"I believe in you
Mar. 23rd, 2009 10:48 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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I can show you that I can see right through
All your empty lies, I won't last long
In this world so wrong
- Say goodbye..."
In a set of caves deep in the earth beneath a lake, in a cavern at the end of a tunnel that curved in no particular direction, was a ragtag squabbling group of children, wolves and metis.
All of them – even the wolves – had at least a touch of what Lovecraft termed the ‘Innsmouth look’ which is to be found in small inbred communities the world over. Faces a little too broad, eyes a little too wide, teeth a little too large, mouths a little too slack. The denizens of this particular Innsmouth had very pale skin dotted with redundant, mousy freckles, butter-milk and mushroom hair and watery blue-grey eyes – like the American Dream gone wrong.
Only one present didn’t share their heritage. She was also pale, but her features were focused (in this instance into a scowl) and her eyes and hair were as red as blood rubies. She wore large boots, frayed demin hotpants and a dark vest top; and she sat crosslegged in the dirt, plaiting a girl’s hair. Behind her, a crooked crinos-child with pewter black fur crept closer and closer, panting quietly to itself and drooling.
Ashnemain did not have any thoughts to spare for the monstrosity clumsily plotting behind her, nor truly did she pay much attention to the girl whose hair she braided. Her fingers nimbly twisted back and forth, weaving five strands together, but her mind was entirely elsewhere.
“I rather liked your idea, but you’re looking at it backwards,” he told her, in tones which suggested this was a common mistake he was forever correcting people on.
She looked down her nose at him – not a difficult accomplishment since he was lain across her lap. “Well I’m not a Theurge,” she said, feeling rather stung – the amount of information she had available to her she was surprised she was looking at the right damn thing in the first place. At least she was looking – no one else seemed to be doing anything...
“No, and I’m not suggesting you were wrong,” he soothed. “But look at it this way. Take a deck of cards and separate out the suits. Now take every other heart or diamond and stain it black. If your chosen hand is red,” he reached up and twined a lock of her hair between his fingers, “Then your chances of winning are almost nil. Your idea is, essentially, to take some of the low red cards and change them into court cards. This will aid your score, but it still won’t give you the winning hand – the deck’s stacked too far against you. However, if you take some of the black court cards, and change them into red...”
And her brow had furrowed, and she’d felt an immense sadness chill her heart, because she knew he was right. She also knew that she was selfish. Perhaps it came from growing up Bastet, perhaps it was the lessons Mamma and Glory had taught her – hell, perhaps it was just her... But whilst the Garou might consider it their duty to die and sacrifice themselves in the service of Gaia, she did not. If she died, if she had to give up all she was to make something work – then that showed she was just too dumb to find a better way.
“Te renfi haal Vadjebak-Calesh,” he suggested slyly.
Her eyes widened and she laughed, curling to the side, trying to rid herself of the ridiculous image that had entered her head with his suggestion.
“I didn’t know you’d be quite so enthused – what on earth is so funny?”
She stifled her mirth with the back of her hand. “Oh – oh dear, wouldn’t that mess with their totem form? ‘Ah-ha! Fear me - I’m invincible! Ah, fuck, I’m a small white fox!” She started laughing again.
He grinned, viciously amused. “What a marvellous idea – you simply have to now. I could think of several individuals who’d deserve nothing better in the heat of battle...” He stroked her leg and lowered his voice. “Besides, t’mal nefer em-vadje...”
Her laughter vanished – not at his words but at the sudden realisation of what she was contemplating. “T’mesed meh haal teret Vadjebak-Calesh,” she said very quietly.
Bone white eyes regarded her oddly, perplexed by how serious she had become and her sudden stark aversion to the idea. “Why ever not?”
“Because... because it’s not something that goes with a picket fence!” If she did as he suggested, she would become crazy and twisted and filled with a power too great to contain. She might remain herself long enough to turn the tide in their favour, but after that, she could only see death or madness: there would be no Seventh Age of harmony for her.
“I think it would go very well with a picket fence,” he corrected. “And I’ve always thought emerald would suit you...”
She was too unhappy to countenance his flippancy. “How – how would that work?” she snarled. “I wouldn’t be me, I’d be crazy as shit an’ wantin’ t’kill everythin’ and...”
“You’d still be you,” he cut in. “The others are. Also you’d be in balance – you’d only desire to kill what needed to be killed. Which is rather the job you do currently, isn’t it? Besides, I’d look after you...”
“How would you fix me?” she demanded. “How could you fix me?”
He looked wounded. “Because I,” he reminded her in a voice that had caused Celestines to fall, “Am Rkleish.”
That conversation had been two nights ago and had preyed on her mind ever since. She kept hoping there were easier – saner – safer ways to turn the odds in their favour as the Age died. But the only one who ever talked to her about such things was the Tannasg Rhi, and his ideas where inspired, logical, direct, soul-endangering and frankly terrifying...
A swift moving shape of dirty pewter fur appeared at her shoulder like a lesser demon in bad melodrama, jaws snapping forward to latch around the neck of the young girl whose hair she braided. Ash’s left hand toppled the girl sideways at the last second, her right palm struck solidly against the creature’s muzzle as its teeth bit into empty air. She was on her feet and standing guard over the kin in an instant, buzzing with fury. “Goddammit Caleb,” she spat at the young metis. “What inna hell I told you?” Her words slipped together, caught on the briars of her accent – she always sounded more Southern when she hung around with the Moonshine-Eats-The-Tub’s clan.
The dark-furred monstrosity called Caleb growled and tried to get past Ash.
“Ket Vavek-jeh...” her words held a warning, her posture a threat.
The kin and young Spirals had heard that phrase before. They had decided it was a name, and since their minder never uttered it whilst in a sanguine mood, they deduced it was not a kind one.
Caleb edged towards the girl again. Ash calmly struck him across the side of the head, knocking him off his paws. “What have I told you?” she demanded.
“Tammy,” whined Caleb, looking hungrily at the girl. “Want.”
“I can see that. What have I told all o’you?”
Caleb grovelled, unwilling to admit he was trying to break the rules but unable to do otherwise, pinned beneath Ash’s glare and the threat of another smack. “No rage’n, no ruttin’,” he said at last.
“Unless?”
“’Less you say.”
She nodded. “Right. I’m gonna finish fixin’ Tammy’s hair,” Ash told him sternly. “So she looks pretty.”
“Pretty,” echoed Caleb wistfully, only his growl was closer to ‘purrdee’.
Tammy for her part was sneaking glances at Caleb, the glances of a kin who’s done the math and realises that getting pounced on six times in four days by the same young metis may have more to do with mating than everyday rutting.
Ash looked from one to the other and then very briefly heavenward, wondering what an Alabama Spiral wedding would be like... Then the crooked smile that had briefly shaped her lips faded as she once again heard the words in her head that haunted her as surely as Yuki’s ghost ever since she’d heard them.
Te renfi haal Vadjebak-Calesh.
How high a price was too high to save the world?
Te renfi haal Vadjebak-Calesh... You could become Green Dragon.
Selene have mercy.
All your empty lies, I won't last long
In this world so wrong
- Say goodbye..."
In a set of caves deep in the earth beneath a lake, in a cavern at the end of a tunnel that curved in no particular direction, was a ragtag squabbling group of children, wolves and metis.
All of them – even the wolves – had at least a touch of what Lovecraft termed the ‘Innsmouth look’ which is to be found in small inbred communities the world over. Faces a little too broad, eyes a little too wide, teeth a little too large, mouths a little too slack. The denizens of this particular Innsmouth had very pale skin dotted with redundant, mousy freckles, butter-milk and mushroom hair and watery blue-grey eyes – like the American Dream gone wrong.
Only one present didn’t share their heritage. She was also pale, but her features were focused (in this instance into a scowl) and her eyes and hair were as red as blood rubies. She wore large boots, frayed demin hotpants and a dark vest top; and she sat crosslegged in the dirt, plaiting a girl’s hair. Behind her, a crooked crinos-child with pewter black fur crept closer and closer, panting quietly to itself and drooling.
Ashnemain did not have any thoughts to spare for the monstrosity clumsily plotting behind her, nor truly did she pay much attention to the girl whose hair she braided. Her fingers nimbly twisted back and forth, weaving five strands together, but her mind was entirely elsewhere.
“I rather liked your idea, but you’re looking at it backwards,” he told her, in tones which suggested this was a common mistake he was forever correcting people on.
She looked down her nose at him – not a difficult accomplishment since he was lain across her lap. “Well I’m not a Theurge,” she said, feeling rather stung – the amount of information she had available to her she was surprised she was looking at the right damn thing in the first place. At least she was looking – no one else seemed to be doing anything...
“No, and I’m not suggesting you were wrong,” he soothed. “But look at it this way. Take a deck of cards and separate out the suits. Now take every other heart or diamond and stain it black. If your chosen hand is red,” he reached up and twined a lock of her hair between his fingers, “Then your chances of winning are almost nil. Your idea is, essentially, to take some of the low red cards and change them into court cards. This will aid your score, but it still won’t give you the winning hand – the deck’s stacked too far against you. However, if you take some of the black court cards, and change them into red...”
And her brow had furrowed, and she’d felt an immense sadness chill her heart, because she knew he was right. She also knew that she was selfish. Perhaps it came from growing up Bastet, perhaps it was the lessons Mamma and Glory had taught her – hell, perhaps it was just her... But whilst the Garou might consider it their duty to die and sacrifice themselves in the service of Gaia, she did not. If she died, if she had to give up all she was to make something work – then that showed she was just too dumb to find a better way.
“Te renfi haal Vadjebak-Calesh,” he suggested slyly.
Her eyes widened and she laughed, curling to the side, trying to rid herself of the ridiculous image that had entered her head with his suggestion.
“I didn’t know you’d be quite so enthused – what on earth is so funny?”
She stifled her mirth with the back of her hand. “Oh – oh dear, wouldn’t that mess with their totem form? ‘Ah-ha! Fear me - I’m invincible! Ah, fuck, I’m a small white fox!” She started laughing again.
He grinned, viciously amused. “What a marvellous idea – you simply have to now. I could think of several individuals who’d deserve nothing better in the heat of battle...” He stroked her leg and lowered his voice. “Besides, t’mal nefer em-vadje...”
Her laughter vanished – not at his words but at the sudden realisation of what she was contemplating. “T’mesed meh haal teret Vadjebak-Calesh,” she said very quietly.
Bone white eyes regarded her oddly, perplexed by how serious she had become and her sudden stark aversion to the idea. “Why ever not?”
“Because... because it’s not something that goes with a picket fence!” If she did as he suggested, she would become crazy and twisted and filled with a power too great to contain. She might remain herself long enough to turn the tide in their favour, but after that, she could only see death or madness: there would be no Seventh Age of harmony for her.
“I think it would go very well with a picket fence,” he corrected. “And I’ve always thought emerald would suit you...”
She was too unhappy to countenance his flippancy. “How – how would that work?” she snarled. “I wouldn’t be me, I’d be crazy as shit an’ wantin’ t’kill everythin’ and...”
“You’d still be you,” he cut in. “The others are. Also you’d be in balance – you’d only desire to kill what needed to be killed. Which is rather the job you do currently, isn’t it? Besides, I’d look after you...”
“How would you fix me?” she demanded. “How could you fix me?”
He looked wounded. “Because I,” he reminded her in a voice that had caused Celestines to fall, “Am Rkleish.”
That conversation had been two nights ago and had preyed on her mind ever since. She kept hoping there were easier – saner – safer ways to turn the odds in their favour as the Age died. But the only one who ever talked to her about such things was the Tannasg Rhi, and his ideas where inspired, logical, direct, soul-endangering and frankly terrifying...
A swift moving shape of dirty pewter fur appeared at her shoulder like a lesser demon in bad melodrama, jaws snapping forward to latch around the neck of the young girl whose hair she braided. Ash’s left hand toppled the girl sideways at the last second, her right palm struck solidly against the creature’s muzzle as its teeth bit into empty air. She was on her feet and standing guard over the kin in an instant, buzzing with fury. “Goddammit Caleb,” she spat at the young metis. “What inna hell I told you?” Her words slipped together, caught on the briars of her accent – she always sounded more Southern when she hung around with the Moonshine-Eats-The-Tub’s clan.
The dark-furred monstrosity called Caleb growled and tried to get past Ash.
“Ket Vavek-jeh...” her words held a warning, her posture a threat.
The kin and young Spirals had heard that phrase before. They had decided it was a name, and since their minder never uttered it whilst in a sanguine mood, they deduced it was not a kind one.
Caleb edged towards the girl again. Ash calmly struck him across the side of the head, knocking him off his paws. “What have I told you?” she demanded.
“Tammy,” whined Caleb, looking hungrily at the girl. “Want.”
“I can see that. What have I told all o’you?”
Caleb grovelled, unwilling to admit he was trying to break the rules but unable to do otherwise, pinned beneath Ash’s glare and the threat of another smack. “No rage’n, no ruttin’,” he said at last.
“Unless?”
“’Less you say.”
She nodded. “Right. I’m gonna finish fixin’ Tammy’s hair,” Ash told him sternly. “So she looks pretty.”
“Pretty,” echoed Caleb wistfully, only his growl was closer to ‘purrdee’.
Tammy for her part was sneaking glances at Caleb, the glances of a kin who’s done the math and realises that getting pounced on six times in four days by the same young metis may have more to do with mating than everyday rutting.
Ash looked from one to the other and then very briefly heavenward, wondering what an Alabama Spiral wedding would be like... Then the crooked smile that had briefly shaped her lips faded as she once again heard the words in her head that haunted her as surely as Yuki’s ghost ever since she’d heard them.
Te renfi haal Vadjebak-Calesh.
How high a price was too high to save the world?
Te renfi haal Vadjebak-Calesh... You could become Green Dragon.
Selene have mercy.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-24 01:47 am (UTC)despite how amusing Ash's rapid fall is
no subject
Date: 2009-03-24 09:19 am (UTC)And 'fall' - as in 'falling'? I rather question the tense - I just don't think Ash has noticed yet =P
no subject
Date: 2009-03-24 09:24 am (UTC)But going after Green Dragon means we have to press the on switch for the apocalypse.
Though I have a question - why is it that players always go after GD? It's happened in every Garou game I've ever played - it's not like the sourcve material plays him up any more than any other totem... is it just that we want to kill a dragon?
no subject
Date: 2009-03-24 10:24 am (UTC)I think the whole green dragon thing came up because there was discussion about dragons and shapeshifting and such, so GD got suggested. Also as an Incarna idea he suits Ash's personality better than the other malfean lot.
*Why* does going after Green Dragon mean you have to explode the world? The possible idea here is not to kill him, it's to become him - kinda like diablarie. There would still be Green Dragon, it would just at it's core be rather more female, Southern and sarcastic then the Spirals were used to =)
no subject
Date: 2009-03-24 10:29 am (UTC)'cos he's one of our pack totems. And we like him just the way he is, and we do not want one of our totem spirits being taken over by someone we trust as far as we can kick ... an apocalypse should nicely distract you.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-24 11:19 am (UTC)tsk. I think that's eminently unreasonable =P
no subject
Date: 2009-03-24 11:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-25 08:36 am (UTC)Its not that a valid answer.
no subject
Date: 2009-03-25 10:07 am (UTC)