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by The BranRiech » Sun Dec 15, 2013 8:08 pm
by Swith Witherward » Sun Dec 15, 2013 8:19 pm
Giovenith wrote:"It symbolizes me," answered Giovenith nonchalantly, fiddling with the decoration by pinning it to the front of her clothing. "My mom gave it to me when I was really little, all my siblings have their own too, but with different symbols."
Myra's words about her "old tale" stirred up many different stories from Giovenith's memory, most of them various creation myths. Assuming that the other girl must have been talking about the mythology of where ever she came from, Giovenith leaned in with a wide smile, eyes growing bright and wondering.
"Do tell, that is, if you don't mind," she said, loving stories of all kinds.
OOC: Nighty-night!
★ Madhouse ★
Role Play
& Writers Group
Anti-intellectual elitism: the dismissal of science, the arts,
and humanities and their replacement by entertainment,
self-righteousness, ignorance, and deliberate gullibility. - sauce
by Swith Witherward » Sun Dec 15, 2013 8:30 pm
The BranRiech wrote:"Heh, thanks, Naomi." Bran chuckled. He hadn't seen his friend in a while, being the one who ventured into the Raptor's head along with the Conscript. Or was that Swith? Ah, both of them were good friends, and Bran still hadn't gotten to see Swith in probably a longer time than that. And then his mind instantly shot back to his worst moment.
The innocent little godling next to him. He'd shot her in the gut.
He tensed up, having forgotten that little episode up to now. Naomi never seemed to notice though, next time he'd seen her, she was as normal as Naomi ever would be. He dared never bring it up again. But did she really forgive him, did she even remember?
"Thanks, Naomi." He repeated, looking down.
Torsiedelle wrote:That made Tora feel better. she felt like she was in good hands right now, and she really could make some new memories, and look forward to the future. However, she'd have to do that without s'mores.
"Eeeehhhhh, I'm not a fan of marshmallows, all sweet and sticky and chewy...and airy. They're icky, but I like chocolate and Graham Rackers.", She said, and watched everyone getting ready. "I can go get something else?"
★ Madhouse ★
Role Play
& Writers Group
Anti-intellectual elitism: the dismissal of science, the arts,
and humanities and their replacement by entertainment,
self-righteousness, ignorance, and deliberate gullibility. - sauce
by The BranRiech » Sun Dec 15, 2013 8:43 pm
by Torsiedelle » Sun Dec 15, 2013 8:59 pm
by Swith Witherward » Sun Dec 15, 2013 9:17 pm
The BranRiech wrote:"What do you mean, back to the lagoon?" He asked. They hadn't been swimming since the beginning of the year, and because they'd been cured of their Mer-ness, they hadn't seen a reason to get back in the water since. Bran never knew how to swim otherwise, and Rylli didn't want to swim without her husband. "No, I might just stay around the beaches this year. I don't know how to swim."
With the entire family now roasting their own marshmallows (Except Rylli, who let Rachelle dual-wield the sticks because she was holding Tolya), their daughter decided to listen to the story, reminded of when her parents were part-fish.
They always looked so funny!
★ Madhouse ★
Role Play
& Writers Group
Anti-intellectual elitism: the dismissal of science, the arts,
and humanities and their replacement by entertainment,
self-righteousness, ignorance, and deliberate gullibility. - sauce
by The BranRiech » Sun Dec 15, 2013 9:21 pm
by Swith Witherward » Sun Dec 15, 2013 9:28 pm
★ Madhouse ★
Role Play
& Writers Group
Anti-intellectual elitism: the dismissal of science, the arts,
and humanities and their replacement by entertainment,
self-righteousness, ignorance, and deliberate gullibility. - sauce
by Giovenith » Sun Dec 15, 2013 9:31 pm
by Torsiedelle » Sun Dec 15, 2013 10:15 pm
by Swith Witherward » Mon Dec 16, 2013 12:02 am
The BranRiech wrote:"Haven't seen Swith at all until just now, and she seems preoccupied." Bran shrugged. It was true. He'd seen nearly none of his best friend in a while, not being able to remember the last time they'd done something together, hell, even exchanged greetings. "Yeah, haven't seen her in a while." He shrugged, flipping the stick around to fan the flames, allowing them to cover different parts of the marshmallow that was starting to brown by now. "I don't want to burden her, she always seems so busy."
Giovenith wrote:"Mmmm," Giovenith drank up the story with her ears greedily, immediately tying it all up nicely and adding it alongside the mental "From Island" shelf in her mind: Right next to Miss Swith's monkey story, and the founding of Equestria. Like others, she'd recall and dwell on it, and she wouldn't forget it for quite a while. Different, less dragon-friendly stories from other lands told of some dragons hoarding up jewels and gold; Giovenith only hoarded the interesting things she heard. ... And potential art supplies, but that was something else entirely.
"Thank you for that," she said with a slick, satisfied smile. "It was lovely, and ringing true. There is no shame in aspiration in the right direction, after all."
There was a lot more than Giovenith could have pounced on and tried to connect with, but one of the most important things in the life of being raised by dragon-associated creation deity, is that you did not tell people you were being raised by a dragon-associated creation deity. Not that they would necessarily believe you, but it generally lent itself to trouble. Of course, every since arriving with the other apartment dwellers, that had hardly been in play anymore, but if this was a rather reverential subject for Miss Myra, than it was probably best for Giovenith to not throw herself into that place of standing. Not now, at least. It wasn't lying, it was simply not mentioning it. Dragon stories differed all over the world anyway, all of what Myra said was completely new to her.
"Does dragonborn mean something special?" she asked, this a genuine question of real curiosity. "Born from a dragon?"
Torsiedelle wrote:Tora stuck the frank over the fire and watched it get darker and darker over time. She was different, preferring her meat to the others' sweets, sure, but that wasn't what was on her mind. She still had a nagging question to ask, which she brought up earlier at the dinner.
Hoping that anyone was listening, but looking more towards Swith and Cuisine, Torii spoke up, with a slight stutter.
"U-um, if nobody minds, would my dad possibly be able to make it here, if I were to ask him? I'd really like to spend Christmas with him, if that's alright."
★ Madhouse ★
Role Play
& Writers Group
Anti-intellectual elitism: the dismissal of science, the arts,
and humanities and their replacement by entertainment,
self-righteousness, ignorance, and deliberate gullibility. - sauce
by Tiltjuice » Mon Dec 16, 2013 12:42 am
Swith Witherward wrote:Hans stroked MB under his chin as an expression of gratitude. Impulsively, he lifted Sophie from his chest and turned the sleepy child so she could settle into Chrys' arms.
"Sofia Liesel Von Klaus, aged 3," he murmured. "Conceived after Klaus was banished into human form and before he was indoctrinated into Himmler's program. Minerva went back in time and saved her. The girl should have perished in a house fire. Klaus has had nightmares about her demise for centuries. Now he can heal."
Sophie yawned and fell asleep against Chrys' chest.
"Let me know if you don't want to hold her. She's a very well-behaved child. She comes from an era where children were expected to have manners. She's a very traditional child."
He leaned over to tug the edge of her dress down so her rump wouldn't be exposed. "She's already celebrated Nikolaustag, which is when German children honored Saint Nicholas. On the evening of 5 December, his Catholic feast day, children place a Nikolausstiefel... a shoe...in front of their door. Overnight, the Nikolaus visits the house and fills the shoes with sweets if the children were good, otherwise only a rute can be found... a bundle of twigs. He looks much like Santa Claus but Sophie knows him as Der Weihnachtsmann."
Hans chuckled as memories began to surface. "My brother Dolf and I, we're from Northern Germany. Weihnachtsmann returned Christmas Morning in our house. He was busy in all the houses while the families were at evening mass, be it Lutheran or Catholic. We'd rush into the house, stamping the snow from our boots and hanging our jackets, and then we'd stand by the closed parlor door until someone rang a little silver bell... the magic of Weihnachtsmann leaving. Oh Chrys, that was the best day of the year. We'd hop up and down as our mother slowly opened that door, and inside the parlor all of Christmas was there. The Weihnachtsbaum made the entire room smell like pine, and candles glittered on its branches and lit up the entire room. Toys wrapped in colorful paper were under the tree and begging to be played with. It was the only time of year when presents flowed. Times were still tough back then. Germany was still suffering from the effects of World War I, and toys were rare and special treats. They were treasures."
A blush rose to Hans' face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bore you with foolish memories. I'm sometimes too nostalgic for my own good."
by Swith Witherward » Mon Dec 16, 2013 1:09 am
Germanic Templars wrote:Barox nodded in agreement.
Sapphire began to look a bit worried, but still kept a small smile on her face. She then looked down and said to her, "Well, did Smith tell you were mommy was?"
Catherine nodded, "Yes, he said that mommy was busy helping cleaning up home, and when home is clean, we can go back to mommy!"
Inside, Sapphire was wanting to have an emotional breakdown and cry for the little girl. However, swallowing the grief from within, she said, "Yes...Yes that is true.."
★ Madhouse ★
Role Play
& Writers Group
Anti-intellectual elitism: the dismissal of science, the arts,
and humanities and their replacement by entertainment,
self-righteousness, ignorance, and deliberate gullibility. - sauce
by Swith Witherward » Mon Dec 16, 2013 1:40 am
Tiltjuice wrote:Chrys shifted Sophie carefully, to make sure she didn't drop the little girl. She was conflicted at first, given the nature of her work, but took a deep breath and reminded herself that the cultists were supernatural and of a different pantheon. They didn't play by humanity's rules anymore. Even more than that, though she knew it was a selfish impulse, Hans' story stirred her imagination - as all good stories do.
"Nostalgia's not a sin. Magic has a meaning all its own, doesn't it? I hope I'm not sounding preachy or cliched, but it's not just waving hands and making things disappear, or" - she smiled, still remembering - "swarming out of socks. It's being able to feel that togetherness, no matter who or what you are." She nodded in the direction of Torii and Swith, silhouetted against the campfire with Cuisine slightly farther away.
"And the bonds between the most dissimilar people. It just goes to show that even those with almost nothing in common will find something that joins them."
She moved in a bit closer, glancing down at Sophie wistfully.
★ Madhouse ★
Role Play
& Writers Group
Anti-intellectual elitism: the dismissal of science, the arts,
and humanities and their replacement by entertainment,
self-righteousness, ignorance, and deliberate gullibility. - sauce
by The BranRiech » Mon Dec 16, 2013 5:06 am
by Cerillium » Mon Dec 16, 2013 6:12 am
Tiltjuice wrote:Dora paused before replying. She knew the answer she'd usually give, of course - 'why not both?'
But that was the old her, the one who leaped and didn't even think about looking. Things had to change, as she'd thought to herself after her conversation with Giovenith. Only now, she was sure of the right way to do it.
"I think a stroll sounds like a good idea," she drawled, cheerfully. "Let's go for it." She took the cup and peered into it. Endless depths, just as life itself.
I wear teal, blue & pink for Swith
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.
by Urran » Mon Dec 16, 2013 11:03 am
The BranRiech wrote:"Both. Reptiles alone can die if they get too cold, me? I just get really lazy and tired." Toscha explained, having read up on the existence of Reptiles in this world when he arrived, after learning English and Russian of course. That was another thing that annoyed him. He'd almost all but forgotten his traditional language, of course, only spoken by several hundred thousand people now. "Well, yeah, I guess it's a hybrid of the two." He said, shrugging as he coiled up in the water, leaning back on himself to look up at the sky.
"Other vampires, I guess? No offense of course, I'm sorry for your losses." He said, sighing at the thought, to lose friends to something so vital to all other life but them.
The Blood Ravens wrote: How wonderful. Its like Japan, and 1950''s America had a baby. All the racism of the 50s, and everything else Japanese.
by The Damnatius » Mon Dec 16, 2013 2:03 pm
Tiltjuice wrote:
Still elsewhere, Dia's absence (fortunately for Hans) was explained by his presence at another location, further up the beach in a more secluded area.
"You want me to what?"
A miniature pillar of red robes topped by an incomplete green halo repeated its request, as it gradually grew back to its normal size.
"Well, hell, why not? I'm not that kind of a cop. Sure, I can do that, but you owe me one."
There was a considerable crashing noise, as that of an extremely large man through foliage or thick paper, followed by a raspy, sarcastic "Dia SMASH!" This scared a number of tropical birds into flight, as did a sudden, prolonged thermal bloom that was fortunately shielded from the beach by the thick undergrowth. When it was done, Dia and Deader stood there for a few moments, judging the artwork.
"Passable," Deader said eventually. "One for you it is."
Dia just shook his head and strode back to the beach, followed by Deader on MB's silver tray. Behind them was a series of paintings on a rockface, appropriately aged by Dia's powers over time. They depicted the natives being hunted by ancient raptors, and ancient raptors fighting off ancient Drones just as their modern-day counterparts had done so spiritedly.
There was balance in everything, after all, and mammal deception led into deception of mammals. A professional courtesy and so much more, from a mad alchemist to a gaggle of mad scientists.
by The BranRiech » Mon Dec 16, 2013 2:31 pm
Urran wrote:"Yeah...I was part of an order of vampires sworn to protect mortal sentient beings from being fed on by other, meaner, vampires. Unfortunately, humans could not tell the difference. I alone survived." She stared up at the sky with the Lamia. This was the first time she had ever told anyone that story. It felt good to finally get a sense of closure. "So, what was it like where you came from?" she asked, changing the subject.
by Torsiedelle » Mon Dec 16, 2013 2:42 pm
by Giovenith » Mon Dec 16, 2013 4:30 pm
Swith Witherward wrote:Swith cocked her head. "Sure. It's impossible to find this island, since it's tiny and uncharted, but I can send Minerva to pick him up. I can even send her to bring him an invitation or letter, if you want."
She thought it would be a nice touch to have family there. Who better to share a holiday with than a parent?
Myra, meanwhile, had overheard the question and become very quiet. Her father couldn't be bothered with holidays and celebrations. She chewed her lip a bit distractedly and returned to Giovenith's question. "Dragonborn? It's just... a title, I guess."
That wasn't exactly true, but explaining the whole thing would probably make Giovenith think Myra was a bit insane. She wanted nothing to do with her heritage because it was tied in to her father. She loved him, but she didn't want to be like him. She wanted to be like her mother. She wanted to be carefree, and not stuck in studies all day or learning history, or even trying to improve her penmanship. She just wanted to be sixteen and normal. Maybe go out to movies with friends, or find someone to crush on, or even learn how to play a video game. She didn't really like those, but she'd try if needed.
"What about you? Do you have a story about the stars?" She wondered if Giovenith was European or American. Maybe she thought of the creation story from the bible? Or maybe she ascribed to some other philosophy?
by Germanic Templars » Mon Dec 16, 2013 4:32 pm
Swith Witherward wrote:Germanic Templars wrote:Barox nodded in agreement.
Sapphire began to look a bit worried, but still kept a small smile on her face. She then looked down and said to her, "Well, did Smith tell you were mommy was?"
Catherine nodded, "Yes, he said that mommy was busy helping cleaning up home, and when home is clean, we can go back to mommy!"
Inside, Sapphire was wanting to have an emotional breakdown and cry for the little girl. However, swallowing the grief from within, she said, "Yes...Yes that is true.."
Was Catherine's mother dead? Wren searched her mind but couldn't recall what Dr. Smith had said. If Sapphire was just trying to placate the child, wouldn't Catherine come to mistrust her if the cleanup ended and her mother was dead?
She wasn't about to contradict Sapphire, though. What would it accomplish, other than making the little girl more confused and sad. Maybe this was just how the Templars operated. "All's well unless it turns out otherwise"... seemed, well, it just seemed to be how they were. It just wasn't right. It wasn't right that a child not be told. It wasn't right that a child be left with false hopes if no hope were possible.
Wren turned her face away and stared at the wall without seeing it.
The Genetor’s mechanically disproportionate mass lay prone under the cracked dome. The torrid weather raging above him went unregistered by his unresponsive optics even as the acidic raindrops seared the metal and flesh of his grotesque body. His cloak, once a rubicund standard which demarcated him as one of the Ruling Priesthood, was crushed to the tile and fouled by blood and mechanical fluids.
The child in the box mewled but the wind stole the sound and left howling turmoil in its place. Blood-caked fingernails tore at the gap to no avail. They snapped one by one and left the child with nothing but ragged, bleeding fingertips to use in effort to gain liberty. She pressed on in desperation and her soft complaints evolved into petrified shrieks that only ceased once heavily clad legs cast a shadow across the opening and blocked the dead Genetor from sight.
The box rattled. The child fled to the farthest corner. The lid opened and Thaddeus eyes leveled upon his firstborn. Her tiny chest rose and fell in rapid cadence and she pressed herself more tightly into the corner to avoid his reaching hand.
“Mamma! I want my mamma! I want my mamma!”
She raged against the old cyborg. She thrashed like a caught rabbit and willed his grasp to break.
Thaddeus maintained his grip and shook her for good measure. “Your mother is dead.”
Velvety blue eyes momentarily locked upon his deathly white lenses. The child’s mouth became unhinged as the rosy hue drained from her face. It was incomprehensible. The Genetor said mamma was only at the tower; she’d return once the Nids were routed. Mamma was Sagitarii; mamma was invincible.
Thaddeus hadn’t time for his child’s whinging. The Master of Skitarii shook her again for good measure and painfully dropped her to the hard ground. “Your mother is dead. Cover yourself with your cloak. We are leaving now."
His bolter's muzzle pressed against her skull. “Move, Mavis-Wren. I’ll offer no leniency for your snot and sniveling.”
Wren drew a shuddering breath. Perhaps her father's methods were uncaring and barbaric, but they'd left no false hope in her heart. Things were or they weren't. This place, these people... Dr. Smith's project, Sapphire's words, the children's pain and struggle... the differences in culture were too great for Wren to understand. She lifted her eyes to stare into Barox's and tears splashed down her cheeks as she silently pleaded with him to take her home.
by Urran » Mon Dec 16, 2013 7:40 pm
The BranRiech wrote:Blossom's story was definitely interesting, but Toscha decided on sparing her the details of the whole thing, and would ask more about it all later. Hmm, which homeland was she referring to? Ah, he'd tell her about both of them. "Well, I'm from the Branriech now, but before that, I came from a different dimension. There was jungle as far as the eye could see, warm and rainy all the time. Our village was high up in the trees. Oh, there were about 7 or 8 hundred of us living there." He shrugged. "All of us made it out, and a few other clans and tribes, different variants of our people really."
The Blood Ravens wrote: How wonderful. Its like Japan, and 1950''s America had a baby. All the racism of the 50s, and everything else Japanese.
by The BranRiech » Mon Dec 16, 2013 7:44 pm
Urran wrote:"Tell me about the village in the trees...I see that you were not the only ones forced out of your homeland. I am the only one still living that remembers the actual event. Yoshio is from the land that we fled to." she explained. "If I were not a vampire I would be the same species."
by Urran » Mon Dec 16, 2013 7:47 pm
The BranRiech wrote:"Just a village really. The huts were all built on stilts, or built into the actual trees. Yeah, there were hundreds of us living there, with a few other settlements and towns nearby. We were a bit more primitive (Admittedly) than some of the other groups living in our world, with some of our own race possessing things like guns and stuff. We refused to advance, but now, in the Branriech, we farm." Toscha explained. It was most of what he remembered, and if Blossom looked off towards the treeline, she'd spot a hut built into the trees.
"That's what they'd look like." He pointed over to it. "But bigger."
He was starting to get cold . . .
The Blood Ravens wrote: How wonderful. Its like Japan, and 1950''s America had a baby. All the racism of the 50s, and everything else Japanese.
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