted to. It was selfish, it was wrong.
She needed a better reason.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 2:13 am
[ The Memory of a Destructive Incident ]
The memory was nearly silent, and it came only in fragments. Ghosts of what had been, spectres of the past, slivers she'd remembered inside that night. They were all gone in instants, so that all she could remember was the feeling she'd had, nothing of the real memories themselves. Snippets, no longer than a frame.
*** sat in the dark, her skin's glow low and flickering only faintly. She was nearly drained, quite literally; she had been expending her essence at a rate which she simply could not keep up with. And yet she just kept drawing more, pulling more from her veins. Syphoning off as much as she could, and then some.
A cut on her palm was dripping, slowly, into a tub she held.
One drop: she had forgotten why she was doing this.
Two drops: Mot under the table at prom.
Three drops: Faustus and the kiss to the cheek.
She shut her eyes, and leaned her head back, and felt that now with this level of delirium if she slept, surely she would dream again. Those vivid pictures so far from reality, from truth.
Four drops: Olivia and her surprising strength.
Five drops: Spinar and his pride.
Six drops: Freya as she destroyed the gingerbread house.
****** opened her eyes again, and looked up at the sky. She was lying on the school grounds, immensely grateful she had no need to shiver.
Seven drops: Zel's last text to her, before she disposed of her phone, and could no longer find him.
Eight drops: Freya's engagement to Kettil, how happy it made her.
Nine drops: Enzo making some kind of scary liquid in his bathroom.
*** sat up, slowly, or tried to. She corked the bottle with the same hand she'd cut open, and tucked the vial into her over robe. As she tried to rise to her feet, she fell forward and felt the cold ground against her cheek. She tried to rise, but didn't have the strength. Time for sleep. For dreams.
She didn't realize how little she had left in her; every one of the memories slipped out of her grasp as she fell unconscious, their faces and names all that remained.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 1:18 pm
As he pulled his heart out, two memories returned to him: first, he was sitting on the edge of his new bed in the Deus dorms. He didn't really know where to begin, but he was on a new start. His heart, his feelings, were all mixed together. He just needed to find a reason to feel.. hope.
A second memory: He was leaning over a body, trying to examine it, while his stomach threatened to heave. There were a lot of others around him, Deus, allies, people he didn't know very well. He saw Dorian, who'd been charged with accompanying him. He saw the others as blurs. He just remembered running to the side of the boat, and thinking: I was an investigator, sure, but I never... saw things like this.
He heard his name, over and over again, but couldn't make out the words. Harland, Harland.
Harland Leander Belle, who only wants to be a cowboy. However, there was little choice left, so he put the heart down. All he was as he faded away was a collection of memories.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 1:20 pm
Stern pressed his hands to his chest, and with a whimper, he removed his heart, and as he struggled, he broke out two memories:
He was at the school, visiting. He was new, and just there as a visitor, but he'd do his best! He really wanted to be able to study at Amityville, because he wanted to be the best. A transfer spot, that's what he aimed to secure. He looked up at all the lights, wondering if he could one day be great. If he could make it here.
-- The more he struggled, the more his memories opened to him:
He was leaning over a pot in the Maul, puking as the scent of peppermint utterly overwhelmed him. There was nothing he could do to make himself feel less disgusting, but he was nearly in tears it hurt so much to be there. And huge gingerbread monsters and other creatures were attacking the Maul, attacking his new friends, and he couldnt' do anything to stop them. His tail flicked back and forth in irritation, and then just hung there. He pushed himself to his feet, spat into the pot, and went to rinse his mouth before he ran back in. Even if he was sick, he wanted to help.
These memories opened to him, and he finally heard it: Van.
CERVANTES, the devil's dandy dogs wait for you to become strong again.
"Van, van... don't be scared, Van."
"I'll do my best..." he whispered.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 1:27 pm
[The New Friend]She'd been sitting on the steps when she met him. She had been terrified. He was tall and intimidating but... he wasn't mean. She had introduced herself quietly and listened politely for his name.  . She needed to remember that.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 1:36 pm
[ Blessing of the Chosen - Harland ]
"O m'anam," his mother said, pressing one hand against his heart, and against her heart. She smiled at him, and he tried not to think of the things he'd seen: the shadows that hunted him, the nightmares that plagued his sleep. Things he had no explanation for, things he couldn't begin to understand.
It was impossible. When Harland smiled back at her, it was fleeting, and it was empty. He didn't know what to do to keep it from hurting her. He was young, and it was getting more and more impossible to even go to classes, or finish his Irish homework. He was just struggling. And he was afraid: if he took pills for it, if he let them medicate him like he was sure they'd want to, would he lose his ability to fight and evade the monsters that he thought he saw?
He was too far gone, one way or another. And that was why he had to leave home.
Not forever... just for now. Harland kissed his mother on the cheek, and leaned his forehead against hers for a moment. "NÃ thuigim," he whispered.
"How bad has your Irish gotten, then, that ye can't understand a simple phrase, mo chroÃ?"
Harland shrugged, with a half smile. He understood what she said. He didn't understand why.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 1:40 pm
[ Blessing of the Great - Harland ]
It was raining.
Harland stood under a black umbrella, wearing a suit that had several cigarette burns in it. He smelled like whiskey, and it was unsurprising: He was at Auberon's funeral, and he had even shaved his face clean for the endeavour. Well, if there was even a funeral. There wasn't, really-- it was just a simple burial, and Auberon's sister stood on the other side of the grave.
Across the cemetery, Harland saw his mother, looking like a bean sidhe: she seemed to hover across the ground as she approached, and he was terrified that she was there to haunt him. The ghost of her.
He should have realized it wouldn't be that simple; his mother was very much alive, even if she had a hunted look to her features, and she was there to find him. She looked livid.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 2:05 pm
[ Blessing of the Chosen - Cervantes / Sterncave ]
Cervantes was in his natural form: a black pup, with fur dark as pitch, and eyes that blazed instead of the hot smoulder of his elders. He sat at the feet of two hound-wolves that towered over him, and one of them batted him lightly with a very large paw.
You know why we are harsh on you, it said.
You know why the Pack judges you, the second said.
"I am the Son," he said, trying to keep all hint of a whimper out of his voice. "The Hope, the Champion anew."
He knew the words, he'd heard them said. He didn't feel like they belonged to him, no.
Son of the Pack, our only newborn. Leader's seed, if you fall WE fall, the first hound said, pulling Van in with his massive paws, licking at the black fur with a tongue that looked like cracked volcanic glass, lava showing underneath it.
An Alpha child cannot have weakness, the second added, resting its head on its paws, lying down and surveying the pup. Van didn't flinch away. He wagged his tail.
"I won't let you down, promise," he said, and rested his head on his paws. He wasn't scared of the responsibility. He was eager.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 2:21 pm
He rested on the ground, eyes closed, melting away to the time before when he was nothing and everything around. It wasn't so much as being any worse than the time before, any less, but he had gained so much and was tempted by the sweet allure of knowing that he felt personally robbed. The Goddesses had lead him here, made him solid, and asked everything of him, and while looking at it simply, he shouldn't have demanded any more from something that created him and had been clear they wanted him to be used. However, they had offered a prize, a reward, and he didn't feel as if he had gained that.
He was both disappointed in not reaching his own goals of knowing, and disappointed in how short of use the Goddesses had need of him. There was also a bitterness in that they might have never wanted him to be a Goddess at all.
Could he be robbed of something he never had? He guessed not, but that didn't make the feelings of loss any less intense.
He felt as if he had failed someone important, not only himself, and he laid there, floating away, just as confused as he had been when he was created.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 4:23 pm
[Major Blessings - Memory 1]
He laid in the quiet, listening to the soft inhale and exhale of breathing as he shifted under fresh, clean covers. There was a faint light, never too dark, in the room, making out the silhouette of a curvy figure, the glow on a bare shoulder, rising breasts, a turned chin, and the shine of thick curls of black hair. The room smelled of shampoo, body wash, and the smell of damp hair on pillows. Her damp hair on pillows.
He felt a soreness in his back and felt satisfied, but a sort of distant dread that something wrong could happen at any moment. That this, here, was not fully his. That this, here, was not a reward he should have and in the end would destroy. The guilt rose, but she turned, breathed out, and he felt her knee brush against his leg, and breathed out in turn with her.
For now....just for now....he would take this.
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Posted: Wed Aug 21, 2013 5:25 pm
[Major Blessing - Memory 2]
He took deep breathes, trying to keep his heart from racing as he felt the cold seep into his uniform. Blood, hot and thick, started to stain his chest, and he looked up at the mass of white fur and black lips that were intent to tear him apart before turning and rolling the mass off of him.
He'd done it. He had done what he felt was impossible and destroyed the great bear. It had been just a basic fear, of wild animals, but he had moved away from that. His fears were out of this natural world, and these animals could no longer touch him. Not normal people or creatures made out of the natural world could touch him. He had become out of this world to fight things out of this world, and everything else just didn't match.
Heart pounding his his chest, he looked up at the red-head who beamed at him, looking like a great bear himself with the fur trim, and stared at him, smiling but utterly bewildered at the outcome. He had won, despite his own determination that he would be dead today. He had fought, and the outcome had somehow changed.
He lived, and as the drip-drip drug of victory started to trickle into his system to be tasted for the first time, he breathed out again and smiled.
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