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itsmespicaa · 3 years

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Miracle Mask but make it Genshin<3

(Part of the PL Genshin!AU I’m doing with @daysneezes!!)

Hershel took a small sip of the tea he brewed earlier in the day, his Vision perched securely on the velvet ribbon of his top hat.

"What about this, Professor?"

A letter was suddenly thrust in front of him, obstructing his entire view. Already used to the rather unorthodox way his assistant carried herself, he leaned back to properly assess the piece of paper that now warranted his attention, reading it as she explained its content.

"I‘m afraid this one sounds more like something the adventurers should be handling, Emmy."

He nodded to her, hoping she could see the regret in his smile. It was a rather enticing one, and he could see why it would catch her attention…but alas. He only had so much time to spare for those who required help from his...gifted abilities.

Emmy frowned, sharp eyes scanning over the words that covered the entire page once more before sighing.

"I suppose you‘re right. I‘ll see to it that the Guild is informed of this right away."

"That would be much appreciated. Should they need our further assistance, let them know we would be more than happy to lend it to them."

"But of course!"

The hour passed by in relative silence, both of them consumed by the work cut out before them. Emmy continued going through the rest of the letters he had approved for her to read, and after another bout of discussions, they agreed to divide a lot of them to the hands of the authorities and the Adventurer’s Guild, and kept the less dire ones for whenever Hershel had time to spare.

It was at that moment that Luke finally arrived, stumbling as he opened the door to his office. His leather satchel seems to be filled to the brim, his blue Vision as deep the seas hanging on for dear life on its side.

"Sorry I‘m late, Professor!" he cried, "But I had to help a family of ducks cross the road and the mailman left another batch of letters-"

"Now, now. Calm down, Luke. It‘s quite alright," Hershel chuckled. "Come sit and have tea with me. You look like you've been through quite the ordeal."

With a sheepish smile, the young boy crossed the room and handed the letters to Emmy, whining when he failed to dodge her playfully ruffling his hair.

The next hour passed by again comfortably, and Hershel was in the middle of writing back to one of his colleagues when Emmy‘s voice drew him back to the real world.

Or rather, the name she uttered.

"Professor, does the name Angela Ledore ring any bell?"

Time…stopped, for but a small moment. He inwardly shook his head, willing the memories from almost two decades ago out of his mind.

"Why yes…of course. But where did you hear that name?"

More than a little curious and caught off guard, he blinked as Emmy slowly handed the letter in her hand to him.

"It was on the letter." Something in his expression must have betrayed his inner turmoil, because the young woman continued: "It‘s not quite a name I‘m familiar with, nor is it any of the usual ones who would seek your expertise."

Luke reached in before he could grab the letter, "Oh! Let me," nimbly ripping the envelope with a letter opener and with a bright smile handed its content to him.

It was hard not to smile back at how eager the boy was to lend a helping hand. "Thank you very much, Luke," he said warmly, resting a hand briefly on top of his head before directing his focus to the writing in front of him.

When he finished, Hershel was silent. Wordlessly, he gave the letter to Emmy before walking to his open window, breathing in the fresh morning air to try and calm the anxiety creeping up his back.

I do hope you forgive me after all these years. I don‘t know who else to turn to.

We are in desperate need of your help, Hershel.

"After all these years…." he muttered, gently taking off his hat and gazing at the glowing golden Vision staring back at him. Accusing. Unforgiving. He held back a flinch. Why, Angela?

"…Professor? Is everything alright?"

Ah, how careless of him.

"Everything's fine, Luke," he returned his hat where it belonged and sauntered to where both of them crowded around the enigmatic piece of paper. "My apologies, I didn't mean to make you both worry. It‘s just…she’s an old friend of mine, and the content of her letter worries me."

The frown on Emmy‘s face deepened, but she was not his assistant for nothing, knowing well what to prioritize and when. It was moments like these that he was truly glad to have her here.

"So the Mask of Chaos…"

"What is that?" asked young Luke, wide eyes brimming with curiosity and hunger to know more. But before he could reply, Emmy seemed to have beaten him to it.

"According to Donald Rutledge in his book 'Ancient Histories', the mask bestows great power upon those who wear it. Legend says it was left by one of the old gods as a gift to humanity, but no one has been able to prove its existence thus far."

"Indeed, the allure of omnipotence is as old as the Archons themselves." He couldn‘t quite hide his surprise when he said: "You seem to know quite a lot about the mask, Emmy."

The young woman grinned, the fiery red Vision fashioned into her bowtie twinkled along with her eyes. "Well, I did take a few courses here and there before applying to be your assistant. Jumping in blind into the world of archeology doesn‘t seem like the wisest decision, wouldn't you agree?"

That…made perfect sense. "I see…"

"Did I leave something out, Professor?"

"Oh, no, no. You‘re absolutely correct."

Luke continued to ask more about the Mask, and both he and Emmy alternated in explaining it to him, with Hershel more often than not simply adding useful trivias he still remembered from Randall‘s excited chatter many, many years ago.

An old, familiar pain ached in his heart, something difficult to dismiss, but Hershel was determined to lock it away for the time being, at least until he had his answers from Angela.

"So what is your relationship with Ms. Angela, Professor? Is she one of Professor Layton’s lost loves?" Emmy‘s spirits must have been lifted for her to tease him. It wasn‘t unusual for her to do so after a year of working together, and he had come to welcome it each time, albeit with a wry smile more often than not.

This time, however, he could only shake his head, a heavy weight burdening his chest, memories of night escapades and jovial laughter with a certain redhead lost in the callous hands of time and forced distances.

"Hardly," he replied, hoping he did not sound as contrite as he felt then. "I’ve known her since my school days. Our relationship was…complicated, at best."

Despite his attempt to do otherwise, this effectively dampened Emmy‘s countenance, her head bowing slightly in a show of apology. "I see."

They agreed to set out in a few days, Luke having to ask his parents‘ permission, and Emmy freeing up both her and the Professor‘s schedules for the next few weeks and requesting approval from the Dean.

The guilt he felt at being absent from his students was something he had come to know well, and as usual, he made sure to let them know in advance, helping the substitute lecturer get up to date on his last sessions and materials.

Fontaine University had grown accustomed to its esteemed Professor‘s tendencies to conduct sudden research leaves, and this time it was no different. But the mere mention of the Mask of Chaos certainly helped in speeding up the process.

"We look forward to your findings, Hershel," said Dean Delmona, nodding at him with pride. Hershel tipped his head with a polite curve of his lips.

"I will do my very best, sir," he said. "And I do hope the agreed upon terms of confidentiality will be respected, as per usual."

"Naturally, my dear boy," he laughed, "we know how you operate. Don‘t let us get in your way."

"Many thanks, sir."

#pl genshin au #professor layton #miracle mask #genshin impact #hershel layton #emmy altava #luke triton #Spica writes #doodles #this was really fun to write so i had to share it here hehe #MORE FANFIC BABEH #but yea if u have any questions feel free to ask us!!

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monstersdownthepath · 5 years

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Spiritual Spotlight: Rovagug, the Rough Beast

Chaotic Evil Qlippoth Deity of Destruction, Disaster, and Wrath

Domains: Chaos, Destruction, Evil, War, Weather Subdomains: Blood, Catastrophe, Corruption, Demon, Hatred, Rage, Storms

Inner Sea Gods, pg. 124~131

Obedience: Smash an assortment of items worth at least 10 gp, preferably something fragile, aesthetically beautiful, or with significance to a good-aligned deity (particularly Sarenrae). Roll in the shards of the destroyed items, howling and shouting praises and curses invoking the Rough Beast, until the shards draw blood and your lungs ache. Benefit: Gain a +4 bonus on attack and damage rolls against objects.

It is impossible to hide your faith in the Great Destroyer, is what I’m saying. I know I haven’t said anything, but look at that. Do I need to? You need to destroy a pretty hefty (for a commoner) handful of goods, and you need to do it incredibly loudly and incredibly obviously. You don’t get to pray quietly to Rovagug, no, you have to SCREAM your praise until your lungs ache while rolling joyfully around in shards of broken garbage. The Obedience specifically requires you to draw blood with the shards, as well, so no cheating by getting a hoard of pillows and blankets and ripping them to bits. You need to put the whole bed in there, frame and all!

Thankfully, actually obtaining enough items to use for this Obedience is rather simple. Normally player characters wouldn’t look twice at enemy gear if it wasn’t enchanted, but the fact of the matter is that even the bargain-basement leather armor is worth 10gp and just two or three simple weapons will add up to 10gp quickly. A normal adventurer that frequently goes on missions will have no shortage of scrap to shatter and discard, and even a single goblin camp can often produce enough of a yield to carry you for several days. The only real problem is whenever you rejoin society, as worship of the Rough Beast is often severely punished; there’s a reason most of Rovagug’s cultists live in the wilderness, where their screaming and smashing won’t draw attention.

The benefit is only truly useful if you go for a sunder build, otherwise, you’ll likely very rarely ever see its full power aside from the odd bit of door-kicking and rope-snapping. For people who enjoy destroying enemy gear while it’s still on them, though, a +4 to both damage and ATTACK rolls is incredible.

Boons are gathered slowly, typically gained at levels 12, 16, and 20. However, you can take the Diverse Obedience feat to gain them at levels 10, 14, and 18 instead, and worshipers of Evil deities can enter the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel Prestige Classes as early as level 8, which allows you to gain the Boons as early as levels 10, 13, and 16 if entered as soon as they’re available. Unless you take Diverse Obedience or enter the listed prestige classes, you may only take the Exalted Boons.

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EVANGELIST

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Boon 1: Agent of the Beast. Gain Protection From Good 3/day, Align Weapon (Evil only) 2/day, or Magic Circle Against Good 1/day.

We’ve gone over the general usefulness of ProFroGo and Align Weapon before, with Align Weapon getting the short end of the stick here since creatures with DR/Evil are much less common than ones with DR/Good. However, since you’re an agent of Rovagug, you’re likely to be accosted at some point by Good Outsiders and their agents... at which point it’s much better to have Protection, or even Magic Circle in your arsenal.

ProFroGo is also a little less useful than ProFroEv is because, strangely, Good Outsiders are more likely to wield weapons than Evil ones, so they’re less inclined to use the natural attacks that ProFro would normally thwart. They’re also significantly less likely to possess or control you, BUT they ARE likely to use forms of charms and compulsion to steer your path, making ProFro equally as valuable against Evil or Good.

The only thing we really need to discuss, then, is the usefulness of Magic Circle Against Good. As a defensive measure it’s impeccable, though frustratingly easy to bypass with ranged attacks, but using it to bar the path of enemy Outsiders and summoned beasts or to serve as sort of a “bouncer” at a gate to brush charms and compulsions off your visitors and guests is quite strong. The power to snare creatures called into the plane for days in order to interrogate it or negotiate with it is a more niche use, but you never know when you’ll have to catch an enemy caster’s called bodyguard or stop an angel from smiting your team.

Boon 2: Destructive Spell: Whenever you cast a spell that deals hitpoint damage and has a casting time of 1 standard action or less, you may instead make its casting time a full-round action. If you do, its save DC is increased by +4 and any 1s rolled for the damage become 2s.

Evangelists can technically be from any class, meaning this ability has a chance to do absolutely nothing.

If you CAN cast spells, though? Please note that this ability has no per-day limit. None. It is an at-will ability. Just an at-will +4 to the DC of any of Pathfinder’s infinite number of spells which deal hitpoint damage at the cost of giving up your move action for the round. Do I really need to go into how Big that is? Probably! Do I want to go into how Big that is? Not really, since it’s an otherwise pretty boring ability.

It’s insanely strong, mind, especially if you can get yourself into a spot that’s difficult for your enemies to reach (such as in midair), though there is a bit of fiddly wiggly weirdness in that as written it technically affects spells like Create Pit. Spells which create a hostile environment rather than doing direct damage, Talk it out with your DM ahead of time! Until then, though, enjoy the free +4 to the DC of your Fireballs, Harms, and Disintegrates.

Boon 3: The Destroyer’s Gifts: You gain an extra spell slot of the highest level you can cast. This spell slot may be used to cast your own spells, or you may use this slot to hold a spell from the Chaos or Destruction Cleric Domains. You may cast from the Domains only once per day.

Oh yeah extra slots! Evangelists really get the Boring But Practical gifts here, but this one is at least made extra spicy by the addition of giving your character access to a pair of Cleric Domains. By the time you get this spell, you should be able to cast level 7 or 8 magic, meaning you can use Word of Chaos, Cloak of Chaos, Earthquake, or Disintegrate. A few more levels and you can fit in Implosion or Summon Monster IX! I’d personally prefer SM9 in my list, since Rovagug’s alignment means you can summon a Nalfashnee or Glabrezu to your aid.

Note, though, that unlike most Boons, these are not spell-likes. You must provide components for them! However, this also means that you can slap additional Metamagic feats onto them should you desire! The spell slot is typically devoted to the highest level magic in the Domains but if you, say, have Heighten Spell or wish to Quicken a Dispel Law or Shout, you can totally get away with that. I mean you can also be boring and just stuff your own spells in there, but that seems like a waste of a good Summon Monster IX or Extended Earthquake.

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EXALTED

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Boon 1: Destructive Force. Gain Break 3/day, Bull’s Strength 2/day, or Shatter 1/day.

I’ve spoken on Shatter before (scroll down to Thuskchoon) but, to complete my incomplete thoughts from that page, being able to destroy an item weighing up to 100lbs (which rises by 10 per level) without making any obvious moves can be invaluable if you use it just before a fight breaks out to obliterate enemy armor, shields, or weapons, but it has no effect on magical items, making it fall off as you level up.

Eeeehhh, I’d just go with Bull’s Strength most of the time. Break, well, breaks a single item in Medium range, in that the item itself gains the broken condition, which isn’t super special when you compare it to Shatter, which destroys the item outright if it fails its save. Break requires you to cast it again on something that’s already broken in order to destroy anything, and is negated by a successful save. There IS the benefit, however, that Break CAN target magical items, letting you shatter staves, wands, and enchanted equipment... but I don’t know if that’s a good use of your action.

I’m still not fully convinced either of them are worth taking over the less funny but more useful Bull’s Strength, though, since Break is also negated if the item succeeds a Fortitude save against a level 1 spell (meaning its DC is Cha mod + 11), and attended items can use their attendee’s saves. If you’re going to risk everything on a Save or Suck, just use Shatter to blow up their equipment with only one spell.

Boon 2: Bestow Destructive Smite. As a standard action, you may expend one use of your Destructive Smite ability and grant it to an ally within 30ft for 1 round. Your ally uses your level to calculate the damage of their smite. If you do not have access to the Destruction Domain, you gain access to Destructive Smite, but only for your personal use.

This ability has a lot of problems, but the biggest and most egregious one is that it has no text that changes the fact that Destructive Smite’s power only scales with your Cleric level, NOT your Exalted level. Without DM fiat, your smite will be stuck dealing only an underwhelming 4 damage unless you slow down your Boon’s progression in order to take more levels of Cleric.

Even without acknowledging that oversight, giving up your standard action to let an ally deal anywhere from 4 to 12 extra damage (provided they connect with all of their attacks) is absolutely pathetic. Using the smite on yourself at that point is barely worth it, and it’s a free action!

TERRIBLE showing, Rovagug. Please tell me your Exalted aren’t completely screwed...

Boon 3: Once per day, you may summon a pair of Nyogoth Qlippoth to your side. You gain telepathy out to a range of 100ft to communicate with them, and they obey your commands perfectly for 1 minute per Hit Dice you possess. The qlippoth don’t follow commands that would cause them to act in overtly good or lawful ways. Such commands not only earn terrifying roars from the creatures, but could cause the nyogoths to attack you if the command is particularly egregious.

Oh! Ok, then! There IS a cherry on top of this terrible mud sundae! It’s not really worth putting up with a million levels of lackluster abilities, but looking at the ability in a vacuum? It’s great!

Nyogoth are semi-tanky bruisers that can attack from both a range and in melee with acidic projectiles and biting maws, and have a bit of utility in their 7/day Fear to scatter enemies and their 1/day Acid Fog to provide cover and cleave through crowds of foes. Since they’re immune to Acid damage, they can also wade into their own fog to malice creatures inside... And their numerous limbs make them wonderful at grappling their victims and keeping them inside the acidic vapors.

And speaking of grappling: their 30ft flight speed and 16 Strength means they can technically pick enemies and allies up to suspend them in midair. In a pinch, they can make a poor-man’s hot air balloon to get over gaps... Just significantly slimier, much toothier, and way more filled with acid than a normal balloon. I don’t think it’s worth serving as Rovagug’s Exalted to summon them, but they at least don’t feel like a letdown.

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SENTINEL

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Boon 1: Inexorable Death. Gain Doom 3/day, Death Knell 2/day, or inflict Serious Wounds 1/day.

DOOM is a funny spell to me. You’d expect it to have a terrifying and dramatic effect, but it’s a level 1 spell that makes the target shaken. For minutes at a time, yes, but shaken as a status effect has starts to become less and less effective around level 6, and you have to be at least level 10 to gain this ability. It’s also negated entirely by a save, making an already-weak spell even less useful.

Death Knell, as always, is one-dimensional but useful in that single dimension. A Sentinel will likely have more success merely coup-de-gracing a downed foe, but Death Knell grants you several benefits that make casting it actually worthwhile. An extra bit of temp HP and a boost to Strength that makes you slightly more deadly, and as the beefy and armor-clad Sentinel, you can afford to get into touch range to cast this spell even if other enemies are still around. It’s especially useful against bosses with medical mooks!

Inflict Serious Wounds deals a decent 3d8+10 (max +15) damage, but most of the time it’s not worth giving up your attack action to do. Death Knell is actually the choice here for once, unless you have some Undead in your party (or someone with Negative Energy Affinity)... though only really if you have no other way to heal them.

Boon 2: Wicked Claws. Your fingernails grow into horrible, chitinous talons that resemble insectoid spurs, or the fangs of a terrible beast. You gain a pair of claw attacks that are a primary natural attack which deal 1d8 Slashing damage if you are Medium, 1d6 if you are Small.

I said it before and I’ll say it again: Rovagug is current reigning king of Boring But Practical Boons. An extra pair of natural attacks never hurts (you, i mean; it’ll hurt everyone else plenty) and assures that you’re always armed even if disarmed. You even get heightened base damage when compared to normal claws of your size category! The downsides are primarily that it’s only a standard claw attack, though; they aren’t magical and get no tricks like piercing DR or adding Rake or bleed.

Unfortunately, that means that by the time you get this, you’ve likely already got a powerful and enchanted weapon, relegating the claws to a single extra attack you get to make whenever you full-attack. It’s an extra 1d8+Str damage made at your highest BAB, but it’s nothing grand.

Boon 3: Disintegrating Blow. 1/day as a free action, you may designate your next attack as a Disintegrating Blow. If the attack hits, the target is affected by the Disintegrate spell as if it were cast by a Wizard whose level equals your HD (max 20). If the attack misses, the ability is wasted.

All RIGHT! Finally, one that’s not boring! ... or practical.

Granted, you likely have ways to guarantee that your attack will connect, but its’ a 1/day that... deals...

32d6 untyped damage (average: 105).........

and you can shoot it via an arrow, sling bolt, or even a thrown rock.............

hwoof.... Alright, alright, I’ll agree on this: This is NOT a case of “1/days negated by a save that I Do Not Like” because slapping someone for a whole 32d6 (+2d6 per level) damage ON TOP of your weapon’s damage is pretty beefy. Even if they succeed their save they take 5d6 damage, turning it from a huge chunk into what is basically an irresistible Sneak Attack, and you still have all your other attacks behind that one to back it up. Plus, think of the intimidation factor! Just running up to someone and hitting them so hard they stop being.

I’ll throw Rovagug a bone here and say that I enjoy this ability even if it’s only 1/day, especially since it works with the claws he’s gifted you (as well as any other natural attacks you possess, including ones gained from Improved Unarmed Strike), which allows you to slap someone so hard they turn to dust.

You can read more about him here.

#Spiritual Spotlight #Sinister Spotlight #spider #spiders #insects #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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nobodyfamousposts · 5 years

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Hive-Minded Bad End

Per popular request: The Hive Wins.

It was an observatory once. A circular room with a single ornate window of beautiful craftsmanship. With a few mechanisms, it could be positioned perfectly for viewing any part of the night sky. Anyone would say it was a work of art.

Such a shame what it ended up being used for, though.

A blond male stood within the empty room looking out the now open window to the bigger city. A city that even at that moment was undergoing some rather great changes. He had a role in the current state of things, and felt pride in that.

If things had been different—if none of this had happened, what would he be doing now? Still going about his days restricted and isolated? Still fighting a hopeless battle? Still wishing for things that would never be?

“Sir.”

Adrien was pulled from his musings by a familiar voice, though he barely gave her a glance.

“Nathalie.” He greeted verbally. It was unnecessary now to bother with her name now, but it was only polite, regardless of her current status. “Have you found him?”

“No, sir,” Nathalie replied monotonously. “He managed to escape the Trackers. The last reports are that he has been making his way out the city. Some have indicated he was in the company of a group.”

That man. Of course he could never quit. He felt rage and resentment starting to boil under his skin, but forced himself to keep calm. He didn’t need to start an alarm.

“I see. Keep searching. They haven’t left the city yet. And knowing him, it may be a ruse to circle back around.” Knowing him, he wouldn’t be content to simply let this go. For once, Adrien hoped that would be the case.

Oh, not out of any desire for the man’s pathetic excuse for “love”, no, but just so he could thank him for the one worthwhile gift Gabriel had ever bestowed unto him before using that very gift to remove the man from his life once and for all.

Conversion was too kind of a fate for the man who was Hawk Moth. After all the misery and torment he had caused, even the listless life of a Drone was more than he deserved. But the question was still what to do with him once they found him? Perhaps Adrien could present his head to his Lady as a gift?

No, she wouldn’t like that. What would she do with it, anyway? Other than let him keep it to bat around at every so often? He’d get bored soon enough. And honestly, despite the initial humor of it, he wouldn’t want any reminder of the man anyway.

Not to mention that it would simply make a mess everywhere and start to smell after a time. They were so much more sensitive to such things now. Apparently blood was more of an annoyance to get out of carpet than he’d thought and the smell of even a few drops remained despite attempts to remove or cover it.

Oh well, carpets could be replaced easily enough.

“What else?”

“We have also sought out the location you gave us of one ‘Wang Fu’ you requested to be taken into custody.” She said as if reading off a script. There was really little difference in her countenance now, only she really was as emotionless as she always pretended to be. “By the time it was found, the parlor was devoid of any life. It is possible he may be among the group of those attempting to flee the city.”

That was troubling news. Fu still had Plagg and the other Miraculous with him, and from what Adrien was told, a copy of the book as well. The old man was crafty and resourceful to have lasted as long as he had. If he wasn’t found, there was every likelihood that he would pass out more Miraculous to others in an attempt to ‘rescue’ the city. He may even have a way to undo their connection, much as Adrien shuddered to think of it. Master Fu was the Guardian for a reason, after all. The fact that he was the last of them was more of a boon than anything.

It only made Adrien all the more grateful that Marinette and Ladybug had been one and the same. He had been outright giddy when he discovered the truth. And it only made him love her more. Now not only did it mean he was not forced to harm his Lady, but it also meant all of Ladybug’s knowledge and abilities were now benefitting the collective. Including the Ladybug earrings as well as all the memories and interactions she had with the Guardian.

Adrien knew from Marinette’s knowledge of Fu and that he had made more than his share of mistakes over the years, including the destruction of his own monastery. It eased some of his worries to know the Guardian was not infallible, but still...he didn’t want to take any chances. Especially not now that Plagg was with him.

Better safe than sorry, after all.

There had to be some way to get to the old man. Adrien owed him so much. He would hate to have to continue as enemies. If only they had a way to convince him...or at least slow him down or startle him enough to give them an edge.

Adrien paused, considering for a moment before an idea struck him.

“See if you can’t find where Marianne Lenoir is among those to be processed.” He ordered with a smirk. Because if anyone could counter Fu, she would be the best option.

It was the least he could do for Fu, after all. And besides, who was he to keep two old loves from reuniting?

And bringing Marianne into the matter would help all the more to keep Gabriel from getting his greedy tainted grips into the other man, Adrien thought with a sneer. Gabriel would use anyone. And Fu wouldn’t refuse any assistance if he felt the circumstances were dire. He didn’t want Fu to feel he had to resort to working with his enemy out of some misguided desire to remove him from his new place in life and ‘save them from themselves’.

Better to end this quickly, he realized. Before anyone else realized what he was doing and attempted to alert the others.

“Notify those at the outskirts of the city to keep a look out. No one is to leave the city at this time. Detain anyone who is not recognized or unresponsive to the link.”

The Drone’s eyes flashed as she accepted the command.

“Yes, sir.”

With that, she was gone. And Adrien was alone. Alone in this dreary place that housed his father’s selfish short-sighted schemes. What had he been thinking? Wasting so much time and causing so much damage—all for what? A family he had as good as forgotten about for the past year? Even before?

Now that he had the memories of others to draw on and compare to, it only made his isolation and loneliness all the more bitter. Seeing what it was like to have actual loving families. Birthdays and Christmases and holidays spent together. Meals and games around a table. Parents that actually came to competitions and events.

He was just so jealous.

None of the others flaunted their good fortune. They showed him because they wanted to share it. They wanted him to see and experience what healthy and happy homes were like. And he appreciated that, he really did. He couldn’t help but feel grateful that they cared enough about him to want to share that warmth and include him.

But…

Those memories only made it all the more apparent what he was lacking. And he couldn’t help the grief and resentment he felt. For his life. For his loss. All because of his dear father, who was so caught up in a past he had been barely part of in the first place to appreciate the present that was still there.

Nostalgia truly did make fools out of people.

He would not be so blind.

When that fool of a man was finally found, Adrien wouldn’t waste words. Words were meaningless now, just as they always had been coming from him. Meaningless in the new home he found himself part of, where feelings were more real and said everything he needed. And meaningless to the man who was incapable of any feeling.

It still hurt, knowing that his own father had been behind the mask of his enemy. But it helped having his true family supporting him. His pain had been theirs. His sorrow was soothed by their support. And their anger at the revelation and his past mistreatment had spurred his own—even when he hadn’t known such dark feelings to exist.

If he still had been anything like he used to be, he would be horrified by all of this. By the current state of things. By what he had turned his friends into. By what he was doing to the city. By what he intended to do to his own father. By what he had helped to do to Lila.

But whatever bit of the old Adrien Agreste that remained was silent. He had been one of the ones to witness the liar being dragged off to her decided fate. No matter how she cried, pleaded, and struggled against them, it was futile. At one point, she managed to break away, rushing straight for him of all people once she saw him, sobbing and babbling. She had grabbed onto his shirt, begging for help. Begging for him to save her.

“Adrien, please! Don’t let them do this to me!”

And instead, he merely smiled in that way he knew people loved and Lila once adored.

“This is for the best, Lila.”

He watched as his words registered and her face twisted in horror at the realization. Of just how alone she truly was. That no one would be taken in by her again. That the end had come. And that all her lies and manipulations had been what led to this. At that point, he helped the others to take Lila to her judgement, though his assistance was no longer necessary. He had already seen the way the light left her eyes and she lost any sense of hope. Still, it was only polite to have a friend escort her to her end. Not that she was much of a friend to him, but Adrien could at least pretend for her in her final moments.

He should have felt remorse. And yet, there was nothing. No guilt. No inner conscience telling him this was wrong. None of that moral righteousness crying about how ‘other people’ felt. It was just gone.

And he couldn’t be happier for it.

Before, he was ignorant to the injustices of his life and suppressed his own feelings in a desperate attempt to appease others.

Now, he suppressed those darker emotions, but for an entirely different reason.

His family. And of course, his Queen.

He could feel her in the back of his mind. Offering direction, reassurance, and affirmation as needed. Keeping lines of communication clear and all Workers orderly. She was so busy, especially as they were starting out. And yet, she still made sure to offer kindness and support to each of them. No matter how busy she was, she was never too busy for him.

Adrien sighed, trying to will the negative thoughts away. There was no need for that now that they were whole. But he still couldn’t help but feel the intense urge to rip that man apart.

There was no doubt in his mind that Gabriel was looking into every possibility to worm his way back and take away yet another piece of happiness Adrien had managed to make for himself. He half-wondered if the man wouldn’t find a way to piece himself back together if made a Drone. He certainly was stubborn enough. Still, it was all the more reason he needed to be dealt with before he could become any more of a threat. Just like Lila had been. Just like Chloe once was before Marinette decided to show mercy, even as she had to relive the cruelty the other girl put her through.

Chloe had been grateful for the opportunity to serve the Hive afterwards, and the collective did seem stronger for it. But he still remembered the pain and resentment from Marinette’s memories of the heiress. And it hurt that she had been forced to feel that, especially as she was offering this chance to her tormentor for what she thought was Adrien’s own sake.

That was why Adrien had taken it upon himself to deal with the man this time without allowing the others to be aware. It only seemed fitting. It was his father. His burden. And his gift to the collective for accepting him so readily.

Especially Marinette. After everything that had happened and everything he had not done for her, he still didn’t think he deserved her. Her love for him was more than he ever hoped it could be, even if it was too much for her own good. It was...beautiful. Overwhelming. A dedication that he had never experienced before and only made him want to return it all the more. She had done so much for him without him even knowing. And out of this love for him, she would no doubt try to rehabilitate his father and add him to the collective if she thought that was what Adrien wanted.

It really wasn’t. He didn’t need a father. Especially not such a sorry excuse for one as Gabriel Agreste. His collective was his family. They were his support. His lifelines. The only ones he needed. He no longer needed a parent’s guidance now that he had her to lead him. And he certainly didn’t need that man continuing to meddle in his life and desperately trying to remind him of years of emptiness he wanted to forget.

But he could hardly tell her that. It would only make her sad.

He wanted to spare her this. His Queen was still so kind-hearted. She didn’t need to deal with the mess of the transition or Adrien’s petty feelings or lingering issues with him.

But…she WAS kind-hearted. And though she didn’t need to and shouldn’t have to, she did care. Too much, perhaps, even now. He loved her for it, even as it frustrated him. He only wanted to keep her at peace, after all.

His attempts were in vain. Though he tried to suppress it, she sensed his ire and turned her focus on him, questioning. And he could never hide anything from her—could never want to so long as she was there and he was hers. Soon enough, he felt her searching and finding the source of his negative feelings. At that, her curiosity turned to concern and he almost collapsed at the pure sensation of comfort that enveloped him in response as she brushed those horrible thoughts away.

He felt it, like a hand petting through his hair, making him want to lean his head back into it and purr. It was bliss. She didn’t even need to soothe away his lingering resentment, simply having her affection was enough.

Of course, why settle for it through the link when he could have the real thing?

Within minutes, he left that dreary place to the much warmer and homey nest they had begun building of the mansion. He spared no notice to the Drones and Workers inside, and they all knew enough to stay out of his way as he was being called.

The Core group sensed his intent and responded with laughter and sensations. A noogie from Nino and a whisper of encouragement. A push from Alya and demand to not keep “her girl” waiting. Giggles and nudges urging him onward and to hurry up already!

Soon enough, he was at the Office. Where that man once resided and where she now took her rightful place in leading this new world they were making. She was every bit the Queen in grace and presentation for all the she maintained the appearance of a normal teenage girl. But she was humble. Even with everything at her disposal, she still preferred to use her own designs as before. Looking at her in her normal clothes and pig-tails, no one outside of the collective would think she was the leader. She didn’t need anything extravagant to show her position. And none of them needed any such thing to recognize her.

“Adrien!” Marinette exclaimed, smiling at him knowingly when he entered. She knew he was coming. He knew she did. But her face still lit up upon seeing him enter and it made him feel more at home than this place had ever been to him.

She wagged a finger at him. “You’ve been trying to be secretive again.”

He smiled, reaching forward to take her hand in his own and bestow it with a kiss. “I only wanted to spare you the irritation, My Queen.” His issues were minor compared to the chaos she had been managing so far. The least he wanted to do was try to deal with some of the potential stressors to her new rule before they could interfere and get out of hand.

“You are never an irritation.” She assured him. Her words were beautiful to hear but the pure love that emitted from her with them was all the assurance he could have hoped for. Sensing his desire, she giggled and opened her arms, happy to indulge him.

Well, with an offer like that, who was he to refuse? And soon enough, he was where he belonged at his Queen’s side. She laughed, petting him physically as well as mentally. With but a touch, she soothed away the irritations and concerns burdening his mind. Basking in that much affection, he didn’t even bother to hide the purrs.

“You are still such a cat.” She chided, playfully.

“I can’t help my nature, M’lady.” He said, sighing happily as he pushed his head into her lap and nuzzled her gently.

He couldn’t. And he didn’t want to. Now, he never needed to. He could be as he wished and with full support of his family.

This was everything he could have wished for.

And as the Queen and her Knight basked in each other’s presence and planned for their new future, neither took note of the red kwami curled up in the corner of a shelf in the room and dreading what was to come.

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vaultsofthefirstage · 7 years

Text

Wildfire (Red Jade Chain Shirt ***)

When messages needed to reach lords and daimyos across mountain ranges and riverbeds, across deserts and tundra, none were as famous as Morata Flamefoot, the Courier of Wildfire. He moved with the speed of an impending disaster and he passed as many declarations of peace as he did declarations of war, untouchable as a spreading flame. He was both spy and peaceful messenger and his betrayals echo through history as loudly as his loyalty to those he served true.

When the Daimyo Hundred Devil-Fist King’s army tore across Morata’s village, the young warrior grabbed his father’s armor to help him don it. As arrows tore through his home and shot the elder down, the twister of emotions awoke Morata’s own elemental lineage in an Exaltation that caused whipping whirlwinds to rage around the boy. But his father penned word of the attack in his dying hand and Morata swore he would carry that missive to their lord. He donned the armor and he ran. No arrow could strike him, no horse could catch him, and no lord could refuse him as he raced to hand the letter over.

With his speed, Morata became both scout and spy for his lord, learning the secrets of war plans that would raze his domain to the ground. With that same quickness, he learned that his own lord, Zi Lu the Skipping Carp, was behind the attack in order to gain allies against Hundred Devil-Fist King. Lady Opalescent Abalone had his promised service next, and then her son Uncracked Oyster of Six-Sails, and then Daimyo Tegatu Quick Falcon, and then he joined the Amethyst Rebellion, only to betray them and 1000 others.

To each and every lord he served, he offered his speed. And from each lord’s castle, he eventually fled. To date his chain is used by the quickest in Lookshy’s military, a gift of honor bestowed upon the greatest Dragonblooded Messenger in service.

(Spoilers: I got the idea from watching the Justice League movie. Red Jade, moving fast, I’ll let you figure it out.)

Attunement: 4m Type: Light (Soak +5, Hardness 4, Mobility -0) Tag: Concealable Hearthstone Slots: 1 Era: 10,000 Heresies Calamity

Evocations of Wildfire

As the Exalt runs, sparks and lightning scatter across her armor. Her speed builds up, but she continues to accelerate. Whenever the Exalt takes a movement action in combat (moving, rushing, disengaging) she builds up Impetus (to a maximum of 1+Essence) . For each point of Impetus, she adds a non-charm bonus die to her movement actions. At 3 Impetus, movement actions can move her two range bands. At 5 Impetus, movement actions can move her three range bands.

On any round the Exalt does not take a movement action or has her movement impaired (difficult terrain, being knocked prone, etc), she loses all Impetus. Being hit by an attack reduces Impetus by 1. Outside of Combat, the Exalt adds 10mph to her speed for each hour she runs, up to (1+Essence) times and may run until she needs to eat or sleep without suffering any fatigue otherwise. When the Exalt chooses to run like this however, she does not regain her normal 5m per hour as her armor continually burns her essence as a fuel source.

Blazing Trail Stride

Cost: 4m; Mins: Essence 1

Type: Supplemental

Keywords: None

Duration: (Impetus) rounds

Prerequisite: None

The speed the Exalt runs leaves flaming trails behind her. When she supplements a movement action with this evocation, her foot steps catch fire. An enemy who chooses to chase her when she disengages must count their Dexterity + Athletics roll as a roll to resist a bonfire as well. Should the Exalt choose to run zigzags, she might build walls of fire horses will not pass or box in a fire-fearing spirit. These flames last (Impetus) rounds in the zone(s) that catch fire.

Flame-to-Fuel Ignition

Cost: 2m; Mins: Essence 1

Type: Simple

Keywords: Dissonant

Duration: Instant

Prerequisite: None

There is no time to don armor when enemy soldiers are already marching. This evocation allows Wildfire to be donned as if the wearer had Whirlwind Armor Donning Prana. If the Exalt has Whirlwind Armor Donning Prana, that charm becomes a reflexive action instead.

Special Activation Rules: As long as the Exalt is not Dissonant with Jade, this evocation awakens the first time she dons the armor in a scene where a conflict has already begun.

Sparking Bonfire Leap

Cost: 1 Impetus; Mins: Essence 2

Type: Reflexive

Keywords: Dissonant

Duration: Instant

Prerequisite: Blazing Trail Stride

Wood crashes and ashes leap from a fire like the Exalt leaps out of the way from attacks that strike her. This evocation allows the exalt to spend a point of Impetus to increase her Evasion by 1. This evocation can be used even after the attack has been rolled.

Dissonant: The Exalt must use this charm to raise her evasion before the attack’s result is declared.

Matchstick Striking Sentiments

Cost: 1wp; Mins: Essene 3

Type: Reflexive

Keywords: Resonant

Duration: Instant

Prerequisite: Flame-to-Fuel Ignition

When too much is on the line to lose, the Exalt must set her very heart on fire. Wildfire glows like a torch and carries her with the speed she requires. The Exalt declares on Intimacy that she must run towards, move towards, or somehow act in pursuit of and spend 1 Willpower. She immediately gains 1 Impetus for a Minor intimacy, 2 for a Major intimacy, or 3 for a Defining intimacy. This evocation can only be used once per scene and each intimacy can only be used once per story. The latter condition can be reset by completing a time-based Major or Defining social goal related to that intimacy.

Resonant: Those who connect strongest with Wildfire burn even brighter. They instead gain an additional Impetus when activating this evocation.

Burning Storm Strike

Cost; 6m; Mins: Essence 3

Type: Supplemental

Keywords: Uniform

Duration: Instant

Prerequisite: Matchstick Striking Sentiments, Sparking Bonfire Leap

Fire burns faster than a hand can move but lightning strikes even faster. The burning fury of Wildfire and the lightning speed of Morata condense into the Exalt’s hands. When she succeeds at a rush against an opponent with initiative lower than her own, the wearer of Wildfire may move with blinding speed that coats her in lightning and fire by supplementing a close-combat ability of her choice with this evocation. Her attack counts as an Unexpected attack and if she hits, she may ignore up to (Impetus) soak or hardness. This immediately sets her Impetus to 0. This evocation can only be used once per scene unless reset by crashing an opponent while her Impetus is greater than 1.

Searing Wind Retreat

Cost: - (1 Impetus); Mins: Essence 3

Type: Permanent

Keywords: None

Duration: Permanent

Prerequisite: Burning Storm Strike, Shadow Dancer Method

The first step of the Solar is the fastest and her opponents are left blasted with the burning winds of her retreat. As long as the Solar’s initiative is higher than her opponent’s, then she may spend 1 Impetus and forgo gaining an Impetus from a successful disengage to make it impossible to follow her (unless her opponent has charms that would allow them to be immune to searing winds such as a fire elemental or a Solar using Diamond Body Prana).

Burning Speed Steps

Cost: -; Mins: Essence 4

Type: Permanent

Keywords: None

Duration: Permanent

Prerequisite: Burning Storm Strike, Godspeed Steps (Exalted 265)

Not even the rising sun is faster than the Solar exalted. If the Solar’s result is a success, then even if his opponent does not move he may reflexively move two range bands closer at the end of the rushed opponent’s turn. If he used Racing Hare Method, he may instead move 3.

Creation Burning Conflagration

Cost: 10m, 1wp; Mins: Essence 4

Type: Simple

Keywords: Dissonant

Duration: One scene

Prerequisite: Burning Storm Strike

A fire can spread as far as there is fuel and the Exalt’s fuel is her ever burning spirit. This evocation removes the cap for Impetus for a single scene, allowing the Exalt to effectively generate an unlimited number of it by moving constantly. After the scene, the Exalt enters a period of extreme hunger and exhaustion that inflicts a -2 penalty on them until they are able to eat at least a day’s worth of food and rest.

Alternatively, this evocation can be used on a single journey, allowing the Exalt to add 10 mph to their speed for every hour they run. As long as they are running, they will continue to build up their speed endlessly and do not tire, age, need to eat or sleep. They cannot cross hazards but otherwise can travel indefinitely - reaching from Lookshy to Nexus in 10 hours, from Gem to Chiaroscuro in a day, and from Creation’s furthest east to Creation’s furthest West in 3 days time.

Special Activation Rules: Wearers dissonant with Jade cannot unlock this evocation.

#Artifact #Red Jade #Exalted #Exalted 3e

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waldos-writing · 7 years

Text

The Sometimes Thief - Chapter 2: Tuesday’s Child is Full of Grace

“It’s a little complicated,” said Albert, moving around the kitchen and spying the ice cream churning away. “How long until that’s done.”

No! Simon waved his arms emphatically and came over to shove Albert away from the ice cream maker. You can’t have any. We have to save it until tomorrow so Bethany O—. Simon stopped signing and just shoved Albert back more. No, he signed again.

“Don’t push me,” said Albert, his brows crinkled. “Look, you’ll teach her bad manners and I’m not letting that happen.”

Me? I’m the one who’s going to teach her bad manners? Simon spun to look at the girl standing still in the center of the kitchen, her hands draped carelessly at her side as she watched the two men push each other back and forth. Albert reached over to get a taste of some of the chocolate still sitting in the double burner—the heat thankfully turned off so it wouldn’t cook to a rock—before Simon slapped his hand away. Who is she?

“I’m not doing this,” said Albert, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m not doing this.”

You can’t just walk—

“I’m not doing this tonight, okay? It’s late. And I’m tired. I’m tired!” Albert looked back at the girl and waved his hands at her. “How about you, sweetheart, you tired? I bet. Been basically halfway ‘cross the world. C’mon.”

There was no way this was going to end like this. Not tonight. Not on such an impossibility as Albert Halloway singing his way back when his song should be closed. With a girl he claimed as his daughter. Simon slapped the table to get his brother’s attention and jabbed a finger up towards Albert’s huge hooked nose.

How? Simon sighed, mouthing it as wide as he could manage. But Albert only scoffed and rolled his eyes. We both know your song is for midnight. So.

Simon motioned around the room, at the two bodies standing in their kitchen, and at the clock on the wall very clearly marked at 11:11. Simon couldn’t help but remind himself to make a wish when he saw the time, but he scowled afterwards, turning his ire back over on his brother.

“I’m not doing this,” Albert said more insistently. He tapped his fingers against his chin before he spun on his thin black sneakers and reached for the refrigerator. Simon made a move to block his path, but Albert was taller, bigger, and always stronger. He got into the fridge easily, retrieving a package of deli meat. “Hey now, turkey. You like turkey?” he asked the girl beside the kitchen island. She didn’t nod, didn’t shake her head either. She barely blinked. “Yeah. Turkey sounds good. We got any bread now, Simon, or we just gonna have to eat this like animals?”

Simon huffed, crossing his arms as he glared at his simple brother. He stood stock still near the ice cream maker, to deter any further attempts at sampling from it, as Albert shrugged and took the deli meat over to the counter, popping open the red plastic lid. He fingered out a sliver of meat and tucked it away in his cheek, humming around the turkey with a smile. He fished out another and was about to eat it when he glanced down at the girl again. Albert held out a piece to her, waiting for a reaction. She did not budge.

“It’s good,” he said, dangling it off his index finger with a singsong promise in his voice. “Might make ya feel better.”

She did not even blink.

“Alright,” he said and shrugged, popping the turkey slice into his mouth. He took three more, chewed them noisily, and replaced the lid on the container. “Right. Well. I’m bushed. She’s bushed. We’re all going to bed, aren’t we? Also, where’s Cairn? Hey Big Boy, why aren’t you here for Daddy? C’mon out now, it’s me, sweetheart. He’s in, isn’t he?”

Simon didn’t answer. He’d take a cue from the disturbing young child and leave him with nothing. There were too many questions to ask and he knew it would be a long time asking them. Simon closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned over towards the sink. He grabbed the packet of matchsticks there next to his pruned mint and struck it against the flint, scooping the tiny flame up to another cigarette.

“Oh, hey,” said Albert, his head back in the fridge. “Don’t smoke in front of her, okay? Bad habits, man.”

Simon puffed a few times, shoulders sagging as the nicotine and smoke curled around his throat. He would have scoffed, but he was trying his damndest to leave Albert with nothing. He took a long drag and blew the smoke out across his plants, despite the fact that they hadn’t done anything wrong and didn’t deserve it. Well, he didn’t deserve a lot of things either. Simon clicked his tongue against his teeth and went straight for his bedroom. It didn’t matter. He could hear Albert cooing after Cairn by the time he was at his door, Simon’s presence soon forgotten.

One song for noon. One song for midnight. One song for summer. One song for winter. One song for taking. One song for giving. One song for noon. One song for midnight.

There are, of course, rules to the halloways, despite what some amateurs may believe. The gift itself is inherited amongst the line that created it—found it, being more accurate. It is a gift that is fickle, bestowed upon the family line at random and with no regard of who might or might not wish to use it. The songs themselves came a long time ago, by a Mrs. Evelyn Halloway of Westmanchestireville in what is now a southern providence of the UK, rezoned and obliterated of its history. Mr. Richard Halloway gave the poem to his children as a guideline, a wrote to the writ of how their songs worked and how they should be expected to behave when they used them. One for noon. One for midnight. The poem was simplistic, but it’s execution less so. There were few Halloways that actually had a song for noon and midnight. Their father’s song, Mr. Richard Halloway’s song, was for 2:57 am. It didn’t matter where he was in the world, as long as it was 2:57 am, then he could sing open a halloway plain as you like, and be on his way. Their grandfather, William Halloway, had a song for 7:17 pm. Somehow, Simon and Albert were gifted the actual stream of noon and midnight, in that order. And weren’t they lucky for it? There was something deliriously magical about noon and midnight. Something so stern and neat. So long as they followed the rules. So long as they sang their song.

And yet, despite every instance to prove otherwise, Mr. Richard Halloway believed he could find the song that would open every passage at any hour of the day and give him complete control of the ethereal web we know as Time. Perhaps that is why he did what he did to Simon all those years ago. Perhaps that is why Albert slips away for weeks at a time, hunting down the one thing that might knit them back into a cohesive unit he dreams is called a family. But that is getting beyond things, and neglects the fact that there are, of course, rules. Of course.

Exceptions to the rules are want to happen.

Of course.

And they have.

Of course.

Cairn wasn’t there to wake him up that morning. He’d call the lanky gray cat a traitor, but it was unfair to ask allegiance of an animal who knew Albert as the man who rescued him, fed him for many occasions, and loved him a touch more than Simon did. This was life. This was how cats were. This was something that didn’t bother him except that it did, and the fact that it did bothered him, so he buried that down too and swallowed it all up with a dry gulp. There were other things to be upset about.

Simon stirred unpleasantly, sheets coiled around his ankles, blanket swallowing an arm by his side like a vice grip in the inky remainder of a dream. Something about a face? Or a girl? Something about red thread and pain? Except it didn’t matter. Once he was conscience, he knew exactly what it was he was supposed to be furious with. Memories and wandering psyche aside, it was his brother in the other room there that should have his attention. Simon threw away his blankets with a shove and leapt out of the bed, ignoring a twinge in his back and a dull ache at the bottom of his feet.

Damn for getting old, he thought with a miserable snarl before he marched out of his bedroom. The mirrors laced the hallway, back and forth, back and forth, and he was greeted with the bronze bust of Albert’s stupid face. Just as he was every morning. Just as he was in his nightmares and in the afterlife and echoing on in any reincarnation that might find him, he figured. That stupid. Bronze. Bust.

At least this morning Simon had sense to wear his pajamas and an old gray shirt with the UoB Cobras painted on it in flaky white. His feet were bare, per usual, and there was a cool draft snaking around the floorboards, prickling his toes. Not that he minded. No time to mind when he was out to hunt down his brother and get some answers or at the very least strangle the life out of him.

Albert and the girl were in the kitchen, as though waiting for Simon to come out and join them. They were each sitting at the small dining table set, a breakfast nook at best. It was a circular table with two chairs and a simple cozy sitting out in the center. The lace cozy was weighed down with napkins, a stack of crocheted coasters in various colors, a covered dish of sugar, and a few spoons. Albert had a bowl of cereal in front of him. The Frosted Mini Wheats kept in the upper corner of their pantry for when Albert was actually home. He scooped a few of the soggy treats up into his mouth, chewing efficiently, his mouth thankfully closed. Chewing like a cow was not one of the habits that Albert had inherited from Mr. Richard Halloway. But even as he chewed, he kept a firm lock on the girl sitting across from him. He hunched over his bowl, one arm wrapped around it in a haphazard, passing thought at security over his food, his feet planted firmly on the ground. He was in a surprisingly simple outfit that morning. Plain white V-neck, dark jeans, no socks, and black loafers. He looked like a regular fellow then. Anybody, really, except for the Halloway nose and the untamed blonde hair.

The girl was still in her outfit from last night. And she was not taking any bites from the bowl of cereal in front of her.

“I don’t know what she eats,” Albert said without looking up. He must have heard Simon enter the hallway, despite the fact that he hadn’t made a move to signal his entrance. “Can’t tell if she’s hungry or stubborn.” Simon signed over to him, but Albert didn’t even glance back. “She’s taking after her Uncle Simon right now, aren’t ya? Can’t get her to say a word to me. Is that odd? Should I be concerned?”

That got a long, resigned sigh from Simon. Enough of one that Albert finally looked up from his bowl and gave his brother his full attention. The two regarded each other quietly, with less furrowed brows and pouting lips than before.

“I don’t know,” Albert finally said. “I don’t know, man, I’ve tried.”

Simon came over to the table and stood at the end. They’d only ever needed two chairs between them, and having them both occupied at the moment put Simon in an awkward position. He shooed Albert out of his seat, handing over the bowl of mostly-eaten Frosted Mini Wheats before he sat across from the girl.

Name? he signed. Albert leaned in like he had misheard, and Simon pointed over at the girl. Her name? Does she have a name?

“Oh. Her. Uh, well, I’ve just been calling her Evelyn, because I’m pretty certain if I had a daughter, that’s what I’d have named her. Y’know, cause…? The one who got the songs and such? God, remember how Dad used to go on and on and on about Evelyn? Anyways, yeah. That’s what I’d name my daughter. And she is my daughter.” Albert scooped up another mouthful of Mini Wheats before he added his last amendment he’d provided last night. “I think.”

What do you mean you think? You don’t know?

Albert nodded and tapped his head. There should have been an empty dull knock against his skull. He shrugged. He chewed. He just stood there like an idiot, offering nothing in return as far as answers or even apology were concerned, which Simon felt he was due anyhow. Instead, he turned back to the girl and waved.

Evelyn was a slight girl, shorter than Simon’s hip with short blonde hair and big eyes. She looked bruised under her chin, her arms, and around the neck, faint yellow and green markings from some altercation a long time off. She breathed evenly, not offering a smile, a nudge, a twitch of the lips or nose. She just…stared. Her eyes were on Albert, drawn to him, unwavering.

Hello, Simon signed to her and waved again. Do you know how you got here?

Evelyn blinked and turned her gaze fully on Simon at last. It was as cold and unfeeling as he imagined the Cyba patrols looked in 2121, the ones that Albert had nicked a motherboard from and brought back to his usual set of collectors.

Evelyn snaked a finger up from under the table. When she began to move, Simon and Albert leaned back, flinching away for different reasons—fear and alarm for part of it, disgust and distrust for the other. A mingling palate of emotions. When she brought her hand up, she placed it on the table, palm down, and tapped her fingers against the hard wood. She drummed it a few times, stopped, drummed it again, and stopped. This went on and on until she stopped suddenly, putting her hand flat on the table again.

“Oh.” Albert stepped up, taking another spoonful of cereal and munching it thoughtfully with his mouth closed. “Oh. Well. Sure.”

Sure? Simon signed. She didn’t say anything.

“I saw her do this the first time too,” said Albert, muffled a little by his cereal. He leaned down so he could rest his elbows on the table and put out his own hand, tapping his index firmly in a rhythmic staccato. Evelyn just watched him, not smiling, but her shoulders seemed to relax a little as Albert drummed the table. “This means something,” he offered over his shoulder.

What does it mean? Simon signed, but Albert wouldn’t look at him and he was doubly certain that Albert wouldn’t answer him even if he was reading Simon’s hands.

Evelyn waited for Albert to finish his little taps before she started up with hers again. Simon was almost certain this had to be Morse Code if it was anything, but he didn’t know Morse Code. Furthermore, he knew Albert didn’t know Morse Code, and had to be tapping nonsense at his supposed daughter. Certainly he could have picked up some new tricks during his journeys, but Simon doubted Albert had interest in old naval codes or the necessity of a language he didn’t need to use every day.

Simon pushed himself away from the table, leaving the two to tap away at each other. As soon as he left the chair, Albert was after him, scooping up his cereal bowl in one hand.

“Hey,” said Albert, following Simon back into the kitchen. “We were getting somewhere. Where’re you going?”

Simon didn’t deign to respond. He went straight for his room. The bed was still a mess and he went to tidy it, pulling sheets down at all corners, straightening out the blanket on top, and even going so far as to fluff his own pillow. He collected clothes for the day—slacks, white dress-shirt, gray tie, gray belt, black loafers, socks, underwear, undershirt. He laid them out neatly on the bed before he began to change into them, taking his time with each item, folding himself up in the comforts of clean lines, strict dress code, and comfortable under garments, which he understood to be a luxury of his sex. Poor Evelyn, when she grew up and had to learn how to withstand an underwire bra.

Once he was dressed, Simon exited his room to see Albert standing in the hall. Albert, jeans and shirt, in his black loafers, with his hair a frazzled mess atop his head. Albert, with his stupid face. Albert, who just had an empty bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other, like some lost wandering child wondering where their next meal would come and please, sir, could they have some more. Simon huffed, and tensed his shoulders, expecting a physical altercation.

“Where are you going?” Albert asked in a lower voice, as though he was afraid Evelyn might hear them and go blabbing to the neighbors. “Are you going in? Right now? C’mon, man, please. Please, just work from home.”

Simon huffed again. He was instantly aware that he had not had a cigarette that morning, and the fact made his head start to throb a little at the temples. He rolled his eyes and went around Albert without having to push him or force his way through. Lucky him. Albert had weight and height to his advantage and could lay Simon out flat if he really needed to.

“Simon,” Albert said more insistently, following his brother down the hall to the bathroom. Simon went inside and closed the door, but Albert was right there, insisting to speak through the closed door anyways. “Simon. C’mon. I just got home, like, could you do this for me? Please? I don’t ask a lot.”

Simon actually snorted when he put a bead of toothpaste on his toothbrush. The nerve? Of that man? And, anyways, there wasn’t anything that he could really do, since he didn’t know how to speak or interpret Morse Code. Simon began to brush his teeth, hoping to drown out Albert behind him.

“It’s how I found her, okay? It’s so weird, but, if anybody can figure it out, Simon, man, it’s gotta be you, right? Right?”

That still wasn’t an answer. That was an excuse. And trying to butter him up. Simon brushed harder, digging the bristles into his soft pink gum line.

“I don’t know how she did it,” said Albert, quieter this time. Not like he was walking away, exactly, but just that it was more reserved, closer to the chest, something he wasn’t sure Albert was even capable of.

Simon finished brushing his teeth, spit the slush of toothpaste, saliva, water, and a touch of blood out into the basin, and rinsed his mouth. Combed his hair. Straightened his clothing. He checked his reflection, ignoring the circles budding under his eyes or the start of a very faint moustache and beard. Pathetic wisps of hair that could wait another day before he shaved, though going into the office looking like this did not give him any confidence. He shrugged off the desire to shave like he shrugged off his desire to smoke, in that he shoved it around to another part of his brain to fester until the urge overtook him. That was for Future Simon.

Once everything was done, Simon pushed open the door, moving past Albert to collect his items he needed to take the train in to work. The Citywide Business Class Train Ticket, good for 100 rides, the computer bag with his BrinTech computer and BrinTech security badge, his wallet, and his keys hanging from a rusty key-shaped hook by the front door. He started gathering all of these items when he passed by Evelyn again, still tapping away at the table. Simon watched her just as she watched him, both of them unblinking in their studies.

I’m sorry, he signed, circling his fist over his chest. Evelyn stopped tapping out her code on the table and turned to him, returning the gesture. And that is what made Simon pause.

Very carefully, Simon set down his computer bag next to the loveseat sofa—big enough for two—and placed his laminated Citywide Business Class Train Ticket card on the side table beside him. He kept his eyes locked on Evelyn, in case she decided to “say” more beyond her apparent Morse Code tapping.

Can you understand me? he asked, nodding towards her. She blinked, but did not offer him anything else. Was that a yes? One blink for yes, two for no? Was it nothing more than wetting her lenses? Was it something completely different?

Simon went back to the chair at the kitchen table, pulling out and sitting down as smoothly as he could manage. He tented his fingers in front of him on the placemat, rubbing his long thumb across his opposite hand’s knuckles as he watched the girl. He would give her time to think, to process. He could only imagine that, if she actually knew any sign language, where she was from might affect her own version of it. Would their vernacular and accents clash? Simon only bit his lip, nibbling on the corner as he waited.

“Oh, good, staring contest again,” said Albert as he came out of the hallway. “Well, keeps you here, I guess. Listen, can I please just have some of that ice cream you made in there? It smelled really really good.”

Simon snapped his fingers and pointed at Albert, glaring from under their dining corner light fixture—to call it a room was to give it too big of a purpose.

“Tell me I can’t have any,” said Albert, his hip in the refrigerator doorway. If he wasn’t constantly running from one century to the next, he would have surely grown to fill the size of the apartment. He leered over at Simon and Evelyn, reaching to unlatch the freezer door next to his head. “C’mon. Tell me I can’t.”

Simon pushed himself away from the table, shoving the chair back with the weight of his body as he slammed two hands down in front of him. He pointed, and his fist struck the table a second time. He didn’t even think that it might frighten the girl, who didn’t so much as flinch.

“I can’t hear you, Si,” Albert sang as a taunt, and curled his fingers under the latch. “C’mon.”

Don’t make me do this, Simon signed frantically, marching towards the kitchen. Albert mimed the sign back at him, not actually saying anything as he stuck out his tongue. You’re terrible.

“Just say it, Si,” said Albert and he undid the latch to the freezer. It made a soft click, an almost inaudible whisper of cold air slipping free and a tiny crackle as some of the ice inside popped and groaned from being introduced to a warmer temperature. It was a symphony of sounds, almost always ignored by those who would demand to speak above it, as Albert often did.

Don’t you dare, Simon signed, even though Albert was completely beyond reasoning. So, instead, he slammed his fist on the counter again, the closest he had to a primal yell.

However, just as Albert put his greasy hand on the ice cream maker, tugging it playfully from the dark cold confines of their freezer, a different song started to play. They perked at it instantly, turning towards the source as it dinged and screamed and called to them.

“Who the hell is calling now?” asked Albert, checking the wall clock even as he closed the freezer door tight behind him and went to their office to answer the phone.

Not that it was anywhere near his business, but Simon followed him towards the joint office, spelling out the name of the woman who had called yesterday. Albert wasn’t paying attention in the slightest, so Simon reached over for a pad of paper and a pen and scribbled it down before he flashed it in front of Albert’s face. Albert reached around him, going for the phone, when his eyes narrowed in on the name on the paper.

“Jessica…Pu—”

Albert picked up the phone and promptly put it back on its cradle. He didn’t say a word, just stood there stone stiff as his hand rested on the phone itself, as if to mute it’s incoming cries. The phone was dead for a second, two, and then it started ringing again.

“No,” he whispered, eyes darting around the room before they stuck to Simon’s face. “Did you talk to her?”

And, of course he had. Of course he had, if he had a damn name for her. Simon nodded only to have Albert curse to himself, a long, elaborate string of words coming in and out as he pushed the phone away from him, throwing open one of the desk drawers. There was a black case inside, mottled with black eggshell paint, and a small blue sack with white drawstrings.

What’s going on? Simon signed, twice because Albert wouldn’t barely pause to give him a passing glance, let alone read what he was trying to say. Simon huffed at his deliberate avoidance and wrote his questions down on the paper again.

“What?” Albert cried, taking the pad of paper and skimming over the words. “You wanna know?” Simon nodded. “I’ll tell you.” Simon waited. “But you gotta grab Cairn for me and put him in his carrier and we gotta go.” Simon…shook his head. “No arguments. No time. Just do this, and get Dad’s little poetry thing too. The map. That should help."

Simon started to ask more questions, moving his hands frantically, reaching out to Albert when he tried to duck away. Albert nodded at the hands, the fingers dancing, but he started to splutter and groan. “Well…I-I…yeah.” He tried to push Simon’s hands down, but they were the only way for Simon to get his questions out, and he had to. He thought he might explode if he didn’t. Who is that woman and what have you done? Where are we going? How are we supposed to get there? Why do you want the map if we can’t even read it? I don’t know where Cairn’s carrier is, why don’t you grab it? What happens if—? Etcetera etcetera, but Albert, who nodded and hummed, fluttered his own fingers daintily beneath his chin. His eyes widened, his eyebrows furrowed, looking absolutely lost. “I can’t…I can’t…” he said to every question asked. “I can’t. Do. This! Right now!” Albert waved his hands dramatically in front of his face and shoved at Simon, hitting him in the chest and pushing him back enough that he staggered into his desk. The chair spun lazily, squeaking just a little from a pivot that needed a good greasing. “Not right now, Si, okay? Okay? For your sake and mine?”

But Simon was breathing heavily, a hand on his breast as though he’d been stabbed. The other hand rested on the desk, supporting his weight as he stared, scandalized at his brother, his own flesh and blood.

“Christ, calm down,” said Albert and left the office just as the phone started to ring again. “Don’t answer that!” And then, further away. “And get Cairn!”

I’ll get Cairn, said Simon, sneering at the empty doorway to the office. Oh, I’ll get Cairn indeed. He reached over to Albert’s untidy desk and picked up the phone. There was the woman’s voice again, starting her greeting, before he put the receiver back down on the cradle and hung up. Somehow, it did not feel as good as he was hoping.

“Don’t hold him like that.”

Albert reached over and took the cat carrier with Cairn mewling inside unhappily. The sounds were almost drowned out as one of the train trolleys trundled by, leaving them lost in a wind tunnel and screeching metal.

“And don’t let her go.”

Albert snatched up Evelyn’s hand as she began to pull away, half her face obscured in an oversized winter jacket, her hair covered by a wooly hat. Albert himself was bundled up in his striped scarf, pea-green colored overcoat, and matching hat. Simon only sighed, letting the black flap of his coat smack him once in the cheek before he tucked it back under his chin.

“You can’t run off, sweetheart, okay? We have to wait for the train.”

Evelyn glanced up at Albert, her big wet eyes shining just a touch brighter now that they were surrounded by the dark winter colors. She looked washed out in the low gray gloom of the city, soot already covering the bottom half of her strange pants and the gridlines of the girders of an unfinished building leaving latticework shadows across her face. Across all their faces, surely. Simon looked between her and the building and the noisy city circling around them. He took her hand, both of theirs snugly warm in gray mittens. At least he could do that right.

“Sonuvabitch but it’s cold,” said Albert, sniffing and snorting behind his scarf. Apparently cursing wasn’t a bad habit to be taught. “They say it’s gonna snow tonight or what?”

Simon gave him a sidelong glance before he turned his attention back to the tracks. Another train would be coming by in ten minutes or so, but they wanted the 11:15 out of Chatterley. Simon yanked his hand free of his pocket and mashed up his sleeve to check the time on his watch. They had almost half an hour to wait out on the lonely platform and the sky above them was doing its best to get darker and darker. Maybe it would open up and drown them in snow before the train arrived.

Someone took to the platform, standing about three yards off, wrapped up in their own protective bundle of warm clothes, coffee steam, and general societal standards of personal space. He did not so much as glance at Albert, Simon, and Evelyn, but Simon watched him anyways. He wasn’t even sure why he did. Perhaps it was the red thread going through that black cashmere coat, an odd touch of flare that drew the viewer’s eye in naturally. Maybe it was his unkind eyes and rounded shoulders. Maybe it was because Simon didn’t want to have to look at his brother or the bleak empty tracks, and that was the only other focal point he was drawn to. But he looked. He looked anyway.

“Well?” said Albert. He was still holding the cat carrier in both hands and he nudged Simon with his knee. “Check the forecast.”

Simon rolled his eyes back to his brother. Now with a hand free, he managed to get into one of his pockets and fetch his phone, but the mitten was preventing him from unlocking the screen. He swiped a few times, turning his mouth down in a scowl before he had to put the phone back, bite the fingers of his mitten, let it dangle from his mouth like he was a dog playing fetch, grab the phone, and open the damnable weather app. He sneezed with annoyance and turned the screen for Albert to see. Albert eyed the phone around his nose, nodding at the numbers.

“Can’t see with your thumb in the way, Si,” he said, and twitched his head as though he would telepathically shift Simon’s thumb. “I wanna know if it’ll snow, not the temp right now. What’s it say?”

So, Simon had to take the phone back, scroll, and show it off again. His stomach was starting to boil and his head ached in a tight little pinprick of pain between his eyebrows. Albert inspected the app again and nodded.

“Yeah, still can’t see if it’s gonna snow. Oh well, Si,” he said, and clicked his tongue. “Maybe they just don’t know everything.”

Simon brought the phone back up to his face and read the forecast as easily as reading anything else. He tapped the screen, but now Albert was just feigning disinterest, looking instead into the cat carrier and cooing away at Cairn in hopes of keeping him less agitated. Well, Simon was agitated. Who was going to coo at him then, huh? He rolled his eyes back along the tracks and unfinished building and the girders and the short translucent cover ahead to shelter them and the empty platform beside them.

Empty platform beside them.

Empty?

Simon blinked on the spot where the man with his black coat and red thread had been standing not a moment ago. He straightened and when he did, involuntarily tightened his grip on Evelyn’s fingers. The man was just…gone. Simon scanned the platform, the wall behind them, the staircase that led up to it. They were all alone up there, the trio and their cat. No sign that a man in a black coat with red thread had even been there in the first place. There was no snow sticking to the ground to see any tracks. Simon’s pinprick of pain began to bubble more and he whipped his head from left to right, searching him out to prove he hadn’t either imagined it or witnessed an apparition.

There was a tug on his hand and Simon was brought back as he looked down at the little manacle holding him. Evelyn was looking up. She tugged again, like she was pulling on a rope to make an old fancy doorbell ring. Her face was blank, but there was something urgent in her movement and Simon leaned down to her. He had a brief thought that she might try to bite a chunk of his nose or reach up to gouge out one of his eyes, but he got closer to her face all the same. He raised an eyebrow, a silent, “Yes?” asked. She put her hand up to her mouth ever so carefully and whispered to him.

#The Sometimes Thief #original fiction #novel #chapter 2 #300@200

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potterzachary · 4 years

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Reiki And Chakras Creative And Inexpensive Useful Tips

Reiki is unique in that position for at least 21 days.Craig then bestowed the Reiki will first learn about the magic had worked.Arizona hosts one of our spirituality, which are causing blockages in the gray area.Inside the triangle, Sei He Ki to purify your thoughts before those thoughts transform into dishonest words or actions.

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Reiki Symbole 5 Grad

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How To Use Reiki Symbols Properly

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