Fiction: A Disruption

Another fiction post everyone.  Same character as before.

I lay on the chaise in my long formal dress I wore to a few events in the late '20s.  I have no shame in wearing classics again.  I've been certain to keep my clothing classic so that I can look regal for decades rather than mere months.  Also shopping for clothing at night was harder to do when I first started out as a kindred.  It was easier to be practical, short of tricking a designer into your orchestra.

Above me I watch molecules bond to each other in a rhythm, reminding me of the Rites of Spring.  I remember when modern dance was new and I saw a performance, but dance never truly entertained me.   I preferred the symphony.  I've kept the song in symphony, performed by the atoms that pair off. They light up above in a soft light.  I am keen and comfortable.

The bonds lose their defining lines, and the lights begin to stay up, and are bright gold like incandescents.  The chaise is sinking into grass, yellow blades dimmed by nightfall. I look down and the dress... is no longer there.  I am clothed into something I can only describe to civilized individuals as a hand-sewn sack.   In the old standards this was beauty.  In the current standard it feels like a costume.  I'm itchy.

I sit up.  In front of me is a fire subsisting on nothing, lighting up the field as if it's mid afternoon.  I back away before standing up.  This is rare.  This small remembrance comes twice a decade, not in a true pattern.  I am no longer startled by it.  I merely hate that I must waste my time with it.

In the corner of my eyes I sense the shadows that sometimes linger.  I never truly catch them in my sight in front of me, so I do not try to catch them.  They're short, slight dark figures that just stand and stare back at me.  As I walk to the fire they follow me, still in the edges of my sight.  If they're not going to leave, I'll keep them at that difference.

Just by walking to the fire, it shrinks rapidly, until it is the size of a dime when I'm only a couple feet away from it.  I grin.

"Merely an exothermic process."

"Precisely," I hear Abel confirm.  He doesn't show, he is only heard.  "One that is hard to control, unfortunately, and can damage, but nothing unknown."

There is a part of me that wishes to touch it.  I don't wish to be used to that fantasy.  It won't be useful after my time in eclipse.

Suddenly the sky crashes around, pushing me on my back again.  I find myself in the long black dress I began my eclipse in, the irises and roses surrounding me.  the room is dimly lit.  I realize I can blink at will and the image stays the same.

Leaning over me is Lady Quinn, the dips and raises on the side of her face highlighted by the lighting.  She is dressed in a suit, but her hair is not pulled back.  I lick my lips and raise my brow.

"I apologize, Lady Quinn.  It is necessary."

I pull my shoulders back into the silk covered pillows I rest on.  "Understood.  Is it time?"

"This is... early, but brief."

"It is acceptable.  We are up to date on events?"

"There is a report on changes that will be pertinent for this brief summit."

"That is understood."  I pause.  "We still serve at the pleasure of the Prince?"

She cocks her head to the side.  "Of course."

In relief I close my eyes.  "Then this will pass quickly."

Fiction: As Lady Quinn Rests...

Yes it has been quite some time since I paid attention to this blog.  I'm trying to get back to my old writing habits, so while I try that please try to enjoy this fictional piece that is of on of my LARP characters.  P.S. if you're still reading after 8 months of no updates, thank you, I really appreciate it.

"Well please, Miss Moreaux, please show us the savage dance that will bring your land the rain!"

A scene I have repeated multiple times.  Partially for my amusement, partially to make it right.  I smirk to Lady Tatar, in her blue dress and dripping jewels.  Abel told me she only recently became a lady, and many believe she didn't deserve it.

This time around, I don't just stand there politely.  Survival in this space is no longer an issue.  I have survived.  This time, I respond with a smirk and I approach her slowly, my low heels clicking and my stride steady.  I put a hand on her hip and take her free arm up, and as her amazement manifests on her face I waltz with her in front of everyone at the gathering that night.  Suddenly I hear a Strauss movement swell around us, and all of the people around us laugh in amazement.

This time the victory dance only lasts a moment before I become a fluid body floating down to the small lab I shared with Abel over a century ago, when we settled in the city.  Before the fire.

He grins at me.  "You have too much fun with this Lady S--"

Even in this deep rest I bring up a finger and raise my brow.  "Excuse me, Baron Abel."

He nods as I land to the floor.  "You are excused, Lady Quinn.  Though I should apologize.  I am glad you have found a way."

I try not to remind myself that I merely imagined that.  The walls turn into enlarged, flat representations of some of my favorite compounds--lithium aluminium hydride, psilocybin, clove oil--which glow and give some needed light to the scene.  I see Abel as I last saw him, in his jacket, slacks and boots before he ran into our haven and I could not run after him.  I'm currently in the long dress and understated gold jewelry that I entered my rest in.

I look to the table to see words intermingle in the flasks and the tubes, bubbling in the beaked patiently waiting me to write down a result.  But it's not time for me to, so I ignore it.  "I am glad as well.  Our work has helped me greatly."

"I'm glad I picked you well.  Kindred don't like to admit that lineage is important sometimes, but I found it vital.  If I hadn't picked you..."

"Abel, I'm not certain if you are my ego or not."

"Can I be?"

"I don't know, I'd ask Freud."

Suddenly a little rustling as the compounds shift slightly and change color--a light purple.  It causes Abel to look ghostly.  I feel a grin grow not only in my dream, but just softly as I rest.

"What could it be, Lady Quinn?"

"They've changed the flora around me.  I'm assuming lilacs.  That's a rarity."

I let Abel fade, and I float back onto a chaise in a silk sheath dress, my hair down.  I lift my feet up and wait to see if it is Lord or Lady Quinn who will be reading me new poetry this evening.  I feel lucky that I occasionally can even hear it.

Though part of me wishes they'd ghoul someone who was a francophone native.  However, I'm not in a position to complain, so I lie.  And I wait.  And I enjoy.

Character Week: Sandahla

Although some of my more memorable characters have been in my table top games, it doesn't stop me from making little stories for my video game characters too.  Right now I can't stop playing my dunmer in Skyrim

Sandahla

Unlike a lot of the other video game RPGs I've played, your character doesn't necessarily have a lot of a chance to make a personality in Skyrim.  Some of it you just assume along the way.  And there isn't any "romance" in the game either, in the sense that there's no story built around it.  You want to marry someone? Just complete a favor and wear this amulet and bam!  You can get married.  It's more economical, really.  Although I am not fancying anyone in this game, it seems Sandahla has been gravitating toward a fellow dark elf who keeps a shop at Windhelm.

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Sandahla slammed the door shut right behind her, the sound booming through the shop.  Revyn as always was behind the counter.  He was shocked to see her.

"Rushing to get in before I close?"  He checked to make sure the garnet pieces he had been inspecting before had not fallen away.

Sandahla brushed away the snow on her shoulders and took off her hood, revealing her new moonstone circlet.  "You could say that.  I had a question for you, friend."

Revyn raised an eyebrow.  With the short time they had been doing business, she had yet to call him friend.  "Certainly."  He had no reason to tell her no.  Not only had she brought him rare things that sold for quite the profit, she was also a lovely dunmer.  Having her to look at made the time pass agreeably.

"I was hoping I could stay here tonight, Revyn.  I only stayed in Candlehearth Hall one night, and that innkeeper didn't trust the way I breathed in her place, let alone me sleeping in one of her rooms.  I can't stand that place."

"Oh yes, Elda.  She does have no problem taking dark elf coin, though she'll stare you down the entire night.  I've only been there once, after that I stuck to New Gnisis." 

There was a pause as Sandahla waited politely before asking, "Does that mean I can stay here for the night?"

"Oh, well, of course.  I don't think I'll be needing my bed tonight anyway."  Revyn quickly put away the garnet on the counter.  "I think I have a spare bearskin to keep you warm tonight."

Sandahla gently put a hand on his, her gold ring still cold from the outside.  "No rush, please.  I do have some things to sell you first.  And I don't need to sleep right away.  I have books to read."

Revyn looked into her eyes, red and bright.  There was no reason for him to trust her initially, but a couple weeks ago when he needed someone to discretely return a ring to the affluent Viola, Sandahla was eager to help.  He could tell that it wasn't for the gold.  The gleam in her eyes was the one of someone who sought out adventure, no matter how small. 

Revyn let the gems drop from his hand.  "Alright, what would you like to sell?"

Sandahla realized she left her hand linger too long, and slowly removed it to bring her bag on top of the counter.  It looked especially fully today.  Could it be more mage robes, Revyn pondered, or possibly elven armor?  He tried to hide his anticipation.

Slowly Sandahla reveled what seemed to be over-sized claw bones, which she neatly arranged in the order nature had intended on the counter.  She whispered to him, "Dragon bones."

"Dragon bones?!"  Revyn gasped.  "Where did you find these things?"  He picked up a knuckle and began to scrutinize it.  

"It's... a trade secret."  Her face was stoic with that answer.  Revyn could tell she was hiding something, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to pry.  She hadn't tried to hide anything before.  She had been very forthcoming about retrieving her items from assassins and imperials.  She had even mentioned an infiltration job where she had stolen Thalmoor boots out of necessity.  Revyn was willing to let that slide since he knew of a buyer who would keep her mouth shut.  

He raised his brow.  "I hope you're not offended if I ask--"

Sandahla shook her head.  "It's not stolen.  I wouldn't do that to you."

Again with the familar phrases.  What had changed?  "Considering what you've done for me before, I will honor your word."

"Thank you.  And if you like that, I also have scales from the same dragon."

"You must have been very close to the beast," Revyn supposed.

"I was."  A decidedly short answer.  Revyn stopped prying.

"Well thank you for these finds.  This is a rather lucrative bounty.  Right now, for everything, I can offer you 900 gold."

"950?"

He smirked.  "You do remember I'm the one who taught you to haggle?"

She smiled back.  "950 so you know your lessons taught me well."

"910 at the most and I'll be satisfied with your progress."

"I'll take it then."  She left the scales and bones on the counter, took out a spell tome and went toward the fire in the adjacent room.  "You can give it to me in the morning.  I'll be leaving early, before the sun is up."

"Making yourself at home so quickly?"  Revyn organized his new merchandise behind the counter.  He wasn't offended by her actions, just surprised.

"I'm sorry.  I just wanted to start studying this spell before I went to bed.  Could be useful for tomorrow."

"And what, may I ask, is the adventure tomorrow?"

"I have to go kill an ice wraith."

Revyn stopped his sorting and leaned over the counter to question, "Are you certain?"

Sandahla walked back out to him, tome still in hand.  "When did you start questioning my actions?"

"I'm sorry, it sounds dangerous.  Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

"Only the wraith."  She walked back up to the counter, her circlet now off, her black hair framing her face.  "I'll be fine.  I'll take a potion of healing from you in the morning if you're so concerned."  

Revyn sighed.  "On the house.  I would hate to think my shrewd practices would be the death of you."  It surprised him how much he meant it.  "Shall I get that bear skin for you then?"

She nodded.  "Thank you, I still have a chill."  She went back to the side room.  Revyn finished putting away the bones, scales and garnet, and then went to the cupboard for the skin.  He entered the side room to see Sandahla deep in study.  

Knowing it may be stepping over unestablished bounds, he gingerly place the bear skin over her shoulders.  Sandahla noticed and looked to him, but didn't protest.  In the fire light Revyn noticed something typically hidden under her war paint.  "Sandahla, may I ask how you got that scar?"

"When I was young on my own I was chased up a tree by a bear, and he swiped a paw at me before falling down eight feet onto stones.  I then used the dagger my father lent me to put him out of his misery."

"How old were you?"

"But a child.  Why?"

In honesty, Revyn didn't like hearing she had been put in harms way.  But he couldn't say that.  "I now understand why the ice wraith does not phase you."

Sandahla grinned.  "I'll be back with more trinkets at the same time tomorrow."

"And feel free to stay here whenever you like."  He was surprised he said that.  He was not one to offer up his home so freely.  

"Thank you, friend."

"Of course.  Someone who helped me so eagerly needs to be repaid."

"I've already spent the gold, Revyn."

"Having a good soul does not get repaid enough."

Her grin lessened, and she looked to the fire.  "Thank you for the flattery.  I don't know what to do with it."  She looked to him, with the question that neither had the answer for behind her eyes.  She then went back to her tome.

Before he went back to check his figures, Revyn stood and looked at Sandahla for some time as she studied on his bed.  The fire revealed the courageous demeanor hiding behind her eyes, the beauty in her marked face, and the strength under her robes. 

Revyn could get used to seeing her there every day.

Character Week: Amy Valencia

I've had the writing bug in me, so I want to use it for productive things.  This week I'm going to have a fictional story about an RPG character I played (video game or table top) posted Monday through Friday.  That's right, I'm giving myself homework!  Woot!

It actually all started with

Amy Valencia

Amy is a character I am playing in a table top RPG, the game being called Obsidian.  Obsidian is this great mix of a post-apocalyptic world with future technology.  Demons have taken over everything except this one tiny spot in America, which is a literal pillar of humanity.  There are good mystics who fight demons and then there are "bad" kultists who worship them.  Amy is the latter, a worshiper of the Kult of the Chemical.  When I was thinking of motivations for her, I suddenly had this scene in my head.  

______________________________

Amy wasn't entirely sure what she was smoking.  Why should she care.  It was at that magical part of the evening where only a couple people had lasted to the end.  The ones where sleep was something that could be postponed, and good company was better than caffeine.

She took another hit of the hookah, and carefully blew the smoke toward Alik, a short, smart man with a muscle tone that was just enough.  Amy hadn't decided if she would sleep with him tonight.  It could go either way.

Alik's eyes had a longing, but not lustful.  He sighed, barely parting his lips.  "This is all pointless, isn't it?"

Amy pouted.  "Oh, poor dear, I knew this moment would happen.  She lay her head on his lap and looked up to him.  Her long dark hair blanketed his legs.  "You thinkers can get in a funk.  Tell me about it."

"We're all in a funk, Amy.  Humanity's locked up inside this tiny tube, and the whole world is taken over by everything evil!  Why bother living?  Why bother surviving?  Haven't we already lost?"

"Well, yes, but why focus on that?"

Alik sat up straight.  "I thought you a more hopeful type."

Amy giggled.  "Why?  Because I'm not as smart as you?  Oh, you sweet thing, just because I'm not book smart doesn't mean I can't see the truth."

"And what is the truth?"

"The long run game is already won.  We got to appreciate the now, any way we can."  Amy took another draw of the hookah.

"You're giving up?"

"No, my dear," she exhaled, "I've found a new way."

"To win?"

"To enjoy."

Amy had ensnared his attention.  She sat up but kept her face close, keeping their gaze.  Alik couldn't look away.  She continued.

"So you've figured out the truth: we're screwed.  We can't expect to keep this up forever.  So what do we do with ourselves?  Lay down and die?"  She paused.  "That was your answer, wasn't it?  Just end it all?"

"What else is there to do when life is pointless?"

"We still have things to live for.  Appetites to sate, thirsts to quench.  Ones you've probably never thought of before.  Imagine not eating for a week and then finding a full meal with real meat and everything.  Imagine how good it feels.  Close your eyes and think about how that would taste."

Alik closed his eyes, leaning toward her, an inch between their noses.  "Nothing could taste better."

"I can get you something that would make you feel twenty times better than that meal."

He opened his eyes.  "You can?"

"Yes.  I have many ways to make you feel better than that.  And you'll forget this 'meaningless' stuff and really start living.  For the things that make you feel the best."

She wrapped her arms around him.  He put his hands on her hips.  "How?"

"I've made friends with great power and connections, mystical you could say.  I can introduce you to them, see how much you like us."

"Are they all like you?"

"Like what?"

"Beautiful?"

"Oh no, you got lucky on that one."

She knew by the end of the night, the demonic affiliations would no longer bother Alik.  She had shown him the only rational path for his rut.

There was no longer a question of whether they would sleep together.

Some more thoughts on Skyrim

Mystic mentioned as a joke that we could just both hang out and play Skyrim on our respective computers when he comes over to visit tomorrow and I was excited about the idea.

I have serious issues.

But let me show you a little of what I've been wasting my time on.  When I first started playing, I made a character that is a Khajit.  They're desert-based feline people.

I ended up making her a sneaky spellsword that is heavily into alchemy.  In most games you end up ditching your first character because you had no idea where to go with it.  In Skyrim since you only get better at the skills you use, it's easy to make a character that you want to play.  Akousa may sneak up on you with lightning and surprise poisons, but I also have a friend who proudly said he can beat dragons by punching them with his fists!  It's all about how you want your character to be, not about what the game lets them be.  And Akousa is great to play.  Though it's really funny now that the best armor doesn't cover her very well.

Somewhere there is a happy furry looking at this.

But I wanted to give myself a bit of a challenge now that I knew the game.  I made a new character named Sandahla, who is a Dunmer, also known as a dark elf.  I don't really have a good picture of what she looks like, so instead here is a picture I took that probably makes a fantastic background for someone's desktop.

Another great thing about playing a second time is that you can make your own background for your character.  The game doesn't focus on the past, but much more on the present.  Therefore in your head you would have to make up most of the personality of your character.  Knowing what I know now, I'm going in a path that makes Sandahla a "self-hating" Dunmer: she supports the rebels in the country of Skyrim, even though it means supporting a bunch of people that only want Nords (human natives) around and no one else.  But the rebels also didn't try the execute her; the Imperials did.  And Sandahla hols grudges deep.  Even if it means going against a group that may welcome some diversity in Skyrim, Sandahla's going to make the Imperials pay for almost chopping her gods-damned head off.  I really like being able to write some of the backgrounds in my head.

You may be able to expect some short stories about Sandahla and Akousa soon.  Also, yes I will get back to the Titania Chronicle too.  But of course, only when Skyrim stops sucking my soul dry.

Brainstorm!

I wouldn't be surprised if this idea has been used before, but bear with me.

Again, thinking about my Titania idea and character concept so captivating just grabbed me.

Imagine a world where you are genetically calibrated before you are born to have the optimal genes of both your parents.  Any "bad" genes that carry genetic disorders are taken out, and only "neutral" or "beneficial" genes are kept in.  Imagine growing up knowing that your genetic coding was the optimized splicing of your parents, your are considered to be one of a few perfect possibilities due to the luxury of modern science.

And then imagine having a gender dysphoria in that world.

Thoughts?