Shimmer, Glimmer, & Gleam - A Quest of Loss & Gain
- Thread starter Morrowlark
- Start date
- Original Sci-Fi Fantasy Horror
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X] I'll leave you be. Let you think.
bobbananaville
A giant crab, atop an even gianter crab
- Location
- The Philippines
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[x] Let's head back, when you're ready. If you don't mind me making some arguments for the benefits of living.
There's some argument to be made that staying with her might be 'imposing' or 'smothering' or that maybe we need a 'lighter touch', but she just admitted to herself that she does not want to live in this world.
If we leave her alone, that feels almost like a dare. 'Here's a golden opportunity to kill yourself, right now, while I leave you alone right after you've come to the conclusion that you don't want to live in this world. Are you going to take it?' And uh. I don't want to do that.
If she's absolutely determined then she's allowed to make that choice. But like. Until that point, I'd rather we do what we can to push her away from making an impulsive decision on this tower, maybe make some arguments in favor of life.
And if she is at that point - well, I don't know if Diamond would agree, but I feel like if I made the choice to leave Garnet alone to collect her thoughts, and then she did kill herself here on this tower, I'd feel a lot more guilty and blame myself for 'pushing her' to suicide. Whereas if she killed herself sometime after the conversation - I'd still feel guilty, probably, but I at least didn't leave her there to kill herself. I'd feel somewhat less culpable, regardless of how culpable I actually was.
There's some argument to be made that staying with her might be 'imposing' or 'smothering' or that maybe we need a 'lighter touch', but she just admitted to herself that she does not want to live in this world.
If we leave her alone, that feels almost like a dare. 'Here's a golden opportunity to kill yourself, right now, while I leave you alone right after you've come to the conclusion that you don't want to live in this world. Are you going to take it?' And uh. I don't want to do that.
If she's absolutely determined then she's allowed to make that choice. But like. Until that point, I'd rather we do what we can to push her away from making an impulsive decision on this tower, maybe make some arguments in favor of life.
And if she is at that point - well, I don't know if Diamond would agree, but I feel like if I made the choice to leave Garnet alone to collect her thoughts, and then she did kill herself here on this tower, I'd feel a lot more guilty and blame myself for 'pushing her' to suicide. Whereas if she killed herself sometime after the conversation - I'd still feel guilty, probably, but I at least didn't leave her there to kill herself. I'd feel somewhat less culpable, regardless of how culpable I actually was.
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Twei
I have a face!
- Location
- the land where they write things
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Honestly pregnancy is already kind of an eldritch horror, so I don't think this is actually much worse
[x] Let's head back, when you're ready. If you don't mind me making some arguments for the benefits of living.
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
One hour
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
That was optimistic on my part, shift killed me more than I thought.
Called.
Called.
Threshold 3: Perspectives [Diamond IV]
New
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
For a long little while, the two of you watch the city in silence, with the calls of gulls and crows over the wind and waves as your only soundtrack. If you trusted yourself to sleep more like a spider and less like a human you could just rest here, but while the idea of finding out interests you, maybe not at the top of a radio tower. There's better opportunities in the near future.
"Glitter?" you murmur.
"Yeah?" she says, with a little sniffle. You turn your head and give her a small smile.
"I'm gonna head back, and let you think on your own for awhile. You were pretty clear you don't wanna be pressured, but if you're ever looking to hear out the benefits of being alive on purpose...well, we share a warehouse." You laugh, a little and shake your head. "That said, before I go...if you make the decision the other way? Not here. That girl on the picket doesn't need to see you do that."
"...Is there someone who does?" Glitter asks, dubiously.
"Not really. Anyone with a heart who finds you will mourn you. I suppose you could always go pester the dragon," you muse. "But maybe don't. But I'm not trying to tell you no with extra steps, I'm just telling you: not here, not now. Sleep on it at least. Deal?"
She sighs, and even manages a bit of a breathless laugh, before leaning in closer and offering her hand. You shake it. "Yeah, deal. Every time I learn more about your life it just gets weirder."
"That's the secret. Every human ever born has been a freak."
* * * *
It's during your evening lessons with Chef Nettleson that you excuse yourself because you feel Doctor Heller scratching at your mind. You find a relatively private spot in the paths between warehouses and let her in; her mind settling into yours is a very comforting experience, like reuniting with an old friend and feeling all the old warmth and love come back without interruption. But you also feel her anxiety and anger, and she begins to tell you a story.
You post yourself up near the path outside and intercept Glitter as she comes back. "Glitter," you murmur. "I'm going to have to retract some previous statements. I need you alive for at least a little longer and I'm not asking."
She meets your eyes, sees what's there, and wipes at her face. "What's happened?"
So you tell her. And when you are done telling her, she all but runs towards where Orchid and Nattie are, to tell them that she wants gun training and she wants it now.
[ ] Jackie, the Kitten Whisperer
[ ] Cathar Gretel Jones, the Living Saint
[ ] Morrowday, the Spirit of Loyalty
[ ] Shortcut, the Centaur
AND
The inmates on Marie's list are guilty of monstrous crimes against their own. Orchid and Nattie...
[ ] Brand and exile them
[ ] Let their fellow former Inmates decide
[ ] Execute them publicly
"Glitter?" you murmur.
"Yeah?" she says, with a little sniffle. You turn your head and give her a small smile.
"I'm gonna head back, and let you think on your own for awhile. You were pretty clear you don't wanna be pressured, but if you're ever looking to hear out the benefits of being alive on purpose...well, we share a warehouse." You laugh, a little and shake your head. "That said, before I go...if you make the decision the other way? Not here. That girl on the picket doesn't need to see you do that."
"...Is there someone who does?" Glitter asks, dubiously.
"Not really. Anyone with a heart who finds you will mourn you. I suppose you could always go pester the dragon," you muse. "But maybe don't. But I'm not trying to tell you no with extra steps, I'm just telling you: not here, not now. Sleep on it at least. Deal?"
She sighs, and even manages a bit of a breathless laugh, before leaning in closer and offering her hand. You shake it. "Yeah, deal. Every time I learn more about your life it just gets weirder."
"That's the secret. Every human ever born has been a freak."
* * * *
It's during your evening lessons with Chef Nettleson that you excuse yourself because you feel Doctor Heller scratching at your mind. You find a relatively private spot in the paths between warehouses and let her in; her mind settling into yours is a very comforting experience, like reuniting with an old friend and feeling all the old warmth and love come back without interruption. But you also feel her anxiety and anger, and she begins to tell you a story.
You post yourself up near the path outside and intercept Glitter as she comes back. "Glitter," you murmur. "I'm going to have to retract some previous statements. I need you alive for at least a little longer and I'm not asking."
She meets your eyes, sees what's there, and wipes at her face. "What's happened?"
So you tell her. And when you are done telling her, she all but runs towards where Orchid and Nattie are, to tell them that she wants gun training and she wants it now.
The spiders will come up again later.
We enter week two of the Threshold. Soon, various plates go to the air to spin at the same time. You are...
[ ] Jackie, the Kitten Whisperer
[ ] Cathar Gretel Jones, the Living Saint
[ ] Morrowday, the Spirit of Loyalty
[ ] Shortcut, the Centaur
AND
The inmates on Marie's list are guilty of monstrous crimes against their own. Orchid and Nattie...
[ ] Brand and exile them
[ ] Let their fellow former Inmates decide
[ ] Execute them publicly
[X] Morrowday, the Spirit of Loyalty
[x] Jackie, the Kitten Whisperer
[x] Execute them publicly
*deep breath in, deep breath out* For Marie, who saw it all
[x] Execute them publicly
*deep breath in, deep breath out* For Marie, who saw it all
[X] Jackie, the Kitten Whisperer
[X] Execute them publicly.
[edit] yknow what no. marie's request was specific.
[X] Execute them publicly.
[edit] yknow what no. marie's request was specific.
[X] Cathar Gretel Jones, the Living Saint
[X] Let their fellow former Inmates decide
The Cathars interest me and I want the people involved in the prison to have the first decision about what happens to the especially nasty former inmates. Well done writing about "not here, not now"; that was a tactful and intelligent way for Diamond to do things.
[X] Let their fellow former Inmates decide
The Cathars interest me and I want the people involved in the prison to have the first decision about what happens to the especially nasty former inmates. Well done writing about "not here, not now"; that was a tactful and intelligent way for Diamond to do things.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[x] Jackie, the Kitten Whisperer
[x] Execute them publicly
[x] Execute them publicly
10ebbor10
DON'T PANIC
- Location
- Present
What's the point of a public execution?
Ordinarily these were done as entertainment (which, hmm, we probably shouldn't), and as deterrent (historically proven to be completely ineffective, because the people who do horrific stuff generally tend not to think about it that much, or believe that they won't get caught.)
If they have to die, better a rather enclosed affair than a spectacle.
Ordinarily these were done as entertainment (which, hmm, we probably shouldn't), and as deterrent (historically proven to be completely ineffective, because the people who do horrific stuff generally tend not to think about it that much, or believe that they won't get caught.)
If they have to die, better a rather enclosed affair than a spectacle.
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Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
There's also the angle of seeing justice done before the entire community; laying out exactly why these people are dying and that this is not a random act of violence or, y'know, Orchid and Nattie losing their damn minds. Which isn't to say the other options can't sell this, but there's something to be said for having no closed doors.
No one who was Inside is willing to countenance carceral justice, Orchid and Nattie included. That's not even on the table. Which leaves some questions about what justice is going to look like.
10ebbor10
DON'T PANIC
- Location
- Present
Seems like a pretty answered question, given the list of options.
2 out of 3 proposals are just a standard punitive system, the exact same in philosophy and deed as the carceral system, just with lesser maintenance cost.
The third is a mystery box, but I'd be strongly suprised if that mystery isn't either option 1 or 3, or functionally identical.
- Location
- Victoria
It may interest you to hear that yesterday, I read All-Night Laundry from approximately page 7 to the end. All 2000+ posts. IT TOOK ME UNTIL 4 AM.
I first heard of All-Night Laundry some years ago, but just...never really followed up. For all that I've spent all of this morning either clinging to mental focus by my fingertips or straight-up napping, I am VERY GLAD you took a few minutes to write up this pitch.
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
Oh damn, it bit you hard huh. I'm very glad you enjoyed it; it's always nice to spread somethin' that touches you on others.
Incidentally, calling at 7 PM EST. I want another update before work no matter who has to die. The towers of Man will fall if that is the way I get my damn post out.
10ebbor10
DON'T PANIC
- Location
- Present
- Location
- [REDACTED]
[X] Jackie, the Kitten Whisperer
All the options are interesting, but I'm still dying to know more about the Kitten Whisperer the most.
[X] Let their fellow former Inmates decide
There's a good chance that how we handle this sets the tone for how we handle Justice in the future, and I dunno if we want the tone set by Public Executions. This still might result in that, but at least it might set some better precedents.
All the options are interesting, but I'm still dying to know more about the Kitten Whisperer the most.
[X] Let their fellow former Inmates decide
There's a good chance that how we handle this sets the tone for how we handle Justice in the future, and I dunno if we want the tone set by Public Executions. This still might result in that, but at least it might set some better precedents.
Far, Far Away
New
Morrowlark
You've lost something, haven't you?
Let us zoom out, and out, and out, and out, and then way back in somewhere else. This place will not come up again; we will not see these people again after this story. Their lives will go on to be complex and involved and full of struggles, but mostly we are looking at them because them being here, and not elsewhere, answers certain questions.
Our protagonists are a Major, and a Sergeant. They were not part of the same command before; they are now. Their uniforms, in Imperial purple-and-gold, have seen better days and are less 'uniforms' than they are 'collections of useful pockets and belts'. Calling them by a rank is probably not right any more, but we're going to ignore their names, because, again, they are not important. They will stop being important the moment we cease looking at them. They are resting, indeed, lounging, at the edge of a rough-built settlement that borders a coastal jungle, south of the Reformed Empire's borders. Behind them, way behind, glass ships that shattered in the first storm and continue to splinter into the sea are gently moldering.
The Sergeant says: "If I wanted to ask the thing we've all been avoiding asking..."
And the Major says: "You'd have to say it, wouldn't you?"
Mm. Yes, he would, wouldn't he? That seems to make it more real. So he looks at his supply of cigarettes, and decides that this will need one of his last dozen. The Major lights it for him, and lights one of her own off his. The chain of command has really broken down these past few months. If any of the brass were here the tribunals for the various relationships would need their own dedicated lawyers.
And the Sergeant says, sideways: "You've been talking to the local oneiromancers, those, what're they...not shamans..."
"Medicine men," the Major says. "Yeah, of course I have. Had to. Ours sort of died."
They did. Turned to glass and then shattered when the ships beached.
Still sideways, circling the question, the Sergeant says: "I was on a base, you know. Way back near Throne City. And then I was just on that ship."
"Interesting," the Major says. Her voice is carefully disinterested; this is sort of like the thing no one talks about. But not quite. A gauche admission, but not quite that unspoken taboo, the thing we Don't Do.
So the Sergeant takes a drag on his cigarette, and blows smoke up into the blue sunny sky, and he says: "Why're we here, Major? Why aren't we like those jungle monsters that dropped outta the dreaming, the local slasher-things? Why're we here and people?"
The Major sighs. And she claps her hand on the back of her lover's neck and presses her head to his, and her voice gets low. "Near as the medicine men think they can tell, we got squeezed between a poison dream and a bad nightmare, and popped out as ourselves. And we're just lucky that the locals didn't see us and start shooting."
"A..."
"We're in a foreign land, 'defending our way of life'." There's a bad taste in the Major's mouth when she says it. "And we're also a ravening horde coming to kill and burn and steal. So we're neither. That's what they think, anyway."
"...Don't like that," the Sergeant admits.
"Nobody likes that. But the Havari are willing to believe that we're idiots who can't get back home, and give us compassion. Can't that be enough?"
"Got family back home," the Sergeant says.
And the Major looks at the shattered ships, and she shrugs. "No you don't," she murmurs, and her voice is so very defeated. "None of us do any more."
Our protagonists are a Major, and a Sergeant. They were not part of the same command before; they are now. Their uniforms, in Imperial purple-and-gold, have seen better days and are less 'uniforms' than they are 'collections of useful pockets and belts'. Calling them by a rank is probably not right any more, but we're going to ignore their names, because, again, they are not important. They will stop being important the moment we cease looking at them. They are resting, indeed, lounging, at the edge of a rough-built settlement that borders a coastal jungle, south of the Reformed Empire's borders. Behind them, way behind, glass ships that shattered in the first storm and continue to splinter into the sea are gently moldering.
The Sergeant says: "If I wanted to ask the thing we've all been avoiding asking..."
And the Major says: "You'd have to say it, wouldn't you?"
Mm. Yes, he would, wouldn't he? That seems to make it more real. So he looks at his supply of cigarettes, and decides that this will need one of his last dozen. The Major lights it for him, and lights one of her own off his. The chain of command has really broken down these past few months. If any of the brass were here the tribunals for the various relationships would need their own dedicated lawyers.
And the Sergeant says, sideways: "You've been talking to the local oneiromancers, those, what're they...not shamans..."
"Medicine men," the Major says. "Yeah, of course I have. Had to. Ours sort of died."
They did. Turned to glass and then shattered when the ships beached.
Still sideways, circling the question, the Sergeant says: "I was on a base, you know. Way back near Throne City. And then I was just on that ship."
"Interesting," the Major says. Her voice is carefully disinterested; this is sort of like the thing no one talks about. But not quite. A gauche admission, but not quite that unspoken taboo, the thing we Don't Do.
So the Sergeant takes a drag on his cigarette, and blows smoke up into the blue sunny sky, and he says: "Why're we here, Major? Why aren't we like those jungle monsters that dropped outta the dreaming, the local slasher-things? Why're we here and people?"
The Major sighs. And she claps her hand on the back of her lover's neck and presses her head to his, and her voice gets low. "Near as the medicine men think they can tell, we got squeezed between a poison dream and a bad nightmare, and popped out as ourselves. And we're just lucky that the locals didn't see us and start shooting."
"A..."
"We're in a foreign land, 'defending our way of life'." There's a bad taste in the Major's mouth when she says it. "And we're also a ravening horde coming to kill and burn and steal. So we're neither. That's what they think, anyway."
"...Don't like that," the Sergeant admits.
"Nobody likes that. But the Havari are willing to believe that we're idiots who can't get back home, and give us compassion. Can't that be enough?"
"Got family back home," the Sergeant says.
And the Major looks at the shattered ships, and she shrugs. "No you don't," she murmurs, and her voice is so very defeated. "None of us do any more."