A Deeper Dreaming
16th of July 2006 A.D.
It is always cold in your dreams, sometimes it is dark as well, but the darkness is different this time, heavier and more aware. You move as a swimmer in deep water who morns the sun far, far away... but then you sense the water in your tongue. Bitter, foul and impure if seems at first, hateful and cruel.
The light of your anima flares around you, a ghostly green, not like fire, but like the luring light of an angler fish and all around you see white sand that billows into clouds at the merest step. Picking a direction at random you start walking. A hundred steps, two... a thousand, then at the thousandth and first you reveal something under the veil of dust an arc of bone so large it takes you the moment to realize you are looking at the orbit of a single titanic eye, but it is not the grandeur of death that most ensnares you, it's the tiny pale things that crawls along it, like worms and crabs, and millipedes, though twisted into shapes that not even the most intrepid submersible had yet seen, for you know that there are not the seas of Earth you know, but something older, stranger. Even from these bitter waters life might spring, even here you might find succor. Poison and remedy, like love and hate two sides of the same thing...
You wake up suddenly still in the grey predawn hours, reaching out instinctively for your phone. A subtle buzz of static hits your still grogy mind as you touch it, not from it... from beyond it.
There are more than mechanisms of gross matter in the Wicked City, there are hosts and legions of electronic devils, the fears and nightmares of those who browse the internet, the shadows to its web of light. Now some of them, the least of them, but numberless hosts are yours to summon and they are eager to come forth from the hell in which they dwell. They promise leal service, without end without condition for the change at freedom at the distinction of a Name from among he from among the jagged alpha-numerical storm.
"Huh, I can heal in toxic sludge and summon cyber-devils " you say aloud laying in bed, the sound of your voice makes it more real. "Cool."
"Not just toxic sludge Glorious Lady of the Dark to Come," Usum interjects.
"All that flows and in impure, all that promises death or ruin to mortal life by its voraciousness. By it your Essence, like your flesh might be restored."
"Wait how does that work? Where does it come from?" You remember all too well the feeling of magic being ripped from your 'hands' and falling into the ever churning whirlpool of your soul.
"Magicians and priests, seers and shamans, by whatever name you call them all who reached for the powers beyond sought purity of form, of mind, of purpose, they washed away that which they counted distraction, illusion, sin." The demon pauses on the last word as if tasting it.
"But there is power also in that which they have cast off through the long years. From that power you may now drink freely and even if you were glut yourself for a thousand times a thousand years you would not drain it dry."
So tapping the platonic ideal of corruption for power, probably not going to reveal that anytime soon, you think. A laugh bubbles to your lips, a shadow od Usum's own joy at your growing power. Just as long as it;s not a cackle you should be good.
As the sun comes over the horizon to refill your reserves you also realize they are deeper then they had been yesterday as though your power had prepared itself for the glut of Essence.
You regain 5 Essence Now at 12/12
***
The face that greets you in the mirror looks unchanged by inner transformation and the glass still freezes over at your breath. You throw on a pair of fades shorts and a rumbled Metallica shirt and head down to breakfast, distracted by thinking of what would be the least bad lethal contaminant to use as a focus Hank runs right into you.
As you grab him by his Mickey Mouse PJ collar to steady him the little fellow looks up at you. "You're difwent," he says lisping a little.
"How?" you ask confused as you set him gingerly down.
"Not as cweepy. Oops not s'posed to say that," he adds quickly. "Don't tell mommy, OK?"
"You are not supposed to say I'm less creepy?" Normally you are fluent in toddler logic by dint of sheer experience, but you were out late last night and you haven't had your coffee yet.
"Not s'posed to say you're cweepy. Mommy said it'd make you sad," your baby brother explains.
"That is OK Hank,
less creepy is good," you say ruffling his hair.
That is such a mom thing to think about. You resolve to do something nice for her.
Would she like a phone AI? you wonder.
I'd have to be vague about where it comes from, but it's not like I go around explaining the details of my powers to mom.
Coming down for breakfast you find that most of the family is already there, including your dad looking over some papers as he balances Leech one one knee.
She's getting a little big for that, you note, but know from experience that she probably won't give it up for another year or two. Mom's making hash-browns, Daniel is busying himself helping Hope cut up her food she he doesn't have to talk and accidentally blurt out something about last night and Matthew is looking surreptitiously at something on his phone.
What do you do?
[] Bring up your new powers and supplies you need for them
-[] Write in suggestion for healing poison
[] Offer to make everyone really smart phones
[] Just head to church
OOC: I hope you guys like the fluff for CSR. It would have worked with just 'you tap hell for power', but this felt more in theme for 'I have a dragon nest in a jar of bleach'