"This is new, right?" [Reboot]
- Thread starter Solsticegelan
- Start date
- Original
2.2 New Faces, Old Memories
- Location
- Lost in Hell
Perfect stillnessseemed to grip the air - a total lack of noise, of movement, and of thought.
Slowly, moment by moment, the outline of a woman became better defined in your mind's eye. Snowflakes formed patterns in the air, falling heavier and heavier, providing an illusion of depth and of distinguishable shapes. Flowing hair, clothing, eyes all looked to be there one second, but then lost themselves in the haze of the snow. One second, it could be there. The next, it could appear no more than a hazy shimmer, a bundle of snow softly falling to the ground.
Crunch
The closer you get to it, the more clear it becomes. At first, you think it's a woman, gender clearly defined.
Crunch
Then, even that becomes uncertain. But still something about it calls to you, strikes a chord somewhere in your heart that you can't ignore.
Crunch
At what point did you start taking long, heavy steps ahead? Are you moving, or is your body simply carrying itself forward? Towards the unknown?
Realization hits you fast, once the ice is beneath your feet. You don't stumble or trip up as you walk towards the young child standing at the center of the lake. Hair cut short, naturally wavy and wild.
You're in front of it now. You want to badly to reach out and touch it, to test if it's real or not. The answer would be no, no it is not real, because even if you swear you can see individual strands of hair, they are not there.
Even if you swear you can look into your own eyes, and see the doubt and hesitation in them.
In her right hand, she's holding a bow, comically oversized for a child. You frown, looking at how she's holding it. The snow twirls about giving this one actual depth beyond an illusion; like a shaken snowglobe had been elongated to form the weapon.
The child's chest shakes as they take a breath in. You can watch the snow be exhaled in, dropping and passing through the body to fall to the ground. Slowly, she raises the bow up, an impression of an arrow in her other hands. Fumbling about with the drawstring, she nonetheless manages to get the arrow into the bow, pulling back the string and letting go.
You can almost hear the adorable yelp as she drops the bow, arrow flying over her head and spinning about before bursting into snow, indistinguishable from the rest.
"No, no." You mutter to yourself. That wasn't right. It wasn't right at all.
The girl looks at you, actually looks at you, as though she could hear you speak. It wasn't as though you didn't know she couldn't.
You reach out to touch her, but hesitate, because she seems so fragile. It feels to you like if you were to touch her, she would shatter like glass hit by a hammer. So instead, you begin to teach.
"Hold it up again." You say. She nods, holding her bow up, and you shake your head. "No, no. Not like that. Not at all. How can your arms be so stiff yet still shake so at the same time? Deep breaths. It won't be natural, not at first, but it needs to be."
Everything you told her came straight from your heart, instinctive and well known. "Don't hold it so high." You continue, mimicking her hands. "It doesn't need to be directly next to your eyes. That's not natural, not how it's meant to be held." Without a doubt, you knew that once you had been like this girl.
As you talked, the snow seemed to form the same bow within your hands, a mock thing with a string made of ice. From your sleeves comes an arrow, summoned without a second thought. Surprise flickers across your face, but you dismiss it, far too caught up in the moment.
Already you're placing the arrow in your bow made of snow. It acts like it would were it real, held out sideways so that you may place the arrow upon the bow - and the arrows head doesn't fall.
The little girl is watching, eyes wide and surprised.
"Is that how you place an arrow on the bow?" She asks. Her voice is soft, ringing across the dead air like a quiet chime.
Chuckling, you nod. "It's the safest way, especially when you're learning. Do you have no idea what you're doing?"
"Mother told me to fire until the end of the day, when the sun falls beneath the tree's branches." She says sheepishly. "And to figure it out myself until then."
"Something about that method is...familiar." You say, more to yourself than to the girl.
You stand side by side with the girl, drawing arrows and firing them with a practiced, relaxed ease. The girl tries to copy you time and time again, listening to your advice as you sooth her. Now, you see calluses upon her fingers, cuts upon her hands from her failed attempts. Small piles of snow sit around her, all that remained of arrows sent flying as she flailed and ducked.
Your arrows all rest in a tree, its bark splintered and every surface in a small radius marked.
Finally, however, the girl gets better. She shoots straight, and at the bottom of the tree, a small snowdrift builds up as her arrows shatter against the tree. She cheers, she whoops, she does happy little dances. There are still mistakes, still flaws, but they aren't as massive as before. It's… heartwarming, to help someone like this.
Dropping her bow, she jumps up and down. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" She shouts, and you turn towards her, and watch as she runs towards you laughing. It's as pure and innocent as a bell.
She jumps up, straddling you in a hug. To your great surprise, she's heavy, weighing as much as you expect a child made of flesh and blood might . She forces you onto your knees, unless you want to tip over and fall onto your back - and how undignified might that be? The wind picks up, and the deathly silence that seemed to have overtaken the world is dispelled as her body slowly dissolves. Blown away by the wind, her body doesn't shatter like you had feared it would, but the end result is still as sad.
Perhaps that's why all you can think of is that the hug was warm.
By your feet lies the bow made of snow, now a solid thing of smooth curves and white metal. The drawstring is gossamer thin, but cold as ice.
Crunch
Walking away from the pile of snow that had formed around you, the bow is slung over your back, the motion as fluid as running water.
Crunch
You're proud to call it yours.
Crunch
"The fair lady's gone scrambling over the hills, lock your window sills~"
...And singing, apparently. You can feel your grasp on the situation sliding away. No monster? No terrible, rapid bear? No fox trying to lure you into a trap that you could sink an arrow into?
"Mad! MAD! So they'll all cry aloud, the fair lady's lost her marbles!~ She'll beat you till all you can do is hobble!~"
And the singer is horrible off-key as well. Despite that, whoever it is has killed something - or at least stumbled upon it. Considering your luck, it's far more likely to be the former than the latter. Still, you'd like to approach closer, if only to follow them back to wherever they call home. It would be a step closer to your goals.
"Lock up your wife, lock up your children - Our fair Lady won't rest till she's got 'em!~"
… The voice was so horribly off tune you decided it was perhaps the only reason you weren't going to meet its owner. Get closer and follow the scent? Yes. Talk to the man who could sing like that? Hel no.
Maybe it would sound better with a beat in the background and instruments playing.
"Lock her up, she'll come back more vengeful than a wraith!~"
The world would never kn-
Snap
You pause, slowly turning to look behind you, where a young girl wearing a thick coat has just stepped on a branch. She doesn't look like she's older than 13 or 14, mousy hair in a single ponytail. She's frozen in place, eyes looking somewhere below you. What could she be looking at?
"...Please tell me that's for hunting." She asks.
"...Tell you what's for hunting?" You ask, looking around.
"THAT!" She says, pointing to your bow.
"Oh. " You nod. "Probably."
"That's not an encouraging response." She whispers.
"Were you looking for one?" You ask her, sniffing the air. Something was... off.
"Yes!" She cries.
"Then yes, it's for hunting. And nothing else. Ever." You lie straight to her face.
"Wait. Have you been crying?" She asks, eyes bouncing back and forth between you and something behind you.
"What?" You bristle. "Of course not!"
"Your eyes are puffy and red. Your face is wet. You have been crying! And recently! " She puffs up, proud of herself for figuring it out.
You frown, ear twitching. She's still looking behind you. You sniff the air again, and realize why.
You turn around, an older man wearing hunter's clothes and a terribly unappealing layer of brown stubble stopping in place as he attempted to sneak up on you. He reeks of the stench of a fresh kill, and you doubt he could've gotten within five feet of you, especially with the rabbit hung by a rope from his belt still bleeding. There's some familial resemblance between him and the girl.
"Your singing is terrible." You tell him. He gapes at you like a fish as you turn back to the girl.
"I wasn't crying. Let the records show it, and let it forever be known." You tell her.
The man behind you suddenly coughs, straightening up.
"Well then, nice to meet you, Miss...?"
How do you respond?
[] Beatrice. That's all I have.
[] Beatrice. That's all you need to know.
[] I'm not telling you!
-[] Ignore him and talk to the young girl.
[] Start asking questions about where you are. Take the lead.
[] Write in.
I feel like I started writing Beatrice slightly OOC during the ending conversation. I'll just chalk it up to the whole "Not exactly right-of-mind at the moment" thing. Especially since I made a point of showing off her "Big Sister" instincts in the first half...
Or maybe it's because it's reminding me more of how Laqueta would respond that how I think Beatrice should.
Slowly, moment by moment, the outline of a woman became better defined in your mind's eye. Snowflakes formed patterns in the air, falling heavier and heavier, providing an illusion of depth and of distinguishable shapes. Flowing hair, clothing, eyes all looked to be there one second, but then lost themselves in the haze of the snow. One second, it could be there. The next, it could appear no more than a hazy shimmer, a bundle of snow softly falling to the ground.
Crunch
The closer you get to it, the more clear it becomes. At first, you think it's a woman, gender clearly defined.
Crunch
Then, even that becomes uncertain. But still something about it calls to you, strikes a chord somewhere in your heart that you can't ignore.
Crunch
At what point did you start taking long, heavy steps ahead? Are you moving, or is your body simply carrying itself forward? Towards the unknown?
Realization hits you fast, once the ice is beneath your feet. You don't stumble or trip up as you walk towards the young child standing at the center of the lake. Hair cut short, naturally wavy and wild.
You're in front of it now. You want to badly to reach out and touch it, to test if it's real or not. The answer would be no, no it is not real, because even if you swear you can see individual strands of hair, they are not there.
Even if you swear you can look into your own eyes, and see the doubt and hesitation in them.
In her right hand, she's holding a bow, comically oversized for a child. You frown, looking at how she's holding it. The snow twirls about giving this one actual depth beyond an illusion; like a shaken snowglobe had been elongated to form the weapon.
The child's chest shakes as they take a breath in. You can watch the snow be exhaled in, dropping and passing through the body to fall to the ground. Slowly, she raises the bow up, an impression of an arrow in her other hands. Fumbling about with the drawstring, she nonetheless manages to get the arrow into the bow, pulling back the string and letting go.
You can almost hear the adorable yelp as she drops the bow, arrow flying over her head and spinning about before bursting into snow, indistinguishable from the rest.
"No, no." You mutter to yourself. That wasn't right. It wasn't right at all.
The girl looks at you, actually looks at you, as though she could hear you speak. It wasn't as though you didn't know she couldn't.
You reach out to touch her, but hesitate, because she seems so fragile. It feels to you like if you were to touch her, she would shatter like glass hit by a hammer. So instead, you begin to teach.
"Hold it up again." You say. She nods, holding her bow up, and you shake your head. "No, no. Not like that. Not at all. How can your arms be so stiff yet still shake so at the same time? Deep breaths. It won't be natural, not at first, but it needs to be."
Everything you told her came straight from your heart, instinctive and well known. "Don't hold it so high." You continue, mimicking her hands. "It doesn't need to be directly next to your eyes. That's not natural, not how it's meant to be held." Without a doubt, you knew that once you had been like this girl.
As you talked, the snow seemed to form the same bow within your hands, a mock thing with a string made of ice. From your sleeves comes an arrow, summoned without a second thought. Surprise flickers across your face, but you dismiss it, far too caught up in the moment.
Already you're placing the arrow in your bow made of snow. It acts like it would were it real, held out sideways so that you may place the arrow upon the bow - and the arrows head doesn't fall.
The little girl is watching, eyes wide and surprised.
"Is that how you place an arrow on the bow?" She asks. Her voice is soft, ringing across the dead air like a quiet chime.
Chuckling, you nod. "It's the safest way, especially when you're learning. Do you have no idea what you're doing?"
"Mother told me to fire until the end of the day, when the sun falls beneath the tree's branches." She says sheepishly. "And to figure it out myself until then."
"Something about that method is...familiar." You say, more to yourself than to the girl.
You stand side by side with the girl, drawing arrows and firing them with a practiced, relaxed ease. The girl tries to copy you time and time again, listening to your advice as you sooth her. Now, you see calluses upon her fingers, cuts upon her hands from her failed attempts. Small piles of snow sit around her, all that remained of arrows sent flying as she flailed and ducked.
Your arrows all rest in a tree, its bark splintered and every surface in a small radius marked.
Finally, however, the girl gets better. She shoots straight, and at the bottom of the tree, a small snowdrift builds up as her arrows shatter against the tree. She cheers, she whoops, she does happy little dances. There are still mistakes, still flaws, but they aren't as massive as before. It's… heartwarming, to help someone like this.
Dropping her bow, she jumps up and down. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" She shouts, and you turn towards her, and watch as she runs towards you laughing. It's as pure and innocent as a bell.
She jumps up, straddling you in a hug. To your great surprise, she's heavy, weighing as much as you expect a child made of flesh and blood might . She forces you onto your knees, unless you want to tip over and fall onto your back - and how undignified might that be? The wind picks up, and the deathly silence that seemed to have overtaken the world is dispelled as her body slowly dissolves. Blown away by the wind, her body doesn't shatter like you had feared it would, but the end result is still as sad.
Perhaps that's why all you can think of is that the hug was warm.
By your feet lies the bow made of snow, now a solid thing of smooth curves and white metal. The drawstring is gossamer thin, but cold as ice.
Crunch
Walking away from the pile of snow that had formed around you, the bow is slung over your back, the motion as fluid as running water.
Crunch
You're proud to call it yours.
Crunch
-0-0-0-
The smell is close by, the freshest thing you can remember smelling in your memory. You would hesitate to call what you do running - hastening your pace would be more accurate. It's moving away slowly, at such a steady pace that you're gaining on it.
You aren't the pinnacle of stealth, but you aren't going to be alerting everything around you to your presence either. You've already retrieved the bow from your back, another arrow sliding out of your sleeve and ready to be notched.
Then, you hear it. In the distance, a human voice, loud and merry."The fair lady's gone scrambling over the hills, lock your window sills~"
...And singing, apparently. You can feel your grasp on the situation sliding away. No monster? No terrible, rapid bear? No fox trying to lure you into a trap that you could sink an arrow into?
"Mad! MAD! So they'll all cry aloud, the fair lady's lost her marbles!~ She'll beat you till all you can do is hobble!~"
And the singer is horrible off-key as well. Despite that, whoever it is has killed something - or at least stumbled upon it. Considering your luck, it's far more likely to be the former than the latter. Still, you'd like to approach closer, if only to follow them back to wherever they call home. It would be a step closer to your goals.
"Lock up your wife, lock up your children - Our fair Lady won't rest till she's got 'em!~"
… The voice was so horribly off tune you decided it was perhaps the only reason you weren't going to meet its owner. Get closer and follow the scent? Yes. Talk to the man who could sing like that? Hel no.
Maybe it would sound better with a beat in the background and instruments playing.
"Lock her up, she'll come back more vengeful than a wraith!~"
The world would never kn-
Snap
You pause, slowly turning to look behind you, where a young girl wearing a thick coat has just stepped on a branch. She doesn't look like she's older than 13 or 14, mousy hair in a single ponytail. She's frozen in place, eyes looking somewhere below you. What could she be looking at?
"...Please tell me that's for hunting." She asks.
"...Tell you what's for hunting?" You ask, looking around.
"THAT!" She says, pointing to your bow.
"Oh. " You nod. "Probably."
"That's not an encouraging response." She whispers.
"Were you looking for one?" You ask her, sniffing the air. Something was... off.
"Yes!" She cries.
"Then yes, it's for hunting. And nothing else. Ever." You lie straight to her face.
"Wait. Have you been crying?" She asks, eyes bouncing back and forth between you and something behind you.
"What?" You bristle. "Of course not!"
"Your eyes are puffy and red. Your face is wet. You have been crying! And recently! " She puffs up, proud of herself for figuring it out.
You frown, ear twitching. She's still looking behind you. You sniff the air again, and realize why.
You turn around, an older man wearing hunter's clothes and a terribly unappealing layer of brown stubble stopping in place as he attempted to sneak up on you. He reeks of the stench of a fresh kill, and you doubt he could've gotten within five feet of you, especially with the rabbit hung by a rope from his belt still bleeding. There's some familial resemblance between him and the girl.
"Your singing is terrible." You tell him. He gapes at you like a fish as you turn back to the girl.
"I wasn't crying. Let the records show it, and let it forever be known." You tell her.
The man behind you suddenly coughs, straightening up.
"Well then, nice to meet you, Miss...?"
How do you respond?
[] Beatrice. That's all I have.
[] Beatrice. That's all you need to know.
[] I'm not telling you!
-[] Ignore him and talk to the young girl.
[] Start asking questions about where you are. Take the lead.
[] Write in.
I feel like I started writing Beatrice slightly OOC during the ending conversation. I'll just chalk it up to the whole "Not exactly right-of-mind at the moment" thing. Especially since I made a point of showing off her "Big Sister" instincts in the first half...
Or maybe it's because it's reminding me more of how Laqueta would respond that how I think Beatrice should.
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bobbananaville
A giant crab, atop an even gianter crab
- Location
- The Philippines
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Beatrice.
Can we just say "Beatrice" and not bother with any of that elaboration?
Can we just say "Beatrice" and not bother with any of that elaboration?
- Location
- Lost in Hell
There are write ins for a reason.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
A quotation mark is in invisible color.
"the fair lady's", as in "the fair lady has"?
A deliberate throwback to Norse deities? Well, there is a raven motiff and the whole Yggdrasil business from the previous quest. Still sounds funny though.
*crowd chanting in the distance*
So we made ourselves a bow of ice and taught an apparition how to shoot. Shh, shh, it's okay Beatrice, they will treat you fine in the mental asylum. I just find it curious how she went along with what she thought was her imagination just to stave off the boredom.
We were pretty adorable as a girl, where did we go wrong? Guess all those sink or swim teachings took their toll.
What does look so unsettling about our bow that the girl's first thought isn't about hunting but something else?
You know, that's not a nice thing to say to armed strangers. Or maybe the very fact that we've been crying made her less wary?
[x] Beatrice. That's all you need to know.
Why did you try to sneak up on us, Mr. Terrible Singer? What's your game?
- Location
- Lost in Hell
Fixed! Yeesh, that's more than normal. Wonder how they slipped past me...
It's intentional. Remember the A/N about cultural things? This is one of them.
It's a bunch of factors you haven't seen yet, combined with that pesky amnesia .
The fact we were slowly following behind her father with an arrow in our hand and a bow in the other.
She's a teenager and yes, it is.
- Location
- Lost in Hell
Welp, I've waited long enough. It's a three way tie. Unless @Hannz feels like breaking it in the next hour, I'll just throw it into a wheel spinner and let that decide.
This'll actually end up mattering a whole lot. How much you trust them with, what conclusions they draw, how much they trust you in turn. Etc etc etc. It'll control the whole conversation's flow.
This'll actually end up mattering a whole lot. How much you trust them with, what conclusions they draw, how much they trust you in turn. Etc etc etc. It'll control the whole conversation's flow.
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- Location
- Lost in Hell
IT IS DONE! Expect a new chapter...
...tomorrow morning, because I'm not goddamn staying up past midnight again and I don't feel like posting a piece of shit I was half-conscious while reading and didn't proofread!
- Location
- Lost in Hell
So you might have noticed it has been far longer than "tommorow" since I updated.
This is because of a few things. I started writing the update the day of, and then got distracted because my English class required me to write four essays. Then I kind of forgot to finish it as I got caught up beta'ing a story for a friend alongside their projects.
And now the internet is just goddamn down for 48 hours. Thanks Verizon!
So, I'll try to rescue the update from the server hell it is stuck in. I'll probably just buy a flash drive and get it onto a school computer. Expect the update soonish!
On the upside I have an omake planned as an apology.
If is entitled Laqueta fixes things.
Edit: Verizon has just called. I now have a new network and password.
What the fuck, random Verizon phone call lady. Get your story straight.
This is because of a few things. I started writing the update the day of, and then got distracted because my English class required me to write four essays. Then I kind of forgot to finish it as I got caught up beta'ing a story for a friend alongside their projects.
And now the internet is just goddamn down for 48 hours. Thanks Verizon!
So, I'll try to rescue the update from the server hell it is stuck in. I'll probably just buy a flash drive and get it onto a school computer. Expect the update soonish!
On the upside I have an omake planned as an apology.
If is entitled Laqueta fixes things.
Edit: Verizon has just called. I now have a new network and password.
What the fuck, random Verizon phone call lady. Get your story straight.
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Apology Non-Canon Omake: Laqueta fixes "Things"
- Location
- Lost in Hell
I'm presenting this first, because I've decided to rewrite a large chunk of the update. Also because this came easiest. The actual update will come later tonight. Thusly, I present our first omake;
Within a blighted forest, a throne of corpses sat, a veritable horde of the dead. Stacked with care, arranged like treasured heirlooms, each was killed in a terrible way, displayed like works of art. Tree's had been torn down, broken by something of tremendous strength, forming giant splintery poles by which many of the creatures were displayed - in a clearing of unnatural design. The grass was brown and withered, the ground tinted an unhealthy green.
Then a white blur crashed into it's head, knocking it down and to the side. The man's jaw dropped open, staring at the creature's crushed skull. Then he stared at the ranting girl hopping up and down, crushing the head further. There was no other description for her - she was a waif, younger than the man's own daughter, a head of shock white hair cut short around her bobbing up and down alongside her.
Non-Canon Omake
Laqueta Fixes "Things."
Laqueta Fixes "Things."
Within a blighted forest, a throne of corpses sat, a veritable horde of the dead. Stacked with care, arranged like treasured heirlooms, each was killed in a terrible way, displayed like works of art. Tree's had been torn down, broken by something of tremendous strength, forming giant splintery poles by which many of the creatures were displayed - in a clearing of unnatural design. The grass was brown and withered, the ground tinted an unhealthy green.
Sleeping curled around his bounty was a twisted serpent; too long and stretched out to be called a Dragon, with scales not a bright emerald but instead a dull green. It could not be called a wyvern, for no wyvern possessed two pairs of wings, one upon it's back and another replacing its front limbs. It's back legs were stunted, heavy and without feeling, the spear impaling it's calves ignored. It's tail was heavy and fell backwards, more than twice the length of it's body, and anyone who witnessed it couldn't help but wonder how the creature could even begin to walk, so unbalanced as it must be with such a tail.
It was ridiculous, it was nonsensical, and it was most certainly comical.
Yet it's teeth could crush stone. It's claw could rend even the finest steel. And from it's mouth a green mist gently escaped, coiling downward and pooling about around it's chin like a misty pool. The ground melted like slag before it.
Approaching the beast was a party of knights and warriors, lawmen dispatched to deal with a creature they had no doubt was little more than a simple exaggeration as far as reports went. A fearsome bear, a savage pack of dogs, but the silly and stunted thing they found? They would surely laugh and slaughter the thing in it's sleep.
Or so they had thought. The party once consisted of several scores of men, all trained to their best. Now they were at the thing's mercy, as it beat them without thought, for it had none to give.
They had given up all hope of surviving, and began running, the thing tearing apart the forest and smashing apart the land as it gave chase. That's when they heard it.
"Laquetaaaaaaaa……"
"What's that noise?" One of them asked, breathing ragged and face pale. Half of it was a bloody mess, the helmet discarded after it saved him from the thing's breath.
"I don't know. Just keep running!" Another screamed, passing the man. He tried keeping up, but his body was failing him, too injured by just a whiff of the creature's breath. He turned, expecting to face his death with honor and dignity. The beast came crashing towards him, rearing upwards, wing's extended in full. It seemed to blot out the sun as it's long, forked tongue extended towards him, a fearsome, crocodilian hiss filling the air.
"...KICK!"Then a white blur crashed into it's head, knocking it down and to the side. The man's jaw dropped open, staring at the creature's crushed skull. Then he stared at the ranting girl hopping up and down, crushing the head further. There was no other description for her - she was a waif, younger than the man's own daughter, a head of shock white hair cut short around her bobbing up and down alongside her.
"Stupid! Dragon! Thing!" She shouted, pulling a spear from nowhere. "This is for trying to eat me!"
And then, with one flick, she decapitated the already devastated skull from the rest of the body. Sickly brown blood spilled forth, and it's massive body twitched and heaved twice before stopping completely once done.
Satisfied, she nodded to herself. Despite the pulpy mess she stood upon, there wasn't a single drop of blood among all the white, not even on the spear's head.
"Revenge complete. Laqueta, AWAY!" She shouted, pointing a single finger towards the heavens. The Man's gaze followed it, but couldn't see what she might be pointing at.
And then he had to blink as she turned into a dove, cooing in a way that was unmistakably self-congratulatory. She flapped away, flying into the sky and out of sight in just a minute.
The man had one response.
"What."
-0-0-0-
The Snake stalked the forest, hunting her quarry. No more distractions would be allowed, no more desperate escapes permitted. Her sister had escaped her coil once, but not again.
She cursed against her limitations, the ones that her shared master had placed upon her -
"Laqueta…"
She paused, looking towards the noise. She purses her lips, biting her cheek as she considered the consequences of what she was hearing.
"...KICK!"
And then her sister collided with her feet first, kicking her into a tree. And then through another. And another. And ano- look, you get how this goes.
-0-0-0-
It had been a few days since the Fox had departed on a hunt of her own before she frowned. Something here was… wrong.
"Laqueta…."
The Fox immediately panicked, recognizing the cry from what few memories she had stolen of herself. She looked for the source of the sound, but in such heavy snow, it was useless.
She had no time! She started running, desperately trying to put distance between her and-
"KICK!" Laqueta screamed, landing on the Fox and a dozen different sections of bedrock. She nodded to herself, then to the fossilized dinosaur skull next to her, before departing from the smoking crater she had created.
-0-0-0-
Beatrice clutched her burning side, moaning in pain as she tried to force herself to her feet. The heavy rain soaked the deck of the ship, waves forcing it to rock back and forth, yet her foe was implacable.
Slowly, they cleaned their blades of Beatrice's blood. "I told you." They said, slowly stepping forward. "You do not run from -"
"Laqueta…."
Both Beatrice and her foe paused, looking towards the source of the noise. They were frozen in terror, knowing from experience what was coming next.
"KICK!"
A large hole was torn in the clouds by a white blur, the rain immediately dropping to a drizzle before stopping completely. With the force of someone launched out of a cannon from orbit, Laqueta collided with Beatrice's foe, sending them both crashing into the ocean. The impact created a massive wave, surging upwards like a volcanic eruption, blotting out the sun and forcing Beatrice to grab the sides of the ship to avoid being capsized as she watched in awe.
Not even a second later, it started to rain again, heavy ocean brine falling back to the earth. Warm, uncomfortable steam rose from the ocean's surface, setting itself upon Beatrice, obscuring her sight. A massive noise, originating from the direction Laqueta fell from, made her ears ring as she felt something wet and slick begin to fall onto her shoulders. Finally, a feeling of falling rapidly set upon her, a sensation of being spun around rapidly and with abandon. She shut her eyes, praying that it would all end.
And then she opened her eyes, and every part of her at once didn't understand what she saw.
Beatrice blinked, reality refusing to conform to reason. A ranting figure was hopping up and down upon the ocean floor, upon what must have been her foe's corpse. Rather unfortunately she couldn't hear anything at the moment, but she was quite sure that Laqueta was ranting and shouting.
There was also no more ocean.
-0-0-0-
Solstice stared at the computer screen, mumbling to himself as he erased another omake draft. That would never work, it was far too silly.
"LAQUETAAAAAA!"
Solstice screamed in terror at the cry, dropping to the ground and rolling beneath his bed.
"KICK!" Laqueta screamed, crashing through the floor and into Solstice, sending him, his bed, and his roof hurtling into the sun.
"Huh." Laqueta said. " I guess I'm god now."
She looked at his computer, sitting down in his chair, shifting around in it as she adjusted it to someone of her height.
'Comfy!" She remarked, getting comfortable as she began to write. It didn't take her long, only a few minutes at most, because she knew exactly what she wanted.
"And then they all lived happily...ever… after." She muttered as she finished typing.
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- Location
- St. Petersburg
You just did...
Ouch. That looks distinctly uncomfortable.
Several paragraphs separate the combo, so I didn't get that one was a continuation of the other until it became a recurring theme. An ellipsis before KICK woud help connect the parts, though later on there is no need because it becomes recognizable.
But yes, if there is one thing that could rival the power of hugs, it's the power of sisterly kicks. I shudder to think what May/Rabbit would have been capable of.
I wonder if any other sisters will co-author a chapter.
- Location
- Lost in Hell
Apparently my poetic speech made me overlook the fact I wrote serpent instead of dragon.You just did...
Ouch. That looks distinctly uncomfortable.
Several paragraphs separate the combo, so I didn't get that one was a continuation of the other until it became a recurring theme. An ellipsis before KICK woud help connect the parts, though later on there is no need because it becomes recognizable.
But yes, if there is one thing that could rival the power of hugs, it's the power of sisterly kicks. I shudder to think what May/Rabbit would have been capable of.
I wonder if any other sisters will co-author a chapter.
...Ellpises added.
Here's a fun bit; When we return to May, she is actually capable of (mostly) kicking this hard.
...there are some exceptions.
*looks at ocean.*
Some.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
I was thinking that the man's head was supposed to be a jaw, too. 'cause I tried to imagine his head dropping open, and it was not pretty.
But dammit, now I can't get an image of Laqueta in a biker's outfit a-la Ben Throttle out of my head. You know, the one from Full Throttle, the game that had 'kick' and 'punch' options where other games had 'look' and 'talk'.
She'd probably figure out a way to make her dress look like this, too...
But dammit, now I can't get an image of Laqueta in a biker's outfit a-la Ben Throttle out of my head. You know, the one from Full Throttle, the game that had 'kick' and 'punch' options where other games had 'look' and 'talk'.
- Location
- Lost in Hell
...She could.I was thinking that the man's head was supposed to be a jaw, too. 'cause I tried to imagine his head dropping open, and it was not pretty.
But dammit, now I can't get an image of Laqueta in a biker's outfit a-la Ben Throttle out of my head. You know, the one from Full Throttle, the game that had 'kick' and 'punch' options where other games had 'look' and 'talk'.
She'd probably figure out a way to make her dress look like this, too...
Hm...