[J] Aurelius's Diary +Illusionist: romantic wishes+

[shibrogane]

[THE QUICKENING]

[PART SIX]
|resource|

The tombstones shattered with the landing force of the helicopter, sending marble shards into the cradling arms of the blonde-haired girl. Zige didn't care, though; it was positively pleasant when compared to the gaze of the dragonfly-eyed doll. She gently wiped tiny bits of marble off the beautiful doll's face, and to her, it smiled.

With a creak, the door opened and a girl with pale-blue hair slid out to lower a set of stairs. She looked miserable, as if she'd rather be anywhere else. Zige ignored her; whoever the girl was was not important. What was important- the blazing one who was coming down the stairs.

His hair flamed back from his head, shiny with gel and the efforts of a long time spent before a mirror in a shade of red that was not unlike the embers of a fire. That was weird enough to Zige, who was used to blonde hair (all her dolls were blonde, and so was she) but it was his black eyes that made her shiver. There weren't even any whites to them; the only shine was from the lightning crackling madly in his hair.

The title of "The Blazing One" was well deserved.

He gestured to the girl with blue hair, who tiptoed over all the dolls and carefully tried to take away the doll. Zige resisted. "It's my doll, not yours!" The blue girl backed off quickly, tripping over a doll. "You're clumsy," she said accusingly, clutching the doll closer.

The man stepped forward and easily took away the nice doll and gave her the dragonfly-eye girl. "Maweh is mine. Aurelius is yours." His voice was courteous, at odds with his actions. "By the way, may I borrow your body for a bit, dear?" He smiled, all teeth and no meaning.

She had started to lurch back when he placed his hand- and it was so hot, that hand, like molten iron- on the side of her face. Instead of going right through her, as it should have, it stayed.

Zige began to turn an ashy gray and fell to her knees, dropping the doll. It fell to the ground, marking the forehead with an x-shaped scar.

Croatoan's patrician face slowly shifted into an exact copy of hers, then he turned to the helicopter and his attendant. "We're leaving, Lixxie," he ordered. She rushed to open the door again and wake up the pilot.

He stepped back into the helicopter, dragging the Maweh doll by her hair.

[▬]

 

[shibrogane]

[THE QUICKENING]

[PART SEVEN]
|ice world|

-the doll fell to the ground, a stray tendril of lightning marking its forehead with an x-shaped symbol-

Aure awoke with a cry of pain to a world of icy white. Sitting in a chair in the corner was a girl with short golden hair that fell in her eyes. She watched with disinterested gray eyes as the girl in the bed- sterile white sheets, but with a strange red splatter on the pillow- sat up and looked around.

"Undine?" The young woman in the chair shook her head and stood up, walking over to sit on the bed. With a creak, she sat and observed Aure quietly.

"Does your forehead hurt?" One of her roommate's pale hands pressed itself to her forehead; Aure could feel the heat of it through the bandages wrapped around her head-

Wait.

Bandages. But she wasn't hurt. She hadn't been hurt when that man had sat next to her, except for her arms, and those would heal up fine on their own. What could have happened that she'd need bandaging? She pushed Undine away and looked for a mirror; with the absence of one, she pressed fingers to her head. The exact center of her forehead twinged and she winced. Her entire head, from the eyebrows up, was wrapped in gauze.

"What did you do to me?" There was a note of panic in her voice. "Why is my head bandaged up like this? What happened?"

Undine slowly shook her head. "You broke, Aurelius. That's all. But don't worry, we can fix you. We can fix everything." She placed her hands on Aure's shoulders and held her in place with her eyes. "But then, you've always been broken, haven't you? Never been quite right. Everyone knows that." Aure tried to push her away, but upon touching the red shirt she had to pull her hands away. It was too hot, too hot- her hands were burning, burning, burning!

"My daddy shot your mommy and your sissy in the heeeaaaaad," Undine sang softly, brushing Aure's hair away from her eyes. "They won't bother you any more. Aren't you happy? You don't have to feel hurt about either of them any more. We'll keep you safe here, with all of us. We love you. We love you, Aure. Aren't you happy?"

Aure pressed her hands over her eyes and screamed. One of those burning hands covered her mouth and she could hear Undine trying to shush her. But it wasn't working, this was too horrible. Couldn't be happening. Riku had just been preoccupied. Riku didn't want to hurt her. Riku loved her, loved her daughter. Kieve had loved her too. The chilly dragonfly necklace she wore was from Kieve.

She was crying. Why was she crying?

"Shut up!" Undine slapped her, leaving a red streak across her face. "You're stupid, you're expendable, you're not worth half of Maweh!"

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe for thinking, Why were Riku and Kieve dead?

"-And I hope you're satisfied, wasting Maweh's new chance like this! I hate you! I hate you! I only wanted to make you happy!"

Undine had to be lying. She couldn't accept this, it was just too impossible. She would wake up at home and that travesty of Kieve would be happy and smiling and just like she had left her. Aure would go to sleep, and wake up with her family around her.

Black spots began to dance on front of her eyes.

"I'll make you be happy! I'll make you love me, Maweh! Maweh, the beautiful one who gave birth to me!"

The world faded to black.

-and the doll snapped in the middle, cracking on a rock. But the lightning crackled and sealed it shut again, and she screamed-

[▬]

 

[shibrogane]

[THE QUICKENING]

[PART EIGHT]
|tears for affairs|

Knock on soul.

"Do you know who you are?"

Aurelius, are you there?

She felt dead.

Everything was still white, but with icy blue and shadows added in. Tables with beakers of innumerable unnameable substances littered the lab like debris from the apocalyptic furies of a forgotten god.

She stared at the text on her computer screen, white on black.

She wanted to die, but she wasn't dead.

To disappear would be bliss.

To die, even better.

She remembered...

"Really, sir? You're putting me, a woman, in charge of the Croatoan project? Oh, thank you sir, I'll do my best, I swear!" She hadn't been too old then and hadn't thought of the consequences, of the older scientists she was displacing. How nice it had been to be naive, to believe that they would understand that she had not asked for the promotion. It was all a matter of science to her, science and passion for her duty to the project. There was no ambition.

Maweh had been so happy to be promoted, she hadn't noticed the whispers about how she had slept her way to her position. It hadn't mattered; she had the regard of her superiors and the love of her subject. Croatoan called her his mother. It was her honor to be such a person to him, always.

So she didn't notice the ire others held for her until she had been assaulted in her lab during a test cycle on smaller, unresponsive deities. The doctors said she should have died. Her healing was miraculous.

But she knew the healing for what it was; a son, protecting his mother.

No. I don't have a son. I'm just a kid, biologically. I'm not old enough to reproduce. What is this lady talking about?

A man had called security for her. He had once been her partner in Anatomy. They had dissected cadavers together. He said he loved her.

"Let's run away, where no one will ever find us," he said, as he stood before her in the bloodstained lab. "I love you, Maweh."

He hugged her as she thanked him, then smiled at her as he died from the dagger she had thrust between his ribs. It had gone in so smoothly, like butter, from the lungs into the right ventricle of his heart.

He had gagged, then slumped to the ground.

There was no sound in the lab. The investigators had believed her when she said he was trying to kill her through suffocation. She was the star scientist, why would she lie to them?

She had fled to the gigantic test tube in which Croatoan was kept and thrown herself at it, fingers clawing in the glass for purchase.

I'm not pathetic like that. I am strong! Better than that. Truly.

"Make me disappear, Croatoan! Make Maweh disappear!" She had begged until her voice was gone.

They had choked her. There were bruises on her neck.

She wanted to die.

Her voice was ruined. Her career was over after this project. No family, all alienated in the face of the Project. What was there to live for- but death?

So she begged him for death, but only after she had fixed the world. Only after the world was just as she wanted it to be. But then she wanted him to kill her, kill her dead.

My daddy shot your mommy and your sissy in the heeeaaaaad.

When she was dead, her goal wasn't accomplished. Maweh had been angry, and had yelled at Croatoan-

"You lied to me, Croatoan! You said that I could make the world pure and white!"

-until she had been given this one last chance.

Beautiful Maweh, the one who gave birth to me...

She felt tight, as if someone had tied her down. Aure struggled, struggled, as immense pain threatened to overwhelm her and she tried to open her mouth to scream--

[▬]  

[shibrogane]

[THE QUICKENING]

[PART NINE]
|sex and violence|

"It's time to wake up now, Maweh. I've been waiting..."

The burning hand was back on her forehead. It barely hurt anymore.

"...a very, very long time."

Aurelius- or was she Maweh?- sat up slowly as the hand lifted itself and settled back to where-ever it had come from it in a rustling of fabric. Hair fell in her face- not quite her normal color, it seemed to be tinted a little in a yellower direction. There was weight on the sides of her head... little dragonfly wings, she remembered, and then she tentatively felt her side. There were bandages... they felt wet to her fingers, and when she drew them away, there was red on them. When had that happened?

She wrestled with her own memories.

"Croatoan?" Her voice was hoarse, a little thick. Maweh-Aurelius looked over to him, her eyes bright with curiousity. "When did you get a body?"

His hair was blazing red again. It matched the hue of the blood on her fingers.

"You shouldn't be sitting up, Mother," he said soothingly. "You're hurt, you should rest." The hot hands pushed her back down. One rested on the bandages; the heat was reassuring, it didn't hurt.

"I'm ever so glad you're back, Mother, I've missed you ever so. That must sound so trite, but I assure you, it is all the truth. I don't know how I managed to survive this long, not knowing who or what you had been brought back as. But don't worry, the girl whose body you're in wasn't all too important in the grand scheme of things." He smoothed the coverlets over Maweh- Aurelius?- and smiled hopefully, playing the part of the devoted son perfectly. "I had her done away with. I knew you wouldn't mind."

By the look in her eyes, she was confused. "I don't remember anything before today, Croatoan," she said, the hoarse voice grating against her own ears. "Except for being a child. Maybe four or five..."

"It'll come back, Mother," he assured her. "That's just Aurelius leaving. It's not important." Croatoan kissed her on the forehead and left the room, leaving behind a smell of ozone and a faint feeling of unease.

Could Croatoan really have reincarnated her, and then destroyed the memories of her reincarnation? Maweh's forehead rumpled slightly and she grasped onto the fleeting memories of a toddlerhood as Aurelius Venport. If it wasn't really her body, she didn't want it. She'd be happy watching this girl develop the perfect world on her own... Her morals were strong, just not in relation to work. This wasn't work, this was murder.

At least, if the memories were any clue. She clung to them even harder, listening for a voice, anything to indicate that this Aurelius was still around.

It came in the form of a blue-haired female, quietly shutting the door behind her. "I'm so sorry, Aurelius," she whispered. "I really don't like helping them. But I have to, okay? Do you understand me? I have to help them, but I'm scared, so I- I'm going to help you out of here."

Black spots danced across the woman's white tank top. "Polka dots and gingham... very tasteless," she said in a daze. "Where would I go?" An abrupt change of subject.

"Well... I was going to bring you to a safe place. Is that okay? I mean, you know the Arrikanez family and, I mean, I don't know them really but Father is very obsessed, he says they're quite powerful and also that you're friends with one of their boys, so I thought maybe they'd shelter you." She only then seemed to notice the deep gash, and the way it had been flooded over. For a moment, the blue girl stared at it, uncomprehending. Eventually, she understood what she was seeing and added more pressure to the wraps. Lixxie seemed to understand that Maweh- or Aurelius, whoever she was- was in no condition to be moved anywhere.

"Um... I'll... come back tomorrow, okay? Master Croatoan... or is it Undine? I forget... he says he'll fix up that cut tomorrow." She crept out, leaving Maweh in a confused daze.

What's going on?

[▬]

 

[shibrogane]

[THE QUICKENING]

[PART TEN]
|into the ocean|

She pressed her hands to her face and stared in horror at her reflection.

Her reaction was not for Lixxie, who did indeed look very tired, haggard and confused. Maweh's reaction was for the changes to her body.

A teenager stared back at her. A pale, bloodless teenager, similar but definately not the adult body she had left behind her in the old world. Her hair was lighter, there were green... things.... on the side of her head instead of ears, her eyes had become a completely different shade of green, and her hair was long. She had boobs, for crying out loud.

And worse, she looked completely disheveled. The long blonde hair stuck out of her bandaged head nattily, appearing thinner than it really was and spiking oddly. Her clothes were rumpled, bloodstained, and too tight. Aurelius, her other self, had worn them when still a child... only a few days ago. There were black shadows under her eyes and she was scarred.

Maweh let out a tiny, pathetic sob of giggles. This could not be happening to her.

"You can take off the bandages on your head, and you could always take a bath or comb your hair," Lixxie said. Undoubtedly she was trying to be helpful, but Maweh wasn't in the mood to be helped. She pushed the girl away with her right arm; the left was too tender to move. It would move the gash on her hip about, and that was barely healing anyway. "You could!"

She set her head on the edge of the sink. "Go away, Lixxie."

To Maweh's amazement, the blue girl didn't leave. She helped Maweh straighten up. "I got a cabbage yesterday," she said, "and it's gonna grow into a baby boy. I know this because of my learnings. So I've gotta be strong, if not for me, then for him. I won't let my baby boy down." With a determined air, she firmly sat Maweh on the side of the tub. "You've got to do something. Croatoan's insane. He keeps ranting about you and how you don't love him. And I can't bring you anywhere where you can hide if you look like this. So pick, and pick fast, before he comes in to check on you."

"Okay," Maweh said, if only to make this new, obsessive Lixxie go away. "But leave me alone, okay? Please?"

She smiled and left Maweh alone. The second the door closed, she kicked at the sink's pedestal. Who was Lixxie to boss her around, anyway? Maweh might be stuck in a young body, but she was definately older than the stupid kid- she was twenty-nine, after all, definately not the late teens this body implied.

But still. She wanted out of here- Croatoan was not the same as he had been back in the original world she remembered. There he had made sense, had exhibited so many traits that she had long considered 'god-like'. Now he seemed insane, deranged. Impossible to understand, though she did respect him. Life had grown complicated since she had been reborn, she supposed. The tiny echo of the body's original owner- Aurelius- in her mind agreed. What few memories of Aurelius's she retained seemed to reflect a kind of melancholy sadness. As she discarded the blood-stained pajamas and her socks, she sighed.

Aurelius was one of those kids she supposed you just had to pity. Absent mothers, raised by machines, alone all the time... The absence of friends seemed to be an effect of the girl's personality more than any kind of real animosity by the populace, but it was still pitiable. She tugged off the bandages and stepped under the running water, wincing at the twinge of pain from her side.

Come to think of it, it almost mirrored the way she'd been raised.

But that wasn't something to think about; it'd just make her depressed. Instead, it would be better to just clean up and then do something to get out of here.

She was just lucky that the cut on her forehead hadn't bled too much when it was made. The only blood in her hair had long since dried and flaked out.

It was one of the only blessings her new life seemed to have.

[▬]

"It's time to go," Lixxie said, looking very pointedly in the opposite direction as Maweh tied the laces of the white boots. "I couldn't locate the Arrikanez house- I'll bring you to someone who can help you, I swear. I know her really well, she keeps me up-to-date on my family, I mean, not my foster family of course, but my real one. She'll leave you alone if you like, but it's really just a place to stay because Croatoan can't get to where she is. 'Cause he can't dimension-travel too well to places where he hasn't got any influence... Well, I can't either, but it's really just the door that makes you travel so once she answers it'll all be good-"

Maweh tuned out the other's rambling as she stomped both feet on the rug, settling the boots onto her feet better.

"Okay," she interuppted, as the rant entered a new paragraph. "Let's go, then, before he comes to check. Remember?"

Lixxie broke off, looking confused for a moment. "Oh," she echoed intelligently. "Let's go, then..."

They went.

[END]

 

[shibrogane]

[THE QUICKENING]

[EPILOGUE]
|goodbye to you|

Dear Diary;
I guess Aurelius must've kept a diary somewhere, but I don't think I live where she lived so it only makes sense for me to get my own journal. It's pretty and gold, I found it on the desk. I suppose maybe I could write this scientifically so she can understand where I'm coming from when she gets back, but I hated writing reports so I'll write it as I think of it.

Well I'm in this place called Valinor, which apparently is the name of the Elvish 'heaven' in a series of books called the Lord of the Rings. Whoever would name their place after heaven has to be pretty weird, but I haven't met the owner yet. All I know is that the owner is a girl and is somehow related to Dorian Gray. Or is frozen in time due to a portrait like that? I don't know yet, but I'll find out for Aurelius. Lixxie dropped me off here because she couldn't find the Arrikanez house, even after looking pretty hard.

There are plenty of people here for me to talk to. Asmadai Riffael in particular is rather interesting. He spends a lot of time sad or protecting us from ourselves. I guess he's the father of the Dorians, which is what Valinor's residents call themselves. He certainly acts fatherly; he's even nice to me, and I'm new here.

They all know Lixxie and seem to have varying degrees of pity for her. I wonder why?

But this place seems nice. It's certainly a way for me to get used to this new world I'm going to fix, anyway.

LOVE LOVE,
Maweh

[FINALE]

 

[shibrogane]

[solopost]

[valinor]
|late night picture show|

Wednesday night at Valinor had, at some point, become movie night. This was when every denizen would emerge from the depths of despair- or simply their room, if they had no despair to rise from- and meet up in the living room. There they sprawled themselves across overstuffed armchairs and couches, refusing to budge for any others until said person sat on them. Luckily, Maweh had the wisdom to come downstairs early to sit upon the blue-gray armchair near the TV.

This entire place sometimes seemed wispy, insubstantial. It reminded her a dream that a sixteen-year-old test subject had described to her, back on her own world.

As she placed the DVD she had been told to bring into the player and slid it closed, the rest of the house came in. Li squabbled with Asmadai over possession of the black leather sectional, eventually losing when the pretty Chinese girl realized that she wasn't going to get Asmadai riled up enough that he would move to negotiate with someone else. So Li budged up, and Asmadai sat primly next to her, off to the right of the TV. Cathay had grabbed an armchair, and was lounging in it as if she had nothing better to do with her time. Sokoll sat in a chair, sharing with a blond person wearing a black hoodie and jeans. Maweh was very sure she didn't know this person.

Once the commercials were over and the play screen for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban had popped up, the room gradually began to quiet down. For a group of only six people, they could make quite a lot of noise when they so desired. It was Li who said, "Hey! You saved us from another night of my movies!"

Sokoll laughed, and said in a heavy German accent, "She was hoping to get out of it when we got bored of laughing ourselves sick." The being next to Sokoll's body posture clearly said rolling my eyes, rolling rolling rolling.

The idea behind Valinor's movie night was to introduce the new person through movies. And if the person had horrendous choice in movie, of course they had to continue choosing until such a time as everyone got bored of their horrible taste. Good movie-pickers, and their skills, were reserved for special movie nights- birthdays came to Maweh's mind. Her birthday had passed, very recently. By her own request, it had gone largely unnoticed, except at dinner. There had been a small cupcake with vanilla icing on her plate when she had come downstairs, and the entire contingent (plus the fetus on the microwave) had claimed a lack of knowledge of the appearance of the cupcake.

She'd left a thank you note under her plate when they'd all gone.

The next morning, it was replaced with a piece of wrinkled archival paper with a scribbled red heart on it. It was all very mysterious.

As the movie scrolled through the opening credits, popcorn and various other junk food was passed around. The stranger pulled squeeze cheese and Triscuits out of some nullspace pocket- because there was no way a slouching teenager could hold all that in his or her hoodie- and, after offering it around and being universally rejected, built himself a tower of eight triscuits. Maweh herself commandeered a chocolate croissant from Asmadai, who apparently always brought such treats. French they might be, but even the priest couldn't deny himself his sweet tooth. Cathay had some kind of strange bag of buttercups that she was chewing on and refused to share, despite Li's various attempts- "C'mon, pleeeeease, Cathay??"

Once Remus Lupin- or the greasy, mustachioed man they tried to pass off as emaciated, clean-shaven Lupin- and Harry Potter had had their chat on the bridge, Maweh felt eyes on her. Turning a little, but not enough for her watcher to really notice, she saw the blond staring at her with an unsettling smile. Quickly, she looked back at the screen, and sighed with relief when the stranger and Sokoll left the room, seemingly by previous agreement. Faint sounds of arguing could be heard, but everyone else seemed determined to ignore them. So she noted down what little she could make out, then returned to watching the movie with glassy eyes.

Harry was fleeing from the Remus-werewolf when a rather piping, contralto voice said, "Stop, wait, let's play scrabble." Though the rest of the group seemed unsurprised, Maweh turned to look. Before, she had sort of assumed that the blond was female, maybe Sokoll's long-lost daughter or something, because of the way she or he was sitting on Sokoll. But it appeared that the stranger was Sokoll's long-lost son, because he definitely didn't have a female voice.

Until the movie ended, Maweh retained her curiosity. Surely the boy would hang around with the rest of the group before disappearing to wherever he'd come from. But once the movie was over and the disc returned to its proper cartridge, he was gone. So was Sokoll and Cathay, leaving Asmadai and Li to quibble over the last three croissants.

"Who was that?" Asmadai turned a puzzled glance to her, his gaze foggy for a moment before he perked up, looking like he understood what she was asking.

"No one important," he demurred, flapping one hand in her direction. Li nodded solemn agreement, and took another one of the priest's croissants. "When she's ready to let you know who she is, she'll tell you."

Maweh made a face at Asmadai. "Sounded like a boy to me," she said, probing.

Li shook her head. "Nope, nope, she's a girl. Most definitely." The priest and the archer chose that moment to wisely wander off, leaving Maweh to wonder after the girl that had argued with Sokoll.

She was very confused.

[]

 

[shibrogane]

[roleplay]

[near canada]
|dark forests|

"How does everything always end up in the United States, I mean, seriously. Come on, this country can't have all these creatures and demons here; humans've only been here for so many years," the tall blonde male stated as he brushed away a stray branch. The sapling leaned slightly as he hit it before snapping back to hit him in the face.
"...Ow."
Dean Cole, or just Dean, was in the middle of the northern midwest's forests, doing God knows what, since none of this could actually be God's work.
If he even existed.
"I mean, seriously. How could humans have dragged out all these demonic creatures and set Hell loose upon these virgin lands, hrm?"
Aure rolled her eyes and viciously kicked a dandelion. "I'm sure that the demons probably fed upon human fears and created all these creatures specially." She uncoiled some of her long hair from a branch and shook her head. "And then consider. We have immigrants from every country under the sun. At least some of them must have brought hauntings, some of them might have even been possessed. It is a reflection of our melting-pot heritage."
So spoke the Canadian. She hopped neatly over a log, jogging forward a bit ahead of Dean. "So what's going on here? Disappearances? Bodies? Cattle mutilations?" With a sharp crack of the branch she was standing on, Aure turned to face her cousin. She neatly blocked most of the established trail.
"Bodies, mostly. And some victims have been found to have smoothed skin and grown significantly shorter. All the victims have seemed to been digested in some way, shape or form, as well, though some of them have still survived. However, none of them remember what happened," Dean replied flatly as he climbed over a very tall Virginia Creeper.
"Soo...any idea, hm?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "We're just headed out to look at the place that most of the attacks have happened, if they even were attacks. But nothing in the reports would suggest they weren't."
She hummed, her favored delaying tactic. "Sounds aboriginal. Kind of kinky, if you're into being swallowed. I think there's an internet community, if you're into that kind of thing." With an aggravated mutter, she flicked some kind of buzzing insect away from her hair. "I do hope you brought more than peanut M&Ms," she added darkly. Last time they'd gone on an extended trip, he'd forgotten that he needed more sustenance than the occasional sugar rush and they had had to leave their network of caves early.
"Heh...swallowed..." Dean snickered, his sense of humor lacking for the moment. He shook his head and nodded.
"Yeah, of course."
And with that he pulled out a giant bag of peanut M&Ms...and a couple of Hershey's chocolate bars.
"Good enough?" he asked, grinning lamely.
"No," she snapped irritably. Did he never learn? She sighed after a moment of contemplation. "Fine, fine. Next time, I'm packing your bags, and you can pack the guns. If we leave early, I'm going to go back to my classes, and you can come back on your own." Not like she meant it; though Aure knew that Dean could handle himself, she liked to be around. Insurance against the inevitable, as it were.
"Oh....so then this bag of pretzels and granola bars wouldn't be good, either then?" he asked slowly, exposing the contents of his mailbag. He sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "Fiiine...it's not like my professors will miss me."
She smiled, pleased now. "No, I'm good now." She patted him on the shoulder as she climbed over a dessicated old wall. "Thank you for listening to me, Dean. Now, where are we stopping? Anywhere in particular, or shall we wander?"
She'll be really unhappy when she realizes I've forgotten the water, Dean thought silently, putting the "rations" away. "It should be a mile or so more north, though. These were hikers that got attacked, and a couple local kids, too. So, they'd be a little farther in than this..."
Luckily for Dean and all of his future prostitute friends, Aure had packed enough water for both of them for a week, just in case. "Remind me while we're starting so late in the day, then, please? Most swallowing monsters come out during the night, you know."
"EEEExactly. We wanna examine the scene and get a couple clues as to what the hell we're dealing with before we chance getting attacked, no? We wanna have an idea as to what the hell we're trying to hunt before we start getting hunted ourselves. Remember North Carolina?" he asked, referring to their short bout with a very rabid Wendigo and a werewolf.
She glared. "Okay, one, that was your fault. When we're hunting two things at once, you don't dance around it like a ballerina. Two, I was twelve at the time and didn't know any better, because you forgot to mention that our secondary target was a werewolf!" His mind must be like an overgrown hedge maze. Sometimes she imagined that, then realized that even that was too neat; it was something like medical files. She hated the medical filing system.
"Oh, thanks," Dean said sarcastically. "Especially considering the fact that I was, what, fifteen, sixteen at the time?"
Rolling his eyes, he continued on, until they emerged into a small clearing. Dots of...something speckled the ground they walked on here, the trees just old enough to block out most of the sun.
"Alright, here we are," the hunter murmured, kneeling down to examine what appeared to be a large portion of whatever the stuff was.
"Take a look around and tell me wot y'think," he told his companion quietly, already lost in his old world of the hunter.
Aure settled next to some of the stuff, poked at it gingerly, and frowned. That pulled at her shoulder, which was still healing after an extremely recent wounding. She shifted her weight a little, and continued to pull at it. "Seems like... fatty tissue?" With just a bit of a disgusted look on her face, she picked up a handful of it. "Feels like it, too. It could have something to do with the way the victims shrunk."
"Possibly, although they shrunk vertically, not horizontally..." Dean murmured, inspecting one of the trees nearby.
"What does this look like to you?" he asked, frowning. It was definately out of place in this woods, but he couldn't quite figure out why. It was rather similar to the other trees nearby, but still. Different...
She tilted her head at it. "It's Aboriginal, isn't it? It isn't native to this area." Making a face, she shook the handful of whatever-it-was back to the ground; it fell with a sickening plop. "It definately isn't deciduous, like the rest of these trees."
"Well, let's take a look," he said, putting his mailbag down where it wouldn't touch any of the mysterious substance. "That was gross, by the way."
He dug his fingers into the bark of the tree and began to climb, slipping and sliding a bit as he did so. There was a lot of...something on the bark, making it much more slippery than a normal tree would be.
He didn't want to think about it too much.
Finally reaching the top, he settled onto a branch and slowly manuevered his way towards the tip, looking for any indication of what it could be. And there it was.
"Heads up," Dean called down, dropping one of the fruits from the tree down on Aure's head.
Of course, Aure automatically looked up and got a faceful of the strange fruit. Spluttering indignantly, she spat out some of the pulp and examined a lock of her hair. "You will pay. I will drive your ******** truck into a ditch, then I will kick your ******** bike into a marsh where frogs and all manner of nasties can take up residence in it. And then, and only then, will I take action against you personally." Her mutterings of vengance faded into just about nothing. "You see anything else up there, genius?"
"In all fairness, I did warn you," he retorted gleefully. He loved playing tricks on her, but she always took it so personally.
"And no, there isn't really much else up here, just some scratch marks that look like they could be made from any type of animal, not necessarily a creature of any sort. But still, something to think about. Anyway, we might want to inspect anything that could do with this lovely piece of nature I happen to be sitting in; run a search, something might pop up."
It would help if she knew what the hell it was. Still, Aure settled beneath the tree and pulled out her laptop- resettling the guns that also took up residence inside the pack- to do the requested search. "Why don't you come down here? I can start getting my revenge early. Maybe throw one of these shrikes at you." She typed in strange aboriginal tree, hoping against hope that something would turn up.
Dean snickered and was tempted to drop another fruit on her but decided against it. He liked his truck and bike too much to allow much else to happen to it, and with Aure, well, anything was possible.
"No thanks," he said simply, taking up residence in the tree for a bit. "I kinda like it up here."
"All I can find are some old myths," Aure yelled up, frustrated. What the hell would a yama-what-the-hell-ever have to do with a freaky, fat-dropping tree? She just didn't see it. "Aboriginals, something about little red men. Pantheon.com turns up a type of monster that is known for swallowing people, which would be useful, except for the fact that it's an Aboriginal and not a-"
Aure paused, then slowly closed her laptop. Once she made sure it was secure, she smacked her forehead on it. Then she opened it back up. "I found our monster, Dean."
"Old myths are good myths," Dean stated calmly. "What else does it say, kiddo? Like, how about a time as to when it attacks, since it's starting to get dark out and if that's when it attacks, I dun' wanna be up in this tree when it decides to wake up. So gimme some info'mation, yo," he told her, adding a bit of a gangsta attitude at the end.
She snorted. "What if I left you up there without information?" But she looked back to her screen and read off, "It's called a Yara-ma-yha-who. It's a little red man, has octopus suckers for hands and feet, and a very large head and mouth. Says it's a vampiric creature that uses the suckers on its hands to drain blood from the person who rests under the tree- there's no specific hunting time mentioned, but believe me, I am not sleeping and, or resting under this tree." Aure put away the laptop and scooted away, setting under a pine tree not too far away. "There's no listed way to kill it, so I vote we set it afire and watch it burn."
"Or stake it, that's the traditional way to kill a vamp," Dean said, rolling out of the tree at Aure's indignation to be anywhere near it. Besides, it was getting dark and he didn't want to risk dying because he wanted to laze in a freakin' tree. "And you wouldn't dare leave me up there without information," he added, hitting the ground with a dull thump. It wasn't that high up anyway.
Aure glared. "I would so, if you annoyed me enough. Watch me, at some point, I will." She pulled out a sleeping bag and quickly sprayed it down with bug repellent; she might be roughing it and covered in fig, but she wasn't going to get eaten by bugs.
"Oh, yes, definately, let's sleep beneath the tree with the little red demon vampire," Dean teased, getting out his own sleeping bag and bug spray. He, too, wasn't stupid, and bugs loved nibbling on his skin; he wasn't going to risk it, either.
"Psychopath. Hope the Yama-wtfhever nibbles on your toes, first," he muttered, burrowing into his sleeping bag and getting out a battered journal to scrawl in the information about the Yama-ma-yha-who.
Aure rolled her eyes at him and settled against the pine tree she was going to sleep under, then resettled. She made a face at his back before sliding into her own sleeping bag and practically disappearing in it. "Sweet dreams," she said halfheartedly, tucking in the very top of the sleeping bag around her head.

(in progress)

[]

 

[shibrogane]

[roleplay]

[keirro's place]
|identification illusion~|

Ranis, Keirro, Aure

[]

 

[shibrogane]

[solopost]

[valinor]
|an explosion|

Late at night, Maweh was boiling water for tea in the microwave. Her concentration rivaled nothing priorly leveled at the cooking device; she needed this tea to finish recording exactly everything she had said that day for Aurelius's perusal later. It was late enough that she was even a little worried that maybe she'd put the tea bag in the water already; only a glance at the table next to her left hand reassured her that the microwave wasn't about to implode from the presence of metal inside.

Except... it did.

In a bright explosion of colors that would give anyone a headache, the jar on top of the microwave exploded. She moved to shield her eyes from the inevitable glass, but there was strangely nothing.

When she dropped her arm, there was a little girl sitting on top of the microwave, wearing an orange scarf, a green shirt and vest, and blue jeans. For a moment, Maweh stared. "Oh no. I am not taking care of any kid," she said, holding up both hands and starting to back away.

"Oh~ Asimov!" An almost-familiar voice crooned from the doorway. "I was beginning to think you'd never, ever hatch!" The blond from movie night brushed past Maweh and wrapped her black-clad arms around the brightly colored child, pulling her down from the top of the microwave. Asimov watched Maweh through heterochromic eyes with barely concealed distaste. "Don't mind Maweh," she hummed to the child. "She's just not as colorful as you are~ ohoho~"

The girl glanced back at Maweh, smiling widely. "She could be, if she wants..."

The two girls disappeared around the door frame, and the microwave beeped loudly.

[]

 

[shibrogane]

[solopost]

[the library at valinor]
|the name of blasphemy|

The calendar read Sunday and everyone else sat in the living room and listened to Asmadai speak passionately about God and how he would save them all. Save Maweh, who had taken up residence in the library to spend time thinking upon scientia nova and the future. She knelt over a thick tome, too heavy to lift but wide enough that she had no difficulties pulling it off the shelf and to the ground. It didn't make any sense. She thought, perhaps, that she had overstressed and underslept in her efforts to keep records.

"and I saw a great beast rise out of the desert... and on its many heads was written the name of blasphemy"

Hair brushed her bare shoulders. Maweh reacted, pulling back and looking the girl from movie night in the wide, colorless eyes. Where iris should have been was just scelera, leaving an eerie black pupil beneath long black lashes. "Is it not said, of course, that what is heretical is some is not to others?" This girl had a way of speaking, slowly and with great authority, that echoed that of Maweh's superiors at the research laboratories. She bowed her head a miniscule amount, reluctant to give the girl any kind of leeway.

"Who are you?" She didn't want to waste this chance. A name could do much for her investigations.

"A door, once opened, can never be closed." Her eyes closed almost completely. "Maweh."

They were of a similar age, almost, Maweh observed. This girl was three or four years younger; fifteen, maybe. Sixteen at the oldest. Without her hood to add to her mystique, she didn't look quite as strange. "I wanted your name, not mine," she said, feeling bold. "Please be kind enough to tell me!"

"Oh, that's easy, then. I'm Megan Eisenheim." The girl straightened and ran one hand through her hair, exposing dishwater blonde roots. "The Dorian, or am I a Historian now? It's so hard to keep track." She had paused over the title 'Dorian', sounding it out several times, as if unfamiliar with it.

Maweh blinked.

She saw no reason for this child to be the Dorian. The Dorian, she was quite certain, would not wear teal Jack Sparrow pajamas. Nor would she be ignorant of how to pronounce the word. "Hey," Megan said, offended. "I can spell it. I just can't say it." She made a face at Maweh. "This is why I like Aure more." A frown crossed her face for a moment.

"What?" The words came out slowly, like molasses. Never had someone said that to her, dismissed her so out-of-hand. This Megan Eisenheim had never even spoken to her before today, just a strange comment about being as colorful as Asimov- a rude little brat that she had taken no small joy in maligning in her records- in the kitchen.

"Hey, you had the same problem when you were a kid." The girl sulked, looking rather silly as she did it. "Read a lot and never talked to anyone. I know. I know a lot of things." As if to prove it, she jabbed the book with a finger with her eyes closed, then read it off. "The astral form is the form that one may project out unto other places."

The Illusionary took a moment to step away from the obviously psychotic child, and considered calling for Asmadai. "What do you mean, you like Aure more?"

"Oh, that." Megan seemed almost unconcerned. "She's not so cheeky as you. I know her a lot better than you."

Maweh leapt upon this phrase. "Where is she, then? How can I get her back?"

She shrugged. "She's in the continental United States, near Montreal, Canada."

Megan's eyebrows were dyed, although not well. It puzzled Maweh that she would notice this fact, over all the other things that could draw her attention. She wrenched her eyes away from the eyebrows and returned them to the strangely colorless eyes. "Anyway. I want her back. You bore me. I don't even know why I let Croatoan bring you back, anyway. Also, Aure just is more fun than you."

She shrugged again. "I guess he's just really persistent, and I had to reward him. Or something. He can get really pissy if I don't let him out every once in a while."

Maweh's mouth worked silently. She wanted to deny all this- that someone could just decide, based on nothing, to banish her. Ignore the fact that she wanted it. It was something to accomplish on her own, a great fanfare to announce her own departure. But this Megan Eisenheim was threatening to take that away, speaking of... controlling Croatoan like he was just some kind of dog.

Seeing this, the girl smiled and ran her hand through her hair again. "See, there are people here who need Aure to get through everything. There's Alice, who doesn't have anyone left because of something that's not her fault. There's Xavier, who needs a way to get off land and into the world of the sea, so he can fulfill his- well, his destiny. And even Croatoan needs her. I want them to be helped, so I can't let you stay anymore." She leaned close. "Sorry, old bean. I wish I could let you stay- you're fun in your own way. But people depend on me to make the right choices. And you're not it. Okay?"

With the air of a dancer ending her final show, Megan pressed her hands to the sides of Maweh's head, echoing Croatoan's method of replacing her into this body. Instead of burning, though, she felt ice at her temples. "Sorry about the brainfreeze," the Dorian said, smiling a slightly crooked smile.

"ugh, that's weird, Dean, I can't see you anymore..."

Her voice sounded... male? Maweh snapped back to consciousness, then looked down. Jeans? She'd been wearing a skirt just a moment ago, fighting- fighting... A roaring filled her head, blasting every thought into the void. For a moment, everything was still, with such an oppressive silence that Maweh had to scream, so loudly that everything shattered. Fear filled her, swallowing up all conscious thought, and for a second, it was as if nothing existed anymore but herself, just herself and one other person.

Herself, with yellow blonde hair and bright green eyes. Their eyes met for just a second, but that was all that was needed.

"I never want to see you again," the other Maweh said darkly. "You've messed it all up already. Dean doesn't need me, he's got Ella now. I'm sick of it all. You can have it- see if I care at all."

Both of them nodded, and the contact seemed to break. Then the roaring returned, and Maweh felt stiffness spread along her back and limbs. A sickening paralysis that made all else, even the sad and lonely death from before Aure, feel like heaven. She saw colors, fiery, and a brown-haired man leaning over her with a worried expression. The sky bled, and her head ached. Dark stone burned around them. She could smell sulfur from somewhere nearby.

"I'm glad you're with me, Aurelius," the man said, cradling a bloodstained cloth in one hand. "Especially here, at the end of everything. It's just too bad that we couldn't be back at the Haven."

Then everything turned to ash.

The return to wakefullness was slow coming to Aure. She could hear someone, a man, reading from a book. A soft pillow lay under her left side. Which was strange; she could have sworn that she had been hit on the head with a large rock and had been dying, just moments ago. But she reached up with one limb and felt the side of her head, and did not find a spongy ruin. Instead, she felt hair and the welcome firmness of a skull.

"Oh. You're awake." A brunet man looked at her from the foot of the bed as she sat up slowly. "Megan Eisenheim was afraid she'd killed you, Aurelius." He closed the book he had been reading aloud, then rubbed at tired eyes. "I was happy to have an escape from Asimov, too." There was almost a regretful note in his voice.

She folded her legs under her. This man looked like Dean, but the military uniform did not fit quite right with the womanizing, perverted Dean she knew. "What's your name?" It would be best to find out information and avert a possible crisis later. "Since you know mine, it's polite to tell me yours."

He sighed and picked at a patch on his sleeve. "Xavier Lauderdale, head navigational officer of the beached starseeker Ampoliros. It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am." Something about his expression seemed to say, Even though we've already met.

"What's the date," she said suspiciously. It should be sometime in May. It had to be sometime in May.

"It's July tenth," he said.

Shock dropped her jaw before she could make it stop. "You're kidding."

Somewhere, Aurelius had lost two entire months.

[▬]

 

[shibrogane]

[solopost]

[the cafe on eighth street]
|the other half is|

“Aurelius Venport?”

The blonde looked up from her newspaper, a little surprised. She didn’t know anyone who would stalk her to a café, of all places. They usually knew of her distaste for clichés, and arranged meetings elsewhere. An eyebrow twitched. What was next? Would James Bond come fishtailing down the street, throw open a car door, and shout “get in”? She scowled, and said, “Yes. I don’t believe I know you, mister...” Aurelius shielded her eyes against the bright light of the sun and gazed at him.

Both men stood tall, the shorter of them- the one who had spoken before- easily six feet. One of them looked extremely feminine, with auburn hair up in a complicated bun and expertly applied makeup; he was the taller of the two, and he dressed to impress, with a soft raspberry colored turtleneck and slacks with sharp creases in them. The shorter one had shorter, black hair that stuck up at awkward angles, and he looked a little more shabby. His clothes were very rumpled. “I’m Arafel,” he said, “And this is Kira.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said politely in return.

They stood there for several moments, staring at each other. “We have a proposition for you,” said Kira, sitting down across from Arafel- to Aure’s right. She quirked an eyebrow and scooted her chair back enough that she could stand and run if necessary. Arafel stifled a laugh on his stained sleeve.

“Are you going to run, or are you going to listen?” His eyes were crinkled with mirth. Aure felt like punching him, right in that arrogant laughing mouth. But she restrained herself.

“I’ll listen,” she said, with as much dignity as she could muster. She leant back into the chair, flipping her long hair over an arm of it. Not only did that show how very un-threatened she felt, it also freed her hair from the twisted wire back of the chair. If she needed to get out of there quickly, she was ready. The only thing left would be to discover the true intentions of these two, because knowledge was power.

And knowing is half the battle, she thought smugly.

“The other half is shooting somebody,” Kira said softly. “Are you going to listen to our proposal, or are you going to contemplate escape routes? We mean you no harm.”

Arafel laughed again, and Aure blushed, angry and embarrassed. How had he known?...

The long-haired Kira leant forward and spoke in quiet, understated tones. “You have a certain relative who is the president of a certain company that we shall not mention, but which you certainly know. We have heard recently of a death in your family, of your foster mother and her organic Doll?”

Aure’s head drooped slightly, and she was silent for a moment. Even if she could feel the mute eyes of the feminine Kira, those memories were still too... strange. Any girl, upon returning to her home and finding her family dead, would shy away from those thoughts. The quiet laughter of dark-haired Arafel did not shake her from her reverie, but the continuance of their proposition did.

“We want you to take over that certain relative’s company for us,” he said, as if he knew that she wouldn’t interrupt. “He is soon to die, especially if he continues along the path that he has begun. We want you to take it when he is gone...”

“That’s morbid,” she said, jeering. “Presuming I even desire to run a company--“

Kira sighed. “We know of your wish to make the world pure and white.” There was a strange amount of emphasis on the descriptive words: wish, pure, white. “If you have the extremely influential company under your control, then you could begin from there... it would be a powerful place from which to start. A very powerful place.”

How did he know? That seemed to be a pertinent question around these two: laughing Arafel and the omniscient Kira. It was almost as if he could read her mind.

“I can,” Kira said.

He was opening his mouth to continue when Arafel interrupted. “Well, if that’s all,” Arafel said, standing abruptly, with no look of laughter upon his face. “Kira and I really must be going, it’s quite past our bedtimes, you understand.”

Aurelius lurched forwards. “It’s eleven in the morning!”

“Exactly, and we’ve been awake for nearly thirty hours, love.” He dragged Kira up. “Time to go.” Shadows reared up and around the two, swallowing them whole. Though the two were gone, the shadows returned to their places, docile and immobile. She stared at them for several minutes. Kira had plainly wanted to say something, and yet Arafel had dragged him away...

Aure rested her chin on the heel of her palm, contemplating the small black fragments of something arising from the ground where the two had disappeared. She remained like that, ignoring the iced tea at her elbow, for quite some time, until she became aware of someone standing at her shoulder. “Yes,” she said irritably. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” said a feathery voice, familiar and yet not. “I just- I thought I knew you for a second. I didn’t mean anything by it.” Footsteps led away; only after she couldn’t hear them anymore did Aurelius turn to look at the retreating back of the girl. Blue hair and a dress that reminded her of nothing more than Alice in Wonderland, carrying a baby with dark hair in red...

Not someone she knew.

She sighed, and returned to the newspaper that she had never really closed.

[▬]

 

[shibrogane]

[roleplay]

[the streets]
|logic|

Aurelius, Victor, et alii

[]

 

[shibrogane]

[journal]

[mood]
|date|
Dear Journal...

Everyone is in a horrible mood, and I'm no exception. I can only find two possible vectors for this 'virus'- Megan and the sudden influx of vampires. Here, I'll explain how I've determined this:

Theory One-
Megan broke her laptop and hence is highly irritated. She is the "god" of the house, therefore her mood affects others.

Theory Two-
Asmadai, who is normally the peacemaker, is having a bout with depression. He seems to think the vampire invasion is his fault. This is an interesting thought process; I wish I could read minds so I could find out how he came to this conclusion and address it.

In order to determine the accurate vector, either all this vampire frenzy must die down or Megan's laptop must come back from the shop.

I'm not sure which will occur first.

Also, those two who spoke to me of leading my grandfather's company haven't yet contacted me further. It's highly irritating, and might be the largest factor into my irritation lately.

It's autumn outside. I hadn't noticed.

[]

 

[shibrogane]

[solopost]

[valinor]
|fire|
Out of all the residents of Valinor, only Aure slept restlessly. Her dreams tormented her- shadowy figures dug away at what felt like her soul... her blood was on fire and she screamed, but woke up to solemn silence. She dreamt of a blonde man, someone she thought she might have- loved?- and of brick, and of blood. Of pain. When she woke up for the eighth time in three hours, her face dripped tears. She took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed her hands to her face, balling them up in the sleeves to rub away the tears. Had she died in her sleep?

Logic told her no. Her heart, though, was a different matter entirely. She closed her eyes and reached blindly for her journal to record this new turn of events; while writing, she retrieved a pair of sleeping pills from the cabinet. One tablet of ibuprofen, bright red against the blue of frostbite from yesterday's experiments with liquid hydrogen. All of it, washed down with a glass of water from the sink. She didn't feel like being picky.

The rest of the night passed with blissful sleep; the blonde man was still there, but more and more she thought of silver and gold. She smiled in her sleep.

Aure sat up abruptly, running hands through long hair and staring at the mirror across from the bed. "Asimov, this isn't funny..." Something was wrong with her voice. Laryngitis, maybe, from the screaming last night. But there was no response from the demon child. The man in the mirror mimicked her motions exactly; she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her feet touched the ground. His did, also, without a moment of hesitation. Being an eminently logical being, she came to the answer right away. "Oh, hell," he said in his deeper voice.

Now would not be a good thing to panic. He stood up and shivered in the cold air. Too cold, really, too cold. Quickly, trying to keep contact with the floor as minimal as possible, he hopped to the mirror and touched his chest, over his heart. Definately flat. Despite his opinion on his former feminine endowment, it was much more disconcerting to be without. Aure felt out of balance; with one hand on the wall, he stood up straight again. The length of his hair hadn't changed, he noted; there was a reddish tinge to his fingers. And he had a killer headache...

The mirror was cool. It made it possible to think this through. "Logic," he muttered, "Logic." It didn't come when called, so he sat on the floor and waited for his normal faculties to return. This couldn't be happening, he thought, but it obviously was. He was female, he thought, except he obviously wasn't. He could feel the difference, even without moving. Aure clenched his hands on the wall. At least they looked the same as they ever did; even the broken wrist had transferred.

Who did he know that knew someone who could keep quiet about something like this?

No one. No one, except...

He stood up and walked over to the standing armoire. A few of his shirts ought to work for a male as well as a female, and his jeans too, hopefully. Aure knew he didn't want to go out in a dress or a skirt. That... would just be wrong. And probably scar him forever.

Once dressed- thank all the nonexistent gods his shoes still fit- he grabbed his keys, his bag- it wasn't appropriate to call it a purse anymore- and practically ran out the door.

[]