[identity profile] lawrencegillies.livejournal.com


This is in part for [info]adze  who asked a while back for a story of Rudi's past, asking how he came by his reputation.

After a little research, the idea collided with the recent apocalyptic events and became this. I would love to take the time to explore some of the details. I also hope that ST types don't mind the scale of what I am claiming to have been responsible for! (mind you, it doesn't necessarily have to be entirely down to him...)

Anyway, enough preamble, on to the

 

story )

 

[identity profile] darkana9.livejournal.com
outside the windows of the chantry london smouldered, the fires were mostly out, the rats fewer and slinking back as the rain drizzled down soaking a ruined city, and now people prayed on each other and from a window he watched
Read more... )

[identity profile] darkana9.livejournal.com
London is burning, the fires and damage everywhere, as the images scroll across the conjured screen Richard surveys from beyond the gauntlet with a quick twist of his hand before the image it wavers and shows fires rising above the champs elysee, red square, times square, du point circle, beverley hills, the horizon is dark from the giza plateau where the flames of cairo rise, tianamen square is littered with rubble and in all places the rats move,
Read more... )
[identity profile] dainul.livejournal.com
((Not very good, but it was spinning around my head. Not really how the city's changed. More how events have changed me.))

Read more... )
[identity profile] nadriel.livejournal.com
Not 100% happy with the writing, but hey, here it is anyway...
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[identity profile] kievala.livejournal.com
The price of doing business )
[identity profile] kievala.livejournal.com
Judge. Jury. Executioner. )
[identity profile] adze.livejournal.com
Michael turned away from the rubble, and sagged against a wall. The devastation was so widespread, he’d not been able to stop for more than a few minutes after they’d come back from Scar. Or at least, what was left of Scar. He’d saved dozens – pulling them out of the rubble, healing the worst of their hurts, binding their wounds, and trying to just keep people’s spirits up. It was hard, in the face of how it looked, but Michael had to try. After all, he knew what had happened.

The Sept had gone to Scar, taking with them what allies they could. With Spirals holding their Caern, they’d fought their way to the batteries, and then the Ratkin had joined them. Hundreds, if not thousands of Ratkin had poured out of nowhere, tearing up everything that could be torn up, and hurling the pieces at Charybdis. Soon, almost all of Scar was being poured into Charybdis, and they’d won. Charybdis was free, Flux was repowered, and the death of Scar had dealt the Weaver a massive blow.

But then, they’d come home. They’d gone out to save the world, but when they’d returned, it had looked like it was ending. On the skyline, London was in flames, worse than anyone had seen it before. The Ratkin hadn’t limited their strikes to Scar, but had hit everywhere, it turned out. Cities around the globe were nigh-on destroyed, and millions were dead. And it had all been Michael’s fault.

Not directly, not intentionally, but the plan had been his. He was the reason that the Ratkin had attacked, and he was the reason that all this had happened. And he would have to live with that.

Three things gave him hope of being able to do that. First was that they’d done what they’d set out to do – the world was saved, for now at least. The Weaver was hurt, badly, and the Wyld rejuvenated. The world would be able to continue, even after what he saw around him. Second, was that Meg, and Caitlin, and Bethany were all safe. They were alive, and protected, either by Chantry or Sept, and would be alright.

The last thing was the visit from Unicorn that had happened an hour or two ago. She’d told him he’d done well, that the Spirits respected him more now, and had taught him a Gift, one he’d not been able to learn before. Michael smiled slightly as he thought about that moment. He must have done something right, if the Spirits had rewarded him for it. It might feel at times like he hadn’t, and that the cost had been too high, but what he had done had worked, and that had to be enough.

Now, though, he had to help people rebuild – to make the world he’d saved safe for the people he’d saved, and to give them hope for what was coming.

And that was going to be even harder than what he’d already done.

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