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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 2:21 pm
In the beginning There was the cold and the night Prophets and angels gave us the fire and the light Man was triumphant Armed with the faith and the will That even the darkest ages couldn't kill
Too many kingdoms Too many flags on the field So many battles, so many wounds to be healed Time is relentless Only true love perseveres It's been a long time and now I'm with you After two thousand years
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 2:23 pm
Name: Landscape Sutton
Nickname: Laney, Elaine
Age: 25 (as of 3/15/17)
Birthday: March 15
Sign: Pisces
Gemstone: Aquamarine
Blood Type: AB
Fav. Food: Anything with peanut butter on it. Vegetables dipped in peanut butter, gummi bears dipped in peanut butter, fluffernutters, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She really likes peanut butter. (Note: smooth, not chunky. Chunky peanut butter is the devil's work.)
Hated Food: Bubblegum. She has never learned to blow a bubble, and she gets perturbed by the constant urge to swallow something after she's been chewing it. She also chews gum like a cow with cud.
School: None — although once a student at the ill-fated Barren Pines College, following her year-long coma, Laney declined to return to school. She has never completed her high school diploma.
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 2:24 pm
This is our moment Here at the crossroads of time We hope our children carry our dreams down the line They are the vintage What kind of life will they live? Is this a curse or a blessing that we give?
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 2:27 pm
Hobbies:
Bearing Gifts — I saw this Human Centipede t-shirt and I thought of you — I just had to get it for you! This necklace just really seemed like your kind of thing. That ringtone was just so you! Laney loves giving gifts, and usually starts her shopping for birthday and Christmas gifts months in advance. She keeps a small moleskine with her where, among other things, she jots down any gift ideas that come to her, so she can follow up on them later. Not all of her gifts are always spot-on to what the recipient might want, but what she lacks in accuracy she makes up for thanks to the law of averages: if she gives enough gifts, some are bound to hit the mark eventually. (Except perhaps for the Human Centipede t-shirt. Lord knows what she was thinking.)
They say the neon lights are bright on Broadway — Laney is a tremendous musical theatre buff. From DVDs to mp3s to local theatre shows to trips to New York City, if she can manage it, she’ll be there and she’ll get ahold of the merchandise. Laney is a somewhat annoying repository of showtunes and their lyrics, and rather melodramatically tends to feel that lyrics can serve as deeply appropriate commentary on serious situations. She has season sponsorships to Destiny City’s local theatre companies, and attempts to see every show at least twice. (This eats up most of her finances, and as a result she has a rather limited wardrobe for her age.) Although she’s never said as much, and has never auditioned for a show, her quietly nurtured dream is to perform onstage.
Gotta find my corner of the sky — Following her year-long coma, Laney has begun to come to terms with her dissatisfaction with her old life and her strained relationship with her parents, whose distantness and unsupportive behavior she finds increasingly intolerable. Her way of rebelling -- and of acknowledging the fact that she's never felt a real sense of self, or of her own wants in life -- is by becoming decidedly unambitious and a disappointment to her family. She's refused to return to school and finish her high school degree, and instead spends her time searching for something to believe in, something to make her own and feel fulfilled by. [A/N: Becoming a knight (if she does) will not fill this hole; it's not a momentary, short-term hobby.] Some of Laney's time is spent job-hunting, searching for jobs she can manage to get and hold onto and not want to back out of. The rest is often spent loafing around the city or wandering aimlessly -- while she puts forth a very positive, upbeat demeanor, she's a perpetually dissatisfied individual with a wanderlust born out of a need to keep trying something new until she finds what she's looking for -- whatever that is. She doesn't know what she's looking for, but she does know she can't stand to keep going on not finding it.
Virtues:
Focused — More than a bit neurotic about disappointing her loved ones, Laney takes devotion to near-fanatical extents. When she's given a task, she will defeat that task if she has to rip out her own hair and strangle the task with it. She's not easily distracted, and can sit in one place reading or do the same repetitive task for hours. (She can also, of course, become lost for an afternoon reading TVTropes.) She is not a half-hearted human being -- the only time she appears to be half-hearted about something is when, as noted below, she's being passive-aggressively avoidant.
Affectionate — Apparently perpetually affection-starved, once Laney is classified as a friend of yours, she loves you. She obsesses over learning your interests and giving the perfect gifts. She will want to hug you every time she sees you. She will remember your birthday and pay you lots of attention.
Open-minded — Both a tolerant and curious person by nature, Laney is not just any kind of friend, but in particular, a very accepting one. Everyone is welcome at her table who wants to be there; she loves you, warts and all. The only sort of person she doesn’t like is a person who doesn’t like her: getting a negative reaction from a new acquaintance often causes her to shut down quickly. Otherwise, she’s a curious person, interested in broadening her horizons, and is inclined to think the best of the things that interest people she cares about. If you’re into categorizing hermit crab shells, then it must be a pretty neat thing to do! As a result, she is capable of bravery where new experiences are concerned. Bolstered by the presence of a friend, she’s not easily daunted by things.
Flaws:
Cannot Cope, Going to Mordor -- When things go Laney's way, she's on cloud nine. But when they don't, she prepares with hysterical anguish to quit the internet forever. She doesn't handle her problems in the mature, responsible way of an adult -- she hides from them, gives people the silent treatment, and sobs into her pillow and eats Ben & Jerry's. Bolstered by the support of a friend, as noted before, she may be dauntless; but cut by the words of an enemy, she is quick to falter, frequently lapsing into passive-aggressive, broody silence or hysterical sobs (in either case, immaturely). She struggles frequently with feelings of anxiety and bitterness, and can’t seem to find a functional outlet for them.
We're Friends, Right? Right? Let's Always Be Together! -- Clingy, clingy, clingy. Laney is dependent, and smothering, and please don't ever leave her! This kind of neediness is definitely not the attractive, charming kind -- it's the kind that's oppressive and tiring to be the focus of, and can get in the way particularly if you're trying to get Laney to split up with you for any reason. She has some very bad social skills, and chief among these, she has absolutely no concept of personal space. If she says she loves your hair, then it's guaranteed that she is already touching your hair. She also has a tendency to run at the mouth, often offering Too Much Information, and though often she can tell when this is happening, sometimes she doesn’t know how to stop herself mid-sentence or wrap up a thought quickly. She can see the train leaving the station, but she can’t usually stop it.
Enabler -- Of course it’s a great idea, Laney thinks all your ideas are great ideas! Laney is rather easily swayed, aside from which, she’s generally of the opinion that loving someone means supporting them nigh-unconditionally. However far-fetched someone’s ideas or however uncouth their interests, Laney will try to be encouraging, even if she feels it’s a terrible thing to try to do. You should definitely try it, no doubt. You have to try — it’s better to go down shadowboxing than be Casey At the Bat, isn’t it? Of course it is. She’s the sort of person who won’t stop a friend or a stranger from burning their own eyebrows off. She would rather enable someone else’s bad or foolish behavior than speak out in dissent and risk disappointing them by being perceived as ‘too contrary.’ (Her own contrariness is, instead, deeply passive-aggressive: she’ll immaturely disappear or avoid things she doesn’t want to do, or fall stonily silent in conversations she doesn’t want to have, rather than say she doesn’t want to take part.)
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 2:28 pm
Sometimes I wonder Why are we so blind to fate? Without compassion, there can be no end to hate No end to sorrow Caused by the same endless fears Why can't we learn from all we've been through After two thousand years?
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 2:29 pm
 PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Eyes: Wide, almond-shaped eyes, with bright golden irises. Prone to staring.
Hair: Near-white, in a low-saturation frost tone, Laney’s hair is loosely curly and apt to tighter curls at the tips. It currently hangs near to waist-length. In her civilian life, she wears the top half pulled up and clipped behind her head, with the bottom half left loose. Her face is framed by a pair of shorter twists of hair that have been pulled free of her hairdo. As a knight, her hair is elaborately upswept, piled lightly into twists at the top of her head. It’s loosed to one side in the front, providing some sense of long, sideswept bangs to the left side of her face.
Face: Pink-peach toned skin, heart-shaped face, round nose, high cheekbones, medium-full lips. Her face is rather average, but not unattractive — just not ravishingly beautiful in any particular way.
Clothes: Laney favors hipster fashion in the style of Amy Pond — baggy, oversized shirts, miniskirts and leggings or hose. She wears comfortable, sturdy shoes for walking, usually high-top Doc Marten’s boots, and likes light jackets and scarves.
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 2:30 pm
There will be miracles After the last war is won Science and poetry rule in the new world to come Prophets and angels Gave us the power to see What an amazing future there will be
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 2:33 pm
Knight Title: Hvergelmir Squire of the Cosmos
Challenge: "Not all those who wander are lost.”
Uniform: {Hvergelmir Page} {Hvergelmir Page - Oathsworn} {Squire Dress -- A simple white dress, fitted, falling to the floor and pooling around Hvergelmir's ankles. With about a foot of extra fabric at the hem than is necessary, her dress is rather combat-impractical, and usually has to be bunched up and carried if she's planning on moving about at all, much less running. The bottom three feet of the dress bleed from white gradually into a star-spangled medium blue, as though fading down into the night sky and a thousand faint stars. The dress is sleeveless, and bordered at the top with molded gold detailing and filigree. At the center of the gold detailing on her dress is a round gold disc, with the Cosmos star symbol etched at its center. Shoes -- Although not often visible due to the hem-length of her dress, Hvergelmir wears starry dark blue flats with gold detailing. Accessories -- Hvergelmir wears a few gold bracelets on each arm, and a worked golden clasp at the back of her head that keeps her hair piled atop her head, but otherwise sports no additional adornments.
Weapon --
Page: A simple but not unattractive distaff of gold-painted wood, wound about with soft, unspun wool. The wool seems to have a crystalline sparkle to it. Spell - N/A.
Squire: A distaff and spindle of gold-painted wood, connected by wool in the process of being wound into thread. Spell - Hvergelmir spins out thread from her distaff onto her spindle; light sparks up from the thread of her weapon and begins to cover her, illuminating her like a small, bright star. This is useful as a defense mechanism -- looking directly at her becomes nearly impossible, and can cause temporary blindness if you try to keep doing it for more than a few moments. The effect lasts for up to 45 seconds total per battle, or as long as Hvergelmir can maintain focus, keep spinning her thread, and channel her magic. The easiest way stop the spell is to disrupt Hvergelmir from spinning her thread.
Knight: The most beautiful distaff in the world? An ornate carved distaff and spindle, made of gold-painted wood, with the wool now nearly fully spun onto the spindle in tidy thread. Spell - Hvergelmir spins out thread from her distaff onto her spindle; light sparks up from the thread of her weapon and begins to cover her, illuminating her like a small, bright star, capable of projecting a single, bright beacon of light into the air. This is useful as a defense mechanism -- looking directly at her becomes nearly impossible, and can cause temporary blindness if you try to keep doing it for more than a few moments -- and at this stage, the light is focused and powerful enough to shine a beacon high into the air that serves as a useful distress signal to nearby/non-powered-up allies. The effect lasts for up to 45 seconds total per battle, or as long as Hvergelmir can maintain focus, keep spinning her thread, and channel her magic. The easiest way stop the spell is to disrupt Hvergelmir from spinning her thread.
Summons Creature: A pantheon named Eikthyrnir -- Hvergelmir's summons appears to be a standard-sized caribou with midnight blue fur flecked with white like stars, crowned with golden antlers. Summons Ability: Hvergelmir's summons cannot attack or defend, but has the ability to grant a single teleportation per battle. Unlike Negaversers, this ability is limited -- the most distance she can travel is about from one end of the city to the other: 15 miles or less. Her summons can carry the weight equivalent of Hvergelmir plus one other fully grown person/two small children.
Stardust Cloak (personal item): - Fully recharges over a 48-hour period - Holds 30 minutes of charge - Activated when worn by concentrating on the item - After 5 minutes, minor cuts/scrapes/bruises are healed - After 10 minutes, moderate cuts/sprains are healed - After 15 minutes, major lacerations (if they have not already caused death!) will have begun to scab over, broken bones not set properly will slowly have set themselves (but will still be broken) - After 30 minutes, recovery time from major injuries will be reduced by about 1 week, and magic will be recharged by up to 50%.
Stardust Ribbons (distributable item): - Not rechargable (one-time use only) - Holds 30-45 minutes of charge - Activated when worn by concentrating on the item - After 5 minutes, minor cuts/scrapes/bruises are healed, sprains are numbed, blood flow stops from moderate cuts - After 30-45 minutes, moderate cuts/sprains are healed - After use, ribbons become just pretty trinkets and cannot be used again. - Since it takes her some time to make them, Hvergelmir has a limit of making 2 - 3 per month, and no "hoarding/carryover" on her part so she cannot give out a bunch of these all at once in big battles -- if she doesn't give out 2 - 3 in a given month, it will just be assumed that she didn't make as many that month.
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 2:34 pm
And in the evening After the fire and the light One thing is certain: nothing can hold back the night Time is relentless And as the past disappears We're on the verge of all things new
We are two thousand years
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 2:36 pm
Wonder: Hvergelmir, "the Roaring Cauldron."
In the beginning, before the world of men and gods existed, the wellspring Hvergelmir, deep in the frozen wastes of Niflheim, gave rise to eleven rivers known as the Élivágar. Over a long period of time, water of the Élivágar ran across Niflheim and poured into the northern part of Ginnungagap. The water froze, forming vast sheets of ice in the void. Hot air from Muspell melted some of the ice, creating a zone of meltwater amid the ice and snow. Here life began, and the first living thing was a frost giant.
Wonder Description: ={IC description}
Welcome to Hvergelmir -- the Roaring Cauldron, the Eternal Well, the Pool of Stars -- the Point of No Return -- be welcome, and rest. You have reached the last gas station.
The journey a traveler must make to the lonely center of the galaxy, to Zero Star Sagittarius, Cosmos Castle and the Galaxy Cauldron, is a long and lonely one, attempted by few. Hvergelmir's wonder exists along the route toward Cosmos Castle -- on a small, lonely island floating in space, suspended in a narrow spatial causeway between two stars where gravity is more relatively stable and travelers commonly pass.
The Temple of Hvergelmir is a place of refuge and of reflection, and it does indeed represent a rest stop of sorts, an interstellar waystation. For many, it's the last place they can make berth before the last, untenanted leg of their long journey to the Cauldron; certainly there are few who travel that way who'd choose to pass it by. The Temple represents a point of no return, beyond which the trip is too long to successfully make there and back without resting here to refuel before continuing on.
Energy is this island's chief export. A giant pool sits at the center of the island, ringed by towering Doric columns -- it's filled with a liquid (or so it appears) that may or may not be water, burbling softly with life, dark and deep enough to reflect the night sky above it so perfectly that the fabric of space itself seems to be rippling and swelling with the movement. The nature of the pool itself remains a mystery -- though some Cosmos knights have theorized that the island sits on some great ley line of the universe, the well that churns there representing a pooling of the faint vestiges of energy thrown off into the galaxy by the distant Galaxy Cauldron itself. It's from this theory that the moniker "the Roaring Cauldron" originates.
Whatever its origin, waters from the well prove to be some sort of universal fuel source -- though a limited one that loses its potency when the well runs low. Ships of all kinds seem to be able to run on it. Plants thrive on it; even humans and animals can subsist on it for a short while. A narrow aqueduct carved into the island floor allows water from the well to run steadily from the pool within the Temple out past the protective barrier that closes off most of the island, down to the long pier that opens onto empty space. Although visitors can't enter the Temple or the area beyond it when the Knight of Hvergelmir isn't in residence, the pier -- and thus the precious fuel that runs directly to it -- are always available to a weary traveler.
Past Life Name: Nephthys
Past Life Overview: The life of the Knight of Hvergelmir known as Nephthys, prior to becoming invested as a Knight of the Cosmos, remains a secret which Nephthys kept only to herself. She was always vague on the point. After becoming a knight, however, she showed no reluctance to allow herself to become well-known.
As with most Cosmos knights, Nephthys was well-traveled; she visited new planets and star systems with regularity, extending benificence on behalf of Sailor Cosmos and attempting to negotiate alliances -- or at least polite diplomatic relations -- with new senshi. When shining starseeds passed on from this life to the next, she served her part as a shepherd and ferryman, seeing them safely onward toward their return to the Galaxy Cauldron. With little to do at her own outpost much of the time save tend the garden (where she grew her own food) and provide pleasant company (and sometimes directions) for weary (or lost) travelers, she was able to spend most of her time (as many Cosmos knights did) engaged in travel.
Indeed, those familiar with Nephthys might, with a great deal of accuracy, have accused her of a prodigious wanderlust. As was common among the much-feted knights of Cosmos, she never lacked for wealth; her ready willingness to spend much of that wealth at any place she stayed tended to make her a popular figure on her travels, at least among businessfolk. She showed no reluctance to meet or socialize with nearly anyone -- and was as likely to book passage to a new star on a stellar cruiser as she was to travel in the company of space pirates. If it was arguable that her friendly, generous manner was a form of glad-handing meant to buy tolerance for a fickle, self-involved nature, still her sociable and cheerful demeanor did not lack for sincerity. She was a caring person, and capable of being a loving friend to those companions of hers who were understanding of her inconsistency and her inability to stay in one place for long -- but Nephthys had a yen to travel, to feel free and unburdened, and she rebelled against being tied down. Interpersonal commitments were the surest way to make her run from those she might have grown attached to.*
None of this badly suited the life of a knight of the Cosmos. She was peaceable and friendly, content to have been given a posting that asked little of her martially, and allied her with no homeland for which she might be pledged to go to war. Diplomacy was ever her preference.
A great one for correspondence, Nephthys kept in close touch with what friends she managed to keep, utlizing the communication system of signet rings to contact others from her remote Wonder in the vast deep of space. Her time spent at her Wonder served not as a sentence, most times, but as a reprieve -- a quiet retreat from relationships and responsibilities where she could unwind and psychologically detoxify, rejuvenating her spirits before she returned to a pleasant but taxing life of travel.
* (Nephthys was very much polyamorous; while her lovers were not always likewise, she could not have offered monogamy in a relationship, and would have been miserable in the attempt. She was also, for the record, panromantic and, in the majority {although not exclusively}, homosexual. As character connections go, she would never have been anyone's girlfriend, but might easily have had flings or FWB relationships with any number of characters.)
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Posted: Thu Apr 18, 2013 10:03 am
Solo - A Life Less Ordinary
Laney didn’t go home. She couldn’t, right away.
She had always thought — and now she wasn’t so sure — she had always thought that the most frightening thing in the world was powerlessness. Lack of control. It was a fence that defined her life, a wall all around her that closed her in and made her feel like she was just going through the same motions as the day before, and the day before that. She hated it. She’d spent the past year tracing the edges of those boundaries, looking for some gap here or there where she could make some escape, start defining herself and her own life. She searched, still, for something that seemed real and fulfilling. Something she’d chosen for herself. She wanted to choose her own direction.
But this — this new power, this uncharted opportunity — it came with no new walls or fences and was no less terrifying for it. This was power. This was choice. Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, Laney had once read somewhere. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. She’d never understood. Now, she suddenly felt she understood it all too well.
She hadn’t chosen this either. It had shimmered out of the air where once there had been nothing. Where her life had been quiet, pointless, and small, now this was in her hands, and she was forced to decide what to do with it.
So this was what responsibility looked like. Her life had gone by so far without it ever making Laney’s acquaintance. Her parents had called some things by that name, but none of them had ever really fit the bill; those had just been family obligations, the pressure to live up to her parents’ expectations and make their lives easier. Real responsibility was something she’d never felt before, and had, in some ways, been content to let other people shoulder up to this point.
What should she do now?
Laney ducked into a little hole-in-the-wall diner, the kind with broken jukeboxes at the back of each table and free refills on coffee twenty-four hours a day. She squeezed into a chair at the counter and waited for a server in a grease-flecked apron to take her order.
“Evening,” he said, folding his elbows over the counter. “How’s it going?” Her server was a 20-something collegiate who looked like he was dressed more for the kitchen than for customers, all patterned Hammer-pants and half-collar shirt, black hair pulled carefully out of his face. Maybe they were understaffed or something.
“I could use a beer,” she said, finding her dramatic grimness appropriate to her mood.
He eyed her vaguely and furrowed his brows in skepticism. “You could use another couple years on your license, then,” he judged, “or a ride to Canada or something. Want to try again, maybe aim a little lower this time?”
She nodded, not bothering to try and pretend she was 21. “How about a coffee.” Laney slouched forward in her seat like a deactivated robot. “I’ve had a rough day.”
He gave her a wide-eyed, defensive look that said he was sooner going to chop off his own left foot than ask her if she wanted to talk about it. That was alright. She didn’t.
He slid a cup and saucer forward from his side of the counter, then flipped the cup up to fill it. “Just the coffee?” he asked while he poured.
Laney took a perfunctory look down at the menu, mostly for politeness’ sake. “Just the coffee.” Her father’s voice in her head said, You always have to remember to eat responsibly, Elaine. Anything you eat after 9:00, you may as well just slather it straight on your thighs.
Her server was leaving when she looked up again. “Actually, I change my mind. Can I get a Belgian waffle with ice cream?”
He nodded. “Your dime,” he told her.
Harnessing the power of her metabolism wasn’t real responsibility. That was just something standing between Laney and a Belgian waffle. It was small and silly, compared to monsters in the darkness. Fear squeezed her lungs, and she zipped up her jacket a little higher to ward against it.
Real responsibility was just beginning.
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Posted: Wed May 01, 2013 7:09 pm
Solo - Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
Hvergelmir Page sat on a park bench, her forehead pillowed on the heel of one hand, and winced, trying to make sense of this newest wrinkle in her super-powered, magical life. Good lord, what was she going to do? There were people out there, dangerous people. Not just monsters. People working with the monsters. People who, supposedly, had power over them.
The Negaverse.
It wasn’t that Laney had never encountered the concept of bad people before. Contrary to popular belief, even loopy Laney Sutton did, in fact, live in the real world and was well aware that, as Sweeney Todd said, there was a hole in the world like a great big pit, and it was filled with people who were filled with s**t.
But now she had to deal with them. Her personally. She had to be the one to decide how to correct their wrongs, how to punish them. She had to play a part in the course of someone else’s destiny, instead of just letting other people play a part in the course of her own. She had to condemn people. How the hell was she supposed to do that? Where did a person even begin, setting out to be someone else’s judge, jury, and – and – no, she couldn’t think it. She wasn’t ready to start considering that yet.
The thing about just fighting monsters was, in a certain way, it was actually pretty easy. Monsters attacked without warning, savagely, and they set out fairly single-mindedly to kill you. That made it simple to let adrenaline and survival instinct take over, and lose yourself in the easy task of blindly fighting for your life. Trying not to die was second nature to most living things. It came easily.
Trying to kill someone else was anything but second nature. God, she hoped so, at least.
Hvergelmir frowned, holding up her distaff to look at it.
“You know, pal,” she addressed it tiredly, “I looked you up on the internet the other day. A distaff. Despite the use of ‘staff’ in the name, you’re not even remotely meant to be a weapon. Distaffs – distaves? – were used for spinning thread. For making stuff. Nor for destroying it. Do you want to kill people? Because I sure as heck don’t.”
What was Hvergelmir supposed to make of her so-called enemies? Buddingtonite had saved her, after all; once the youma had shown itself unwilling to follow his commands, he’d stayed in the fight with her, protecting her from harm and helping to kill the youma, even though he’d been no better armed than she was. Those weren’t the actions of an evil human being. Whatever had happened afterwards, those weren’t the actions of a person who deserved to be killed.
Why did they have to be people? How on earth was she supposed to know what the right thing to do was?
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Posted: Mon Jun 02, 2014 4:19 pm
Solo - And the sign said, The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
Laney wasn't an easy sleeper. She hadn't been, ever since the coma -- sleep was her sometimes-enemy, a thing that she always felt threatened to consume her if she let herself sink in too deep. It couldn't be helped; tiredness would overcome her, and she'd lay down, meaning to sleep, and sooner or later, laying there with her eyes closed, the same old fear would come over her: you won't wake up. Don't sleep too deeply. Don't let your guard down.
She'd lost a year of her life, once, to the hollow blackness of sleep. In the wake of it, she hadn't really ever been herself again -- and the world had gone on without her, leaving her behind, almost forgotten. Now she was more cautious.
Laney slept several times a day, and she only slept for a few hours at a time. She set alarms for herself -- on her alarm clock, her cell phone, her laptop -- and she tried not to think about what she was going to do when she had to get a job and her sleep schedule didn't really fit with the working world. That was a worry for some other time, when it finally became something she wouldn't be able to avoid.
This time, she slept more fitfully than usual, curled up on the couch under an afghan. Dreams came -- which they didn't always -- and she found herself wandering a lonely city, something that had been set on pause mid-moment, like she was wandering the thorned kingdom in Sleeping Beauty, the one that waited for its princess to be woken by the kiss of true love.
There was no tower here, though -- no bower nor bier in a high castle, no dragon and no prince -- the city was simply still. All except for Laney -- as though her year in a coma had been turned on its head, and this time, she was the lone person awake, and everyone else stuck as the world went on.
She searched the faces of the people she saw, finding too many of them familiar. Some of them were people she knew as Hvergelmir Page -- there was Camelot and his pretty wife, over there was Babylon, frozen in place with his lantern held aloft as though to see some faraway danger. Some were people she knew from her civilian life, people she'd always known. Tara, recoiling in horror from something Laney couldn't see. Her parents, clinging to each other with no room for Laney to slip between their arms and seek comfort. Carmine was there, even -- his mild face registering a cold trepidation she'd never seen on it before; somehow that was the most chilling to her of all. But what it was they were all shrinking back from, she couldn't tell -- all around her was the city, motionless, quiet -- all around her it was sinking into the encroaching dark.
Then, suddenly, she noticed it -- the way the dark crawled inward toward them, visible, the city crumbling away in its advance just before it passed out of view. As though it was aware of having been noticed -- as though it were a living thing -- all at once, it picked up speed, came rushing toward her. She screamed, though she couldn't remember hearing the sound -- but as she watched, buildings tumbled, flattening cars, rocks falling from the sky to begin to crush the people trapped frozen beneath them. First Babylon -- then her parents -- then the rocks came down faster and faster, splatters of blood heralding its approach by seconds -- till finally it was just Laney and Tara, and there was nowhere left to run -- and she screamed again, she threw her arms around Tara as though she could protect her -- and the crash and tumble of skyscrapers roared, and metal girders groaned and screamed through the air, and blood and dust over took them, and there was a horrible, staggering moment of twilight as the darkness reached them, and then --
-- she woke.
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Posted: Thu Jul 10, 2014 8:56 pm
UPGRADE SOLO - Swords to Ploughshares
Some nights, no one came to North End Park. Hvergelmir sat with her citronella candles and her book du jour and her Aquafina and she counted the hours by the tolling of the clocktower echoing from far-off City Hall. She was left alone with her thoughts, then, which was the worst company of all: her doubts, her fears, her exhaustion. Her boredom.
The week had been long, this time -- and she felt trapped, somehow, in the middle of it, like she was standing on a shoal and could just see the shore, distantly out of reach. Like all she did was shuffle things and people from one place to another, trying her best to be a functioning cog in a machine she didn't understand. When no one came around, she didn't know what to do with herself.
I should take my own advice, she thought idly, toying with a strand of her hair. I told Bischofite he had to decide what he wanted to become -- but I have no idea what I'm picturing on the other side of my own door. Is this all I'm really doing? Sitting here, waiting for enlightenment to just drop out of the sky, waiting to make myself useful to the universe once the universe comes forward and asks me?
She kept fiddling with the loose strand of hair, twisting it between her fingers. The Code had shown her something, once -- something personal, something just for her. There'd been an oath written on a page in a book, and she'd gotten some use out of that, crafting her own oath -- but just now, one of the phrases drifted through her mind again, as though she'd called it there on purpose. Tradition is the enemy of progress and of free thought. Doctrine is the tool of oppression.
Something about that was still nagging at her. What had the old oath meant? Why had Nephthys -- why had she -- thought it was important enough to swear to it? Who had Laney been the last time she'd walked the world, and what had her former self been so sure of that she'd put her name and her honor to it?
What did she know at all about her past self?
Not much. Nephthys lived on an island at the far edge of the universe's booniest boondocks, and in Hvergelmir's memories, she'd had few visitors. She kept a small island with a small temple and a small garden. She had a distaff and a spinning wheel and a loom. She was a weaver. I -- I was a weaver. That was me, once.
It was no more than a moment's work to summon her distaff to hand; she was used to calling for it by now. Hvergelmir kept it secreted away in the little subspace pocket, where it didn't take up one of her hands -- more convenient that way, since it made such a poor weapon. She'd never found any real use for it, in the end.
Still, there it was, a long, golden staff spun with wool, just as she'd left it last time. Every time. Waiting with no real purpose for the wait.
Hvergelmir had always wondered why the universe had chosen to give her a distaff for a weapon. She'd seen it as a symbol, at the time, of a place in the world for someone who built, rather than broke. But she'd ignored the essential elephant in the room:
It wasn't just a symbol. It was an actual, literal distaff.
Why hadn't she ever tried making thread?
The wool came free in her hands more easily than she would've expected. It felt soft and natural between her fingers -- and she took her time with it, fiddling to see what seemed right, finally pulling the long wool tuft into a twist, then twisting again. The vague specter of thread began to come together in her hands, solidifying into a sturdy line the longer she worked.
It wasn't just that, though -- the thread moved through her fingers a little faster than it should've. Stranger still, it glowed. She didn't just imagine that: the thread grew brighter in her hands, then all at once, it took on a life of its own. It fell loose from her fingers, chasing its way down to the ground in a long, bright line -- then pooling along the ground, before finally forming into a sizable mass at the end and glowing to a bright crest. Hvergelmir squinted her eyes, looking away -- and when she looked back, the whole of her distaff had changed. It was larger now, more substantial -- crowned with gold antlers circling its broad funnel -- and where it trailed a glimmering thread, it wound down to a delicate gold spindle suspended at the other end.
Could it always do this? she thought -- but before she could ponder the changes in her distaff any further, the light picked up over her again. This time it wasn't her weapon that changed.
She looked different. Her dress seemed to have gained another few unhappy feet of fabric, but it was cut for movement now, which meant she could actually see her own shoes and potentially run a few feet in a straight line without tripping over herself. But beyond that, she felt different, too -- like her senses had all gotten more powerful than they were before. Far-off auras seemed clearer and easier to discern. Her distaff seemed lighter, and she could move more quickly, react to things . . .
Stronger like Babylon. Faster like Gehenna.
Her Wonder had just given her more power. A Squire's power.
Maybe I should have tried making thread sooner, Hvergelmir mused wryly -- but then, maybe that was it. Maybe she really should've.
We live in a world where magic exists, she thought. It can't only exist for war. There must be other types of magic in the world, other uses it could be put to.
I'm a weaver.
Okay.
I'm going to make some damned string.
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