|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Semblance of Unity rolled 3 4-sided dice:
1, 1, 2
Total: 4 (3-12)
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Nov 06, 2016 8:46 pm
 |
|
|
 |
Prompt 1: Stranger in a Strange Land
Quote: 2. It's fun to stay at the YMCA. (Youth hostel/homeless shelter) 1. My clothes are fine. (None) 1. I don't need it. (None)
The incessant press of people wasn't foreign to her; Temperance had worked in busy clinics with no space to breath, much less move. She'd been to conventions, concerts where the only take-back had been memories and the sweat of other people dampening her clothes. But here: there was a subway, a sign (dingy even considering the dim lights) that read Sheridan St, and then she was out, up into the light. The sun seemed harsher, brighter than she was used to, the cool gleam of it cutting into the icy air. Crueler. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs to bursting, and looked around, her blue swiveling here and there. Everything had such an... an uncanny valley nature about it, she thought. The people, their clothes, the advertisements. It most definitely wasn't the here and now she knew. She pulled open her bag, waking up her phone. The light gleamed out of her purse: November 1st, 2016, no service, not even for emergency calls. But that was... back there: the woods, the chasm, Sunny breaking, and the library. She was here to try and fix things.
Temperance looked around again, hoping she could find Zac, Connor, Lily, someone who had been so close by and yet, she was alone. She was so used to not keeping close connections that the sudden absence of the few she'd made was jarring. It was weakness. She reminded herself she was alright alone and that other people could take care of themselves just as she could. Except they couldn't and everything, even the fabric of the world was so damn fragile. Her fingers curled into fists. First, she needed to get her bearings. Her sneakers, bright pink and teal, made no sound against the concrete and she slipped into a bodega.
Smoke drifted hazily through the air and a cat thump, thump, thumped its tail in the corner. It looked fairly normal, but all around were those little signs - the sodas, the gum, the prices. Temperance pulled out her wallet and surreptitiously checked her cash. Assuming they would take her money, she had a couple hundred on her in small bills. Call it ATM paranoia. She needed a plan; she was losing sight, losing touch. Breathing deeply, she reached out to pet the cat. It butted its head along her arm, clearly used to strangers touching its lustrous fur. The purr started deep in his furry belly, seeming to spill up and out, vibrating her fingers tips. She wanted nothing more than to hug it. Glancing down at the paper, she froze, lips pulling into a frown.
November 1st, 1989.
No, she reminded herself, Sunday had said this might happen, or hinted, or alluded, something. Slowly, she eased the paper out from the cat. He let out a discontented yowl before hopping down and disappearing into some other corner of the small shop. A small scattering of grey cat hair followed him, like a feline kind of fairy dust, Temperance thought idly. With a dry rustle, she opened the newspaper, hoping to find something about chasms or odd people appearing or... anything really. Licking her thumb, she turned the page onto a set of housing advertisements. Not what she really needed but what if... what if they were trapped her for such a long time? She tucked a blond strand of hair behind one ear. That was definitely not a comforting thought.
"Hey, guera, you gonna buy something or stare all day?" Temperance looked up, startled. The paper dropped from her hands, an insert (some advertisement about jeans) slipping from the pages to ghost gently to the floor and under a shelf.
"Ah, yeah, sorry." With a sheepish smile, she brought up the paper after carefully refolding it. This was a store, and they certainly didn't thrive on people reading their papers in the store. Placing a dollar bill down, she picked up the newspaper and left. Money looked largely the same, as long as none of her bills were the oddly colored ones... She didn't quite fit in either. Squinting against the sun, she propped one hip up against a building and began to read. It all seemed fairly normal, news of the day, classified ads. After a few minutes, Temperance began to people-watch instead. The colors, the fabrics were all slightly different from what she wore, but instead of looking futuristic, perhaps she only looked unfashionable. She hoped. How long was she supposed to be here? And what was she even doing here? Temperance sighed, feeling as lost as she'd been at the ball. Everything seemed to swim past and over her, incomprehensible.
For now, she supposed she needed a place to stay once night fell. Somewhere cheap, where they wouldn't ask too many questions. Her eyes lit on a blinking sign in the distance. Several years later, a movie would premiere that would smear the name a bit, but for now, the word 'hostel' seemed like the best thing in the world. She'd get a place, sit down, and try to figure everything out. If she could. Folding the newspaper, she shoved it rather inelegantly into her monster of a purse and set off. There was no use in waiting.
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Semblance of Unity rolled 1 4-sided dice:
3
Total: 3 (1-4)
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 21, 2016 3:21 am
|
|
|
|
Quote: Light physical damage. -1 to all combat rolls. HP: 22/22 Recovered Power: lift Wingardium Leviosa, except you can only lift things with your brain that you could physically lift with your arms. I mean, you should still lift mostly with your knees, though. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Dec 14, 2016 8:53 pm
|
|
|
|
Quote: Temperance Clark - principal solo I don't want anyone else to die, she thought. Temperance amended it to be unnecessary death - the magic here felt like it was listening, and everything died eventually. She watched Veronica trace the symbol, burning each one into her mind's eye. The black Sharpie squeaked along the floor, each line coming to life in thick strokes. This was it. The tree: life-giver, growth, the ability to change and mature and become strong enough to weather any storm. The knot: trinity, cohesion, magic. And the keys with the ability to unlock potential, to open new doors, myriad choices hanging in the branches. She braced the knife along her arm and cut without hesitation. It hurt, of course, but she knew were to cut to bleed and not bleed out. This wasn't a dangerous cut, but a useful one. Quickly, she cleaned the knife. There was always enough time to sanitize. She wished she had a lighter. Then, pressing one hand to her arm, she knelt by the sigil, ignoring Renard as best she could. Temperance traced a knot into the tree trunk, her blood wet and sticky. The feel of it made her sick. Sunny was the focus; she was magic incarnate, bound up in this, in everything, the air they all breathed - the fourth. The tree to shelter her, the keys to guide her, the knot to sustain her. She swore she heard the wind rustling through branches and then it was around her and apart of her. Like the dancing ribbon from before, it was just out of reach. But Temperance took a deep breath and concentrated. She felt it coalesce, coagulate, spatter onto the ground like old blood, jellied and useless, thick with disuse. Fix, she though hazily, grow, possibilities. The words strung themselves into a sentence in her mind, always centering on Sunny as if she were the sun. Temperance hoped this wouldn't turn into some kind of Lord of the Rings thing. She just didn't want to have to watch as someone else died. Another person she couldn't save. Some things were fixable, some weren't. She wasn't strong enough, but she tried to pour all of herself into this. The blood began to dry. Notes Sunny is the fourth. Mission: Fix the damages that were done and encourage healthy growth and the realization of possibilities. Nominating: Zac (endejester) - the knowledge/matyr, Alexis (daekie) - the power/wildcard. |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
