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Thread: Astronomika - Shooting Down Falling Stars (IC)

  1. #4021
    Glorious Grammar Master Race Frantic Author's Avatar
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    Feb 2012
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    Alexstrasza Lockkhart
    Location: Road's End - Back Alley
    Phase: Evening Phase
    Date: 09.09.1994 (FRI)
    Weather: Rain

    "Yeaaaah, no. I mean, remember? Thin noodle arms? I've got no flab on them, like you."
    I turned around, frowning at my shadow as I lifted the arms of the corpse, rolling my eyes at her incessant yammering. As expected, Potemkin is useless, even when she's lounging in my shadow like a cat.

    "Still, I'm sure you and Mr. Too-Cool-For-School over there can do it. I mean, he already rushed through fire and flames to punch a guy who was after your Kinder Egg Surprise - I'm sure moving a body's not a problem at this point~"
    Kinder Egg? What the devil is Potemkin on about? I don't even know what that is! I rolled my eyes as she vanished back into my shadow with a slurp like sound, her cackling echoing in my ears.

    "... You know, looking back at it, I figured it had to be something like this. Ain't no way that girl is norma. I mean, like I said - ain't nobody that black-and-white. Like, Christ... don't they teach you how to lie better in that magic school or whatever you go to? Wait... don't tell me you go to Miss Cackle's? That'd be way too loopy, even for me... then again, it would explain why you're... You, I suppose."
    "Miss Cackle's? What on earth is that? I attended Scholomance, like any civilized girl sold to an academy would! And then I simply tried my best to be as good of a mage as possible!"

    I lifted the arms up, frowning as I did so.

    "Although... Perhaps I went a bit too far... Potemkin seems to think I should try to be a 'better person' instead of a 'better mage'. I am--"

    I let out a sigh, blowing some hair that had fallen over out of my eyes.

    "--Beginning to suspect she may be right."

    "Now, let's get this body... somewhere, I guess. Know any good abandoned places nearby? We can't rightly run around with a corpse in tow, this ain't Weekend At Bernie's - locals are gonna get suspicious... well, they would if they were out and about this evening. Guess we gotta thank the rain. Also, uh, just so you know... I didn't slug that guy because I was defending your honor or anything... He just kinda pissed me off, that's all."
    "Abandoned... Places? The graveyard in the forest, maybe? Or the forest itself? I have um... Not spent much time in the town, outside of the hospital... The hospital itself could also work, though! It is, after all, a body, and the morgue is quite free!"

    I smiled brightly at Travis, eyes twinkling with mirth.

    "Of course it was not for me, Travis! I know myself very well. I am pond scum, a monster among monsters, and the equivalent of trash! If I was on fire, I would not even deserve water to be poured on me! If I was bleeding out, I would expect to be stabbed again! Naturally, I assumed that you simply did it because he was attacking you, or to save the tiny morsel. Those are both far more reasonable things then anything as silly as 'defending my honor'."

    Do I even have any honor? I don't even know what the phrase means. As a human, I'm the lowest of the low. As a monster, I am the highest of the high. It's only sensible to let me die or be erased, which is why I must fight so hard to defend my right to exist. If I give up, I die. If I lie too much, I lose. I have to fight to live. I can't let go of existence, even as miserable as it can be.

    So it's only natural that nobody would defend me. I've never expected that in the first place.
    in the end we will make thoughtcrime impossible, for there shall be no words to express it


    [01:05.15] <@Spinach> I can flash gang signs faster than Sasuke can perform ninjutsu and I rap like Medea's High Speed Divine Words.

  2. #4022
    el bolb Bloble's Avatar
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    Jun 2011
    Ontario, Canadia
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    Location: Big Boy's Gas Station - Bar
    Phase: Evening Phase
    Date: 09.09.1994 (FRI)
    Weather: Rain

    "Ah, uh... n-no problem." Normally I hate having my head patted. It's a reminder of how tiny and weak I am. Being treated like a dog doesn't help either. When he does it though... it's not bad. Almost nostalgic. But also super embarrassing. To hide my reddening cheeks I have to utter a quick "Cheers!" and drain half the glass with several gulps. Ah, water. Why did I ever leave you? Compared to alcohol you're way better.

    Then I take a moment to just look around. Really look, not like before.


    Now that I have time to absorb it... the atmosphere in the place really is nice, isn't it? Everything's homey and comfortable. There are all sorts of decorations on the walls. Old posters. Glowing neon letters. Streamers hanging from the roof. Memories of the past on full display. Trinkets both meaningless and meaningful. A sense of place and time, a picture painted so that whoever steps into it becomes the focus. Smooth wooden counter. Soft lights. A friendly smile on the other side of the counter. People, friends and strangers alike, sitting on either side of you, sharing stories. Warm air that rises up through the floor and keeps out the cold, and the rhythmic drumming of rain on the rooftop to provide a backing track.

    That must be it. People don't come here just for drinks. Otherwise anywhere would be fine so long as it served alcohol.

    "Hm hm hm hmm~."

    It's feeling. They come here for that carefully-cultivated feeling. Right, Ms. Carrie?

    "Hey, Billie..." I tap the counter. "You've got a good place here."

    I look up again, at the ever-closer-to-tipsy cat boy. "What do you think, Ahti? It's nice, right?" Maybe he can also feel it. Maybe he can finally relax. Or maybe he's already been to so many bars that this one is nothing special. I don't want that to be a 'maybe', though. We're friends now, right? So we should learn more about each other. "It's actually my first time in a bar. I was expecting it to be all... like a giant fridge, maybe? Or like the school cafeteria. Complete with Jake mopping up a spill in the corner. Oh, you probably don't know Jake; he's the janitor. Real prankster. We'd never have met if he hadn't totally rigged..."

    Focus, Prushka.

    "Ah, never mind!" I force my mind back to the present. "I can buy you a soda, Xandra. But since it's from me, it'll probably turn into beet juice halfway through. If you wanna risk it." I match her snarky grin. "And uh, I owe you one too, Carrie! If you need a favour, just say it! Unless it's illegal. Well, if it's only a little illegal then it's fine!"

  3. #4023
    S U P R E M E Mormarth's Avatar
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    May 2011
    Above you.
    Elaine Winters
    Location - The Lighthouse
    Phase: Evening Phase
    Date: 09.09.1994 (FRI)
    Weather: Rain

    A Mormon ghost, huh?

    “Didn’t exactly expect to meet up with one of you Latter-Day Saints, but whatever, I suppose. Not the kind of person who goes and looks a gift horse in the mouth.”

    Or golden plates to see if they’re painted.

    I didn’t say that part out loud though, I do have some tact.

    “Well, I’m sure you’ll get to your own paradise, Mr. Prisoner,” I smiled distantly, “Maybe I can call in a righteous spirit to help you out, ah?”


    “Well, anyway, appreciate it, and if I don't catch the self-appointed watchdog before she sets up shop, mind putting in a good word so she don’t go blowing off my head or my car? Thanks in advance.”

    I squinted up the stairs, turning to face them more fully, mulling something over in my mind.


    Yeah, maybe it would be a good idea to bring it after all.

    At the very least, good for a laugh.

  4. #4024
    Elise Pelltier
    Location: Pinefall High Campus
    Phase: Evening Phase
    Date: 09.09.1994 (FRI)
    Weather: Rain

    The demon released her grip on her hand and she fell backwards into the void. That familiar looking blonde-haired figure standing at the edge of the world faded from her view as she watched her fall with an uncertain expression on her face. Suddenly, with a telepathic roar, the void shook and Elise awoke.

    Her eyes snapped open and she stared up at the grey, rain-filled sky. She blinked, as she tried to take stock of her situation and process her conversation with the demon at the same time. She was lying on her back, looking up at the sky. She'd been out long enough that the cold had begun to seep into her bones. She still felt a dull headache in the back of her head, although not nearly as pronounced as before. A sudden sense of alarm gripped her, however, as a dark, purple figure loomed over her-

    Quote Originally Posted by Purple Haired Stranger
    "Oh? Good morning, sleepyhead. Wahaha, did I wake you up? Sorry~"
    She yelped in surprise at the purple haired stranger, but quickly realized that it wasn't the archbishop from the fragmentary memories she'd seen standing over her this time.

    "S-sorry! G-good morning to you too!" stammered Elise, "Don't-don't worry about it, it's probably a good thing that you woke me up, I probably shouldn't have taken a nap outside in the rain."

    Might have been convenient if it was the archbishop. I'd have a lot of questions for him. Ahg! Why can't I remember who he is?!

    She glanced around for Subaru and Tonkori, but could see no trace of them from her current vantage point on the ground. For some reason, she was reminded uncannily of her encounter with the Other Subaru by the yew tree last Sunday.

    LBJ wasn't wrong when it said that things were going on in the physical world, thought Elise as she observed the purple haired stranger, Where's Subaru and Tonkori? And who the heck are you? And what did I do!?

    She shook her head, as she tried to clear the image of her own accusatory face glaring at her from her mind.

    "Who-who are you, if you don't mind me asking?" asked Elise, looking up at the purple haired stranger looking down at her, "And, uh, you wouldn't have happened to have seen my friend Subaru around, would you? She's short, and has black, unruly hairs. She was wearing a red raincoat and accompanied by a puppy. She was here just a moment ago."

    Considerably more than that, I suspect, corrected Elise as she considered her chill.

    "Maybe more than a moment ago…"

  5. #4025
    吸血鬼 Vampire Cheetose's Avatar
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    Dec 2018
    Hisa Momoi
    Location: McLampet Manor
    Phase: Evening Phase
    Date: 09.09.1994 (FRI)
    Weather: Rain

    “E-eh, it’s nothing like that…”

    I scratched the back of my head in slight embarrassment. Even though most of what they said was just exaggerating the still felt nice.

    In reality, though…

    Ah, why would I ruin the mood with my negative thoughts?

    “A-anyways, serious or not, I appreciate the offer,” I said as I handed Sakura’s dagger back to her, “But until these days, I couldn’t even have imagined working as a group, let alone for an organization...and in all honesty, I’m not even sure if it would be a good idea.”

    What I was capable of could have been used for evil purposes just as easily. While I was on my own, I was the one to make those decisions, and it all came down to my own morality...but if someone else was to command me, who knows how things would end up…?

    “That said, I certainly wouldn’t say no to working together with you again, at the very least.”

    With a hint of a smile on my face, my attention turned towards Allene.

    Certainly, it wasn’t the time to chat about this right now, not in the middle of the hallway especially…

    “It’s a long story, but if you believe that vampires and monsters like this exist, then I’m sure it’s not that unbelievable?”

    Still smiling, I grabbed Pyry’s hand, and gestured towards the third floor study as I started pulling him along;

    “Though let’s talk about this up here. I want to sit down to get a better look at this mysterious stone too.”

  6. #4026
    Time to burn some dread Daneel Rush's Avatar
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    Jan 2012
    Chaldea Naval Base
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    Location: Avery’s Dinner?
    Phase: Evening Phase?
    Date: 09.09.1994 (FRI)?
    Weather: Rain?

    Quote Originally Posted by Ultra
    “You really are extra, are you not? Well... I lowkey like that about people. Their bravado can be refreshing in a world where a colour can suck the life out of a farmland, leaving behind a blasted heath, or where light can become the anchor of time... truly, both akin to what was born in that hellfire reaching for the skies, so many years ago. Julius may have stolen my words, but that does not make them any less so. You'd do well not to reach into that unless needed to, for you'll find yourself agonized AF by what you find. A man should not strive for the world of gods and deities - lest he becomes a philosopher, a Prometheus of their own making. And that is a fate I highkey wish not for anyone. Reaching out into that world is a far cry what the Seven did, or what HE has attempted. You'll totes-magotes cease to be yourself when you do.”
    Julius…? Ah, Oppenheimer. Also, what John Dove desperately hopes was not a Lovecraft reference. He is fine with his SAN score right where it is right now, thank you very much.

    On an aside, it is not as if John Dove harbors the desire to become a spellslinger—a mystic, in the appropriate vernacular. It may sound like dodging responsibility, but thus far, John Dove has not make a concerted effort to penetrate the murky waters of the Turnside. Ever since that night ten years ago, it has been the Turnside that grabs him by the ankles and shackles him to its boundary, not quite part of it yet not quite alien to it. Rather than asking, “will John Dove choose to wholeheartedly enter the Turnside?” we should be asking “will the Turnside ever let go of John Dove?”

    If the answer is “no”, then he might have no other choice but the path of the mystic. Then again, can Ultra truly claim that a human dwelling in the Turnside can become a modern Prometheus? Is that not a little too pretentious? Whatever “fire” such a person might bring to the prisoners in Plato’s Cave cannot be the flame of universal truth, polluted as it is by subjectivity. Maybe they should all accept that there are as many worlds as there are thinking beings.

    By the way, the more people keep bringing up these ‘Seven’ or whatever, the more they feed John Dove’s curiosity. Makes you think whether they are actually trying to damn him after all.

    Kosmos Noetos’, she then says. The highest, furthest point in the universe, the secret eighth sphere of Heaven. So we are going with Gnosticism now? Babalon as Barbelo, the supreme female principle? Is she claiming to be the Trimorphic Protennoia?

    …Elaine Winters was right; Crowley was a pompous clown and this mess of a person is entirely his fault. I should be grateful the first mystic I met was somebody agreeable and reasonable.

    Mister “Therion” could not just aim to create a god; he had to do it in the most pointlessly obtuse, convoluted, pretentious way possible.

    John Dove decides right then and there that, if he ever has to learn magic, he will definitely never use Thelema as his foundation. Absolutely not. No way in hell.

    Quote Originally Posted by Ultra
    “Know what you tangle with, and what monsters you try to heal. Sometimes it's better to leave the lit ramblings of a Wicked Man to die on their own. I was the last one remaining, see? With my destruction, everything would have ended then and there - but you dangled hope like a piece of meat in front of a starving dog. Big oof.”
    John holds back on rolling his eyes. Now she is the one being unreasonable: of course it is better to help her, if the alternative is letting her break apart and become a wandering wraith that only knows hopelessness. She would only get in the way like that. Also, thank you for confirming there used to be more moonchildren, Ultra.

    Wait, that means he now has to investigate Parsons’ antics and their potential relationship to whatever’s happening at Road’s End. What a royal pain in the ass.

    On another note, the world is becoming blurred, or rather, less real. Is he flowing out of it, or is this mysterious space that will cease to exist? Whatever the case, it appears his little rendezvous with the moonchild is reaching its conclusion.

    Quote Originally Posted by Ultra
    “Thus, reap your rewards and take responsibility for whatever happens in the future, you figment of my imagination... if we even have a future. Whatever happens will be on your ass...especially if you continue with such cringey tirades. Not that I don't lowkey like them. But that's a me problem.”
    “Sure thing,” he says, smiling with unreasonable conviction he absolutely has no way to possess. “If it comes to that, we can take responsibility together.”

    That is how it works, right? People gather to share each other burdens.

    And with those words, color once again disappears from his world.

    He stands right in front of the men’s toilets, as if he has just finished his conversation with “Isaac”. He needs a moment to gather himself, to reassert in his mind that it actually happened—that Ultravania, Crowley’s Moonchild, was real. The words they exchanged, the deal they made…the reactions and the emotions. Having returned to the greyscale reality he just defended, it is the separate reality created by Ultra that for a second feels less authentic—like a powerful illusion, or a fever dream. However, that scene, too, was real.

    With the retreat of color, John Dove is left alone with the memory of a John Dove in the world of Ultravania’s colors.

    He walks to the table he shares with his classmates with stiff, almost toy-soldier-like steps, not saying a word as he settles next to Ubon, looking at the unfinished piece of cherry pie in front of him. With the same stiff motions, he slowly and carefully takes the plate and sets it slightly to the side. Then he just slams his face on the table as if his neck can no longer bear with its weight.

    What the hell was thaaaaaaaaaaaat!?

    It is the same foundation which currently drives him that now stops him from rolling on the floor like an embarrassed maiden. As it is, the hopeless boy just buries his face on the table, hiding the burning heat in his cheeks as his traitorous mind floods him with an unceasing replay of his actions and words inside that mysterious space.

    Who the hell is that guuuuuuuuuuuuuuy!?

    A John Dove driven not by careful, logical evaluation of the situation and standardized algorithms of behavior, but by simple honesty and irritation.

    ‘I only need to succeed once’, was it!? Who the hell are you trying to convince, you powerless show-off!

    A John Dove who truly, honestly does not care about what other people think of him, only about the inner conviction even the boy himself is not aware of.

    And what was it with those flirty words sprinkled all over the place!? Were you seriously trying to appeal to her feminine emotions to raise her favorability towards you!? Are you out of your mind!?

    A John Dove truly capable of acting on his emotions and impressions, untainted by implacable rationality.

    Even my thoughts are all over the place now! Seriously, what the hell was that!? It was the colors, right!? Those colors messed something up in my head!

    By the way, because John Dove is a mediocre piece of shit who cannot not fail at anything, he forgot to ask Ultra about his artifact, Ishtar Irkalla.


    Thing is, Babalon’s symbol is the inverted seven-pointed star. If there is somebody who could potentially neutralize that baleful artifact, it might just be the embodiment of Thelema’s life-giving goddess—


    At this rate, he is going to start hitting himself on the temple, like he is an old TV that needs a good whack to work properly. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—, old habits die hard, and it is not as if being rational is a bad thing. The usual John Dove protocols gradually settle back into action, and his racing (and raging) thoughts are smoothed down by the immediate need to assert the situation and perform damage control.

    “…my apologies,” he finally says. To his credit, he sounds his usual apathetic self. He does not lift his head off the table, though, because he still does not trust the look on his face at the moment. “I think the week may have exhausted me more than I thought. So, um, did I miss anything?”

    As expected of a skillful liar, it is not a complete untruth. He is certainly tired, if only mentally. Unfortunately, by this point it is questionable whether he will have the chance to rest tonight. No, even if he had absolutely nothing else to do, this hapless boy is now so addled by his own actions that he would just lay awake on his bed until sunrise.

    …was that really me?
    Last edited by Daneel Rush; Today at 05:50 PM.

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