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 Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 7:21 pm
 Art © Dgcakes
Concept © DgcakesThis journal is Private and you may only post in it with Indubitably's permission. If you don't have said permission then don't post here. Do not ask Indubitably to sell or give you this kid because it is NOT for sale. If you want one PM Dgcakes Assigned: 12/31/06 Name: Vekja Gender: None Guardian: Greyson (Indubitably) Power: Creativity
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Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 8:55 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 8:56 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 8:58 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 8:59 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 9:00 pm
Growth Tracking/Questy Stuff
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Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 9:05 pm
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Posted: Sat Dec 30, 2006 9:15 pm
Gay-Pride Relic! YAYE.
Greyson did the same things, every day, like clockwork. His home was immaculate, and in shades of boring, neutral colors, like the clothes he wore. He made sure everything in his life was catalogued, organized, perfect. He had fixations, really, and spent most of his day fixing things out in the world. He had to leave at 6 am every morning to walk to work, if he was going to get there by 8 o'clock, for every day he had to stop, and straighten people's garbage cans. He had to make sure pebbles on the street were perfectly aligned. At the moment, he'd stopped on his way to cross the street, and was making sure the orange safety cones were perfectly balanced. They were heavy.
Spirits who had been set to work long ago awaited their moment. They had been assigned and given the power of their mistress to pull on the reality of mortals when it was time for them to become a guardian. And as it were, the time for one of them had come. While the mistress had been able to do this alone, hundreds of spirits had to work together to pull on Greyson's reality and cause him to "die". They were glad the goddess had given them the power. For without it, they'd never be able to do this and return him to life.
As the strange, tall man finally pushed the last cone into place, he leaned back only to--"ARGH!" He cried out as he fell forward onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding being hit by a bus, and tumbled into a girl on a bike, sending both of them flying. The girl, who was luckily wearing a helmet, hit her head hard on the drainpipe of an appartment building, which was currently being painted.
Greyson sat up, rubbing his head for a brief second, and went to help the girl up, resisting his overwhelming desire to straighten her now crooked helmet, and as she rode off, perfectly okay, Greyson looked up only to see a metal can. The vibrations from the girl's head had caused an unstable, full can of paint resting on the gutter to begin to teeter and finally, fall, crushing his skull, and putting teal stains onto his white suit.
Damn.
The spirits, knowing their duty, did just as they were supposed to, only with less glam then Oracle had. They pulled the man's body onto the ship, repairing it magically and destroying the paint stain. They left it on the bridge of the Samadueanna, perfectly living, with nothing different from when he'd left his hosue but the relic on a chain around his neck. Meanwhile they pulled his spirit into the realm of the dead, allowing it to bond with that of one of the gods. When it was complete they sent his spirit to his body, the bonded god spirit going into the relic, and allowed him to wake up, as if it had been a dream. He was now in a room on the ship.
Greyson woke up in a coldsweat, his hands and face, and feet, and, well, everything, clammy. Panting, the young man frantically ran his hands through his perfectly groomed, short black hair and after reassuring himself that his skull was okay, looked down at his suit. Why was he in his suit? He never slept in a suit... But it was clean. What the hell was going on? Looking around, he immediantly began counting everything, calming himself with the knowledge that there we 846 screws in the room.
"Where....?"
The young man looked down at his chest, and saw a strange pendant, and grabbed it with a hand, holding it in his fist his blue/grey eyes frantic. What was the dream? What was real? He didn't like this.
A young woman stood at the end of his bed. "No you're not dreaming, no matter what it looks like. You have apparently become the guardian of a reborn god from another realm. Any questions you have, I'll be happy to answer." A woman stood before him. She had a gold chain around her neck with a small pendant on it as well. The pendant reselmbled a flame. Odd. "My name is Rouge Remika and I am the captain of this ship. We shall arrive at your work shortly."
Greyson turned a rather charming shade of red once he noticed he was being watched, and stood up, straightening his clothes. She was pretty. It'd been a long time since a girl'd been in his room, and it was making him nervous. Outwardly, Grey wasn't a nerd, not with his 6'3" height and athletic build, but due to his compulsive disorders, he was too weird to have relationships. No one put up with him for long. "Will it ruin my things?"
That was the only thing he could think of. What she'd told him was too big to fully comprehend, after all. But Guardian usually meant child, and they were horrible, messy creatures. "So, I won't be late?"
"No you won't be late. When you arrived information on you, where you worked, and what you're like appeared on our computers. We will drop you off right on time as if you hadn't been held up. And as for what the child will do to your things, I wouldn't know. Each child has a different power and as the one who told guardians what their god's powers are is no longer well available we don't really know what your's has. I believe I was the last one who got told what I was getting-though I think the relic gave it away anyhow."
The one on his chest looked like a gay pride necklace. All rainbow-y, feathery, music note. Raising his brows, the young man opened his hand to reveal it to the woman on his palm, no questions needed, and proceeded to tuck it under his shirt. Strangely enough, he was an architect. And if he'd had the vision, he would have been an amazing artist, with his attention to detail. Now, though, he designed perfectly balanced, exactly to scale drawings.
"Good, good... Thank you Ms. Remika... I assume you'll tell me this isn't a dream. Will I find myself back here again, or am I free to go?"
"You may. We don't know how this will become a child though we are told it will. And as for dreaming no you're not. As for what that relic could be for all I know it's homosexuality. Which I don't think there was a god of but there could have been." Rouge laughed. Her blonde hair moved as she did and she walked over to help him stand. The woman was a little taller then him which was suprising. And she had pointed ears. But other then that she was quite lovely.
Greyson couldn't help it. This was, of course, why many people found him to be slightly disturbing. After she'd helped him, he reached out with gentle hands, and carefully fixed strands of her hair until they were perfect. It took only a second, but was still, of course, strange.
"Well then, I have to go to work. So...?"
He didn't know exactly how to leave.
"Follow me." she said calmly. Rouge didn't have a problem with him fixing her hair. Tan Dei her "fiance" had the same habits. Only she was more annoying in how she used them. "I'll take you to the transporter room. You'll appear in your office. The people around have seen an illusion that showed you walking to it and entering." she said kindly befoer leading him there and letting him go to work.
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Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2007 3:14 pm
Artistic Incentive?
Greyson stared at the piece of paper before him, on his bare, chrome desk. Carefully setting the pencil he'd been using down at a point where it was exactly parallel to the paper, he blinked at what he'd drawn. At work exactly fourty-seven minutes, and was supposed to be sketching the designs for the Matterson Proposal. What was this? It was... Art. For the first time since he'd been seven, and his disorder had developed, and been 'handled' by a counselor, he'd drawn something not just utilitarian. Touching the pendant beneath his dress shirt, he tilted his head, examining the sketch. It was very good.
It was a teenager, gorgeous, with long hair. Still, he was unsure of the gender, either a pretty boy, or a handsome girl. They were laughing, and covered with paint. For some reason... When Greyson looked at the portrait, he felt the urge to... Paint the walls of his bedroom. Maybe a golden yellow, and...
"Greyson Holly!"
Startled, Greyson looked up from the desk to meet the gaze of someone he didn't know. A nametag identified them. Chad. Intern.
"Yes?"
"You're needed in the Lewis Conference Room."
On his way out, he crumpled the picture, and tossed it into the wastebasket by his desk.
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Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2007 4:53 pm
Chords of Inspiration.
Rather than taking Greyson one hour and fifty-three minutes to walk home, as it did every day, it took him an extra ten. Why? He stopped, in the middle of the same storefront street he did everyday, looked over, and stared at the display beside him. Guitars. He'd never touched an instrument in his life, but... Nine minutes later, he was back on the sidewalk, strolling home with a guitar case in his left hand, briefcase in his right.
Home was just as uninteresting as ever, but he sat on the white sofa, and began to strum chords. He plucked them, and began to hum along before... Shaking his head hard, Greyson frowned, and put the guitar back in it's case, setting it against the wall. A glaring, black object in the blandness of the living room.
What had he been doing? He needed to go to eat and go to bed.
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Posted: Mon Jan 01, 2007 4:54 pm
Androgyny Abounds!
Although Greyson was a orderly, straight-laced sort of freak, he'd continued to wear the relic, simply because it was... A secret. The only one he'd ever had. After he had come home, played the guitar, and carefully put his clothing in the dryer, padding into his white-walled room in white socks and white boxers, he pulled down his beige covers and slid into bed, having already brushed his teeth, and eaten. Everything was cleaned and put in their respective places. Clicking his light several times [11] he finally turned it off for good, and sat, staring up at the white, smooth ceiling, as he did every night, until 1:47am, when his eyes slid shut, and he drifted to sleep.
:As he drifted to sleep the bond between his body and soul was tugged lightly, lifting him from it. But in a different manner then before. This wasn't death it was a dreaming departure. The spirit that was contained in the relic-which had taken on the form of the relic-went with him. Suddenly a strange door appeared in his room. It was a ghost just as he was and he was able to open it. Something was beckoning him to do so.
Quite calm with his own dreams, and seeing as the door was white, just like his own, Greyson glanced down at his body, and raised an eyebrow. Was that a wrinkle in the blanket? Forcing himself to turn away, and answer the other calling within himself, he carefully used the edge of his boxers to cover teh knob, and turn it, avoiding touching it with his ghostly-skin. Who knew what kind of mystic germs were on it? Rubbing at each eye eleven or so[actually eleven, no "or so" involved] time, he strolled through the door, hoping it wouldn't, you know, shut on him.
However sadly, once he was inside the door not only closed, but vanished. But there was something more interesting at stake.
Before him on the floor lay a being with long raven black hair-rainbow tips accented it specially. This being didn't really seem to have a gender. They were slender with a sweeping black robes that were spread out upon the floor. The robes had golden edges and funny trinkets hanging from them. It wore one earring that highly resembled the relic around his neck. This being's face bore makeup but it wasn't in the style women wore. It was more ceremonial. A strange instrument was nearby as if this being had been playing it before they died. On the walls were many artworks and it was obvious that this was a rather important hall in this person's house.
But the most obvious thing about the body to Greyson was the long line in it's clothing at the breast. Closer inspection-without the touch of the man-revealed that this was where a sword had penetrated the clothes and heart of the deceased. Though something nagged him to touch the body. But that was nasty! Everyone knew dead bodies were germy!
Greyson stared at the body. The person was beautiful, but he couldn't tell if they were male or female. What did it matter? It was a corpse. Still... He... Something inside him was telling him to touch it. Narrowing his blue/grey eyes, the almost nude man tilted his head to one side, noticing that the robe was crooked. Oh gods. Squeezing his eyes shut, he nervously stuck out a pointed foot, like a small girl getting into a cold pool, and testing the water. A high whine came from his throat, as he slowly pushed the lapel of the robe back into place and... Brushed it's skin. Letting out a girlish squeal of horror, he sprung back a good foot, and stared, sweating.
But the deed had been done. The relic around his neck and the body before him began to glow. As if it were made of light the necklace shot out, going into the glowing form and the form slowly began to shrink in size. After the glowing had stopped before him lay an adorable looking baby, fast asleep, clinging to the shrunken robe. It seemed this child at some sort of power invovling their clothing. Oh well. It was his job to take the child.
Greyson dealt with strange things in a pretty blank sort of manner, because he didn't know how to function with them. Bending, he picked up the child, fixing it's flyaway hair and heading back toward where the door had been, and eyed it. It was sleeping. What was it's gender? Who cared. It was a dream anyways.
Suddenly the door reappeared and when he opened it he found himself back in his room. But in the bed bedside him, instead of a relic around his neck, the body of the baby slept. So as soon as he woke the child would too. Oh joy.
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