Let's do the time warp again! Due to some timey-wimey shenanigans, some sort of time travel has occurred! Is it your character who goes back in time? Do they return to a specific event or meet their former selves for the short time they have before they get get zapped back to the future? Do they go even further back and meet their parents, an ancestor perhaps? Or do their former selves come forward? What's more, is it their former self or is it perhaps a family member who gets yanked into your character's present from the past? What do they do? What do they say? Do they learn something about themselves, or is it awkward? Painful? Or maybe it was all just a dream. It's all up to you.
The usual rules apply. You must reach a word count of 1,000 for your entry to be counted, and you can post it as a reply right here in this thread. You can post with however many of your characters you want. At the end of the month, we’ll look it over and dispense points. The points earned for participating in the monthly event alone is 90 by default. If you really blow us away with your entry, we’ll award you 100.
The deadline for the September monthly event is October 1st
Post by Cyrille Lécuyer on Sept 3, 2014 18:22:07 GMT -5
Man, that was a rather restless sleep.
A boy wearing a faded pink jacket had dozed off on a rather large couch. It couldn’t have been comfortable, as he was still sitting upright. The boy’s eyes seemed to refuse to open. Had he been out for long? Furthermore, when was it he had fallen asleep? These questions only floated around in Cyrille’s mind for mere seconds, as when he finally opened his eyes he realized he had no idea where he was.
No, scratch that. He knew exactly where he was.
The living room of his old home? The home before his parents had left one another, as well as before... events that he prefered to be unspoken of. Perhaps he was dreaming. Though there seemed to be no way Cyrille could be in such a place, everything felt far too real to be a dream. The colours far too vibrant and the smells far too sweet. Far too sweet. Was that the scent of perfume drifting down from up the stairs?
”Cy! I’m ready to go!”
Despite being confused about his whereabouts, Cyrille had been far too tired to move himself from the position he had been sleeping in. He had been far too tired to fully open his eyes, but that voice was so clear. The boy could recognize that voice in a heartbeat. It was the voice that had caused so many nights of no sleep. The events that had ended that lovely voice’s song had replayed over and over in his head. This had to be a dream. Despite the vibrant colours, and despite the sweet smells it just had to be a dream.
“Did you drift off?” The voice begun again. It was much closer now. “Come on, now. I didn’t take that long getting changed.”
The boy quickly jerked his body into an upright position as the voice had gotten far too close. It belonged to a girl. She was a mere thirteen years of age, but judging by what was happening he was that age too. He was the exact same age as the girl, in fact. For this girl was his twin sister, Ophélie Lécuyer. The two appeared identical. Both had the same silver hair with pink dyed in. Both had the same pink eyes, though the girl’s shined much brighter than his. The girl had her hair tied up in a messy bun, and she wore a pretty pink dress. It looked rather expensive, though that made sense. It was easy to see that the children who resided within this house’s walls were rather well off. The sight of the girl left Cyrille wide eyed, staring at her in surprise and terror. He had gone pale.
The girl’s expression quickly shifted from a teasing one to one of great concern. She was about to question the boy about why he looked so scared, but his expression soon changed. Cyrille brought a hand up to his face as to hide her from his view as he turned his head away, and muttered to himself. “Dammit! This must be a dream!”
If the young girl didn’t appear confused earlier, she certainly did now. Why was her brother looking at her with such distaste? Why did he seem so scared? “Uh, Cy? Are you alright?” She questioned him, bringing a hand up to rest on the boy’s shoulder. “Did you have a bad dream, maybe?”
As the hand touched his shoulder, Cyrille froze. Though the girl had meant the best of intentions, her action was not well received, for this was even more reason that this scene could not be a mere dream. If it was a dream, it would have been a dream Cyrille had had many times. A flashback. But, this was not going the way it always did. Ophie was acting differently based on Cyrille’s actions. Furthermore, he also wasn’t following a set script, and he could definitely feel. So this was real... somehow. But, despite the worry Cyrille had initially felt over this possibility, perhaps this would be for the best. Perhaps he’d be able to change the ending of this particular story.
Cyrille quickly grabbed his sister’s hand and finally looked directly at her. This confused her even more, though she made no attempt to make him let go of her. “Yea... Just a bad dream.” The boy said, forcing his face into a smile. However, this - albeit so obviously forced - happy expression only lasted for mere seconds as he suddenly burst into tears. The girl looked panicked for a moment, and seemed as though she was about to try to get away from the boy, but she soon found him hugging her so tightly she could barely move. Cyrille begun to speak again, though this time his words weren’t very pronounced. “Yes... It was all a dream... Everything’s okay...”
Ophélie still looked panicked. She was rather confused as to what was going on, not knowing about what her brother had experienced. Even so, being comforting was not really her cup of tea. The girl brought her hand up to the boy’s head, looking as though she intended to comfort him further, but instead she brought it down rather hard on the top of his head. Just hard enough for him to let go, allowing the girl to stand up again. “Oh calm down, would you?” She said, once again in the teasing tone. “My brother shouldn’t be acting like such a girl. That’s my job.”
The boy looked dazed for a moment, having been completely lost in thought until Ophie’s fist had collided with his head. That had hurt, but it was definitely something the girl would have done. Quite refreshing, really. Cyrille let out a genuine laugh, and rubbed the bit of his head that had been hit. The girl smiled, noting that she had successfully cheered up her brother.
“Well, let’s get going.”
Alas, these words had brought Cyrille back to reality. Ophélie didn’t need to say where they were going. He knew. They were headed to the carnival. And that was where she would die. Obviously Cyrille couldn’t let that happen, but Ophie had been dead set on attending the fair. It was only around for one day, too... Nonetheless, he’d try. “Uh... Ophie.” He spoke. The girl was already headed to the door, but turned her head at the mention of her nickname. “How about we skip going there today. Okay? I’m really not feeling well.”
The girl stared at him in confusion for a second. Last she checked, Cy wished to go to the carnival just as much as she did. What was up with him? “Suit yourself.” She said, feigning uninterest. “I’m going regardless. I didn’t get dressed up for nothing.” Though Ophélie knew she’d be bored going alone, she also knew that Cyrille would certainly change his mind with these words.
And she was right. There was no way that Cyrille would leave her alone. She’d definitely be helpless if she was alone. Perhaps Cyrille would simply be able to take her somewhere else within the carnival. He’d protect her somehow, even if she was going to be a pain. The boy rose to his feet and walked to his sister’s side. His expression portrayed only a tinge of worry, as he attempted to make it mostly expressionless. “Right. Let’s go.” He said as Ophélie gave a satisfied smile.
The two soon arrived at the carnival. The sun was getting ready to set, but even so the place was rather lively. The city the two lived in was rather large, but this sort of thing rarely happened - at the very least not in their neighborhood. Everything looked exactly as he remembered it, so Cyrille was worried. So very worried. His sister didn’t seem to notice, as the boy had become quite good at masking such emotions. She was also rather distracted by everything, and barely paid any attention to him. That was until she spoke up again.
”So, where do you want to go first? I’ll let you choose first, since you’ll be treating your darling sister, of course.”
Cyrille remembered those words well. She had said them before, to which Cyrille had told her that he didn’t care, right? For some reason, he felt as though he was wrong. But, if he simply changed his answer this time so that they wouldn’t run into the two performers. Simple, but his memory of this bit was hazy for some reason. Regardless, he’d just trust his instinct.
However, before Cyrille could give his answer, he heard a voice come from behind him.
”Oh? A young couple?”
Despite how hazy his memory might have been, Cyrille certainly remembered that voice. It was the voice of the meister performer. Here to mug them. Now the boy recalled what had happened. Ophie had asked him that question, but he had never even answered her, as the performer had cut him off with her own question. Of course any brother and sister would immediately protest to being classified as a “couple”. The woman must have asked such a question - to which the answer was obviously no - simply to get their attention. It had worked again, though this time only on Ophélie. The mere sound of the voice had caused Cyrille to freeze and go pale.
”Ah, no. You look far too similar. Siblings, I take it? My apologies, then.”
She spoke again. Same words, if Cyrille recalled correctly. These were the dastards who had killed Ophélie. Cyrille had failed in trying to avoid them completely. The thoughts of his sister dying again made him feel like vomiting. How dare these two show up again? He couldn’t stand to look at them. He didn’t have the strength to drag Ophie away. He felt as though he might collapse.
”My apologies for her assumptions. We just have a quick question.” The second one spoke. However, instead of asking it like she normally did, she had noted Cyrille’s odd behavior. Neither of them could see his face, as the boy’s back was turned, but the performer in blue noted the concern. She did well at pretending to be compassionate, as complemented by her sweet and soft voice. “Uh, are you alright?”
Cyrille didn’t respond. He was far too scared. He was far too weak. He had brought his hand up to cover part of his face as if to hide the obvious terror from it. Even if the performers couldn’t see him, Ophélie certainly could. Once again, she was confused by the expression written in bold letters across her brother’s face. “Uh, Cy? You okay?” She asked, shaking his shoulder as to get the boy’s attention.
Soon after these words were uttered, Cyrille’s expressions changed from that of terror to that of pure fury. How dare these two be here? How dare they pretend to care about him? How dare they? “I’ll kill you.” The boy muttered to himself, causing Ophélie’s face to look even more alarmed. But, before she could question his words, she felt something hit her face and then found herself on the ground. Ophélie had never been slapped before. She was almost constantly around her brother, and if someone tried to pick on her he’d stand up for her. But, her protector had been the one to hit her. And what was that he had said? He’d kill her? Why?! What was wrong?
Ophélie didn’t voice any of this. She just sat there, with a vacant expression. She had brought her hand up to where she had been slapped, not noticing anything else that was going on. She was lost within her own little world. If she hadn’t been, she probably would have punched her brother right back, despite how much stronger he was than her. Alas, the words had not been directed at her. Once she had fallen to the ground, Cyrille stepped in front of her. He hadn’t intended to hurt her, but he had to protect her. If she could move, then that’d be harder. He’d apologize once he had killed these two. She’d forgive him.
The two performers looked a bit different than the boy had remembered. Had they’d always been this skinny? They wore a mask of makeup that had been poorly put on, and their hair appeared scraggly and faded. Odd. He had remembered them being much fairer. But, he supposed that was their motive for mugging him and Ophélie. Didn’t matter. They still appeared just as evil to him, and no amount of pity could change that.
The women were rather shocked by the boy’s sudden actions. Despite how rich the two looked, it was quite possible they had just come across someone who was insane. The one in blue opened her mouth to speak to him, but couldn’t produce much more than a few jumbled syllables worth of sound. She was interrupted by Cyrille’s shaky voice. “Shut it!” He yelled. The woman promptly closed her mouth, rather intimidated by the boy. The woman in purple, however, was not.
There was no one around, hence why the two had intended to pounce on the unsuspecting here. Both Cyrille and the woman dressed in purple were thinking the same thing:
If they killed the other two here, no one would know.
Cyrille had no intent on letting the performers escape with their lives. He didn’t care about the consequences, they deserved nothing less than death for their crimes. The girl in purple did not intend to let these damn runts make her turn tail and run either. “Hortense.” She spoke to the other woman. There was no spoken reply, but the woman in blue soon transformed into that of a demon rapier. Cyrille had expected such, but it didn’t matter. A nice Soul Purge to the face was more than enough to shatter the frail woman’s skull. He grinned. Looks like he’ll most definitely be getting his revenge.
Though Ophélie was still confused, Cyrille’s scream had caught her attention just enough for her to view one of the girl’s changing into a demon weapon out of the corner of her eye. They looked as though they were planning on killing her brother, judging by the offensive stance. Was that why he had hit her? To get her out of the way? The girl still felt too weak to do anything. She could transform into a weapon to protect her brother, but she just couldn’t seem to move. She was paralyzed in fear, and her mind was too jumbled to make heads or tails of the situation anyway. How was it Cyrille knew the two were hostile anyway?
While she was trying to figure out what was happening, Cyrille took a swing at the woman. She had managed to dodge, but he noted something important. The boy could move his left arm in full. Made sense, as the reason he was ever unable to do so was because of the rapier stabbing his shoulder. That had never happened. The boy grinned at this realization, but that was soon as he felt a sharp pain swipe across his back. He swung his body around to see the woman. She had taken a swipe at him, clearly. Her blade dripped with blood.
The pain was only momentary, of course. In fact, it had felt rather good. They wouldn’t hurt Ophie. They might kill him, but this time around he was certain her life would be spared. It just had to be. Why else would this be happening? Cyrille begun to laugh. He wasn’t sure why, but it was certainly creeping out the woman.
The scent of blood and the laugh were enough to bring Ophélie out of her own thoughts and back to the situation at hand. Her brother was in trouble. If she didn’t do something, he’d die. The woman holding the rapier looked as though she was about to stab him through the stomach. Cyrille wouldn’t notice it soon enough to dodge or block the move. What was she to do?
There was only one thing to be done. Ophélie would not be able to live with herself if she allowed Cyrille to die. She got up, and ran in front of him. The girl was just in time to have her stomach stabbed as opposed to her brother’s. The pain was incredible. It blinded her, and her body felt as though it was going numb.
The woman dressed in purple seemed confused. She had not been expecting the girl to sacrifice herself for the brother who had just hit her. Whatever. It didn’t matter. People were idiots - especially kids. It was simple as that. The woman was about to finish the two off before her weapon communicated to her. “Violette, come on... Let’s just go...” The demon rapier spoke. “Someone probably heard him. It’s not like we’re really that hidden or anything.”
The woman dressed in blue soon transformed out of her weapon form. The woman in purple seemed annoyed at her actions for a second, but soon nodded in agreement that such a plan would be for the best. The two ran off, leaving Cyrille to deal with the damage that had been done alone.
Cyrille was drawing up blanks. His face appeared vacant. The boy couldn’t seem to comprehend what had just happened. Why was Ophélie bleeding? Why was she coughing? Why was she being cradled in his arms? He would have asked her, but he couldn’t speak. His throat was completely dry. His eyes were dry too, and the boy was unable to shed any tears despite how much he wanted to. All he could do was slump to the ground and continue to cradle the girl who’s life was slowly being drained out of her.
The sword had gone through much more of Ophélie’s body this time. So, despite the fact she and Cyrille were found much quicker this time around, the girl still bled out. Nothing had changed. Cyrille had had the chance to fix everything, but didn’t. How could he be so stupid? What was the point of all this? Such were questions Cyrille never got to answer. It’d forever be a mystery.
Post by Myrleia of Bithynia on Sept 13, 2014 18:54:03 GMT -5
The island of Bithynia. A larger island off the coast of Greece. The weather generally fell in a mild area, this day included. Late Spring was always a beautiful time, the trees were all fresh green matching the beautiful grass below as well. The mountain on the one side of the island held the freshly green trees while the opposite mountain was tan and glowing from the sun on the dirt. White houses a great contrast against the dark green of the foliage, clear oceans, glistening beaches. Bithynia was like a paradise. Except for today.
The shrill screams of children. The grunting of women. Thunks of corpses hitting the ground. Blood stained the dusty ground and white walled houses. Glistening red almost looked inviting in Bithynia. Women ran about. Old, young, and in between. These women hollered to each other, sounding alarms, sending signals, and giving orders. Children and adults alike were fighting side by side. An array of partial forms were bore; blades, blunt weapons… A variety like no other, all from trained fighters.
The killing started near the beaches. A woman of tan skin and brown hair had been cut down. Many years previous she had born a child that many hoped would bring them great glory. Today that child brought bloodshed.
Watching the destruction was almost more than the old woman could stand, but on she watched.
She saw once relaxed blue eyes had now turned cold and empty. The woman before her had always been a large child, tall and thick, if effort had been put in she could have taken on anything. Instead, she had been forsaken from the main tribe of Bithynia. Sent away to either wander the island or escape into the world. A light enveloped this woman, Myrleia was the name the elder used to know the child by. Soon following the light, a javelin shot through the air. The dark colored, near spear gave off a sickening sound as it pierced through the center of a female’s chest. Pinning the woman to the white walls of the house she was protecting, blood began gushing from the wound and traveling down her body. Anger and fear present on the injured woman’s expression, a light appeared again.
Myrleia stood in front of her, a partial of the javelin still shoved through the woman’s chest and taking up Mya’s right arm. Very little expression was found on the attacker’s face. She seemed bored and tired, the cold blue of her eyes focused yet somewhere far away. Pulling her right arm harshly to the side, Mya left a large crack in the white walls, smeared red along the bright white, and flung the woman to the side.
While the injured was gasping through blood, Mya approached slowly and with little concern for anyone that may be around her. The old woman looked on as Mya knelt by the coughing and sputtering Bithynian. Mya’s words could barely be heard by her old ears.
<< I just wanted to be still. Let me be still.>>
A loud crack followed. Having shoved the javelin partial straight through the woman’s skull, the life quickly left her eyes. A piercing screech soon followed along with small, quick footsteps. Watching as Myrleia’s head moved slowly to the side, she would soon see the child running for her and crying over her dead mother.
Pulling the javelin from the woman’s head, the partial shifted once again. Vanishing from her right arm, Mya flicked her left arm out to the side like she couldn’t be bothered and was shooing the child away. But with this movement, another partial took to her left arm. A hammer. The child had almost made it to her mother, was reaching out. The next and last thing the girl would know is that she had a thick wire wrapped around her neck and was about to get a face full of a metal sphere.
Another sinking crack echoed over the short distance. The wire of the hammer had circled the child’s neck while the metal ball of it had circled around and smashed directly into her face. They hid the tears of the girl, as well as the shimmer of life leaving her eyes.
<< Everyone just needs to be still. And I will help you.>>
Watching the partial leave Myrleia’s left arm, the woman stood. Appearing as careless as ever, but in reality being slow and precise as to not use up extra energy, she headed for her next target.
To help everyone be still.
That’s all she remembered. Having been renamed Aegea when she was pronounced an elder, she was now at the head of much of the decision making in Bithynia. It was a culture unlike any other and currently they were faced with the task on whether or not they should banish a young girl from her only home. True, she was a bit of a problem. They were warriors and she seemed lazy. But she had great potential, Aegea really felt the girl had something locked within her.
And after this… odd experience, she believed that more fully.
Aegea didn’t know how to explain it. The girl in question was barely thirteen, but she was greatly behind her peers. The one Aegea had seen, in what she could only explain was a dream, was much older. Mid-twenties at least. A grown woman, but still acting much as this child did. Little action, but what she did had purpose. If this were to come true, Aegea could not let her be banished. This girl needed guidance and care. Shibusen would be one of the best places to send her, they just had to get Myrleia to that level.
With a new confidence and determination, the elderly woman was off to the meeting house. She would not let them banish this child. It could be the end of all of them. This child could be their glory or their demise. She would care for her. She would train her. She would send Myrleia to Shibusen or die trying.
Post by Elias Larenz on Sept 14, 2014 20:06:05 GMT -5
The air was cool today. Made sense, given the time of year. A small park in the middle of Berlin boasted the colours of fall, with leaves painted warm colours of red and orange. It was getting late, the sun just now beginning to set. In this park slept a young boy.
Elias’ eyes suddenly flitted open. He stiffened his back and sat upright on the bench he had passed out on. Huh. He didn’t remember falling asleep here. ”Where...?” He begun to murmur to himself, but his voice trailed off. That was odd. His voice sounded all funny. Not in the hoarse way either. Just high pitched. Elias rested his hands behind his head, and looked up at the sky. ”Well, this is odd...”
Once again, his voice was mere muttering. Didn’t want anyone to overhear him. Elias got up from the bench and looked around. No one seemed to be about, thankfully. A small pond was in front of him. Elias walked up to it, and peered down.
Hm. Odd. Very odd. There was no doubt the reflection that showed up was Elias Larenz. Albeit, a much younger version of Elias Larenz than usual. Looked maybe eight years younger? That’d make him eight, then. Huh. ”Weird. I don’t normally know I’m dreaming during dreams...”
These words were spoken much more loudly than the other ones had been. Silly dreams didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Plus, there was no one around anyway. Or at least, Elias thought there was no one around. A girl with a pretty purple dress had just rounded the corner to be in perfect hearing range of the words spoken.
”Spouting more nonsense than usual, hm?” Spoke the sweet voice of a german girl. ”You make my life hell, you know.”
Elias’ eyes quickly darted towards where the voice came from. The normal softness that they appeared to be disappeared and was replaced with a harshness instead. He only moved his eyes, waiting a moment to actually turn his body towards the girl. He made direct eye contact with her, which was something the boy wouldn’t have done if he didn’t know that all this nonsense was just a dream.
Rosalie would be thirteen, correct? The age difference between the two was rather large. Five years. Rosalie had been old enough to lament Elias’ birth as well as envy him for taking up the attention of his parents. Or just his mother, really. The age difference was also enough for Rosalie to intimidate her younger brother with ease. She was stronger, not that Elias was particularly affected by that. He never fought back his sister’s punches that he couldn’t feel. What had bothered him much more when the two lived together was her demeanor. Constantly upset with him and constantly mocking. Absent today was the cruel, mocking grin she normally displayed on her face.
Ahah. That made sense. Elias wasn’t looking at her like he normally would. He normally would have hidden his face from her, especially since she seemed angry with him. Though she almost always sounded like that. But, no point being scared by a little girl in a dream. Even if she was now angrily stomping over to him.
”The hell are you looking at me like that for?” She complained, stepping far too close to Elias as to try to intimidate him. The girl was so obviously confused as to why those silly tactics weren’t working. It was written all over her face. When Elias did nothing, she grabbed his collar. ”Just get moving already.”
Elias stared at the girl with a blank expression. Interesting. The longer he stared, the madder she looked. ”Why am I needed so badly?” He asked with a clear voice, despite being grabbed in such a manner. Perhaps that answer should have been obvious. Elias was really just asking Rosalie to see her reaction. Nothing he could lose. Honestly, he had been wanting to toy with her in this way for eons.
”Have you forgotten that everything kills you?!” Rosalie asked, now screaming. ”Especially being outside! Idiot.”
”But it’s autumn. Should be cool.”
Poor Rosalie was not used to this kind of treatment. Elias might have laughed at her if she weren’t more pathetic than humorous. She had dropped the young boy’s collar, and angrily stomped off, turning her back. She then angrily brought her hands threw her hair. Hm. Elias couldn’t remember a time he saw Rosalie throw such an angry fit. After a moment or two, she turned back around and leered at him for a second.
”What on earth’s the matter, sister? I’m trying to reassure you that I’m fine.” Elias spoke. To be honest, it was a bit silly that he ever feared this girl now that he thought about it. What could she even do to him? It wasn’t like he could be in pain. Perhaps it was just that he had started to believe the insults she threw at him? Hm. Whatever. Dreams were not the place to worry about such silly matters. Dreams were for having fun!
Rosalie did not say a word. She just continued to leer. Eventually, she stomped on over to where Elias stood, once again grabbing him by the collar. ”Why exactly do you need to make my life a living hell?!” The girl screamed, bringing a fist up to punch Elias. It never made contact, though. Rosalie’s actions were halted by a familiar voice. Elias welcomed it despite it’s frantic state.
A scolding voice that also seemed panicked. The voice of Elias’ one and only mother. The only person who ever cared for Elias. Her voice caused a slight smile to tug at Elias’ lips. Rosalie might have thought said smile was mocking her, not that that really mattered. The girl spun around, wide-eyed, to look at her mother.
Rosalie tried to explain herself. Oh, she tried. But mother wasn’t buying it. She wasn’t an idiot, after all. All those injuries had been caused by Rosalie instead of Elias himself? Who would have ever guessed? Ahah. What an excellent dream this had been...
Post by Cendrine Calida on Sept 20, 2014 18:16:20 GMT -5
Cendrine didn’t like necklaces very much. This is something she had learned only recently. The little witch had never worn something metal around her neck before, and it was most unpleasant. The metal was so cold! Oh well. She’d have to deal with it, as the jewelry was a present from her grandmother. Kinda funny a fire witch would like something so cold, but whatever...
The necklace was supposed to do something or another. Had it been important? Cendrine had forgotten what it was exactly. Something about time. Why on earth Enya had given the necklace to Cendrine was beyond Cendrine’s intelligence level. But, whatever the reason Cendrine would honour Enya by completing her request. Whatever it was.
That could wait, though. Cendrine heard footsteps approaching. Oooh! Maybe they’d want to see her magic! No one else was around, so this was excellent timing. Cendrine muttered her chant to herself, bringing a hand to touch the wall of a building. However, what Cendrine had been expecting didn’t happen. She was thinking the wall would turn to ash, but instead she was surrounded by a harsh light. By the time the light had gone away, everything looked the same. That was save a distinct lack of footsteps, of course.
Cendrine remained stunned for a second. She quickly looked around, then crossed her hands over her chest. ”Huh.” She muttered to herself. Though her voice was quiet, it was loud enough for something to notice. More footsteps. This time running, and coming closer. Cendrine spun around, but before she could make the figure out she had fallen onto the ground.
”Ah! You’re finally here!” An excited voice spoke. Whoever it belonged to had tackled Cendrine with a hug.
That was funny. The voice sounded really familiar. Really familiar. Only when the girl had gotten up so Cendrine could actually see her did the witch begin to comprehend what was happening.
Why, Cendrine had been tackled by herself! Huh? How was that possible?! Perhaps Enya’s necklace had cloned her or something. Fortunately, all of Cendrine’s confusion was put to a halt when the other Cendrine spoke up again. ”Right. I should explain! The necklace transported you a day into the future.” She said with a twirl. ”It’ll do that whenever you use your chant, I think...”
Oh. Well that made sense. Cendrine stood up and dusted her dress off. Wait! No! This was a problem! How was she supposed to show people her magic if her chant just sent her into the future? ”So no magic?” Cendrine asked the other Cendrine with a pout.
”Huh? Oh, no. Just tie it around your wrist. It only works if it’s around your neck.” The other Cendrine said, pointing to the necklace tied on her wrist.
Cendrine blinked. Once again, that made sense. Since the ability to turn things to ash was way more useful than being able to travel through time, Cendrine did as the other Cendrine had done. She tied the silly necklace around her wrist. Hopefully other Cendrine was right about this, as Cendrine really hated being without her magic. It was why she hated water so much.
Once that had been taken care of, Cendrine’s wrist was grabbed. She looked up in confusion, as this other Cendrine had yet to act hostile. ”Come on, now. Let’s go find some people!” The other witch paused for a moment. ”With two of us, we can do double the magic!”
And, once again again this other Cendrine was making perfect sense. Yes, double the Cendrine would also mean double the magic! She could show more people at once! Huh. Perhaps wearing that cold metal had been worth it after all. Cendrine said nothing in response. She simply nodded and the two ran off.
Eventually the two came across people. A bunch of people! Like, five. A group of friends who looked like they’d be just a little bit younger than Cendrine if she was a human. Or a lot younger. They looked to be around eight or so. When the two Cendrines approached the children turned their attention to them. Other Cendrine spoke up.
”Hey there! Would you like to see a magic trick?” She asked in a chipper voice. The children looked at each other with confused expressions. Two identical people dressed as witches. Odd. Other Cendrine elbowed Cendrine as if expecting her to do something. Ah! That was right! Magic! She was going to show these children magic. Erm. There was two of her, so she’d make some extra ashes. Might take a bit more energy than she’d like though. ”Ah! Yes! Watch me!”
Cendrine crouched down to touch the ground and then gave her little speech. ”Frivolous being bound to the mortal plane, I sense the unbearable shackles of agony confining you. I ask you to return to ashes, back to where you began. Neigh esroh neigh esroh.” Cendrine spoke in the most over the top voice she could muster. Cendrine speciality to chew up all of the scenery, after all. A flash of blue light caused Cendrine’s hair to blow back revealing her red eye. The children were all intrigued now. They crowded around the two Cendrines. The witches nodded at each other, then both put a hand over the ashes. In perfect unison, they spoke the speech they always did before using their favorite spell. Blade of the Hearth.
“From the fire I ask of thee form a blade to slay thine enemy. I summon the blade of the hearth. Neigh esroh neigh esroh.”
Two swords. The children were super intrigued now! That was until the two nearest children both got their necks sliced open and were silenced by the red ooze they choked on. The remaining children screamed and another two were silenced, leaving only once remaining. That child had fallen to the ground, screaming and desperately trying to get away. All the screaming had attracted an adult. But only one. That one had froze in pain. No worries! While other Cendrine dealt with the child, Cendrine went to go and show her magic to the adult. All successful, and no one else was around.
That was the most people Cendrine had ever showed her magic to at once. Made sense. There was two of her now! The two Cendrines smiled at each other. That had been so much fun!
About an hour or two of having fun later, other Cendrine had an idea. ”Hey! We both have necklaces, so why don’t we both try using them again?” She asked the girl. Ah, would that mean they’d be able to do triple the magic or something? With a spin, Cendrine responded. ”That sounds like an excellent idea!”
And so, the Cendrines put the necklaces back around their necks. One attempted magic use later, the two met yet another Cendrine! Wait. Why stop there? They could add a gazillion more Cendrines, couldn’t they? Then show the world their magic! So, Cendrine kept on going forward to meet more and more future hers.
Post by Alex King on Sept 30, 2014 16:28:06 GMT -5
“Let me tell you about the strangest thing that ever happened to me as a Meister.”
Alex King, seven years of age, paused midway through his exercises and turned his head to look at his grandfather. They were partway through Alex’s morning training session when the elder King brought them to an abrupt halt with this seemingly out of place statement. Alex King Snr, a retired Three Star Meister, did not meet his grandson’s eyes but instead sat on the wooden bench to the side of their garden turned training ground and looked to the sky, apparently content to watch the clouds sail past and uninterested in the training he was supposed to be observing.
This was his way; grandpa didn’t call for breaks or stop for a rest, but if he saw that Alex was starting to struggle he would all of a sudden start to tell one of his seemingly endless tales from his past missions, or a story he himself had heard when he was a child, and Alex would take that as a sign to rest. And Alex did need a rest, his scrawny arms and legs were shaking and he was covered in sweat.
Some might say this was harsh treatment for a child, but Alex didn’t care; it was necessary preparation for a life hunting Kishin and his grandpa never pushed him harder than he could handle or do something that could cause him harm. Never had and never would.
Alex would miss his grandfather terribly when he was gone, even more so when he found out first hand how harsh his father’s training regimen was in comparison.
“You know that I made managed to obtain the souls of 99 Kishin Eggs with my partner.” Alex Snr did not lower his head to see the confirmatory nod but carried on regardless. “And you know I’ve faced Witches before in battle. But I’ve never told you much about those battles have I?”
Alex knew much about his grandfather’s life as a Meister. He knew how he and his partner had met, how they had disliked each other at first and had been forced together when all other partners were taken, only to become closer than brothers by the time they retired. He knew what mission he had undertaken that had earned him his Two Star rating, and the same for his Third and how difficult each had been. He knew how his grandfather had gotten that scar along his left side, neatly fitting into the space between his fifth and sixth rib, and how close it had come to killing him.
He did not know a single thing about any of his battles against the Witches, not a single bit of information being given away either voluntarily, by accident or when Alex had asked for it. Each one represented a moment when his grandfather had his goal in his grasp, had a chance to make a Death Scythe, only to fail.
The young Alex was eager to finally hear one of his grandpa’s Witch hunting stories and smiled wide with undisguised glee. The elder Alex matched his grandson’s enthusiasm with a grin of his own and patted the spot next to him on the bench with one huge, dustbin lid sized hand. The younger of the pair hurried over, fatigue forgotten, and took the seat.
Alex took after his grandfather in a lot of ways, their temperament and personality near identical, their likes and disliked indistinguishable, the goals in life the same, though the chance for one with in the past and the chance for the other was long in the future. They both slept late, worked hard, never got angry, competed over the smallest thing and never let anything get them down.
One area in which Alex and his grandfather were very different however, one area they would always be different in, was stature. Alex King the elder was a mountain of a man, six feet and eight inches tall, broader across the shoulder than young Alex was tall and with stout arms and legs as thick as any lesser man. One of his palms could stretch from one side of Alex’s chest to the other, then he could close his hand around his torso and lift him with one hand effortlessly. To Alex’s eyes he was a giant, invincible, indestructible and immortal.
It would be three more years before a heart attack broke that childish illusion in the harshest way.
“No two Witches are the same, remember that. They can all transform into animals sure, but you never know which one. They all have all a taste for mayhem, which is why we try to fight them, but no two ever go about causing it in the same way. And while you can be sure that they will know a lot of spells, I never saw two Witches use the same kind of spell no matter how many I fought.
“I’ve seen a Witch grab the ground with both hands and pull it up in front of her as a shield, like she was airing out a rug. Another summoned a rainbow by drawing it in the air with, then hit me over the head with it; it was hard but brittle, like rock candy. And I’ve been bitten by my own shadow. It got up off the ground and while I was staring at it like an idiot it tried to take a chunk out of me. That one was not easy to explain to the school nurse, or your grandmother.”
Alex looked up at his grandfather as he spoke, silent awe visible on his face. He had heard the basics about Witches before but to hear the way his grandfather was speaking of them now, with mounting excitement and a sparkle in his eye, gesturing with his hands in larger and wider movements as he went on. It was hard not to get caught up in his enthusiasm. Witches sounded incredible, and terrifying; no wonder even his grandpa couldn’t beat one.
“Actually, come to think of it I’ve seen a lot of stuff weirder than what I’m about to tell you, but this is the one that stands out more than any other. I once face a Witch who could control time, or at least claimed to be able to. She seemed a little… wishy-washy to me, and little gone in the head. She was trying to put on a spooky voice, wore lots of black makeup and dark gauzy clothing and waved her hands around while waggling her finger. She looked more like a fortune teller than a real Witch if you ask me and if she wasn’t floating around on a broomstick I probably would have thought my soul perception was playing tricks on me.”
Here the elder King paused and looked down at his grandson. There was something sombre about his expression and his gaze was examining, like he was trying to work out something of the utmost importance.
“I really thought I had one that time, a Witches soul that is. She wasn’t much of a fighter, like I expected, flying around and chanting gibberish but not using any actual spells. Gave me one hell of a chase though, all over the darn city and back again, but I was eventually able to corner her after knocking that broom out from under her. I was just about to attack when suddenly her whole demeanour changed, she stopped that meaning less chanting and her eyes sudden became focused. She plastered this huge face splitting grin on her face and I knew she had me. I heard her shout the word ‘Throwback’ and she pushed me away from her. I was caught off guard and fell back, then everything went dark.”
Alex Snr let out a sigh and raised one large hand, brining it down on his grandson’s head and ruffling his hair affectionately. Alex’s neck complained about the weight, like sudden having to support a second head, but Alex himself was quiet and curious; his grandpa didn’t often get this serious, even when angry or upset he still had a playful edge to him.
“I don’t know how long I was out for, but when I woke up I wasn’t where I remembered being last. I was back here at Shibusen, all alone, in the dojo; it looked different though, gone were the old punching bags and free weights and in their place were these large and complicated looking contraptions. The walls were a different colour, the lights had been replaced, even the ceiling looked different; I probably shouldn’t have been able to recognise at all but, well, you spend as much time in there as I did you get to be pretty familiar with it.
“It was the middle of the night, I remember seeing a clock that said it was around eleven, the sky outside the windows was pitch-black and most of the lights were off, all but one. I could hear someone working out, on the other side of the dojo under the one light that was on in the place, so I went over there to see what was going on, honestly a little nervous about what I would find. You never can be too careful when you’re dealing with Witch magic.”
His grandfather paused for a while at that point, looking away as his eyes took on a nostalgic quality. He was clearly deep in memory at this point and while the story had gone on more than long enough for Alex to regain his strength he had a feeling it wasn’t going to end any time soon.
“I wanna say it was something more exciting but really it was just some guy, some kid really, training way past his bed time and beating up some doll made-up to look like a Kishin Egg. He didn’t hear me coming so I just waiting around in the shadows for a while, watching him. Kid couldn’t have been more than sixteen, seventeen at most, kind of tall, good build, strong as hell judging by the ruckus he was making on that dolls face. Sloppy though, bad technique, losing a lot of power to a bad stance and worse swing; whoever taught him how to hit could have used a few lessons himself. Ha!”
Alex didn’t quite get the joke, but smiled anyway when his grandfather let out a booming bark of laughter.
“He wasn’t just practising his swing though. He looked like he was trying to use a Soul Purge, little bursts of light coming off his hand every now and then, and making a pretty poor job of it; sometimes the bursts came too late, sometimes too soon, sometimes they were large and sometimes they were small. He got off some explosive punches though, when he got the timing and force right, the sort of thing that could knock a Kishin flat and keep it down, but his control was god awful.”
He didn’t know why but his grandfather kept glancing over at him several times as he spoke of this stranger, as if to make sure he was listening properly. Alex also didn’t know what this had to do with Witches; he wanted to her more about what happened in the fight and less about what happened in the dojo. He didn’t say anything though, something told him not to interrupt.
“After a while I just couldn’t take it anymore, I had to step forward and show the rookie a thing or two. He told me his name was John, sixteen like I guessed, and still training to be a Meister; sixteen and he still didn’t have a partner, hopefully you don’t have that much trouble. Not that I can really say anything, I was eighteen when they paired me up because no one else would have me.
“I gave him a few pointers about how to control his wavelength, basic stuff really, no use trying to fill an empty head with too much information at once, and slipped in a few tips to improve his swing as well. I was feeling generous. If anything the kid’s problem was that he had too much oomph to handle. Anyway, I stuck around for a while, made sure the guy understood what I was saying and left. Somehow I got it into my head that if I walked out the door of that place I would wake up back where in the real world again. My intuition must have been better than I thought because as soon as I pushed open that door everything went black again and I woke up in that alley with my partner by my side. The Witch was long gone though.
“I didn’t tell my partner what happened to me, he could probably tell something was up though because he didn’t have to tell me for me to know he had been through something too. I don’t know whether it was a dream, a hallucination or what, but it was weird, not as weird as being bitten by your own shadow but it kind of shook me up inside. I didn’t tell anyone what happened when I got back, still haven’t, till now.”
Alex didn’t know what to say, so he settled for silence. This was clearly more than just a story now. His grandfather was trying to share something important with him.
“I say it was the strangest thing that ever happened to me during my time as a Meister, but it’s not the strangest of my life. That’s because the strangest thing that is happening to me in my life is watching you slowly turn into the spitting image of that kid as you grow up.”
Seeing his grandfather like this was a new experience for Alex, one he didn’t much care for. Seeing the invincible giant shaken, even a little scared, threatened to loosen the foundation of Alex’s world.
“On my way out the door I saw a calendar. 30th of September 2014; you’ll sixteen by then. Hell of a coincidence if you ask me, but what do I know ah?”
A little bit of life returned to Alex King the elder, a smile breaking out across his face and all worries were swept away like water off a ducks back by the inextinguishable enthusiasm the old man had. He pushed himself off of the bench and walked back towards the centre of the garden. Alex took this to mean that the training had resumed and stood himself before joining his grandfather on the grass.
“But hey, listen, do me a favour when you grow up kid. On that day, several years from now, make sure you are in the dojo at Shibusen at around midnight. Let me know if you meet anyone interesting will you? It’ll be a hell of a thing if you do.”
The training resumed again and Alex was soon forced to put the conversation out of his mind. He never forgot the date that his grandfather mentioned however and in just a few short years it would become a date that he would start to wait for eagerly.
It was September and in little over an hour it would be October. It was cold this time of year, this close to winter, the chill even managing to creep into the heart of the Nevada desert and reach Death City. Luckily for Alex however the cold never reached past the walls of the dojo, or else his lonely night time training session would be even more unbearable.
Normally the dojo was locked at night, the lights turned off and some of the lighter equipment cleared away, otherwise the place would probably have been busy even now, some people willing to work even this late into the night to get stronger; Alex was one of those kinds of people, it was the way he was raised. The only reason he was here at all was because he had spoken to one of the teachers and tired to get special permission to stay the night; she was sceptical, but sympathetic when he told her his reasons and had allowed him access.
He’d been here for hours already, since his last class had ended more or less, not knowing what else to do with his time and unable to think of anything else anyway. He was tired and hungry having not eaten much earlier in the day and being too nervous to sleep the night before; part of him wanted to just give up and go home, but if against all logic and reason the story was true he would never forgive himself for missing what was about to happen. So instead he stayed and kept swinging his fist at the Kishin doll in front of him, skinning his knuckles raw on its face.
The ugly, misshapen figure rocked back and forth with an unsteady rhythm, holding up surprisingly well under the continuous beating. The glow around Alex’s fist formed, burst and formed again with each swing of his arm, never producing the same quantity or intensity of light twice in a row and causing the doll to bob erratically, sometimes dipping all the way to the floor and others hardly moving at all.
The staccato sound of uneven punches paused briefly as Alex’s senses picked up something. He couldn’t quite call it a sound, more like a feeling, just something in his bones, or his soul, that told him he wasn’t alone any more. He glanced up at the clock, just barely visible in the little island of fluorescent light around him; 11:03pm. Around eleven, just like he had said.
Alex kept on swinging, ignoring the protests of his tired shoulder, ignoring the tension building in his chest and trying hard to make it look like he hadn’t noticed the feeling, hadn’t heard the footsteps tentatively making their way across the almost empty dojo. That he wasn’t desperately waiting for the person standing right behind him to make himself known.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough. Stop that before your arm falls off. You can practise a punch a thousand times but if you never learn anything from the first nine hundred and ninety nine there’s not much to show at the end of it is there?”
The dense bubble of tension in his chest burst and he could almost laugh out loud at the sensation. It seemed like time, no matter which way it went, could never change Alex King’s gruff manners. The number of times that same voice had chewed him out or yelled at him or praised him or told him stories or… sang happy birthday… said he was proud of him… laughed… hearing it again made his chest hurt.
Marshalling his features into something like curiosity Alex turned towards the voice and tried not to lose his composure when he saw who it belonged to. As if the voice was not enough the face he saw unmistakably belonged to his grandpa, decades younger, but unchanged for the most part. The same went for the rest of the man as well; his hair was darker, not greyed with age, but was still short and bristly, his smile still bright and friendly as ever, just with fewer wrinkled framing it, and he was still a mountain of a man. It was a bit embarrassing really, Alex had thought maybe he had exaggerated it a little in his childhood memories but the man really did still tower over him even now.
“Sorry to interrupt, my name’s Alex King.” The big man reached out a hand and Alex accepted it slowly. He had to fight the urge to be more familiar with the man who had essentially raised him since he was a baby, this situation was already weird enough for the both of them without Alex trying to make it weirder still; this man might be his grandfather but Alex wasn’t his grandson, not yet.
“…John.” Not making things weird meant trying to keep things as close to his grandfather’s story as possible. As a kid he had wondered why he wouldn’t use his real name, why he wouldn’t come out and say who he was, but now that he was standing right here in front of the man he had not seen for six years he understood. How could he explain it? How could he explain to this man who he was and what was going on here? How could he go up to a man who saw him as a stranger and try to explain to him how much he had meant to Alex while he was alive, how much it meant to see him now? He couldn’t put such a burden on his future grandfather’s shoulders.
“You’re not interrupting. I’m just… working late. Could use the break really.”
“I’ll say, do they usually let kids like you stay up this late? How old are you anyway?”
Alex smiled, it was going just like his grandpa had said. So much so the script he had worked out in his head in preparation for this day still worked a little bit. “I’m sixteen. And no, they don’t usually let people in here this late. I guess you could say today is a special occasion.”
Alex sent a wry grin his grandfather’s way and hoped he wouldn’t question what he meant. It didn’t seem he would as the elder Alex just stared at him for a couple seconds before seemingly working something out and grinning himself. “Right, right. Don’t worry; I won’t let anyone know I saw you here. You looked like you were having a little trouble with your wavelength there; would you mind getting a couple pointers from someone with a few more miles on the clock?”
Another twinge went off in Alex’s chest and he had to restrain himself from jumping on the offer. This man had no idea how much he would give for another training session like the ones he had as a kid. “Sure, couldn’t hurt.”
“Sad truth his, it’s not something you can rush. It’s not something you can force out, try to push it and you’ll never be sure how much is gonna come or how fast.” Alex stepped back and let his grandfather step forward. He walked up to the Kishin doll and placed a hand against it, running his fingers over its surface like he was investigating it. It was probably the first time he had seen one after all.
“I’ve always found it works best if you treat it like an animal; you gotta coax it out, little by little. You might not get all you want but at least it’ll come when you want it to. Power will come in time, getting something you can rely on is the first step.” He took a couple steps back and balled his right fist into his left palm, a light smacking noise echoing in the desolate dojo. “As for timing, it’s probably best to try and match your punches to the bursts rather than try to make your wavelength pop at just the right time.”
Alex King Snr pulled back one massive hand and his younger student watched as it began to glow brighter than anything he himself had produced. He watched as the impossibly large first flew forward in a haymaker punch and slammed into the Kishin doll. The doll, for its part, didn’t move an inch. It didn’t get a chance to as its torso exploded in a shower of foam and leather casing; each arm flew off to the side while the misshapen head sailed high above before landing someplace near the far wall with a muffling thump.
“At least, that’s what has always worked best for me. Why don’t you give it a go?”
Alex spent the next few hours reliving his childhood, training with his grandfather, listening to his deep, gruff voice giving out words of advice, admonishment and praise as he tried out what he was shown and instructed to do, tweaking his stance or form every now and then in response to some criticism of correction. They talked, laughed, swapped storied and got to know each other all over again and for the first time.
They continued until the sun began to peek in through the windows, its grinning face looking in on what they were doing and making them realise just how long they had been there. Alex’s grandfather was the first to notice, turning first towards the window before shielding his eyes and looking at the clock on the wall.
“Damn, that early already? It barely seems like we just started.”
Alex, soaked in sweat and breathing hard, was definitely aware of how much time had passed and in his mind it was all too short. “I was still… warming up.”
This earned a grin from the older man and a hard pat on the shoulder that nearly topple Alex. “You’re a good kid. Get a partner who works just as hard as you and you’ll do fine. But I need to get going… somehow. I left something unattended that needs finishing.” He glanced over at the wide double doors with the exit sign above its frame and shrugged. “Hell, and exit’s an exit. See you around kid.”
Alex watched him go, his eyes not leaving his grandfather back until it was through the door and out of sight. He stayed standing there for a while longer after that before the aching in his legs got to be too much for him and he limped over to the nearby bench and took a seat. He grabbed the towel next to him and raised it to his face, wiping the sweat from his brow before pushing the fabric hard against his eyes.
He held it there, letting it soak up his tears as they came.
“You were right grandpa, I met someone interesting. Guess that Witch was more than just talk. I wish I could tell you about it. I wish I could tell you a lot of things.”
It couldn’t have been a coincidence that on this day, six years ago, his grandfather had passed away in his sleep after suffering a heart attack.
Charmie: eyes on fire, knees weak, palms sweaty
Mar 19, 2017 16:15:05 GMT -5
Morrigan: Do I sense lurking?
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Skyye: the application
Dec 18, 2016 22:42:04 GMT -5
Skyye: The place is slower than I like to see. Though I would definitely play with anyone who stops by! If you're new, it's best to look around and see what sort of character you might like to play or be interested in playing. Hit up the rules and go over
Dec 18, 2016 22:41:54 GMT -5
Scarlet Sakura: I am new here, what do you do?
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Minty : should I join?
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sunjikuro: Is this place dead??
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