| Prologue: Kathleen | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 26 2013, 19:34 (350 Views) | |
| FalseHumanity | Jun 26 2013, 19:34 Post #1 |
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The world rushes back to you. There's the hum of traffic, the rumble of voices, the birds in the trees. There's a certainty, a firmness, in each sound and movement. It's like waking from a dream – the blurry thoughts, the dry mouth. Your eyes hurt. Nothing looks right. The movements are clean, swift. Nothing shifts in the shadows. There's no voices on the wind. You're looking left and right, straining to catch the shape of your Keeper lurking in the crowds. But these- these people, these things crowded in the streets... it's something you haven't seen in a very long time. None of them shine, none of them glisten. They don't look right. For a while, you stay like that, pacing the streets, staring these things down. They look familiar. Each bored, normal, human face brings back a shard of memory of a different time when you looked just like them. And the dream starts to fade. Your thoughts clear. Each minute of normal sunlight hurts a little less. And then from around the corner you see it. Something moves in the crowd that distinctly is not human. It has to be your Keeper. It HAS to be. Fuck. It is. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck- You've got to do something. |
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| Cartaway | Jun 26 2013, 23:17 Post #2 |
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There was the dance and there was the prince and there was nothing else for happily ever after. The dance was his and the dancers were his and they came and went, cruel and innocent and careless, at the prince's whim. The hall was full of light and mirrors, and through the mirrors they saw other dancers, robed in starlight and snowglare. Sometimes a dancer would fall and rise with a torn dress or a cut lip, laughing. Sometimes a dancer would fall and never rise at all. The dance continued either way, and the dancers never stopped to help another up, never missed a step to step over a body. Their shoes were crystal with red caught in the facets, red stains upon their ankles and red ground against the crystal floor. Red everywhere, for anyone who ever glanced down. And in the sea of swirling bodies, the empty laughing mouths and lovely cold gleam of gemstones, a dancer looked into a mirror and saw a face that she knew. She remembered: pale hands holding books, a brush sweeping against canvas. She remembered: comb breaking in unruly curls, angry voices behind a door. She remembered: brown eyes, a blue sweater, a stuffed bear. She did not remember for long. Only the briefest of looks, quick to glimpse and quicker to forget, but it was enough. She saw the face and knew for a moment that there was a “she,” and that was the beginning of the end. Red ringlets in a silver glass, long ago in a land far away. From that moment, though the dancer did not yet know it, she was ever seeking her escape. The second time she glimpsed the face, she stumbled, she almost fell, swept along by the music and the motion, only barely keeping her balance, and something was wrong, so wrong, but she did not know what. And the prince joined the dance, he smiled at her, and everything was right again. And all thought of who she had once been flew from her mind as she shone and shivered in the dream's embrace. But the third time she glimpsed the face, she ran towards it, breaking the dance, shoving through graceful bodies. She ran to the mirror and it shattered in front of her and her shoes shattered beneath her and the shards tore her feet as she ran - - through the crystal wood, through the golden groves - - across the clouded plains, the silver waves - - until she found a tower, crumbling and crooked against the clear blue sky, the only ugly thing she had ever seen in this land of cold beauty. Behind her there was the galloping of horsebeats, across her mind cantered snatches of song. The curse is come upon me cried the lady of shalott the mirror cracked from side to side he turned and eurydice died he lied he lied he liedheLIED And she grasped the slimy door, pried it open with heart beating fast and sharp and climbed uneven steps up up into the choking murk and heavy smoke and ************ the world rushes back to her. He is behind her and she runs. Edited by Cartaway, Jun 26 2013, 23:17.
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| Cartaway | Jun 26 2013, 23:56 Post #3 |
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Spoiler: click to toggle She runs. Past dull doughy faces filled with surprise and annoyance and concern, past short, tall, dark, light figures that stumble and shout after her. She runs. She runs along gray stone and brown dirt while metal things she should recognize careen past her. She runs past boxy buildings and ordinary trees. Words come back to her, including a name - hers? Kathleen. She isn't expecting it, and the distraction is enough to make her miss the crack in the sidewalk in front of her. Her foot catches and she falls. Spoiler: click to toggle She pulls herself to her feet, noticing for the first time that they are bruised and bleeding and they hurt. It's been a long time since she felt pain. Her eyes fill with tears, fear and stress and pain all blending together into a chaotic mess of emotion, but somehow she doesn't fall apart. Instead, she takes a deep breath and looks around. |
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| FalseHumanity | Jun 27 2013, 00:14 Post #4 |
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"Miss! Hey, miss!" Someone from behind you, a few feet. He can't be too much older than twenty-five. "Ma'am, you dropped this." The first thing you notice is his ruffled, black iridescent hair. Every movement or rustle of the wind sends it shimmering in the breeze. His legs end in scales and long muscled toes. Each toe is tipped with a black talon. And then he extends his hand out to you. He's holding sunlight, a shawl draped over his slim fingers. The movement shifts his hoodie and from behind him you catch a glimpse of black, feathered wings. "It's okay," he whispers. "You're safe here." |
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| Cartaway | Jun 28 2013, 21:55 Post #5 |
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Kathleen stares at his hair, then down to his feet. She doesn't move to take the shawl. Her eyes lift, dart to the side. People walk by on the street, normal and unremarkable. A few cast curious glances in her direction, but none take a second glance at this new man before her. She snatches the shawl quickly, warily, careful not to touch his hand. Opens her mouth to speak, has to clear her throat. "Safe...?" she whispers, and does not know how long it has been since she last heard the sound of her own voice. "What are you...? Am I... is this a dream?" She tries to look at the wings, but can't seem to see them straight on. Just a shadow out of the corner of her eye. Another word returns to her, perhaps the correct one. "Some have entertained angels unawares," she murmurs, and some tendril of meaning solidifies in her mind as she says it. She grabs his hand. "Can you help me? I don't know where to go. I thought ... I thought I was in heaven, but it was... wrong, so I climbed onwards and upwards, onwards and upwards, and now I- I'm lost. Please, help me." Spoiler: click to toggle
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| FalseHumanity | Jun 29 2013, 20:26 Post #6 |
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"This isn't a dream," he says. "This is waking up." He helps you to your feet. "Don't worry, ma'am, I know just the place. There's a restaurant just down the street that specializes in helping the Lost." Putting one hand on your shoulder, he guides you down the sidewalk gently. Every so often someone glances curiously at the two of you, but their attention quickly wanders past. "It's all too normal, isn't it? I remember when I first made it back. You keep looking over your shoulder, waiting for... well, Them. Stick with us, though, and Ulysses will make sure that They won't find you." He winks at you. "Strength in numbers and all that jazz." He jerks suddenly, and the movement immediately sets you on edge. "I'm Quinn, by the way." His fingers rest lightly on your shoulder, their weight just enough to keep you moving forward. "Can't believe I almost forgot to introduce myself." Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 29 2013, 22:54.
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| Cartaway | Jun 30 2013, 00:01 Post #7 |
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"Ulysses? Quinn. We didn't have names, back there," she says, a little shakily. "Names have power. I have a name. I think it's Kathleen." Spoiler: click to toggle She has been following him blindly down the street, trusting as a child. Now she stops, her new suspicion as sudden as her decision to believe him had been. "Can I really trust you?" she asks, almost pleading. She stares intently at him. She could read people once. She knew what meanings lay behind words, what thoughts lay behind faces. She could do it again, she thinks. If he would just meet her eyes and answer. "I want to trust you," she says. "Tell me I can." Spoiler: click to toggle
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| FalseHumanity | Jun 30 2013, 00:32 Post #8 |
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Spoiler: click to toggle He turns, his hand still resting on your shoulder, and he smiles easily at you. "Don't worry, Kath." The air around him seems to freshen, for a second, and the scarf you still hold in one hand glows bright. "It only gets better from here. Trust me." He points down the road, to green-roofed building with a cheery sign reading 'Saraj Restaurant and Bakery'. "Come on, warm food and new friends are waiting." Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 30 2013, 00:33.
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| Cartaway | Jun 30 2013, 21:59 Post #9 |
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Spoiler: click to toggle Her fears melt away and she smiles at him, bright and joyful. She suddenly wants to please him. He's so kind. He's going to be her friend, he's going to help her make more friends, he's... "My guardian angel," she muses happily. "Mother always said I had one. I didn't believe her." Kathleen suddenly laughs aloud, the sound infectious. A few passersby smile in return as they walk past. "My mother!" she exclaims."I had a mother. Not an evil stepmother, not a murderous queen, not a witch hiding me in a tower, an ordinary everyday mother. I had a mother." She looks at Quinn hopefully as they walk towards the restaurant. "Do you think I could find her? My mother?" She's more than hopeful. She's calculating. She smiles widely, leans in closely. "Could you help me find her? You've helped me so much already." Spoiler: click to toggle Her smile shows, perhaps, a few too many teeth. Her voice may sound a little too desperate. She has not talked to anyone like this for a while. But they are almost to the restaurant now. Kathleen is sure she'll have the chance for more practice soon. |
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| FalseHumanity | Jun 30 2013, 23:28 Post #10 |
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"I, uh..." Quinn looks away, and it's quite apparent he's troubled by the path the conversation has taken. "I'm probably not the best one to explain it to you, but you might not want to do that. Look for your mother, that is." He winces. "From personal experience, uh, it doesn't go well." He looks back at you. "Let's just say that we're different, now. Being taken... that changed everything. And trying to go back to the way things were before-" He stops himself short, broods for a few seconds. "Doesn't work." He opens the door to the restaurant and ushers you in. It's a bustling little bistro with a bitter-looking older gentleman running the front. He eyes the two of you over his glasses, before a smile works its way through his moustache. "Mr. Bishop, I see you've found one of our lost sheep." He moves around to take your hand. "Welcome, dear. Have a seat." "This is Walter," Quinn says. "He'll be able to explain more about..." He smirks. "Well, everything." He tosses you a sloppy salute. "I've got to run, Walt, Elodie's waiting for me." "Yes, yes," he says, waving the younger man away. Walter leads you over to a side booth and gestures for you to sit down. "You must be starving. Escaping always does take its toll on the appetite. Let me get you something to eat." He disappears into the back and returns moments later with a plate of some kind of dough twisted into a spiral and baked. Someone else takes his place up at the front as he slides into the seat across from you. "Eat," he urges you. "No use escaping from Them if you starve to death." Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 19 2014, 10:22.
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| Cartaway | Jul 1 2013, 23:05 Post #11 |
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Kathleen takes the dough in both hands, turning it over curiously. "A girl who has lost her mother, a stranger asking her to eat. If I do, am I sworn to your kingdom?" She is not afraid. She does not wait for his reply, biting into the warm bread with relish. She chews, enjoying the taste of the first meal she can remember since... since. Swallows, smiles. "I have tasted your food, so you can tell me. Are you Hades? His boatman? Or his guard dog?" She rips off another mouthful ravenously, watching him for his reply. She wonders how long she will be able to stay here. This place, too, may be less heavenly than it seems. She moves to palm a few morsels of bread, hiding them in her shawl for later. Spoiler: click to toggle
Edited by Cartaway, Jul 1 2013, 23:09.
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| FalseHumanity | Jul 3 2013, 00:00 Post #12 |
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Spoiler: click to toggle Walter reaches across the table and effortlessly plucks the morsels from your hiding spot. "Now that, young miss, is uncivilized." He drops the bread onto your plate and wipes his hand disdainfully on a cloth napkin. "As for what I am, let me tell you a story." He looks over his glasses at you. "He reached for a match, and a match was put into his hand." "But you, my dear, you are much more apparent than I could ever be. There's a radiance about you, even the mortals could see it." He frowns. "You're quite the beacon in the darkness. You should be careful where you shine your light. The ones who took us, They will always hunt to bring us back. The only way to be sure of safety is to stay hidden." He watches you, guarded behind his professional, almost insanely mechanical, demeanor. "I'm sure you must have questions." Edited by FalseHumanity, Jul 11 2013, 12:48.
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| Cartaway | Jul 4 2013, 22:30 Post #13 |
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"I don't know how to hide," Kathleen says, cocking her head curiously at him. "Why should I? Why not face the dragon? If I die, maybe it is a good ending to this story." She sobers, glancing away for a moment, something wistful in the way she bites her lip. "A journey to another world is supposed to end with coming home," she whispers, and then glances back, meets his eyes directly. "Tell me, match-lighter, is there any home to come back to?" |
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| FalseHumanity | Jul 9 2013, 23:53 Post #14 |
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"No," he says. "Perhaps it would be more of a fairytale ending you're looking for. I'm afraid these stories are not so simple. The dragon here will not simply kill you. No, if They find you, They will take you back. They don't like being denied anything, after all. And you won't escape again." He glances away for a second. "No one escapes a second time." |
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| Cartaway | Jul 10 2013, 22:21 Post #15 |
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Spoiler: click to toggle She stares at him for a moment, her face turning pale, then paler still. Then sobs once, a single, heartbroken sound. Her hands fly to her mouth, trying to hold in the next sob, and the next. The bread tumbles to the ground, unheeded. She doubles over on herself, keening inhumanly, eyes blank and open and sightless. In her mind, she is thinking: I am cornered, I am a fox run to ground by vicious hounds, I am transfigured into a doe and hunted for another's cruel pleasure. I am a bird with a taste of freedom who will only be recaptured and stuffed in a golden cage, and I will sing no more, and I will never again feel wind upon my face, and I will never again rest peacefully like this, they will shoe me in red hot iron and I will dance, I will dance until my shoes have worn through, a pair each night, as I waste away and my legs fail me and I fall, fall, fall... At some point, she realizes, she has begun whispering aloud,and the whispers have grown to a scream, and she is crying out wordlessly in the middle of the restaurant, alarmed faces turning towards her, figures half-rising from their tables, and she is blind with terror and loss as she jerks backward, knocking over her chair, stumbling towards the door, struggling with the handle, unable to think of anything to do but run... |
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| FalseHumanity | Jul 12 2013, 01:08 Post #16 |
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Someone wraps their arms around you from behind, holding you firmly from the door. The hands are warm but it feels like the temperature drops a few degrees and the smell of peppermint takes your breath away. You attempt to break free but the hands hold you firm. Someone presses their cheek to your shoulder and whispers in your ear. It's a soft voice, a woman's voice, and for a few desperate moments you can't comprehend what she's saying. And then it clicks. She's singing. Spoiler: click to toggle "-could crumble, still, I'll find you beneath the rubble and pull you away. I don't know what's next a'coming, but I can tell you that I'll be by your side. It's all because I want to see you cry, it's all because I want to see you." She rocks you slowly, humming quietly. Edited by FalseHumanity, Jul 12 2013, 01:19.
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| Cartaway | Jul 13 2013, 21:49 Post #17 |
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The song penetrates Kathleen's mind slowly, easing away her terror and pain. She calms bit by bit, sobs gentling, shoulders stilling. She doesn't know the words or the tune, but she recognizes the smell of mint, and connects it with a half-forgotten memory - a shape leaning over her, a sweep of scented hair falling across her pillow as a cool mouth kisses her goodnight. She listens to the soft hum and thinks that maybe everything will be alright after all. When at last she regains her voice, she turns and whispers, "Do I know you?" |
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| FalseHumanity | Jul 16 2013, 00:09 Post #18 |
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"Oh, honey-" The woman stands you up. She looks warm, glowing, but the sharp smell of peppermint seems to bring the temperature down just a bit. She has lips like rose petals and long blond hair. Pulling a small flowered handkerchief from her pocket, she gently wipes the tears from your face. "Come on, come with me." She leads you into the back, past the bewildered and confused patrons of the restaurant all desperately trying to act uninterested, and there sits you down at a smaller booth tucked into a corner. She disappears for a second and returns with a blanket that she drapes around your shoulders and a cup of hot chocolate. "Drink," she urges you. A towering shape appears at the mouth of the booth, and she looks up with a dry smile. "Phil, I think we'll be all right now." "Uh, okay, Anna," a rumbling giant of a man responds, stumbling over his words. He's easily seven feet tall, with little horns poking out from behind his ears. His arms look darkly tanned at first, but as you look closer it's actually short hair coating his body. "Figured I'd come back and check on the little lady, y'know, in case." He shrugs awkwardly. "If you need somet'ing-" The woman - Anna? - smiles at him. "I'll let you know. Thanks, Phil." He grunts and disappears. She turns her attention back to you. "I'm Anna Frostmoore, honey. I'm so glad to finally meet you." |
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| Cartaway | Jul 16 2013, 10:00 Post #19 |
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"Kathleen," she says, still feeling the warmth of understanding radiating off of this new woman. "My name is Kathleen. He likes me, doesn't he? So do you. Everyone here likes me. Your hair is very pretty. I'm better now, you don't need to worry. I don't need to cry anymore." She rubs a last stray tear off her face with the heel of her hand, glances at Anna out of the corner of her eye. "I didn't mean to upset anyone. What should I do now? Where do I need to go? Do I go back to school?" She vaguely remembers school. She remembers being ignored. Adults talking over her head, rapping a ruler on her desk when she looked out the window. Glancing down at herself, she suddenly wonders, with a start, if she is an adult now. The mirror, in that other world... she had glimpsed a grown woman and thought it was her mother. Perhaps it had been Kathleen herself. She wants a mirror, suddenly, desperately. Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the oldest one of all, up above the world so high, like a diamond... She jerks her mind back from the mad, distracted thought with an almost physical effort. Her eyes focus on Anna. "I think I'd like to paint," she says. |
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| FalseHumanity | Jul 26 2013, 23:17 Post #20 |
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She sits in thought for a long while, considering her options. Finally, her eyes light up and she grins at you. "Tell you what, dear. I know a girl here in town with a studio and a loft. Maybe she could put you up for a few days, and even supply you with some canvas to play with." She reaches across the table and pats your hand encouragingly. "We all need the time to rest and recuperate. Please, if there's anything you need, just ask. We'll do what we can to help. We all will." Edited by FalseHumanity, Jul 26 2013, 23:17.
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| Cartaway | Aug 4 2013, 19:17 Post #21 |
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"Let's go right now," Kathleen says eagerly, lunging forward to grasp Anna's hand in both of hers. Spoiler: click to toggle "Please, can we go meet her now?" she repeats, earnestly, staring into Anna's eyes hopefully. She smiles suddenly, and with childish cunning adds, "It would be so much easier to rest if I could meet her. And start painting." |
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| FalseHumanity | Sep 2 2013, 06:49 Post #22 |
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Spoiler: click to toggle There's a second where her eyes flash, and then Anna smiles sweetly. "Of course, dear." She pulls her phone out of her pocket and quickly taps on it for a minute or so. Soon, it buzzes in response. "Come on," she urges you. "I'll drive us." The two of you go outside, and she walks up to a sleek silver beast with a strange 'H' dotting the front and two blank white eyes that seem to catch and reflect the sunlight. She touches something on the side, and a panel of the thing opens sideways to reveal a leathered seat. Anna motions for you to sit down. Edited by FalseHumanity, Sep 2 2013, 06:50.
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| Cartaway | Sep 3 2013, 20:10 Post #23 |
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Kath shivers and hugs herself as she studies the beast. "What is it?" she whispers in awe and fear. "I should know. I've seen it before. Was it the beast that chased me when I fell through the door?" She stares at Anna through the creature's translucent forehead and murmurs dreamily, "I looked and there before me was a pale horse... no, not that. Hi ho, silver chariot of fire... no, no, no... you look like a Shadowfax. Or a Titanic..." She shudders again, then meets Anna's eyes. "Are we going to travel in the belly of the beast?" |
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| FalseHumanity | Sep 8 2013, 22:11 Post #24 |
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"You must have been taken very young," Anna says quietly. "Usually it's not this much of a shock..." Her smile snaps back on. "We call them cars. It's a different sort of Contract we have with them. Every so often we add some liquid gasoline to them, and in return they bear us where we need to go." She gets in, fumbles with something. There's a rumble as something inside the 'car' begins growling. "Harmless, I promise. It's perfectly comfortable." She motions to the chair next to her. "And it'll let you get painting that much faster." |
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| Cartaway | Sep 16 2013, 07:18 Post #25 |
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Kath cocks her head to the side, considering. Then she steps forward and lays her hand on the side of the car. "Oh!" she exclaims. "It's warm!" She opens the passenger side door as though she has done so all her life, and slouches down comfortably in the seat. A flash of memory comes to her - sitting with a school bag clutched in her hands, staring out the window, stomach fluttering like a caged butterfly. When she turns to her left and sees Anna sitting beside her, it feels ... jarring. There should be someone else there, someone she needs to find. She smiles quickly to cover her confusion. "Okay," she says brightly. "Let's go!" |
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| FalseHumanity | Sep 24 2013, 22:57 Post #26 |
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It takes about 10 minutes for the creature to crawl across the roads and through the alleys of buildings. Anna stays silent, instead seeming mesmerized by the gentle motions she has to make with the wheel. Finally, though, the beast rolls in front of a nice-looking building and the growling stops. "We're here," Anna says. She leads you up to the front door and knocks. After about a minute or so, she sighs and knocks again. The door opens to show a young woman with her arms covered in brightly-colored tattoos and a couple of piercings scattered about. She smiles at you and waves the two of you in. "Sorry I wasn't faster," she says airily. "Too busy." "Kathleen," Anna says, "this is Maribeth." You take a few more seconds to scan the girl - she's about the same height you are, but everything about her seems reduced, somehow. Like she's about half your height, and yet somehow stretching up to your eye level. She has leaves tattooed all up her right arm, and a wet paintbrush is stuck behind her ear. She extends her hand out to you, her painted fingernails gleaming gold and crimson and orange, and she smiles with full lips curved up. "My house is always open to a fellow painter." Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 20 2014, 16:33.
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| Cartaway | Oct 3 2013, 18:45 Post #27 |
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Spoiler: click to toggle "Hello, blithe spirit," Kath says airily, and ignores the girl's outstretched hand in favor of pushing past into the room behind her, where she stops and glances around in obvious curiosity. "I like it," she decides, and turns around, beaming. "I don't mind staying here at all. Will the lady of the mists permit it?" Rather dramatically, she drops to one knee and smiles up at Maribeth. |
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| FalseHumanity | Oct 5 2013, 23:35 Post #28 |
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"Oh my god she's adorable!" Maribeth claps her hands in excitement, her thick lips spread wide. "I love your dress, Kath. I have to show you some of mine." Anna manages to keep her sigh almost inaudible. "I see you two will get along fantastically." Despite the faint sense of irritation, her smile is genuine (if a little wearied). "Try to get some rest, dear. The first couple of days are the hardest." She looks over at Maribeth. "Ulysses says there's something about to go down. Keep an eye out, and bring her along to the next meeting when he calls it." She touches your shoulder with one hand, in a farewell, and walks out the door. Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 20 2014, 16:33.
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| Cartaway | Oct 16 2013, 21:54 Post #29 |
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"Something's about to go down?" asks Kath, standing and blinking curiously at Maribeth. "What did she mean? What meetings?" She takes Maribeth's hand and turns it over, staring thoughtfully at the paint splotches on it and the tattoos that wind their way up the arm. "Freedom, transience and beauty. That's what they look like. " she adds absentmindedly, tracing the tattooed leaves. "Mine would be water, I think. Can you guess why?" |
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| FalseHumanity | Jun 20 2014, 16:53 Post #30 |
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"Hmm..." She looks you over playfully, surpressing a smirk as best she can. "I'd have to say because you flow like the ocean. Water is pure, cyclical, and flits between tranquil and energetic. It's a symbol of renewal and blessing." She grins at you. "Also, freedom and transience and beauty." She leads you into the main room of the studio, where a canvas is set up and freshly drying. It's almost finished - a black tree shedding red and gold leaves into the wind, with a backdrop of what could be sunrise or, more likely, sunset. Nearby are pots of paint neatly arranged and in rows of six, all capped tightly shut. There is a coffee pot of swirled green water, playing host to multiple paintbrushes. There is also a coffee mug of green water sitting next to it. You can't be sure if it's tea or the brush wash. There's one window in the room, a good six-plus feet wide and nearly as tall, looking out over the street. To your left, there's a door cracked ajar that looks like it leads into a bedroom, and to the right there's an open threshold into the kitchen area. She busies herself for a second, wrestling another canvas out from a pile in the corner. "This one can be yours, dear. Try to keep the paint off the carpet, so if you're naturally messy we'll put down some plastic." Spoiler: click to toggle
Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 20 2014, 16:55.
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| Cartaway | Jun 24 2014, 15:46 Post #31 |
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Kath gazes at the canvas. Blank. Empty. Her eyes fill with tears. She doesn't know what to do with it. She looks out the window. Smoke. Roaring metal giants. Towering not-stone buildings. This isn't right, this isn't... The canvas centers her. The canvas is welcome, inviting. She knows what to do now, how to make sense of everything that has happened since an eternity ago. Crossing the room to the brushes and paint pots, she searches, chooses her colors. Some browns, greys. Bright greens and swampy ones. Blue for the sky, red for her footsteps. She lays out the brushes, arranges them carefully, then arranges them again. And, with a few quick sweeps of the brush, she starts to paint the tower at the edge of faerieland. "This is where I come from," she murmurs. "This is where I left." |
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| FalseHumanity | Jun 28 2014, 16:27 Post #32 |
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While you paint, Maribeth begins to set up a bed in the corner of the room. She finds an air mattress from somewhere and inflates it with a pump, and then carefully lays out the sheets on the bed. They're covered in brightly-colored flowers, various shades of pastels, and every so often a kitten peeks out from somewhere in the pattern. As she puts everything together, occasionally she sneaks glances at your painting. After she's done assembling the bed in the corner, she retreats back to her bedroom to let you finish the painting in private. Finally, when you are putting the finishing touches on, she comes back out and picks up the coffee pot from the table. She makes a show of looking in it and smelling it before gagging overdramatically. She bustles into the kitchen and you can hear running water and the sound of her humming something upbeat and somewhat jazzy. She pokes her head out the threshold, waving the pot which now has clean, clear water in it. "Would you like some tea, honey? Or maybe chocolate milk?" She gestures to the kitchen. "I don't know if you've had a chance to eat yet, either." Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 28 2014, 16:29.
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| Cartaway | Jun 28 2014, 16:42 Post #33 |
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"Don't like tea. Water with leaves in it," Kath says, wrinkling her nose. She stares at her canvas, growing frustration on her face. "It's all wrong," she bursts out abruptly. "All wrong!". Sudden and violent, she grabs a pot of blue paint and throws it onto the painting with a frustrated scream. Hits the canvas with her paint-splattered hand, smears the blue all over her carefully detailed tower. Screams again, then falls to the ground in a crouch, head in her arms. Not looking up, she mutters again, "Don't like tea. I want chocolate milk, please." After a second Kath lifts her head and stares up at the painting. A look of peace comes over her as she gazes at the smeared blue masking the tower. "Sorry for the mess," she sighs. "I dropped some on the ground. I'll clean it up." |
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| FalseHumanity | Jun 28 2014, 17:51 Post #34 |
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"Oh honey," she says, and disappears back into the kitchen. She returns with a wet rag, and crouches down next to you. She spends a couple seconds wiping the wet paint from your hand. "That's a little better, at least. You won't smear it all over yourself and your pretty dress." She leaves the rag in your hands and moves to the kitchen again. A minute or so later, she comes out with a glass of chocolate milk. "Come on over here, dear," she says, and sits down on the bed she's just made. She pats the spot next to her. Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 28 2014, 17:54.
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| Cartaway | Jun 28 2014, 22:11 Post #35 |
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Kath follows, distracted by the chocolate milk in her hand. It tastes familiar. Someone used to make this. She hasn't had it in many years, though, hadn't had it for years before.... well. Before. "Shouldn't it be hot?" she asks, tilting the glass back and forth and watching the brown liquid move. "Or maybe that was something else." She wonders if she could paint with that brown liquid. There are many things you can paint with, really. The brown would look good with red, or rust... and it's always easy to find that color. Very easy indeed. |
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| FalseHumanity | Jun 28 2014, 22:25 Post #36 |
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"You're thinking hot cocoa, dear." She leans forward next to you, choosing her words carefully. "I understand if you don't want to talk about it - none of us do, really - but I feel like it needs to be mentioned. Did they-" She pauses. "Did Anna tell you anything about what we are? About what you are?" She backpedals quickly from that statement, as soon as she says it. "I mean to say, about what happened to all of us." Spoiler: click to toggle
Edited by FalseHumanity, Jun 28 2014, 22:29.
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| Cartaway | Jun 28 2014, 22:38 Post #37 |
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"Quinn says we can't go back. Walter says They want to catch us. Anna says I was taken young. And that we have a Contract with... 'cars'." Kathleen doesn't seem particularly bothered by the reminiscence. She is calm again, happy. She is thinking about painting. Her mistake was choosing the tower as a subject - that was foolish, that was very foolish. This time she will be wise. Her painting will be innocent, distant, no pain no fear nohurt nonono- she will paint something good safe happy. Maybe she will paint a "car." It was a noble steed. Suddenly another thing occurs to her. "Oh! And there's someone I need to find. Quinn said I can't but I don't believe him. I have a mother somewhere who sang me lullabies. I need to find her." |
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| FalseHumanity | Jun 28 2014, 22:50 Post #38 |
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Maribeth nods slowly. "Well, that's all...." She hesitates. "Honey, there's no good way to say this. Something entirely not human took you, and changed you, changed all of us, and now we don't quite fit here anymore. We're not exactly human, but something... other." "The thing is, when you were taken, They left something in your place. And, well, whatever happened, things can't go back to the way they were. You might be able to find your mother, but she might-" Maribeth sighs. "She might not even know you're missing. And sometimes it's better if you just don't find out." |
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| Cartaway | Jun 30 2014, 20:35 Post #39 |
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"Oh!" Kath gasps, taking a step back. "Do you mean... there's another me? Someone... just like me?" The shock clears from her face, and she beams with open delight. "I've always wanted a sister!" Spoiler: click to toggle She wonders for a moment if she's said the wrong thing - it's so hard to tell. There are so many things to look at, so many ways faces can move. Maribeth understands her though, Maribeth is a painter. Maribeth must understand how nice it is to find a kindred spirit. So Kathleen dismisses the nagging feeling that she has made a mistake, and smiles at Maribeth instead. "I'd like to meet her. There are so many people I'd like to meet! But not today. Today I've met so many people! You, and Quinn, and Anna, and Walter... If I meet too many more, I might forget their names entirely!" She laughs, claps her hands together. Gets distracted and steeples her fingers. "The church, the steeple, see all the people.... Oh! What's a church?" |
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| FalseHumanity | Jul 2 2014, 02:27 Post #40 |
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Maribeth pauses, and then she smiles at you brightly. "I'm glad you've gotten to meet so many people! We're glad to have met you, too." She leans in close, with a conspiratory whisper. "But between you and me, I'm the most glad to have met you." She stands up and nods her head to the window, to indicate the dying light outside. "Looks like I lost track of time," she admits. "Time to call it a night. Promise you'll still be here when I wake up?" |
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| Cartaway | Jul 3 2014, 00:12 Post #41 |
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"Of course!" Kath cries out. She is smiling, but then her face turns earnest. "As long as you don't look at me sleeping. That was the mistake of Psyche. And I think - perhaps - we are in the kind of story where that sort of error could be fatal." She skips towards the bed Maribeth had set up earlier and flops down on it, bouncing a few times before getting comfortable. She pulls the flowery sheets over her head, then drops them - just for a moment. "Remember," she whispers, a faint mischievous smile on her face. "No peeking!" And with a giggle, she pulls the sheets up over her head. "Goodnight!" |
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| FalseHumanity | Jul 3 2014, 23:03 Post #42 |
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Maribeth laughs and the light clicks off. "Goodnight, Kathleen. I'll see you in the morning." Her footsteps retreat into the next room, and the door closes softly. |
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| Cartaway | Jul 6 2014, 14:44 Post #43 |
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Kathleen wakes early and hungry. At first she lies perfectly still, bewildered by her unfamiliar surroundings. Slowly, the events of the previous... day?...yes, just one day!... come flooding back to her. She is in Maribeth's apartment. She has a bed, and a canvas. She is lucid. Kath springs to her feet, stretches her arms up as high as they will reach, just because she can. Then she wanders over to what she is pretty sure is the kitchen to find something for breakfast. She remembers eating yesterday, but before that...? Six pomegranate seeds, perhaps, that would be appropriate. The cabinets don't contain anything she recognizes as "food." Boxes, certainly, with pictures and words that claim to represent food, but she remembers (how nice it is to remember) a woman from Before, smiling and stirring a pot on the stove. Kath would very much like to eat whatever was in that pot. She stares thoughtfully around her, not really seeing what is before her eyes. There are places, aren't there, where food can be obtained? Places where anyone can go and there are aisles of food and ingredients, warm and inviting. Like a ... market. Yes, that is what Kath needs to find. Moving with new purpose, she returns to her room and grabs a paintbrush, dips it in vivid white. "Off to market" she scrawls across her canvas, and is pleased with herself for remembering to leave a note. It is the considerate thing to do. She takes a deep breath before opening the door, reminding herself that the outside will be bright, and loud, and confusing, and she mustn't be afraid. So when at last she opens it, she is prepared for the roiling mass of sounds and sights (not so terrible as they had been the previous day, and she doesn't know whether this is because she is used to them now or because it is almost-not-quite-dark still). Kathleen laughs softly at the world before her, and steps outside. |
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