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Personification Life IC IX - [Semi Open]

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The BranRiech
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Postby The BranRiech » Sun Dec 15, 2013 8:08 pm

"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.

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Swith Witherward
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Postby 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!

"You mom loves you a lot to give you something so special," Myra replied. She wondered if Giovenith's mother was on the island or maybe, like her dad, she was off working.

Her knowledge of the old stories was sketchy, mainly because she'd learned them as an older child after coming to live with her father. Before then, she thought in only one creation myth.

"Well," she began slowly, "Once the universe came into being, the skies were empty. The gods had given the Protectors the job of collecting knowledge but man was a pesky race who tried to grab knowledge before he was ready to use it. The Protectors realized that they needed to hide this knowledge far out of man's reach. The moon was lonely, as well, and man had never been able to reach it, so they spread their wings and took flight. They flew higher than they ever had, far into the darkness above and far beyond the moon and all the other planets.

"The Greatest Protector looked around and said, 'Here, my brothers, we will store the knowledge. Pour your breath out that Truth and Wisdom will survive.' So, each of them opened their mouths and allowed these things to pour out. The skies were soon peppered with these things. But the knowledge of the Earth remained apart, hidden in a golden egg. Then the Protectors returned to their aeries to rest and to guard this egg. The evening came and man crept from their caves and pointed towards the skies, marveling at the stars. It's said by our elders that man is almost ready to touch that knowledge, that he's progressed enough to touch it and use it properly. Until then, though... he can only point and aspire. He can only dream. In dreaming, he strives to achieve."

Myra shrugged. "If you've never heard of a Protector, there's a tribute to them in Varna, Bulgaria. The statue is of two dragons, a male and female. The male, having returned from his flight in the heavens, is handing the golden egg... the knowledge of the Earth... to the female to protect. The artist is dragonborn."
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Swith Witherward
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Postby 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.

Another marshmallow swam in Bran's line of sight moments before impacting his nose. "You're welcome," she giggled, pulling back the stick and handing it to Rylli.

She hadn't any idea what was on his mind or what caused him to become suddenly sullen, but she wasn't having any of it. She placed another gooey treat on a stick and handed it to Rachelle.

"You guys going back to the Lagoon, Bran?" she asked as she set her own treat above the flames.


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?"

"Sure," Swith smiled. "I'm going to grab a drink from Cuisine. Maybe he has some pineapple? That stuff actually tastes good when warmed up. Sprinkle it with a little sugar before eating. Diabetic disaster, but oh so good!"

She slid from the log and brushed sand from her legs. She turned to look at Cuisine's improvised bar... er cabaret... um...

"HAAAAAAAAAAhahahahahaha!" She'd caught sight of War's pasty cultists in native attire. Maybe she shouldn't have been so loud about it, but seeing them was just the perk up she needed. Some of them were in traditional Nazi desert uniforms. Others, however, wore grass skirts and heavy tribal masks. They'd at least remembered to take off their socks and boots. What made her laugh hardest was the pseudo tribal markings they'd painted all over their chests and arms. Most were representations of raptors (the birds) and fierce snakes, but a few had painted flowers or palm trees. Edith Head had not been involved in this production, obviously.

Swith got a grip on her laughter and wiped a tear from her eyes. "I see the albino natives from the other side of the island have joined us. Well, good. I hear they're fierce, though. Best to avoid them.
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The BranRiech
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Postby The BranRiech » Sun Dec 15, 2013 8:43 pm

"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!

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Postby Torsiedelle » Sun Dec 15, 2013 8:59 pm

"Oh lord.", Torii rolled her eyes at the sight, amused. "That's just weird, right there. I just hope that I don't get scalped on my way to the hut."

She laid her guitar gently on the ground, and made sure to lean the neck against the log. She hopped up and jogged over into the darkness, then disappeared into the large hut, taking a minute to find the fridge and rummage through the new food, until she found some franks and an old pack of buns, and she had her meal. It wasn't exactly the same as the sausages she cooked with her dad, but it would do, at least better than marshmallows.

Her food in hand, she also grabbed a can of juice and ran out, leaving the door open. She made her way back to the log, placed her loot down, and looked back to see if the "tribals" were still there.
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Swith Witherward
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Postby 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!

Naomi shrugged. "I figured you'd ask Swith to work some stuff for you, like how last year she did that bottle cap thing to let you be human part of the time. Then Pookie will have someone to play with."

She shrugged. Pookie was harmless... sorta. Rumor had it that another sea monster had ended up on the beach earlier that day, but no one had been able to leave the party to look for it. She wasn't going to look for it in the dark, either.
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Postby The BranRiech » Sun Dec 15, 2013 9:21 pm

"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."

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Swith Witherward
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Postby Swith Witherward » Sun Dec 15, 2013 9:28 pm

Swith watched Torii run off to her hut. A sense of peace settled in her chest. It was good to see spark from the girl again, and even better than she'd returned to join the group in cooking things over the fire. That's how it should be... community, family, kinship.

She nodded to Cuisine and helped herself to his thoughtful drink.

The stars were twinkling overhead now, and Swith lifted her glass of liver towards them and towards her first friend. Somewhere out there, raptors zoomed along in a House. Somewhere out there, a Velocidoctor sat in a Construct's kitchen and sipped tea. Somewhere out there, their handler perhaps sat in a quiet room and longed to return.

"It was a lovely dinner, NVE," she whispered to the sky. "It's a lovely friendship."

They'd return. She believed that in her heart. She'd hunt them down if they didn't. It would be her personal quest, of course, to bring back a bit of non-Chaos chaos to this universe. Swith chuckled.

"Only those who attempt the absurd will achieve the impossible. I think it's in my basement... let me go upstairs and check." She spoke the words of M.C. Escher with conviction, relishing the twist in thinking. "And rabbit holes really do lead to Wonderland, my dear. So everyone move over, get a clean cup, and if the dormouse gets finicky, just dab his nose with jam."

Swith finished her beverage and handed the cup back to Cuisine. She wanted to visit Thriller's old hut, but someone had completely redone everything and she doubted even the factory was the same. She couldn't walk down memory lane there. It was just as well.
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Giovenith
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Postby Giovenith » Sun Dec 15, 2013 9:31 pm

"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?"
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Torsiedelle
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Postby Torsiedelle » Sun Dec 15, 2013 10:15 pm

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."
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Swith Witherward
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Postby 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."

Naomi licked piping hot marshmallow from her singed fingertips. She squished sand between her toes and tried to fathom how best to explain Swith's preoccupation over the last months.

"Well, Thriller went off to war and left her to manage the house and kids, and that kept her busy. Plus her brother's trying to kill her, and she hasn't really had the heart to participate in anything her brothers are planning. Then Klaus got reprieve and broke his curse, so the dynamics changed and she had to figure out a way to adapt to that, because it meant creating an Undivided Host. And then, as you know, the Templars came back just recently, and Thriller's dead."

Naomi turned towards Bran and leveled a stare at him. "She's hurting, Bran. She can't find Thriller's soul. She's wasted so much time looking for him. Yoshi comes back, and you come back, and Ray comes back... but not Thriller. What sort of bullshit is that when fate allows everyone to come back except the one person who grounded Swith here in this dimension? Swith was so depressed that Charumati..." How to even explain the facets? There wasn't any way to. "Well, her grief was so bad that she closed herself off rather than fading away. Bran, she's not going to frolic. Every moment without Thriller is one less moment she has in the universe. She's fading still. She doesn't want to have an adventure or be silly or play. Someone assassinated her mate. She can't even get revenge. Conversations tax her."

The godling shrugged and began to speak very softly so Bran would have to strain to hear her voice above the fire's crackle. "People only go to Swith when they're bored or want something. They'll drop her name if it means boosting themselves up. But look around. Did you see Thriller at the raptor's party? Aleki was at the Bane meeting, but no Thriller. He wasn't even at Thanksgiving. So there's Yoshi, who isn't abashed at telling Octavian that he's Swith's son... yet he's so wrapped up in his life that he doesn't even realize that his "mother's" mate is missing? I mean, shit, Thriller's kinda hard to miss! He's loud and larger than life, and if he wasn't being loud and large in the halls, he was running around in that mech suit. Hard to not notice the suit. But no one's even asked anyone, 'where's Thriller?' No one."

She gestured to the people gathered around the fire and continued to speak quietly. "Swith was always there for them. She's saved them. She's worked her magic to help them. She's offered comfort to them. She's hosted dinners and Zalgofests and Carnivals for them... and no one even bothered to knock on her door to ask if she was doing okay while Thriller was gone, and no one even noticed Thriller hadn't returned. She's not angry. She just has no reason to exist anymore."



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."

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?
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Postby 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."


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.

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Postby 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.."

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.
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Democratic Socialists

Postby 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.

The mention of the socks brought a smile to Hans' face. He laughed softly and brushed stray strands of hair from Sophie's face, unconsciously moving towards Chrys.

"Fate overlooks dissimilarities," he murmured, "Or maybe they just don't matter in the grand scheme of things? I can't say. There's a magic in the universe that outstrips anything any gods or powerful beings have to offer. It's love, you know. Love creates a child. Love saves a child and returns her to her father. Love raises that child."

He caught himself and snorted. "Correction, it seems everyone is raising this child. She just has her own brand of magic, I suppose, and she works it simply by being herself."

He wasn't under any delusion that he and Chrys would one day run off and play house, however. As beautiful as she appeared while holding Sophie, common sense said that neither of them had jobs that would lend to it. It might work for Minerva and Klaus, but he doubted Chrys would do as Dora did, and more than that, he doubted he'd ever be able to walk away from Chaos to join the Conservators. That didn't stop him from loving her.

"Let's grab a beer and steal a log before all the good ones are taken," he suggested.
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The BranRiech
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Ex-Nation

Postby The BranRiech » Mon Dec 16, 2013 5:06 am

Bran gaped, not knowing any of this information at all. He truly hadn't seen Swith until now, and didn't even bother to look for the absent Thriller at the party. Now he felt guilty. "And through all this, you asked me why I haven't asked Swith to give Rylli and I something we probably don't even need? Yeah, I'm sure that'd make her feel so great, right?" Bran scowled. Naomi had really just asked why they hadn't asked Swith for something so unimportant, and then just explained how pissed off she was getting about the exact same thing.

He didn't know why. Naomi seemed to be taking them on a guilt trip now. "And why are you saying this like it's my fault?" He asked then, wanting some sort of answer that didn't sound like an explanation leveled at a child. He was angry now, more than anything, at Swith's unwillingness to deal with something in a healthy way. She could have gone to anyone for help, anyone!

Considering how Swith probably felt about her own friends (In Bran's mind), he started to get up to leave. He couldn't take that.

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Cerillium
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New York Times Democracy

Postby 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.

Ogoti had been prepared to join everyone at the bonfire. He expected to sit on a log and watch Dora as she visited with her friends. He would have been content, although at times past did had felt brushed off when Katya was in need. Her reply to the contrary, however, would have caused him to float away had he the ability to express his joy in such a manner.

He said nothing but the relief on his face was unmistakable as they strolled past the group and found a quiet spot not too far away. Ogoti pulled two large leaves from a local species of 'elephant ear' plant and shook them in the off chance a critter had chosen to rest there. He set them on the sand to serve as an ample blanket.

He sat and offered his hand to help Dora down.

"As silly as it looks, tropical leaf sitting isn't all that uncommon. Some cultures remain nomadic. It's easy to move textiles on an animal but, when going for short journeys, it's much easier to dispense with the fuss and utilize what's around." He sighed and leaned back to look at the skies. "I was always too lazy to build a shelter, actually. It took me nearly twenty years to complete my little mud hut in Turkey. It isn't that I lacked the skills or ambition; I never stayed in one place very long."

The old god shrugged. "What about you? Did our Dora roam the Earth on various assignments or was she the sort who liked a comfortable living space and amenities?"
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Urran
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New York Times Democracy

Postby 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.



"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.

--

Yoshi had thought that he had been alone until he noticed Tora, but she left before he could say much of anything. He shrugged and kept reading. Tsu had not returned and this made Yoshi slightly upset. He could not be angry at Tsu, that was not his nature, he was very disappointed in her though. He needed to be there for his "sister". She needed him more than Katya did right now.
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The Damnatius
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Ex-Nation

Postby 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.


Calvin had begun to doze off when he was awakened by the loud and quite sudden occurrence. He didn't need the Assistant this time to be alert, as he instantly turned his head around towards where he perceived the source of the noise was located. He called upon his second conscience for advice, whether or not to investigate. Yet again acting on it's inquisitive nature, it dictated that Calvin do so with respect to caution of course. The island was of such alien nature what long-extinct beasts of the time still prevalent were unknown.

He raised himself off the ground, brushing the sand that had begun to cling and slowly swallow him. It would have been successful, too, if given ages. He began on his way towards the sound, partly grateful to transition into a more moderate setting until he was made very aware of the tiny demonic creatures that had begun to assault him. The assistant found no way to combat them counting hundreds at a time somewhere. It's only words were to press onwards. It was before he could even get decently into the foliage that he found the small procession of strange individuals on their way out. Before he could back away, his foot was caught upon a small root. He fell forward, acting quickly to catch himself but in the same process making his presence more than known.

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The BranRiech
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Ex-Nation

Postby 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.

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."

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Democratic Socialists

Postby Torsiedelle » Mon Dec 16, 2013 2:42 pm

"I think we should send him an invitation.", Torii nodded. "That way, he'll have time and all. I still wanna see him for Christmas, though. "

Torii was excited now, since it seemed that someone wanted to help her. She would be so happy to have her parent with her for once, instead of just a friend or family member. She could decorate the hut, and read Christmas stories, and she could tell him about all of her problems. He also had an obligation to take her fishing, and there was no better time than on a tropical island!
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Giovenith
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Left-wing Utopia

Postby 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?


"... Mmmmm..." Eyes shifted to the side in thought.

Giovenith wasn't exactly sure how to answer that question. There were legends from the people about their Creation, but from what those stories said and what the godling knew to be the true workings of how the set-up of deities worked, they didn't entirely match-up (not shocking, humans did sometimes get crucial parts wrong). Giovenith had only been bold enough a grand total of five times in her life to come right out and ask her mother what the Beginning (as she had seen it) had really been like. The answer was always the same:

"She was bright, and she was unknowable," Giovenith finally explained, using the same words she had been given. "But she was cold, lonely, and without many things in the Nothingness. She had a name, but no real reason to speak it. She had interest and patience, but nothing to watch. She had love, but nothing to love. She wasn't entirely sure what was happening or who she was at times, or if she was dreaming, or what dreaming was, or of anything. Sometimes she Slept, but more and more often she was Awake. There was nothing, and it always hurt. Maybe it was like that for a long time, maybe a short time, or perhaps no time at all considering there was not much of anything else; there isn't a good way to know, but she doesn't really care. All she cares is that one day she decided she was horribly sick of the nothing, and wanted it to stop being that way. Then Creation began."

It wasn't a beautiful prose, nor anything inspiring or exhilarating. More likely than not, the description did the Creation terrible injustice. Where was the color, the light, the unimaginable, emptiness-crushing, reality-building choir, the holiness? It was not as if Giovenith hadn't wondered these things herself. Where mother's talent to make things astonishing and miraculous should have been at its strongest, it failed disappointingly. But she was not allowed to express disappointment, or at least, she felt was not... who would be so silly as to question the Creation as a Creator told it? That was the reason she had only asked on five lone occasions. Giovenith's mother loved her, she knew that, there was no question about it; that was why it hurt to run into a situation or question that reminded Giovenith of the inescapable reality that her parent was a thing still so far beyond her own comprehension, that it was practically monstrous. "Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children" taken to the Supreme. Normal people eventually grew up to see that mothers were only as they were, incapable of shaking mountains or moving the world, nowhere near as terrifying as once perceived long ago when they sat and viewed the vast world from upon their laps. They could keep their love for their nurturers, while slowly growing out of the silent, secret, sheer terror.

Giovenith would never live to witness any such revelation.

Having taken but a few seconds to allow herself that sinking, humbling thought before shoving it back into the far corners of her conscious where it belonged, Giovenith raised her eyes to meet Myra's. "I'm sorry, that's not a very fun story," she laughed a breathy chuckle. "But I suppose it's the closest one to being true, at least in the eyes of where I come from, what with the many things people say, you know?"

Now they were both secretly sick with lineage trouble, neither speaking it, for now. The shifting silence was a brief but noticeable one, as Giovenith turned the page to another, lighter idea.

"You are about my age, yes? A teenager?" she asked carefully, the corners of her mouth twitching upward again timidly. "Well, it just so happens that my friends and I have been discussing putting up a spot for people our age. We're all about sixteen and seventeen. Would you, like to join?" Maybe Myra would think it was silly to form a little youngsters' club as they were, but it was worth the offer. She seemed very nice, very interesting, and very deep... like the floor of the oceans and seas around them. Fitting they first met here, then.
Last edited by Giovenith on Mon Dec 16, 2013 7:08 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Germanic Templars
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Founded: Jul 01, 2011
Capitalist Paradise

Postby 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.


Barox looked at her and saw the pain. he gave a silent sigh and looked back at Sapphire. "Sorry to leave you with the kids like this but, we have some other things to go do. But before we go, can we please see the dining facility underground, cause I am a bit hungry."

Sapphire, whose sorrow turned better into a grin, replied, " O Barox, I was joking about that, there is no underground dining facility, nor anything underground at all, except the lava and dirt. If you wanna eat, you have to wait for shipment to come in."

"Ah Christ." He sighed with a look of disappointment. "Alright, I guess we go then. Bye." He gently took Wren by the hand and lead her out, leaving the children under the care of the Doctor and Sapphire.

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Urran
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New York Times Democracy

Postby 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."


"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."
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The BranRiech
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Founded: Mar 24, 2011
Ex-Nation

Postby 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."

"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 . . .

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Urran
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New York Times Democracy

Postby 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 . . .


"That's pretty. It must have taken you a long time ti build." she said with a nod and swam closer to shore. Like others of her people, like Yoshi, she was a strong swimmer. She stood up and slicked her hair back. "You look cold, I would hug you but it would probably only make you colder..."
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