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 Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 8:37 pm
 The tome before you belongs to Ambrus "Black" Preston (Coronaviridae) and Ameretat. There is a seal surrounding the book, one that allows you to leaf through the pages but prevents you from adding anything. The enchantment is strong and cannot be broken so easily, if at all. So just sit back and enjoy the Tall Tale that is unfolding before you. You can visit the Stationery Store to find out how you can write your own Tall Tale.
About Ameretat
Written on: 01-15-06
Author: Ambrus "Black" Preston (Coronaviridae)
Gender: Male
Age: Embellished Tale
Favorite Tale: Unknown
Least Favorite Tale: Unknown
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 9:59 pm
_______________________ // table of contents
In which some things are explained, and others left out.  Index
page 1
i. Mule Post; Ameretat's Cert
ii. Table of Contents
iii. Ameretat's Arrival
iv. The Child
v. The Guardian
vi. The Home
vii. Ambrus's Family
viii. Ambrus's Diary
ix. Posessions
x-xiv. Reserved
xv. Credits
page 2
i-iv. Jenner and Ambrus...
v. Ameretat and Indigo
vi. Anahita's Arrival
vii. Anahita's Emergence
viii. Ameretat's Dream
Events
Ameretat Arrives; Ame & Ambrus Meet Tybalt :: 1.15.06
Sylvester Meets Ame & Ambrus :: 1.28.06
Jenner Brings Indigo Over; Ame & Indigo Spend Time Together :: 3.04.06
Anahita Arrives :: 3.07.06
Ame & Ambrus Meet Tiwaz, Rhea, & Their Guardians :: 3.10.06
Anahita Emerges :: 3.12.06
- ii -
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:01 pm
_______________________ // ameretat's arrival
In which our hero goes looking for ink and gets more than he bargained for. Huni Pi Huni was feeling better, much better than these past few days. She was now able to look at food without turning green or developing the urge to run to the bathroom. She hummed a soft tune as she sorted some of the newly arrived pens and notebooks in the shop front. Coronaviridae Had Ambrus Preston known that the shopkeep of the little stationery store had been feeling under the weather recently, he wouldn't've come. For a contract killer, the half-faceless was surprisingly unwilling to make waves with other people socially. But--the critical but--he'd only heard about the shop in a roundabout way and knew nothing of its occupants nor of its reputation for sending people home with new children; only that it was reputed to have an excellent selection of papers and inks.
It was the latter he was most interested in, and so it was on that chilly evening that Ambrus stopped in front of the stationery store. Mismatched eyes--one green, one dead white--tracked to the sign above the door, before the man nodded once to himself. Untucking a hand from the pocket of his overcoat, he reached for the door, opening it--more by habit than consciously--in such a way to reduce the noise it made. Then, without further ado, he moved inside, letting the door fall shut behind him.
There was, he noted, a woman busy about the shopfront. He cleared his throat politely, before offering a dry and quiet, "Good evening." Huni Pi Huni, too absored in the sorting, didn't hear the door open or the chimes ring. So when someone bade her good evening, she yelped in surprise and practically leapt several inches off the ground.
"Eeeeeek!"
Calming down, Huni crimsoned in embarrasment and set aside the things she had been sorting. "Good evening, what can I do for you?" she asked. Coronaviridae Ambrus really should have known better than that, though he didn't look all that surprised when Huni startled. This sort of thing happened around him. "I'm sorry." The usual lack of affect in his voice didn't lend much validity to the apology, sadly.
"I was looking for a very certain kind of ink. An acquaintance recommended me to you--he'd said you might have what I'm looking for." Without prompting, he produced a folded bit of paper, glancing down at it as he shook it out. When he'd gotten it open, he extended it to Huni with little ceremony.
"Here." The shopping list, such as it was, had a single item on it: a brand of black ink known for being smooth, indelible, and very difficult to counterfeit. Apparently, Ambrus had some rather expensive tastes when it came to writing materials. Huni Pi Huni quirked a brow at the brand, she hadn't had any new deliveries of it, mainly because few people could afford to purchase it. Then again, Huni frequented flea markets and bargain bins far more often than a boutique.
"We do have this, but I think it's still in storage." she apologized, "Let me go get it for you, er, how much are you looking for?" Coronaviridae "One of the smaller containers will be enough. I think they're four ounces to a bottle," Ambrus replied evenly. Granted, you had to pay for it by the tenth of the ounce, but if money were no object...
"I can wait," he added. After surprising her like that, there was no reason to make her think she had to hurry. "I'm surprised you had it in stock at all. Most stores just don't carry it." He slipped his hands back into his pockets and went quiet, having said his piece. Huni Pi "Well, it was in one of the old boxes from the old owner. Ning's amazing at keeping the inventory accurate." Huni explained before heading to the back where the stockroom was.
A few moments of silence passed before the Study door creaked open, inviting Ambrus into its confines. Coronaviridae Now, that was interesting.
Ambrus had been investigating--without touching--some of the nicer pens available for purchase on one of the shelves when the creak of the Study door caught his attention. He looked up, assuming it was Huni returning--and blinked, once, to see a very different door open with no sign of the woman shopkeep returning.
In his line of work--to say nothing of his family--such events did not usually happen without a reason. Absently, casually, he flicked his gaze toward the door through which Huni had disappeared, before heading straight toward the open door of the Study.
It isn't trespassing when they leave the door unlocked for anyone to walk in, and Ambrus was no less immune to curiosity than any of his siblings. _Tall_Tales_ The Study would be a stark contrast to the main shop. It looked like it belonged in an old, condemned mansion than a newly furnished store. The air was stale and musty, like it had been closed off from the rest of the world for decades. And judging from the layers of dust covering the shelves, the carpet and the writing table, it certainly looked that way.
The only thing that could or would draw anyone's interest was the large, leather-bound Tome lying atop the writing table. Inkwells and quill pens were scattered around it, making it appear like the original owner had gone to bed for the night but never returned. Coronaviridae Ambrus was no stranger to abandoned mansions. He breathed deep of the musty air as he stepped inside, looking about with a gleam of interest in his good eye that certainly hadn't been there out in the shop proper. Not so much as glancing back at the door through which he came, the half-faceless stepped forward on the dusty carpet, leaving bootprints behind him.
Though he really only had eyes for the Tome on the table, Ambrus made note of the entire contents of the room, drinking it in as he walked. This place was old, carried its age about it palpably in a way the assassin could feel in his bones. While he did not do well with people, he was a noted antiquiphile... And this room, especially that Tome, were a delight for the senses.
He stopped before the writing table, eddies of dust settling in the wake his fluttering coat created. What had the forgotten owner of this place--Ambrus was sure it wasn't the woman he'd met outside, and she'd said something of a previous owner--written last? He reached forward, fingers hovering inches from the surface of the Tome--but not quite touching, not yet. There was a respect the man held for places like this one, that he had for few others. _Tall_Tales_ The Tome felt irritated with Ambrus, if only because he made it feel so much older than it truly was. It was unaccustomed to respect, preferring the fear and anxiety that Huni often addressed it with.
The Study, on the other hand, quite liked the man. If a room was capable of expressing emotions it would have smiled, and the floorboards creaked in a vain attempt of curving. The door quietly shut after him, flooding the room in darkness as the bulb flickered off simultaneously.
Once the feeble light returned, the Tome had opened itself. How it had managed to do so without coming into contact with Ambrus' outstretched hand, one couldn't be sure. But printed in a cursive handwriting was a question.
"Why am I so afraid of dying?" Coronaviridae Plunged abruptly into the dark, with the door closed behind him and the floorboards creaking, Ambrus merely let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in a gusty sigh. The back of his neck crawled with that seventh sense shared by soldiers and mercenaries, foretelling something in the offing--sure as an ache in the bones would presage a storm--but Ambrus did not move.
He did, though, draw his hand back as the light rose and it became apparent that the Tome had fallen open. "How...?" The solitary word spilled from his lips, unbidden and very loud in the sudden quiet of the Study. As he noticed the words written on the page, though, he stilled his tongue and leaned close enough to read it.
Why am I so afraid of dying? His brow furrowed slightly. Who was "I", to ask that kind of question? Not Ambrus, certainly, he--blinked as his hand strayed toward a pen, almost of its own volition. If something asked you a question, he'd always been taught, you'd better have some kind of answer ready in the off-chance...
Fingers closing on a pen, Ambrus frowned slightly and composed a reply--before setting pen to paper in handwriting efficient and compact.
"You haven't seen what's on the other side of death." _Tall_Tales_ It wouldn't have mattered if Ambrus had taken a step back or not, because the quills that were resting on the table soared up onto the ceiling, tips stabbing into the material. Where the quills embedded themselves onto, cracks began to form and instantly ripped the ceiling apart to reveal a blood-colored sky.
There came a scorching warmth, a wave of the most intense heat, and it settled within the Study. Screams began to sound, begging and pleading, promises and offers that would mean absolutely nothing. Nothing.
The walls began to melt, their essences dripping onto the floor like candles crying in the dark. The floorboards screamed as they burst into flames while the bear skin rug roared in agony. Amidst it all, there was a certain tranquility surrounding Ambrus, and though the flames licked at him, though their heat tried to bear down upon the man, it never succeeded.
But it was the Tome who would have the last say. It rose into the air, soaring into the blood-red sky like a fiery comet ascending into the heavens at a speed that would send any ordinary man reeling. In the blink of an eye, the Tome exploded into a super-nova, releasing a bright, blinding light.
Darkness accompanied by silence soon followed, and a soft thump could be heard. The solitary light bulb within the Study flickered on again, and it looked like nothing ever happened. The only difference was a small winged figure seated atop a pile of ashes. Coronaviridae The breath caught in Ambrus's throat as the entire Study heaved itself into violent life. The voices, the flames--calm as he was accustomed to being, he couldn't help but throw up an arm as the conflagration erupted around him, eyes gone to slits and an expression of shock on his face. It escaped his notice in the sudden chaos that none of the flames touched him, that the heat--though fierce--did not mar, and when the Tome burst into the sky and the blinding light washed over him, he flinched--
When Ambrus opened his eyes again, he thought for a moment the sight had been stricken from his other eye. The burning afterimage of that final explosion took several seconds to fade away, flickering from incadescent white to blues to reds and then nothing. The quiet thump, and then the pop of the bulb flicking back on, were almost inaudible to ears numbed by the cacophony that had gone before. It took him a moment to realize--as he let his arm fall away from his face--that the ordeal was over and everything was...
...normal? His eyes fell on the small figure seated on the floor, shining white in its nest of ashes and the dusty dimness of the Study. For a moment Ambrus wasn't sure what to make of the little creature who gazed back at him with such--peace--in its eyes, until two and two put themselves together in his thoughts. His mouth went quite dry. "Are you..."
"Ameretat," the apparition said.
"...mine?" Ambrus swallowed hard, simply staring at this child--Ere--no, Ameretat, immortality--who watched him so calmly. Ame, Ame...from the same root as--
In the moments in which his Author was watching him, struck quite dumb, Ameretat got his feet under him and stood in a rustle of feathers over feathers. He said something, something Ambrus's stunned ears identified as Sanskrit or perhaps ancient Persian, and then held up his arms in a gesture universal to any language.
Feeling as compelled as he had been to take the pen, the half-faceless stepped forward to gather the child up into his arms. Child, and--book as well, though Ambrus hadn't the faintest idea of where either had come from. Immediately the creature--the child, Ameretat--snuggled in close, resting his head against his Author's chest, eyes toward the door of the Study.
Like a man sleepwalking, Ambrus turned and headed for the door himself--checked the handle; not locked--and pushed it open.
He'd have to tell the shopkeep about the pile of ash in her Study. Huni Pi Huni emerged from the stockroom, cheeks and clothes doused with ink. In her hand was the bottle Ambrus requested, she had shook one of the bottles earlier, testing if the ink had dried up. The good news was that it hadn't dried up. The bad news was that the cap wasn't properly screwed on and it spilt onto her.
Huni had to retrieve another bottle and made sure the cap was securely in place before testing it. She'd have to excuse herself again, but her explanation died on her lips when she saw Ambrus exit the Study.
"Not again." She sighed and headed to a counter where they kept the wrapping papers. "Here's your ink, and as payment, you're to be responsible for that child." she stated upon handing him the package.
"For a brief explanation you were lured into the Study, tricked into answering a question, and are now responsible for a child. No, I have no idea why the room or the book does it, and no I have no clue if they have any significance either.
"And, by the way I'm Huni, you are?" Coronaviridae After actually stepping out of the Study, Ambrus had managed to regain some of his poise. He still sounded a little shell-shocked by the whole affair when Huni approached him, however: "Ambrus Preston." He paused a beat, looking down at the feathery burden in his arms--his new child was staring at Huni curiously--before looking up at the woman. "And this is Ameretat, apparently."
Another pause. "You mean to tell me this happens on a regular basis?" Now there was an unaccustomed note of annoyance in his level voice, as he stepped over to accept the package of ink. Juggling child and package proved momentarily difficult, until he found he could rest Ameretat comfortably on one hip while he tucked the wrapped bottle of ink away in his coat. The little phoenix watched the entire transaction in silence, looking from Huni to the package and back again.
"Thanks for the warning." From annoyance to sardonicism, now. "Is there anything else I need to know before I take him home?" - iii -
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:02 pm
_______________________ // ameretat
In which is told the story of a very young Phoenix. [ Ameretat ]AKA: "Ame"
[ Age ]: Newborn.
[ Species ]: Tall Tale (phoenix).
[ Profession ]: Full-time space heater, driving Ambrus nuts.
[ Physical ]: Diminutive in stature, Ame stands no taller than the average human toddler. In many ways he is distinctly avian, having a fine thick coat of white-gold feathers all over his body, a beak, taloned feet, wings, and a long peacock-like tail. When he's older he will be quite capable of flying, but for now, his strange anatomy simply makes it rather difficult for him to wear clothes. Fortunately, his plumage renders him decent under any circumstance, and the bubble of warmth he carries with him everywhere ascertains he'll never be cold.
Due to his hollow bones, Ame is very light for his size. He is also startlingly tough, but it's not hard to pick him up and throw him if you really wanted to. He's begun taking after his father in learning how to move about as quietly as possible, though his claws and the rustle of his wings tend to give him away.
He smells of clean feathers with a hint of cinnamon and undernotes of myrrh. He smiles by gaping his beak; the beak also makes it decidedly harder for him to pronounce English words, and so he trills his r's and drops sh's where he can. His voice is very high and very pretty, his singing very much like that of the bird he resembles--rare, but achingly beautiful. His smiles do not reach his eyes; they are inevitably solemn, and much older than Ame himself is.
--- Height: 3'6"
--- Weight: 50lb
--- Eyes: Red-brown.
--- Hair: Gold.
[ Mental ]: Ame is the definition of "happy child". He is warm and open with others, even at a young age, and is very rarely upset. Disliking no one, he'd like it best if everyone could just be happy with themselves and each other--discord being the only thing that can truly upset him. He is, however, quite grounded in reality when there is need for it; later in life, he will be capable of doing what is required of him to defend others, even if it leads to pain and privation.
This is very much at odds with the solemnity in his eyes--while Ameretat is ready to laugh and play like any other child, happy emotions never...quite reach his eyes. His look out on the world is an ageless and calm one, inhuman and very, very patient. He'll grow into this look as he ages, but for now his ancient spirit is a little out-of-step with his small body.
--- RHETI/Enneagram: 9 - The Peacemaker
--- Keirsey-Bates: eSfJ - Provider
[ Spiritual ]: The soul of a phoenix hides in Ame's small frame, shining through in a palpable aura of summertime warmth around him. Phoenixes are angels and psychopomps, representatives of the power of the divine. Though he is young yet, he is still a symbol of unwavering, inhuman immortality, interested in defending those around him from those that can bring the death of spirits as well as of bodies. Most creatures of a dark or unholy nature can sense that brightness like a spotlight, though whether they stray away from it or are drawn like moths to a flame depends on the individual.
While one might think he'd have powers relating to death and the dead, this is not so--phoenixes occupy the same plane as dead spirits ordinarily, so in truth, Ame's "real" ability is to see and interact with the living.
Like his father, he speaks the unvoiced language--the language of the faceless demons and other such entities--like a native, though he had to hear it spoken before he realized he could. Other languages come very easily to him, which is not surprising, given how big a role communication plays in his duties. His true native language is a sung form of Avestan, the language of the Zarathustran Gathas.
He is also connected inextricably with flame. The furnace of his life burns so brightly that he's never cold, and anyone who comes close to him can feel the heat--not enough to burn or discomfit, not at this age, but a gentle and comforting warmth. He can also kindle fires where there are none, encourage an existing fire or banking it to nothing with a thought.
[ What's in a name... ] (From: [x]) "Ameretat" is an Avestan name which means "immortality". It carries connotations of femininity, traditionally being linked to a goddess of flowers and rebirth; it is also one of the five pillars of the Zoroastrian faith.
- iv -
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:03 pm
_______________________ // ambrus preston
In which our protagonist, rather bemused, is introduced. [ Ambrus Preston ]AKA: "Black"
[ Age ]: apparent - 27. actual - undisclosed.
[ Species ]: Half-demon (faceless).
[ Profession ]: Contract killer, full-time Author of a Tall Tale.
[ Physical ]: A tall man, Ambrus resembles in most respects an ordinary human male. The usual mussed state of his short black hair and the circles under his eyes--the left bright green, the right dead white and filmed with cataracts--lend him an ill-kempt look. His usual crisp shirt-and-tie attire belies this. Distinguishing marks include the blind eye and a broad scar across his right cheek from a poorly healed wound.
Surprising in a man his size, he is almost completely silent when moving and keeps himself quite still at rest. He's been known to drum his fingers from time to time when stealth isn't necessary, but he rarely gives any other sign of nervousness, unease, or excess energy. His silence is more an instinct at this point than a conscious practice; it isn't uncommon for him to "accidentally" sneak up on someone under ordinary circumstances just because he's used to moving soundlessly.
Ambrus is always carrying a weapon, and usually more than one. His preferred concealed armament is knives; they don't require ammo and are easier to conceal than guns. However, when he's anticipating action, he'll usually have firearms with him. In a clinch, he's resourceful with the weapons around him.
He usually smells of gunmetal, with a trace of cigarette smoke (his dirty habit, though he doesn't smoke inside his place of residence--always outside) and drying blood. He is not sexually active, and is in general completely uninterested in humans, anyway.
--- Height: 6'3"
--- Weight: 185lb
--- Eyes: L.: green, r.: white.
--- Hair: Black.
[ Mental ]: Ambrus is a quiet person. Not precisely introverted, as he is capable of relating well to others socially--but he declines to, in most cases. The cold shell does not disguise fear of intimacy or long-repressed spiritual pain; more, Ambrus deals with life as it is: short, brutal, and cruel. In that sense he is much like the weapons he wields: cold, lacking in affect, and deadly.
This is not to say he is completely emotionless, or devoid of human affection. He is capable of caring some things; and, indeed, he cares about his appearance and prides himself on his abilities and excellence in his field. His principle drive, beyond a formless one for security, is knowledge: He hordes it as dragons do their treasure, even going so far as to give up his right eye for increased awareness of the world around him.
It is rare for Ambrus to act without even a rudimentary plan. While he can take or leave daily routine, he is most comfortable with lists and numbers and charts, plotting what he'll do before he does it long in advance. He always has a back-up plan in mind, and updates his strategy as situations change. In short, he's a mastermind in every sense of the word. It serves him well in his chosen profession.
He is capable of opening up to people. Children seem better at getting through his façade than adults, although Ambrus doesn't particularly like children--they're noisy, unpredictable, and generally good only for getting underfoot.
--- RHETI/Enneagram: 5 - The Thinker
--- Keirsey-Bates: iNTj - Mastermind
[ Spiritual ]: Created of the will of a faceless demon and a piece of a human soul, Ambrus has most of the power of his faceless parent without the requirement of anyone believing in him--a requirement that often limits the powers of full-blooded faceless. His visual power signature is black, though he never uses his powers openly. In the presence of another faceless or a source of strong magical light, he casts a dead-black shadow in the shape of an attenuated dragon. This is especially pronounced in the presence of his mother, Jenner.
Unlike Jenner, he is not capable of shapeshifting. The one exception to this is if he should be mortally wounded, which will force him into his "true" shape--the basilisk-like black dragon. Once he's in this form, however, it would be impossible for him to revert to human shape without the assistance of another faceless; he doesn't possess much shifting magic at all except what Jenner bound into him when she made him. This trigger can be tripped in other ways than a mortal wound, but it would take a very creative and very talented mage or psion to do it.
Ambrus rarely makes visual displays out of his power in large part because he manipulates much of it through the spoken word. When using the unvoiced language--the intention/emotion/power speech of faceless demons--he can command attention from even his surroundings, and could theoretically go so far as to stop time briefly on the force of a shout. More practically, he can lull people to sleep, distract them or get them to do what he wishes--or kill, though the more he must push against another creature's will, the more exhausting the effort is for him.
- v -
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:04 pm
_______________________ // ambrus's apartment
In which our protagonist's peculiar living conditions are expounded upon. ( Information on Ambrus's horribly grungy apartment building goes here. Yes, not apartment--apartment BUILDING. He owns the whole thing. Even if other people live there. )- vi -
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:05 pm
_______________________ // the preston-virus family
In which we are introduced to Ambrus's mother, her host, and their multitude of children. [ Jenner Preston: ] Mom #1, faceless demon and generally cranky woman.
[ Coronaviridae: ] Mom #2, ordinary mortal, befuddled and passive-aggressive.
[ Nexeu Preston: ] Ambrus's twin, who is looking out for him from all the way over there. Just like Riddick looked out for Kyra.
[ Anahita: ] The best and most gothy little sister ever.
[ Indigo: ] Occasional babysitter, who thinks Ame is weird. But who's she to talk; she's a velvet worm.
[ Haurvatat: ] Cute little sphinx kid, who is going to grow up and kill people.
[ Cee's Kids: ] All about the Mozou, the Dreams, and Entropy.- vii -
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:07 pm
_______________________ // ambrus's diary
In which our protagonist uses his hard-won ink to record the day's thoughts. - viii -
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:08 pm
_______________________ // possessions
In which our tiny family's worldly wealth is described. - ix -
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:09 pm
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:11 pm
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:12 pm
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:14 pm
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:15 pm
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Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2006 10:20 pm
_______________________ // credits
In which thanks are offered for services rendered. [//] The Tall Tales concept is (c) Huni Pi and Syrie.
[//] Ameretat's official art is (c) Syrie.
[//] The concept behind Ameretat is Coronaviridae's originally.
[//] I'd also like to give a shout-out to Inle-roo for getting me into all of this. <3 you, Inle.- xv -
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