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Confluence: The Multiverse Story Index [Open]

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MSI Manager
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Founded: Jan 17, 2014
Ex-Nation

Confluence: The Multiverse Story Index [Open]

Postby MSI Manager » Tue Jan 21, 2014 5:57 am

Confluence
The Multiverse Story Index


The Multiverse is an enigmatic place. It's laws are paradoxical, it's size unimaginable and its complexity far greater than limited imagination could comprehend. Events that occur flow onward through each verse, bound by the limits of their own expanse, but what if these streams were to meet?

This is where they meet. All events from every single universe become one. Irrevocably. Like adding cream to your coffee.

Image
Caffeine, sugar and milk. Two out of three no doubt carry credit for some of the contents of this thread. Have some with your turtle bread.



To business.

An arguably better equivalent of the Native Story Index, the Multiverse Story Index is an anthology of short stories created and assembled by the denizens of the Multiverse. There are no rules to limit the contents or length of your stories, except for (obviously) site rules and the requirement that your story is related to a certain RP universe. Please, also keep each story limited to one post and refrain from spamming, like posting one-liner stories (ex."once upon there was a time there were people, then they died. The end.")

An example would be an event taking place in a particular RP universe that wasn't part of the storyline, or (perhaps more importantly) shenanigans your characters from a particular RP gets into that did not get written the thread (s)he was created in.

For some this will allow the opportunity to bring back characters that have prematurely met their end, characters that still had a story to tell; you've put work into their creations, so you should get the chance to tie up loose ends. Now you get the chance; it's up to you to take it.


Now, we'd appreciate it if you added some info regarding your characters, or preferably even a link to the RP where they originate.

You're free to add a single theme/genre as a descriptor for your short story, which will be listed alongside your title.
[ Descriptor ]

Code: Select all
[align=right][size=150][b][[color=#BF0000] REPLACE WITH GENRE/THEME [/color]][/b][/size][/align]


If you're writing a mature story (carrying sex, strong or gratuitous violence, gore, or extremely questionable moral themes [abortion, rape, etc.]), please add mature tag:

[ Mature ]

Code: Select all
[align=right][size=150][b][[color=#BF0000] Mature [/color]][/b][/size][/align]

Image This does not give you permission to break PG-13 rules. Too explicit literature may get you in trouble.

Ending with a quote from the inferior NSI:
this is just to let RPers let their creative juices flow without having to work on a long RP project or have to find people to read their things. It also provides RPers with a good reference thread to get acclimated to another RPer's style of writing without having to fish through their posts, and can work as a reference for organisations and players alike.



So, feel free to post your stories. There isn't really a discussion thread, and unless there's a real demand for it there won't be.
Last edited by MSI Manager on Tue Jan 21, 2014 6:01 am, edited 1 time in total.

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MSI Manager
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Founded: Jan 17, 2014
Ex-Nation

Postby MSI Manager » Tue Jan 21, 2014 5:57 am

Last edited by MSI Manager on Sat Apr 12, 2014 6:55 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Zarkenis Ultima
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Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Zarkenis Ultima » Fri Jan 24, 2014 5:41 pm

The Price Of Infinity

The Red Knight returned to his homeland victorious. After years away from the place of his birth, years of searching and struggling, he had finally achieved his objective, he had finally completed the mission entrusted to him by the honorable Aurex, glorious leader of the Order. He had returned to the citadel he called home, after so long braving the tests of the void.

And in his left hand, he held the proof.

Black as obsidian and white as snow at the same time, it was a curious object. Of roughly square shape, and consistently small enough to fit in the palm of his hand, its form was ever-changing and one could only look at it for so long, lest the incoherence repel their gaze or draw it in with zeal. Legend had it that it was over this object that the blood of the God-Knight was shed before His ascenscion, and the Red Knight could tell it was true. He could feel the divine power pulsating inside the strange object, which seemed to be torn between this world and the next. It was certainly no Chalice, but what did that matter? It was what he had sought so long, and now he had finally acquired it, after all the trials he and his people had to clear for it. He had that which was promised to grant his people infinity.

Surely, the Aurex would put it to good use.

Mounted on his trusty Pegasus, the Red Knight flew over the crystalline domes of his land, with his world's star on his back, casting down its benevolent light upon the Phantom Blade and its followers. He flew, reminiscing on his travels, until he finally saw the place where he was to descend: A lush garden, dotted with trees and arranged in a spiral pattern, just next to an enormous castle. It was here where everything had begun. It was a fitting place for the end of it all to begin as well, he supposed.

The Pegasus began lowering its altitude, eventually landing on the area in the middle of the garden. As its engines died down, the Red Knight dismounted, taking a moment to thank his mount for its tireless service during the past ordeal before heading towards the Catherdal's castle, walking in through its pristine gates, diligently guarded by his fellow knights, some of whom he even recognized from before this all began. All of them recognized him, as well as the object he held in his left hand, and showed him great reverence as he walked past them through the immaculate halls.

Even though he had been here countless times before, the Red Knight still felt joy for seeing this place once again, after so long. It was here that he became a part of the Order. It was here that he had been trained in the ways of the Magus Ensis. It was here that he had been given the mission that caused his long journey to the object he now held in his left hand. And it had barely changed, in the years he had been absent. The decorations on the walls were still the same, and he could still see the crimson emblem of the Phantom Blade, and a plate on its pedestal bearing the story of Sylvalladine, founder of the Order.

And of course, he could still see the great doors that led to the Seat of the Aurex. Two of the twelve Arches stood next to them, one of each side, and once the Red Knight approached, they opened the doors, letting him inside. There, he saw the remaining ten Arches standing perfectly still, five on one side and five on the other, forming a path towards the Seat where the Aurex sat solemnly, looking at the Red Knight with an unwavering gaze.

Almost as if knowing what he was meant to do, the Red Knight strode forward, walking past the Arches and heading towards the Aurex. However, before he walked up the stairs that led up to the throne, the Aurex held up his hand. At that moment, the Red Knight stopped and knelt before the throne, offering the object he had brought along with both hands. The Aurex, slow but firm, walked up to the knight and took the square from his hands, before looking at him once again. At that moment, it seemed that the ruler's gaze had softened considerably, and his voice supported this impression when he spoke.

"Aese of the Phantom Blade, Knight of the highest caliber, you have done well." The ruler said, solemnly congratulating him. "Your reward will be granted at a later time, you may be certain of that. But for now, you are free to go and celebrate. Your mission is over. You may rise." The Aurex spoke, and swiftly, the Red Knight rose to his feet.

"Thank you, my lord." He said, and left the premises, returning to his Pegasus for another ride. While it would make more sense to stay and celebrate with the people who loved him and who he loved, there was still one more thing he had to do before everything was over. Thus, activating his mount, he once more flew off into the sky and beyond, reaching the black abyss once again. And once there, he headed towards a nearby world, to a place where others were waiting for him.

For, evidently, an ordeal such as the one he had undertaken could not be done by a single man alone, no. That would be ridiculous. The Red Knight had allies, valuable allies who had helped him overcome the challenges that appeared in his path. His faithful and beloved squire. A man who defied death and left the clues that led him to the prize at the end of the road. The many brave men and women from his Order and many others who had valiantly accompanied him to the very end of the journey. He wished to see them all, and thank them once again for their service now that their job was done.

And so, he arrived. Everyone saw him arrive, and they looked at him, ready to listen. And listen they did, though the Red Knight, not one to waste words, made his gratitude known as economically as possible.

"I believe there is not much to say," He began. "except this: Thank you all." He said, allowing himself to smile despite his usual solemnity. And then he turned around to look at the sky.

And it was then that the nightmare began.

There on the sky, he could see his homeland, the world where he had been born, the Cathedral. But something was amiss, and it soon made itself apparent. The world he loved seemed to be collapsing upon itself. But that was impossible. It simply could not be happening, the Red Knight repeated to himself over and over again. And yet, it was happening. Or rather, it happened. The world collapsed upon itself at last, leaving nothingness behind. A black hole had taken over its rightful place in the universe, inexorably and as swiftly as a shooting star. And yet, the Red Knight could not believe it. Ignoring everything else, he jumped right back onto his loyal Pegasus and rode back to the Cathedral, or what now stood in its place.

He had traveled far beyond the boundaries of the universe known to his people, the Redemit, and fought the giant warriors that made their dwellings there.

He had faced death and devastation on a massive scale within a world full of decadence, plagued by the unknown that had come in the guise of blue.

He had battled against the disciples of the darkest of arts, ruled by one who would sooner sacrifice their humanity than surrender to light, and defeated them.

He had journeyed to the fallen and forgotten Holy Land, to the first Cathedral, and fought the bane of the Redemit's human forerunners, the devious Angels.

And yet, all of it had been for naught, the Red Knight told himself as he watched the black hole that stood before him, ignorant to the fact that this was not the worse that would happen, for there was something much worse yet to be revealed. That which had caused this terrible disaster was yet to be seen.

And what had caused it, one might wonder?

Before long, the Red Knight saw it. From the black hole, no less, a creature emerged. A massive, fearsome beast spoken of only in ancient legends and painful nightmares. Its white scales made a stark contrast with the darkness in the background, but that by no means signified that this was a creature of light. It spread its wings far and wide and pulled itself out of the black hole with its massive claws, as though it was pulling itself through a crack on the surface. Its black eyes and its twelve horns crowned it as something that most believed to be only a fairy tale.

It was the White Demon, He Who Rends Light, the King of All Dragons.

The Red Knight gazed at it helplessly, clutching his sword tightly, its red blade glowing in the darkness, as he realized that this ordeal was far from over, and that he had just lost everything. He had been promised heaven in exchange for the artifact he had brought back, and now it was revealed that such promise would never be delivered. Gazing into the abyss left behind by the dragon, the warrior could do nothing but ask himself a question.

Was this the true price of heaven?

Was this the price of infinity?

Hello! I'm a P2TM Mentor, if you need any help, send me a TG and I'll see what I can do!
P2TM Depot [Portal To The Multiverse Information Thread]
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Fvaarniimar
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Mother Knows Best State

Postby Fvaarniimar » Sat Jan 25, 2014 2:44 pm

Shattered Perceptions
Set in the Fatal Light universe
Character: Camille Travers

Camille fit the shards together. It was like a puzzle- well, a puzzle with sharp edges. It was actually kind of fun, but the plate was still broken, and plates didn't fix themselves no matter how well one fit the pieces together.
Je souhaite qu'elle se répare. Ma mére sera fachée, et elle sera me grondir.... She shut her eyes, crying a bit. After all, she was only seven, and at that age a brief grounding can easily seem like the end of the world. She felt a surge of emotion, then something like a clicking of something into place...

It was such an odd feeling that it startled her into opening her eyes to see an unbroken plate.




Camille had quickly put the incident out of her mind. She must have imagined dropping the plate, n'est-ce pas?

Of course, it wasn't quite that simple.

Some time later, while washing the dishes, Madame Travers noticed the plate, pointing it out to Camille and stating that she'd only ever seen a missing piece that shape in items which had been broken and repaired.

J'aurais du laisser tombe une petite partie.

Non. C'est pas possible. Ça aurait du passer a l'usine.


"Il-il semble que l'assiete aie etée casser et... reparer?" Camille said, anxiously. "Tu plaisantes?"

"Non, c'est vrai! Regardes! Et alors, je ne l'ai jamais notée! C'est très drôle, oui? Une mystère! Que pensez-vous arrivé?" Camille looked away, muttering something about an usine.




A few weeks later, while cleaning, Madame Travers found a tiny shard in the kitchen. Je me demande ce que c'est de? Camille a du laisser tomber quelque chose d'autre. Je s'aime beaucoup, mais...

She didn't think once about the plate with a missing piece. She left the shard out on the table, a reminder to her daughter to be more careful.




Camille placed the shard in the hole in the plate.

It was a perfect fit. She decided to try something.

"Euh..." she whispered, shutting her eyes, "Reparez?"

A picture formed in Camille's mind. A bunch of thin, stick-like things. As she, for lack of a better term, looked at them, she began to notice a pattern. Unchanging, constant- except in one location.

Camille didn't understand, at least not then, what happened next, but, as she looked at the sticks that didn't fit the pattern, they snapped into place.

She sat for a while, just observing the sticks, until the noise of her mom calling, "Camille, aimerais-tu un petit plat?" startled her, causing her to open her eyes. The sticks faded from view, and she saw the plate.

It was intact. There was no evidence that it had ever been broken.

In order of appearance
I wish that it would fix itself. My mom will be mad, and she will ground me...
, right?
I must have missed a small piece.
No. That's not possible. It must have happened at the factory.

"It-it seems that the plate has been broken and... repared? You're kidding?"
"No, it's true! Look! And well then, I have never noticed! It's very strange, yes? A mystery! What do you think happened?"
Usine= factory
I wonder what this is from? Camille must have dropped something else. I love her a lot, but...
"Erm... Fix yourself?"
"Camille, would you like a snack?"
Last edited by Fvaarniimar on Sat Jan 25, 2014 3:33 pm, edited 5 times in total.
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Fvaarniimar
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Founded: Nov 20, 2013
Mother Knows Best State

Postby Fvaarniimar » Sun Jan 26, 2014 5:22 pm

Monomers and Polymers
Set in the Fatal Light universe
Character: Camille Travers
Unless otherwise stated, all dialogue, writing, etc. is in French. I'd spoil translations, but spoilers can't be sandwiched.

Central Character Camille Travers
Sticks and Molecules

Camille Travers, age twelve- or, as it was put in her homeland of France, having twelve years of age- sat in a chair near the back of her chemistry class, her long, curly hair cascading down onto her desk. She was often asked just how she kept it so smooth. While she typically claimed that it was due to some styling product, innate, or some combination of the two, the truth was stranger by far, although "innate" might not be far off. When her curls frizzed up, using- well, whatever it was that she could do- she just smoothed the "sticks" back into place.

"Aujourd'hui, nous allons apprennons davantage sur les molécules! Prennez d'argille et beaucoup des bâtons."

Camille tuned her teacher out after the part about sticks representing bonds. What if- what if that was what her "sticks" actually were? It would make sense, wouldn't it? She looked around for some simple structure, and found one in her pencil. She raised her hand.

"Madame- les mines, ils sont comme ça?" She quickly arranged some sticks into a flat pattern of repeating hexagons, which was approximately what the pencil lead looked like in her mind.

"Oui, Camille! Tu as fait la recherche? C'est très bon!"

"Alors, c'est vrai! Les bâtons et les liaisons, elles sont la même chose! Finalement, je la comprends!" Camille's exclamation caught the attention of Madame Lécuyer, who had started walking back to her desk. Naturally, not understanding what Camille meant by sticks, Madame Lécuyer attempted to correct her, stating that the sticks were not bonds but merely representations of such.




A Short Conference

"Over the past few weeks, I have noticed a change in your daughter."

"I do hope she isn't causing trouble in class."

"Not exactly. Less than a month ago, she was a fairly average, unmotivated student, typically appearing rather distracted in my class. She would often doodle or play with her hair."

"I apologize for Camille's behavior. We'll talk to her about it, I assure you. She will do better in the future."

"That won't be necessary, as the problem has already been solved. A few weeks ago, her grades, as well as her apparent understanding of and interest in chemistry, skyrocketed. At first, I thought that she might have been cheating. I apologize for having considered it, but a change which occurs literally overnight is suspicious. Then again, that came no where near explaining her sudden move to the front row or her constantly seeking me out to ask about chemistry."

"I do hope that she isn't bothering you."

"Oh, no, the opposite- it's thrilling to have a student be so interested! I must admit, however, that she puzzles me. She quickly moved beyond asking about the concepts we've covered in class. I'd assume that she's reading ahead in her textbook, but half the time she has no clue what the term for something is- which makes it unlikely that she's looking information up- but she knows what it is. She can describe and explain it. When I bring up a concept in class, she either goes, "OH!" and apparently connects it to previous knowledge, or acquires a frankly comprehensive knowledge of it within five minutes. Of course, that's in cases where we haven't already discussed it. I have no clue what's up with that, but I know exactly what I recommend."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Hélene, you might want to close your mouth."

"Transfer to a more advanced class, effective immediately. Normally I would recommend tutoring prior to such a transfer, but Camille understands everything that we're covering this year and is up to speed with the class a year ahead of her own. Frankly, I think that Camille could skip multiple levels without a problem provided that she was given brief explanations of the concepts covered. Oh, and Madame Travers? I don't blame you. This is rather shocking even to me."

"I would, however, recommend that you speak to her regarding this."




Monomers



"Wait, what? Camille's skipping a grade? Since when?"

"No, not exactly. It's only in chemistry. As to why... Well, apparently she suddenly has developed an incredible aptitude for the subject."

Actually, it doesn't really surprise me, and it's not as sudden as you think. We share a room, after all. Late at night, when she thinks that I'm asleep, she sometimes talks to herself. It's just a whisper, so I can't hear it very well, but it's about stuff that sounds similar to what I study in chemistry, although she puts it in weird terms. For example, she calls bonds sticks and doesn't mention atoms at all. Out loud, he said, "Huh. When did this happen?"

"Apparently, about a month ago. She moved to the front row one day and transformed into a model student. Guess it just goes to show you, huh?"

A month ago, and sudden... I didn't ever have Madame Lécuyer for cłass, but I think that I know her well enough from that time I got lost to call her up and ask a few questions...




"Why did you tell them?"

"Camille, you need to be challenged."

"But...why did you tell them that you didn't know what was going on?!" (That was what she was upset about?)

"Camille... I didn't realize that that would upset you."

"Oh, well. They'll probably shrug it off anyway. Mom forgot all about the plate incident after it was fixed." Camille's voice dropped steadily during the last sentence; "plate" was a whisper, "after" a murmur, and "fixed" barely audible even to herself.

Madame Lécuyer frowned. Incident? So this wasn't the first time something this unusual had occurred? While extremely curious, she refrained from calling Camille's mother and asking if anything both odd and plate related had occurred. It probably would have worked, too- Hélene did not strike her as a forgetful woman, and as she knew quite well putting something out of one's mind did not necessarily mean forgetting.




"Hi, Camille !"

"Hi, Madeleine! How goes it?

"Pretty well- but I'm curious. There's a rumor that you're going to skip a grade in chemistry."

Camille took a moment to appreciate the efficiency of the grapevine; the fateful conference had occurred the evening prior.

"It's true. In fact, I have history next period instead of chemistry, because the switch is occurring today."

"What happened? You used to not care about chemistry, then one day you move to the front row and transform into a prodigy!"

"Erm..." Camille avoided meeting her friend's eyes. "I realized that chemistry has a huge effect on my life?"

Madeleine scrunched up her forehead. "So do current events, l'EPS, and French, but I don't see you excelling at any of those! Come on, something's going on here... Why are you shutting me out?"

"Sorry, Madeleine, but I really can't give you a more explicit answer. I just... I've never told anyone before. Ever. Maybe someday- but not now."
"You stink at keeping secrets! And suddenly you have a huge one? How long have you been keeping this secret anyways, a month or two?"
"Nearly six years." Madeleine didn't realize at first that that was Camille's reply as opposed to a bizzare non sequitur, it was so far from what she'd expected. After realizing it, she realized that her mouth was open.

"Six... Wow. That's longer than I've known you for. Aren't best friends..." Seeing Camille's guarded expression, she changed topics mid sentence. "If whatever this is has been going on since you were six or seven, why has... all this only happened now?"

"I only figured out the connection a month ago-" Okay, so whatever her secret is, it's connected to chemistry somehow- come to think of it that might explain her sudden interest- "Anyway, has Gautier done anything interesting lately?"

Madeleine recognized the attempt to change the subject and the fact that Camille would have to be rather desperate to willingly subject herself to an hour of having Madeleine extol the virtues of her crush. So that's precisely what she did- she talked Camille's ears off for the next hour, to the point that Camille briefly considered switching the conversation back to its original subject.

After all, best friends gave each other a hard time. Especially when one of them wouldn't spill the beans...




Cinquieme and Chem
"Everyone, this is Camille Travers. She will be joining our class."

"Hey, I recognize you! Aren't you in the cinquieme? Sorry to break it to you, baby, but you're in the wrong class. I have a pacifier around here somewhere, though... Would you wike it? And maybe a waahweepop?"

Madame Lécuyer's hands went directly to her hips, and she glared at Jean. "I trust that you will ALL MAKE HER FEEL VERY WELCOME."

"La cinquieme?" A girl in the second row grinned. "That is so cool! Hey, kiddo, want to sit next to me?" Camille did so, a grin growing on her face to match her new seatmate's. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all- apparently not everyone was like "Jean."




Support Rejected

"Camille, I've noticed that you appear to be depressed lately. The quality of your work has dropped, and you seem considerably less excited about my class."
"Sorry."
"Camille." She leaned forward. "What's going on?"
"Nothing." It's not like I can tell you about Jean. He'll only pick on me more if I do..
"Well, if you change your mind and decide that you want to talk, I'm here."
"Thanks." Camille turned to leave.
"Wait." She stopped. "Don't you have any chemistry questions for me?"
As Camille turned back, five weeks of accumulated chemistry questions started spilling out. The two remained late into the night, and Madame Lécuyer gave her a huge hug when they were done.
Maybe I can't convince Camille that I can do something about whatever is going on, but I can still support her. Moving up to la quatrieme's chemistry class must have been tough, but I doubt that that's all...




Great Nomenclature
"You have no chance of making much C-O-2, and even if you did it's not like you could collect it properly."

Camille, who had been wishing for weeks that she could do something about the boy who had been terrorizing her, was relieved that he had chosen to pick on someone else today, but still quite eager for him to get his comeuppance. If something went wrong with the reaction, for instance... Wait a second. In her desperation and victimization, she had half forgotten the power that had gotten her into this class in the first place. Well... as a certain fictional hero would say, with great power comes great responsibility, and Jean had not only been frequently belittling his classmates, Camille's friends had mentioned that those in their grade were frequently picked on, meaning that his bullying of younger kids wasn't exclusive to her. It wasn't really an act of revenge if she was defending the weak, right? She focused on not letting the reaction occur in Jean's beaker...

"Well, Jean, your reactants aren't reacting, and I have no clue why." For some reason, Madame Lécuyer felt a slight sense of déjà vu as she said the last half of the phrase.

Camille sat in her seat, using her hair to hide the growing smile on her face. She peeped through her bangs at Jean's increasingly frustrated expression.

Finally, deciding that he had suffered almost enough- for today at least- she waited until he had turned around, then flipped the bonds between the sodium bicarbonate and acetic acid all at once. It erupted in a geyser which thoroughly coated Jean's backside in water and wet sodium acetate. Madame Lécuyer mused aloud as to the cause.

"Perhaps a time-delayed catalyst which also somehow delayed the reaction... Is that even physically possible?"
That's what I am, aren't I? Un catalyseur. No... une catalyseuse. I am female, after all.

The girl that he'd been picking on that day had a rather different answer.

"Karma."

Jean agreed, as, while courtesy of l'EPS he had a spare shirt, he was unable to change his pants and hence had to endure an entire day of people, often former tormentees who took full advantage of this opportunity to turn the tables, asking if he had wet himself.




Study in Cross-Linkage
"Etiennette!"

"Yes, Roch?"

"You... Well, you've been a wonderful influence on Camille."
Madame Lécuyer smiled. "So... I was wondering if you could talk to her about her other classes. Most of her teachers agree that she could be a pretty good student if she were to apply herself, but she doesn't seem to believe that there's any reason why she should. Her grades are passing, but just barely."

"Thank you for letting me know. Please inform her second hour teacher that she'll be arriving late."


"Camille, do you remember the last time I called you in here?"

"Yes. My grades were dropping because Jean..." She stopped abruptly.

"I'd surmised that that might be it, considering that your attitude and grades improved immediately after the baking soda and vinegar incident. Speaking of which, you wouldn't have any clue what caused that, would you?"

"Nope." She allowed her mentor to see a slight smirk. "Not a clue."

"Alright, then." She raised an eyebrow at one of her favorite students. "Your grades were part of why I called you in last time, and the main reason for my calling you in here today."

"But..." stammered the surprised student... "I have a 20 in your class!"

"Yes, Camille. In my class. You're a wonderful student, and I think that you could get into a very good university. But universities- and lycées for that matter- don't just look at your grades in chemistry and art."

"Camille, I'm not asking you to get 20s in all of your classes. I realize that the only subject which you understand that well- for whatever reason- is chemistry. But I am asking you to apply yourself in your other classes as well. It breaks my heart to see you limit your opportunities like this. You don't have to go to an elite school, but wouldn't it be nice to have the option?"

"They're kinda boring... The classes, that is," Camille muttered.

"Actually..." Madame Lécuyer winked. "You'll be hard pressed to find something that doesn't connect to chemistry somehow. Incendiary bombs in wars, lactic acid in muscles, algebra and every formula we've studied in here."

"What are those?"

"I'm not telling you." She laughed at Camille's pout. "Ask your history, l'EPS, and math teachers."

"As another example, take keratin." At Camille's blank look, she said, "It looks like this," drawing a model.
"Oh!" Camille exclaimed. "It's in hair and nails, right?"
With a slightly quizzical expression- Madame Lécuyer was more than used to Camille's odd knowledge by now, but she never stopped wondering just where she got her information- she replied, "That's correct. So, when you're told how to care for your hair and nails, you're learning how to take care of keratin."

"But I already know how. I need to smooth the bonds back into place-" Camille cut herself off abruptly. Using the first person there had not been smart.

Madame Lécuyer frowned. Odd way of putting it..."Well, yes. But it's not like we can smooth the bonds directly-" Camille sighed in relief- "So we use other chemicals to do it for us. Hence, conditioner. You should know, your hair is in excellent condition-"

"Whatelsecanyoutellmeaboutkeratin?"

"Chemistry is connected to language, too, although to english, latin, and german more than french. Even chemical names have a history. Often, there's naming conventions." She pulled a book out of her desk. "Here you go, something to read. And..." She grabbed another. "This is fictional, but it's got some interesting ideas in it. It's cool how people's perceptions of chemistry have changed over time."

Camille looked at the cover. H.G. Welles. The Invisible Man. Translated from English.

"Okay, I'll read it."


"Etiennette!"

"Hello, Roch..." Madame Lécuyer noticed the huge smile adorning the counselor's face. "Camille's grades have improved?"

"Drastically! She's gone from barely passing to several fifteens, a seventeen in a class other than art, and none below a twelve! Plus, she's been paying attention and asking questions. And... Not all of them are chemistry related!"


A compound that did some weird fourth-dimensional stuff, rendering one invisible... Well, it wouldn't hurt to try. Camille focused on a toenail...

A tickling sensation made her open her eyes. Her toenail had changed appearance. It was now white and- she poked it- rather brittle. Shutting her eyes again, she noticed that the monomers had been rotated and focused on returning them to their original pattern. Feeling another tickling sensation, she opened her eyes to behold a normal toenail.

Well, it was a long shot.


"Camille! How are you today?"

"I'm doing well. I've come to return the books. I really enjoyed them."

"Oh? What did you think of the Welles novel?"

"The idea was interesting-" Camille's expression became slightly sheepish- "And I really related to the stuff about what it means to be different."

"Because of your being in a more advanced class?"

"More or less."
How one class and one teacher changed everything.

-Supporting characters in the spotlight-
Stories prominently featuring the others in Camille's corner of the Fatal Light universe
It was late May, and Soraya had just remembered that her friend Camille's birthday had occurred in early May. She'd completely forgotten; she'd neither attended the party to which she had been invited nor given any sort of gift. Maybe if she bought something extremely cool, it would make up for it...

A few hours later, she was at a pet shop.

"A fish? No? How about a puppy?"

"Can I get some service over here?!"

Feeling bad about monopolizing the employee, she glanced in the direction of the yell.

The employee sighed. "That's Annoying Parrot. She's a huge pain. She's like a year old, doesn't shut up no matter what we do, and has even figured out that that phrase often results in attention. Sorry about that. Now, rats..."

Something of a risk-taker, young, intelligent, and a standout... Just like Camille. Plus, relatively low-maintenance and not too large for an apartment! Soraya smiled.

"Actually, I think she's exactly what I've been looking for."




Another friend of Soraya's, who owed her a favor, had agreed to drop off the cage at Camille's door. She sneaked a peek at the card on top while doing so.

Camille,
She reminds me of you. Happy belated birthday.
Bisous,
Soraya




Late June
"Hey, Camille! Did you like your present?"

"Very much. I'm beyond thrilled to learn that an absolute terror reminds you of me. She's smart, though, and kind of sweet, so that's complimentary at least. I have grown rather attached to her. My apartment can feel rather empty, and it's nice having some company. Really, though, a parrot? She's better at preventing me from saying rude things than my grandmother, because she repeats everything. Plus, she's learned that if she says certain things, she gets a ton of crackers, as I one day had the bright idea that stuffing her face would shut her up."

"Listen, I have a parrot, so I'll need to-"

"And that's my cue. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Out. I apologize for the inconvenience. I-N-"

Camille returned, somewhat short of breath. "She should be good until dinnertime."
André Leblanc opened an eye. Merde- he'd forgotten to wash his uniform, and the game was tomorrow. Well, he didn't have a lot of options.Letting loose with a stream of expletives, André headed across the hall and knocked on the door. Camille might have some detergent. After a few minutes, his half-asleep neighbor opened the door.

"Hello..."

"Camille, I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but you wouldn't happen to have any laundry detergent on hand, would you?

"I don't..." Camille frowned. "Wait, I might. Let me check." She headed to the "laundry" room, grabbing a few ingredients on the way. She had no detergent- when one could directly break the bonds holding stains on clothes in less time and with less effort than putting them in the washer would take, one didn't really need it- but she could easily make some. Placing the ingredients in a container, she flipped the bonds to form the required molecules. Noticing that the compound had solidified, she broke enough hydrogen bonds and London dispersion forces to change it into a powder and yelled, "I found some!" Bringing it out into the living room, she asked, "Will this be enough?"

André Leblanc looked at the full tub in amazement. "Far more than enough."

"So," Camille yawned, "What's it for, anyway?"

"Well, there's a game tomorrow, at school, and I realized just now that my uniform has not been washed for a month."

Camille noticed the dark circles under André's eyes. "Wait. What time do you need to get up tomorrow?"

"A little after six."

"Bring the clothes over."


Camille looked at the uniform, then at the bonds on its surface. Then, she smelled it. Yeah- all the detergent in the world wouldn't get that outfit clean. Her powers, on the other hand...

"WOW. I see the problem. Go to bed; I'll take care of it."

"I couldn't possibly...

"Really, it's no trouble. I get to sleep in tomorrow, and it won't take long at all." She smirked slightly. "I'll set an alarm and bring them over around six thirty, then go back to bed."

"But..."

Camille rearranged a few compounds in André's stomach, forming a small amount of a highly potent soporific.

"Go. To. Bed. I will clean them, and I'm not taking no for an answer. After all, what are neighbors for?" Grabbing his arm, Camille led him back across the hall and to his bed, where she made small talk for 3.5 minutes until the soporific kicked in. Returning next door, Camille shut her eyes and focused on the outfit, using her powers to remove everything but the fabric and original dyes. It took slightly less than 16 seconds.


"Wow. I don't think it's ever been that clean. Thanks!" M. Leblanc sipped his orange juice, examining the shirt.

"You didn't need to fix me breakfast! Really, you shouldn't have," said Camille, stuffing some more of the excellent French toast in her mouth."

"Says the person who just did my laundry. Really, it was the least I could do, and it wasn't really any additional work. I typically fix too much anyway."


"Monsieur Leblanc, did you get a new uniform?"

"You're the fourth person to ask me that today."


"It's huge! I can't accept this!"

"I honestly don't need it. Hopefully it'll remind you to do your laundry more often!" Camille placed the tub of detergent atop her neighbor's washer. Hopefully it wouldn't tip over... She liquefied part of the bottom for a few milliseconds, causing it to conform to the shape of the washer.
There.
If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know. Camille sighed. Well, she was kind of out of options. Soraya was out of town as usual; Madeleine, who would have been ideal as she knew her secret, would be impossible to get a parrot to on short notice; she didn't know how to contact the girl from college who had found out her secret using a power of her own; and her coworkers were frankly too much of a risk, particularly considering their fondness of telling her to listen. André wouldn't be a bad choice, actually; he was a l'EPS teacher who wouldn't hurt a fly. Well, unless the fly was hurting France. Even in the worst case scenario- that of his finding out- things would probably be fine. She went across the hall and knocked on his door.

"Monsieur Leblanc, I need a favor, and, well, I can't find anyone else." She pointed at the cage next to her feet. "This is Laïte, my parrot. Would you mind caring for her for about a week? Something has come up, and, as I've spent the past few days seeing if anyone can take care of her, I literally need to leave in three hours."

André noticed Camille's frazzled expression and slightly frizzy hair. The expression was unsurprising, but, even that time when he'd had to request detergent from her in the middle of the night, André Leblanc had never seen Camille with hair which was anything other than smooth and perfectly coiffed. "Of course. I don't know the first thing about parrots, though."

Reaching into a pocket, Camille found and removed a piece of paper, on which she scribbled something. "Here's my phone number. If you'll give me yours, I'll add you to my contacts. Just... If at all possible, don't call me tomorrow... evening."
"07382612." Camille typed it into her phone. "I must insist that you sit down and have some food. You appear more stressed than I've ever seen you."

"No, really, I couldn't..."

"If you can insist on doing my wash at one in the morning, I can insist on feeding you." He winked. "After all, what are neighbors for?"

"Apparently, using people's own words against them." She sighed good-naturedly. "Alright, what's on the menu?"

After scarfing down a large amount of assorted foods slathered in cheese fondue, Camille got down to business.

"...Okay, here's Laïtes cage, blanket, food, et cetera. One more thing". Camille leaned forward. "If she says, 'Listen, I have a parrot,' feed her IMMEDIATELY or you'll have far more trouble on your hands than I expect you're prepared to deal with," she whispered.

"'Listen, I have a parrot?' Okay-"
"Listen, I have-
Camille groaned. "Oh, now you've done it."
"-Ll need to spell this out. I-"
"Give her some crackers, now."
"-E inconveni-"
"NOW. This is a really big deal."
"-N-T-E-"
"Okay, alright." He fed her. "Happy?"

"Yes," replied the relieved Camille. "Just avoid saying that phrase, or for that matter any part of it, within earshot of her."

"And if I do, feed her."

"That's right."

"Um... Why is it such a big deal? I mean, it's not like I'm going to think less of you or anything, and since when do you care what I think in the first place?"

"It's not that... It's... Well, she overheard some relatively sensitive information at one point."

"Anyway, see you. I have an ae-TGV to catch."

Relatively sensitive... just what is up with my neighbor? How does a parrot which remains at home become privy to sensitive information, particularly prefaced by 'I have a parrot?' Does that mean that Camille was stating the sensitive information or present when it was stated, implying that she was privy to it? Does this imply that she has some sort of secret life? Is she a spy or something?

He called an old friend of his from the military who had a high security clearance.

"Listen, one of my neighbors said something rather weird today..." André explained the situation. "I know that it's probably nothing, but could you look her up and just tell me how worried I should be?"

The friend did so. Most of the information appeared entirely normal, but at the bottom, in minuscule print...
Additional potentially relevant information, released on a need-to-know basis, exists regarding this person. This fact is itself classified. Share with no one below your clearance level. Contact your superior for information pertaining to requesting this information, or click the period at the end of this sentence to send a direct request.

"Frankly, I'd take her advice if I were you. Whatever it is, you should avoid hearing. That's all I can say. Also... Don't mention this incident to anyone else. Ever. And this kinda goes without saying, but avoid saying, 'Listen,' or even something which sounds similar around that bird."

"So-" André said anxiously- "This isn't just me overreacting? I actually should be worried?"

"Your neighbor's behavior indicates that something is going on. I would say that that is a fair assessment. That being said, if she's appeared completely normal up until now, I wouldn't worry too much. She might merely have discovered some chemical deemed too dangerous for public release or something." That definitely wasn't it; unless the chemical was an SCP 'or something,' his clearance should have sufficed for access. "So how's teaching going?"

After about twelve minutes of small talk, the two agreed to hang up.

Far more trouble... André Ernest Leblanc glanced at the innocently preening bird.
"Well, aren't you just the little enigma? Pretty cute, though... OW!"
Madeleine, age 23, read the paper. Wait a second, she thought, seeing the headline. Is it April First or something? The article stated that the reality of supernatural abilities had been officially confirmed, and world governments were preparing to deal with the threat.

It didn't seem like a joke, and there had been rumors for several months that people with extraordinary powers had been using them, sometimes for good, sometimes for their own ends. Whatever was going on, it was exciting, and she wanted to share it with her BFF. Flipping open her phone, she dialed a number which she had long ago memorized. "Did you read the paper today?!"

"Yeah, I did." The pitch of Camille's voice increased, as though she were nervous or frightened, but of course that was ridiculous.

"I think that it would be a good idea to take a TGV to Nice and meet up with you, perhaps for lunch. We haven't seen each other in some time, after all; we can continue this conversation then."
After arranging a time and place, Camille hung up rather abruptly.




"So, superpowers exist! Cool, right?"

"About that." Camille looked slightly nervous. "Madeleine, I kinda doubt that you'll recall this... But do you remember the conversation we had 10 years ago, the day I switched chemistry classes?"

"Kinda. There was something which you wouldn't tell me and I was upset, right?"

"Right. You wanted to know why things had changed so quickly regarding that class, and I said something about realizing that chemistry was important to me personally."

"Yeah, you'd made some sort of connection- I think I remember now. Some sort of secret which you'd somehow been keeping since you were- was it six? I remember that because you'd never been good at keeping secrets. I was irritated by the important to you personally bit. I wondered why you couldn't just tell me the truth."

"It's entirely true that chemistry hugely impacts my life," she leaned forward, "But it's not the whole truth. Do you remember what else I told you, after saying that I'd never, ever told anyone?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"I said, "Maybe someday." Well, you've been my friend for over half our lives, and as of a few days ago it's been officially confirmed that some things which science can't explain are entirely real. So, guess what? 'Someday' is today. Right here, right now."

"I finally get to find out your huge secret?! Wait a second. Are you implying that it's... paranormal in nature? Possibly that you're paranormal in nature?"

"W-would that be okay?"

Madeleine grinned. "Of course!"

Camille took a deep breath. "Okay. Your water is normal water, and were I a normal person, I couldn't have done anything to it, n'est-ce pas?"

Madeleine frowned, thinking back. "Not unless you bribed a waiter or something."

Pulling energy out of the sugar on the table, Camille flipped the covalent bonds in Madeleine's water.

"What's supposed to... Wait, where'd my water go?"

Camille grinned. "It's turned into oxygen and hydrogen gas."

"Wow! Seriously?"

"Seriously." Camille messed around with some more bonds. "Your napkin now consists of plastic, by the way."

Madeleine grabbed and tried to tear said item. It proved to be rather stretchy.

"So... Are you going to become a caped crusader? Fight crime?"

"I've started doing so, yeah, although I omitted the cape. I'm using the alias 'Catalyseuse' and a paint-splashed bodysuit."

"Catalyseuse, meaning a female catalyst..." Madeleine whispered. "This is so cool!"




The headline of the article read, "New Face Saves Five From Car Accident." Madeleine continued reading. "...to prevent the car crash from injuring anyone, the superhero in question changed the cars into shock-absorbent materials by rearranging chemical bonds..." Wait... Madeleine skimmed the article. Sure enough, the "new face" used the alias Catalyseuse. She flipped open her phone.

"What you did was super cool. I'm really feeling honored to know you right now."

"What I... Oh! One of those people must have been a reporter."



Chirality- stories unrelated to Camille, not canon unless Abel decides they are or they're incorporated into a post, but set in the Fatal Light universe.
Almost every day of the week, there's a girl in the fiction section of the Library of Congress. Her hair is black and frizzy, and she's of average height. Although it goes largely unnoticed due to her dark skin, she has a slight tan. She's slightly overweight, but not much. She's typically attired in whatever fashion is currently popular amongst teenagers. In short, she's the kind of person no one would think twice about seeing in the street, or, for that matter, in a library. About the only thing about her which does stand out is a domino mask, typically in the standard black. She wears the mask for three reasons.

First, people associate ski masks with crime and terrorists, and she doesn't wish to frighten the librarians, or, for that matter, anyone else.

Second, she can't take a chance on someone recognizing her, comparing notes with someone else, and realizing that not three minutes ago she was on the other side of the country- specifically, in California. Especially in light of the fact that she's not registered and doesn't really want to be.

Third, she's proud of who she is. Superheroes help people. She herself is a good example of that. While she doesn't want to be under the thumb of the government, she's more than willing to help with transportation. She's bought a difficult-to-trace phone under an assumed name, and provided the number to agencies that can use her help, such as the FBI, CIA, and a few others; numerous agents have been instructed to put her on speed dial. She also searches words like "collapse" and "trapped" every half hour, to see if her aid is needed for rescue work.

Once she's done helping, she teleports back to the library. Or, if she has to be somewhere else immediately- well, she is. That's the really cool thing about that power. The instant she has some free time, though- even just the five minutes between classes which her peers use for walking- she'll pull out, grab from home, or quickly improvise a mask, turn her shirt inside out if it's distinctive, and teleport back.

When she has homework, she locks her door, pulls down the shades on her windows, and asks to be texted if her family needs to get ahold of her. (The excuse which she gives is that noise, even knocking, when she works bothers her. As a result, her parents wonder if she has some sort of learning disability). Taking along her phone is a bit of a risk, but preferable to worrying them, and, not only is it locked, it's quite generic; the odds of it being connected to her are low, and the odds of InterWORD checking the lost and found lower still.

After all, libraries are excellent places to do homework- particularly ones literally holding almost every written work ever printed in the US. Research for projects is quite easy, both because of that and because she's on good terms with the librarians, who are extremely competent. Although some, for various reasons, felt a little awkward around the person in a domino mask at first, it's quickly become apparent to them that, while her method of arrival may be paranormal, she's coming for very ordinary reasons, the main one being a love of books; being librarians, they can relate to that.

If the library is ever attacked, she'll be the first line of defense. She'll also teleport the second line of defense there, and if necessary be invaluable for evacuation and relief operations.
Last edited by Fvaarniimar on Wed Jan 29, 2014 6:38 pm, edited 11 times in total.
Come to the light side.  We have teamwork, waffles, popcorn, grape juice, and way too much ramen.
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Ilvania
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Posts: 131
Founded: Feb 25, 2012
Ex-Nation

Postby Ilvania » Wed Jan 29, 2014 11:35 pm

If the stars should appear but one night every thousand years how man would marvel and stare.


The shimmering stars gleamed. They were little flickers of hope slowly making their way to the heavens, so that at last they might touch upon the faces of the Gods. Alexander reached out, fingers extending, as if in the vain belief that if only he could just reach far enough, into the dark night sky -
"You can't reach them, y'know," Cassie spoke, appearing from an ornately carved doorway, the infinitesimally fine folds of her gown billowing in time to the cold Karthagan breeze, "that's the problem with the stars and the moon, they're far-away and unfeeling, preoccupied with their own celestial affairs, too busy to concern themselves with us less-than-perfect mortals."
She strode over to Alexander's side, a champagne flute dangling lightly upon her dainty digits, "They sure are beautiful to look at though, aren't they?"
Alexander nodded, his breath escaping into the chilly air, swirling like pluming smoke, "We're all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. We all should be, really."
"I'm so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying," Cassie replied, the faint ghost of a smile dancing upon her face, "you're not the only one who can quote Wilde." Alexander shot her a questioning look before turning his gaze back towards the glimmering expanse of sky. The silence out here was a welcome relief from the unrestrained joviality that could only come from a wedding. But his respite would not last long. Raising the glass to her lips, Cassandra once again glanced at the young imperial inquisitively, "Do you think Phoebe and Eugene are going to survive marriage?"
Alexander peered briefly at his companion, it was an odd question to ask, "If they're truly in love, then I guess, there's no way they won't survive."
She nodded thoughtfully, as if his answer was anything more than meaningless platitudes, "Have you ever been in love?"
There was a long moment of uneasy silence before the prince replied, "I accidentally fell in love once, and that was probably the worst decision I've ever made."
"Who was she?"
"A princess. A princess far far away from here. With golden hair like the sun, and the brightest green eyes you'd ever seen. Falling in love is a most unprofitable business, Cassie."
"So would you go through it all again? I mean, if you saw her somewhere by chance?"
Prince Alexander smiled wryly, "Oh, absolutely. In a single wonky butterfly-filled heartbeat."

And so ended their dialogue. The two unlikely friends once more fixed their wonder skywards, staring and marvelling at the vast celestial light fixture that hung about in the darkness - silent.


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