Subject: "Hi. I'm Rebecca," said the girl.
Author:
Posted on: 2021-08-24 00:02:53 UTC
"Are you a ventriloquist or something? If you are, you're doing a pretty good job." Rebecca had never seen nor heard of Yeerks, and she was wondering if this so-called wizard was completely sane.
Every ninety years twelve gods return as young people. They are loved. They are hated. In two years, they are all dead. It's happening now. It's happening...
... here?
One year ago, the Board had a RP event where 12 teenagers of the PPC were transformed into rock star gods. They were loved, they were hated, they ran into each other and had all kinds of weird interactions. It was fun!
... and, like any big event, it kind of petered out at the end. Several RP threads just stopped in the middle, and there was no proper conclusion to the whole thing.
Until now.
1.
The Wicked + The Divine: PPC Edition
Everything (almost) from the previous thread, split into "issues", with fancy new covers. Also includes a quick cast-reference table, and:
2.
An audio-visual extravaganza! Actual depictions of every god's performances! All-new for this thread, and not to be missed.
3.
Let's RP! If you want to continue one of the previous RP threads, just link to the relevant issue and carry it on. The obvious 'dangling threads' are Gaia's concert in "Let The Show Begin", and the Gaia-Meridia meetup in "In Character". There's also "Rumours", which is an opportunity for people without gods to write their agents' reactions. (And Scapegrace, if you want to continue the El-Ahrairah-Yavanna fight, drop me a word and I'll pull the text in and continue it.)
Equally, if you've got an idea for a new RP scene, go for it! The timeline is pretty simple: the gods returned on the 1st, the first concert was Yavanna's on the 3rd, they had the big group concert on the 20th, and on the 31st August 2020 it all ended. Standard RP rules apply - don't steal other people's characters, don't break the PPC, etc etc.
(And if anyone happened to RP WicDivPPC stuff off-board, I'd appreciate a transcript so I can put it into the collection!)
4.
More is coming. I have a new RP (of sorts) which I'll start straight away, and we all know I'm likely to drop quick sketched images for particularly iconic moments. The other gods' cover designs exist too, and will appear when they become relevant. And of course, this time I promise to conclude it. By the end of the month, you will finally get to find out what's going on - and how the story ends.
Once again...
... we return.
hS
that I discovered Plort while I was looking through random stuff on the Wiki. I love medieval stuff, and Plort sounds awesome. Does anyone still do that?
All 14 current issues are listed, though the 4 ongoing parts aren't yet linked. I have published Special Edition, though, since there hasn't been any movement on that in a while.
A few archiving things: doc, I've gone ahead and split up the pieces of Tash's ending. The first three scenes are in "Rumours", "Let the Show Begin", and "Coarse and Unrefined"; the others will appear in "Curtain Call". I've also shuffled Tash's concert up to the 15th; there was a gap in the timeline there, and I don't think you'd timefixed it.
Neshomeh, similarly, I've put the Ellimist's performance in "Let the Show Begin". I've also had to write a one-line tag from the Ellimist to transition to doc's scene, which features the unseen Kord performance.
A few random things have been placed in "Special Edition" - I think Tomash and Lily both wrote scenes which could have led to RPs, but didn't, and had a media theme.
None of this means the event is over! I'd really like to see endings to Tash's and Stone's concert-RPs, and anyone else who wants to chip in with an ending (or even an interview for "Special Edition"), please, please do! I'm even happy to incorporate brand new RPs, or to pull things out from where they've been filed if people decide to expand them!
I don't know when I'll post the final scene, but given that we've had two endings written in the last 48 hours, it definitely won't be soon. :)
hS
((If you want to wait until the ongoing RPs are finished before reading the ending - spoilers, spoilers, spoilers.))
Yavanna was on stage again. The Small Auditorium was packed, with agents and other PPCers standing in the aisles where they couldn't get a seat.
1.
He could feel them, in the pulse of life they shared, the song that spread its branches through every mind and heart. By his words, he could raise them up until the worlds were a blanket of green below them, or burrow down with them through the warm earth, into the very heart of Life.
2.
And there, in the front row, smiling up at him, was Ananke. He waved at the old lady, grinning as he remembered how startled he had been when he first met her, and how much she had done for him. He thought about dedicating the next song to her, or even calling her up on stage - and then he noticed the tears running down her cheeks.
3.
With perfect clarity Yavanna saw Ananke's lips move, and heard her voice whisper in his mind: I love you. I'll miss you.
But you were never a god.
The song ended.
.
And Tanfin Illian was left standing on the stage, faced with a crowd of 500 PPC agents, and an aching hole in his heart where the music used to be.
((Any god writers - I would love to see your own ending scenes. Any who don't get written, I will one-liner into place, but I'd love to see as many as possible done by their authors.
((So this is how it ends. In the space of a couple of hours, Ananke pays a visit to each of the gods and revokes their powers and their godhood. Precisely how she does it is up to you: to give you a feel for how broad the options are, the line in my head for Tash was "All stories end - even yours". Since Tash has an active writer, that one's not going to be used. ^_~
((There is an explanation for this, and for how the whole Recurrence happened. That's going to be the very last scene of the RP, so you don't get to see it yet. :P
((I really hope that the ongoing RPs - Tash, Stone, and the Yavanna-Ellimist one I've got going with Nesh off-Board - will be finished. And if there's any more out there, please, feel free - there's always space for another issue! This has been a really fun setting, and I don't want it to wind up with splintered fragments instead of endings.
((hS))
El-Ahrairah was dancing when the sun went dark.
I will miss you.
He stopped dead, quite startling the woman he was dancing with. The sudden lack of a partner to steady her sent her sprawling into a minibar, and she reappeared with several pretzels stuck to her face. The god didn't notice. The sun was going dark.
What do you mean?, he thought as he sprinted out of the room, the corridors a blur. What's happening?
Your time is ending, El-Ahrairah, said the blue eyes in his head, ice-cold and ancient. Your dance is done.
And who precisely are you to decide that? You have never told us a d*mned thing about who you really are! The sun was getting darker and the lights were going out, one by one, his children were disappearing and there was a sad old woman in his head.
I am your herald-
Then you are a "servant!" El-Ahrairah was running as fast as he could, his children vanishing from his sight with every beat of his heart. "And yet you serve none but yourself! You tell us we are gods for two years, and yet a month passes and you rip it away yourself! What, Ananke, O great inevitability, is the source of this? Was there perhaps some sort of clerical error? Did you deliver godhood to the wrong address?"
You will be silent!
"I will not!" More lights went out, more darkness, his legs were slowing and he couldn't feel with his feet properly. "You say one thing and do another! We were never anything to you! I was never-"
SILENCE.
The First Rabbit loped round a corner, looking old, so old, and its eyes were wrong. El-Ahrairah stopped, panting, and bent to pick the rabbit up and found he couldn't straighten his back again, he felt like he was made of lead and he couldn't focus on anything beyond the glowing blue eyes in the First Rabbit's human face.
You will listen, now, El-Ahrairah, beloved of Frith, beloved of me. I am your humble servant. I love you as I always have, perhaps cooler than your vivacity but no less keenly felt. Your presence in the cycle is a blessing. You bring such life. You sing without voice. You run, and change is ever in your wake, and I am always sad when you depart. The Rabbit's eyes were blue, so very blue, and its face was old, and its voice was soft and breaking. The sun was setting. There is much you can do. Much left undone. But when you return, and you will, you will do it again. You will keep me honest, and keep the mortal world in thrall to your passions. And you, I shall dearly miss.
There was a stick in El-Ahrairah's hand, and he knew it, and he knew what to do with it. With the last of his strength, he drew the sword, swung it hard-
But you... you were never a god.
Agamemnon's blade slashed through the empty air. He looked around him. DAS-SWEAR's airy corridors were all about. He was dressed well - immodestly, perhaps, but such was the present fashion. He was as he had been before the blue, blue eyes. He looked around him again.
The rabbit was gone.
"He's back."
Lola looked up from her desk.
"He has come back, Commander."
"Algie, that - that's fantastic!" Lola leapt to her feet, and then stopped dead as her partner turned to face her. "It is, isn't it?"
"So it would seem. His spark of divinity, or delusion, or... whatever it was that changed him so utterly, is no more. And my son is returned."
Lola stepped forward, slowly, her hands empty, her arms apart. Nonthreatening. "Algie..."
"And so I get everything I wanted. No longer is Agamemnon condemned to die. No longer is his name condemned to be forgotten in service of some inscrutable leporine deity. Instead, he is once again Agamemnon. A fine young man. A keen student of all arts and sciences. Clever, without his father's pomposity. Handsome, without his mother's influences. A stout young fellow, through and through. The Earldom shall be in excellent hands once he accedes to it. I win."
Lola was a soldier. She was lean and wiry and muscled and trained. She was still five feet tall. Algie was barely more than that. She still felt smaller, so much smaller.
"I win, Commander! The day is carried! Blare trumpet, bang drum! Once more, fair England triumphs over the insidious invader's ill intent! The war is over and Agamemnon is made whole again! He has come back! Don't you see? The great and terrible irony? The starred and frightening revelation?"
"Algie, please, put it down-"
"BUT IT'S SO CLEAR! SO OBVIOUS A FOOL MIGHT CALL IT BLUNT! THIS FOOL DOES!"
It was only burned-in instincts from the Long War that sent Lola diving for cover. She needn't have bothered. Algie's little pistol had been shaking like a tree in a gale, and the recoil from its shot sent it clattering to the ground, the Earl's grip failing him. He barely seemed to notice.
Lola burst forward and wrapped him up in an embrace that was part hug and part restraint, sending the gun skidding across the floor of the RC with a flick of her heel.
"ONCE AGAIN!"
She tried not to listen to him, or look into his eyes, normally watery, but now ice-blue and terrifying in their clarity.
"ONCE AGAIN! HE RETURNS!"
The Earl was still saying it, still screaming it, tears running down his face and dripping from his rictus grin, when the FicPsych personnel came to sedate him.
I hope this isn't too dark for the story you wanted to tell, hS, but it felt like a very natural endpoint for that subplot.
The "story I wanted to tell" went something like this:
Hey, this is a cool comic > I bet this would be funny if it happened in the PPC > I could totally offer to draw agents-as-gods if people suggested it > Eh, probably wouldn't work, most agents aren't young enough any more > I'm feeling draw-y, I'll give it a shot, I wonder if I'll get anywhere close to 12 > OH WOW.
I've been positively delighted with how much people have gotten into it, and the way the storyline has spun up and off. The Anti-Divinity protests, Tash's meltdown, the time travel malarkey, the sheer number of beautiful concerts and interviews - it's been fantastic. I've got 14 "issues" out of something I expected to be mostly me doing pictures and people maybe RPing a bit.
I feel kind of bad for Algie, but I'm very glad you got a chance to do some character... development? through this. As long as no-one gets seriously hurt, I call it a good addition. :)
hS
(And yes, a mental breakdown would normally fall under 'seriously hurt', but... it's the PPC. For better or worse, people snapping and getting taken to FicPsych has become a feature of the place. ~hS)
I love the contrast that is El-Ahrairah - on the one hand he was one of the most playful gods, but on the other, he may have the deepest wells of anger too. Everything he feels seems to be close to the surface, and you've worked with that marvellously for his ending.
I also really like the way you integrated El-Ahrairah with Agamemnon. Many of the gods were either 'mortal self with a veneer of godhood' or 'the god with a different body', but you mixed the two into a brand new whole. It's been entirely fascinating to watch.
There were several grand plans laid during this event that didn't quite come to fruition, but the one I most regret is not getting to see more of the Anti-Divinity project. That's not a slight against you - it's the opposite, I wish there had been more because it was so entertaining! But working through the Board like this was always going to mean things trailed off; I am glad we got this End for him. (Though if you feel like/feel up to adding a brief Agamemnon-Algie aftermath scene, I'd be delighted to slip it into the archive!)
Thank you very much for taking part. :)
hS
Mary Poppins found himself waking up earlier every morning to prepare his performances.
He felt he should have spent more time sleeping with the amount of songs he had been pumping out as of late, but hey. He was a god, and one of the more performance-themed ones at that, so he felt obliged to put a good number of them out there, sleep schedule or no.
He traced chalk along the ground, marking here, blending lines there, adding the subtle touch of magic to make the image just a little more real. Making buildings more solid and dark, the stars littering the sky slightly brighter, the grass thinner and almost alive. Mary Poppins was never an artist before the ascension, but it just came to him naturally now. It was something he tried to use to the fullest in his performances, bringing his audience on a tour through a world of chalk and stars and the beauty of life.
A dozen or so scattered Agents and Nursery kids, having gathered to watch during the hours Mary Poppins had spent drawing with chalk, milled about the Nursery foyer. A few of them were arranging chairs while they waited. One Agent was a chair, and a Nursery kid sat on top of it, and neither party seemed to mind.
Mary Poppins stood up and stepped back from the chalk drawing, looking over it and lightly tapping his signature umbrella on the floor. It was just about finished, but he wondered if he should have added something more to it. The city scene looked a bit standard at the moment, and he wanted to vary his songs every once in a while, give his audience new experiences with every journey.
He paused to take a quick glance at the milling group of Agents behind him. Then he did a double-take; the old woman he had met on his ascension day - Ananke, he thought - was standing near the front of the crowd, arms folded and eyes shadowed by her veil.
Mary Poppins turned to face Ananke and, for the sake of politeness, folded his hands together and bowed to her.
“Ahem,” he started once he had straightened back upright. “Hello again, ma’am. Um, so what brings you here?” He did his best to keep his face composed, even as his mind tensed up ever-so-slightly.
Ananke said nothing for a while. Then she gestured with a wrinkled hand towards the umbrella dangling at his side.
"May I?" she mouthed, voice barely audible over the noise of the Agents behind her.
“Oh.” Mary Poppins hesitated for a second, before nodding and letting her take it. “Sure, I suppose.”
Ananke opened the umbrella and lifted it over her head, gently waving it back and forth as if testing for something.
“The wind’s changed,” she said after a few seconds, voice clear this time, dry and hoarse and almost crackling.
Mary Poppins tilted his head slightly, and one of his fox ears twitched. He was pretty sure he knew the implication behind that statement, but he wanted to make sure he had heard correctly.
“Pardon?” he asked, sweeping his bushy tail across the chalk drawing behind him. Bits of chalk dust got caught in his fur, but he didn't notice.
Ananke didn’t respond but raised her head slightly, and Mary Poppins noticed a small stream of tears running down her face.
He blinked. “Are you, um... Are you okay?”
Ananke shook her head with a rueful smile. "I'll miss you,” she whispered.
Then she lowered the opened umbrella, separating Mary Poppins and herself. In a moment and a half, a wind somehow managed to pick up, catching the umbrella and pulling it out of the room, sweeping towards the exit and gliding out into the halls.
And in the space she used to be, Ananke was gone, and with her went Mary Poppins, leaving behind just Jiwon - stunned, lacking of godhood, and light-headed as the last few weeks of very little sleep began to finally catch up to him.
He was left standing in front of a chalk drawing he had no idea how to finish anymore and an audience he couldn’t entertain. He blinked a few times, both to comprehend what had just happened and to clear the tired haze that had set over his vision. Despite the suddenness of it all, Jiwon felt a combination of emptiness and the smallest twinge of relief.
He looked up at the Agents in the early audience, most of them having gathered to watch the exchange, and he felt his ears fold back against his head. He grinned nervously at them, even as he found himself leaning against a wall for support.
“Um… performance canceled?”
Before anyone could reply, Jiwon shifted into fox form and stumbled out of the room without another word.
“Hey, Jiwon?”
Charlie wandered around RC #724, mandola swinging at their side and tail flicking in agitation.
They wondered if all that “godhood” stuff was really getting to their partner’s head. He’d been waking up earlier and earlier every morning since that Party in the Parc thing to perform alongside all the other singer folk, and it was a tad concerning. Sure he was enjoying himself and presumably entertaining others with his fancy reality-shifting chalkland tours, but they were really getting worried for his health.
As a bard, Charlie knew a good amount about performance - and sleep was an important part of that. Even if Jiwon didn’t show it at first, they knew those all-nighters weren’t doing anything good for him. Even if he was actually a British umbrella pseudo-god or whatever, sleep deprivation was eventually gonna grab him from behind and suplex him into the ground.
They checked Jiwon’s room - empty. Charlie sighed. They wondered if a call to Medical was justified now.
They walked over to the RC door, fastening the strap on their mandola. Maybe it was time to find him and just cast a Sleep spell or something, give him a minute of shut-eye, at least.
They shook out their shoulders, flicked back their ears, and pulled open the door-
Jiwon was standing in front of the doorway, fancy British clothes and matching umbrella gone and replaced by the fancy Korean garb he had worn before his ascension. His hair, once parted, was now tousled and messy, he had bags under his eyes, and he was leaning against the door frame to stay upright, but he looked… back to normal? Mostly back to normal. He still looked sleep-deprived, in Charlie’s opinion, but he also looked relieved under the tiredness.
"Oh, hi!" said Charlie, thoughts of worry and frustration gone in an instant. "You're looking less god-ish today. How'd the day go?"
Jiwon staggered through the door and past his partner, heading over to the couch without saying anything. From behind, Charlie noticed his tail fur looked dusty and pastel-colored, and they had no idea why.
Settling down on the couch, Jiwon folded his bushy tail over his lap, visibly struggling to remain upright. He blinked a few times, swaying in his spot.
“No more performances,” he muttered, staring at his lap. "It's over." Then he shifted into fox form and promptly collapsed onto the cushions.
((Alrighty, finally got an ending typed up! Not gonna lie, I feel a bit disappointed in this one, I feel like there’s probably grammar errors and clumps of clunky writing lying around the cracks of it unnoticed and whatnot. And I’m kinda worried the story-ish thing doesn’t fit with the tone of the other three endings, since more emotional-type writing’s not really my strong suit. But at least it’s done!
Anyways, thanks for setting up the last bit of this event! I’ve been thinking about it on occasion in the past (mostly because my Agent’s personalities back then were written before I got them more settled for my second mission and so on), and it was real nice participating in it again and reading everyone else’s stuff and whatnot.
So, um. At the risk of invoking the Department of Redundancy Department, thanks again! And whatnot.
-OrangeFox))
I really like the way you've incorporated the Poppins mythos into the farewell, to the point where I'm slightly regretting not doing the same kind of thing for Yavanna. :) I don't think the style is mismatched - the whole point of this event was for people to show the different ways that different people respond to getting this power dropped on them - and removed.
You've also made me decide that I may need an "aftermath" scene for Tanfin as well; otherwise I'll be missing out!
Mary Poppins was definitely the most unusual request for godhood. I think I went and asked Kaitlyn if she thought it would work, because she's read at least some of the books; apparently she said yes, and she (and you) were right. You've had a lot to try and work in - everyone's going to be thinking of the Disney version, and then I feel like Ananke's words during the ascension came out somewhat at odds with your own view of the character. But you pulled it off masterfully!
One thing I regret is not giving Mary a more distinctive costume; I think I literally just slapped an umbrella on your description of Jiwon! The cover version gets a tiny bow tie by way of apology.
Thank you very much for taking part. :)
hS
((Okay, so this got away from me in a massive way. hS, feel free to cut some of this out of your final doc collection if you think my characters would end up dominating too much of the event. I can just post my overall story separately on my dreamwidth. And Iximaz, I hope you don't mind me describing the audience at a Kord concert. Hyenas live in matriarchal societies, so I think any god who is either bio-female or god-aspect-female would have been able to sway Alfajiri. Kord and the Ellimist were the only gods he could listen to without derailing the plot. But I can change anything about that scene you feel is inaccurate; just let me know.))
((Let's see if this all fits in one post . . .))
4?
Alfajiri padded around the corner. “Laquisha, we have a problem . . .”
“Okay, Alfa, I know you’re literally a hyena, but you still shouldn’t just walk into girls’ dorm rooms. That is a no-kay thing in human society!”
“Sorry,” he muttered, “but Anne and Numbuh 3721 and I went to the cafeteria like we had planned, and we overheard that there’s a bunch of kids who have started calling themselves gods.”
“Uh. Wow.” Laquisha got up from where she had been laying on the floor. She and Wilma had been working on wanted posters of Ilcharheen to plaster around Headquarters. “My kneejerk thought would be to call that a prank, but . . . it’s hard to picture Ilcharheen going along with something like that, huh?”
“Right.” Alfajiri let his head droop, eyebrows furrowed. “That, plus the fact that the gods are putting on magical concerts.”
A snap cracked through the room. Wilma let the destroyed marker drop to the now-ruined poster and wiped her inky hand on her shorts. “Well,” she said, standing up. “Well, well, well,” and she tilted her head back and forth each time as she said it.
Laquisha huffed. “Wilma, please, this is not the time. This is serious!”
“Oh, I think this is the perfect time!” snapped Wilma. Her constant t-shirt—showing a targeting reticle hovering over paired eighth notes—was on full display. “This is exactly what I’ve been warning you idiots about. Music is evil!”
“I think she’s right, Laquisha! After we found out about the concerts, we went to spy on one that the time guy was putting on. And after it was over, Anne and Numbuh 3721 didn’t even want to help find Ilcharheen any more! They were kind of babbling about how time is too precious to lose, and they had to go live in the moment, and they wouldn’t even listen to me. They just wandered off without me!”
Wilma was nodding sagely. “Yes, obviously, music is corrupting. This is old news. The question is, how do we stop these so-called gods from polluting HQ?”
“This is way beyond, guys,” Laquisha said. “We need to go tell Miss MacKinnon . . .”
“Wrong.” Wilma gazed smugly at her fingernails.
“. . . and find Mollie and Ollie, they can get Vania and Doc on board to help us . . .”
“Can’t trust them.” Wilma dropped the smug act and glared hard at Laquisha. “Can’t trust anyone. You understand that?” She poked her classmate hard a few times, right in the collarbone. “This is mind control. We don’t know who’s been affected!”
Laquisha frowned. “We can’t handle a problem like this on our own. There have to be some people unaffected. Alfa is fine!”
“Yep, I’m still me,” said Alfajiri, “other than being very sad because I miss my best friend and I don’t know what’s happened to her.” He groaned.
The animosity between the girls swiftly faded, and they looked at each other. Laquisha said, “All right, let’s compromise. Let’s hit up the next concert any of these ‘gods’ are performing. If it’s Ilcharheen, we can try to nab her once the show ends and try to find out what’s going on. If not, we’ll watch the adults around us and look for ones who aren’t being affected. Then they can alert the Flowers to do something about this.”
Wilma had groaned at the idea of attending a concert, but she didn’t argue.
3!
Wilma was soon groaning again, hands clutched over her ears as Kord’s musical performance filled the auditorium. In the seats around her and her classmates, fistfights were breaking out left and right. Wilma was grateful for all the cheering and yelling, as it made it easier for her to keep the actual music from entering her mind.
“This is pointless!” she yelled to her right. Alfajiri was next to her, with Laquisha on his other side. “That tiger thing definitely isn’t Ilcharheen, and all the people here are idiots hurting themselves over music! Let’s just go!”
Alfajiri, with his sensitive predator ears, rapidly nodded his head. Laquisha just stared forward, however.
“Laquisha? Let’s go!” Alfajiri nudged her arm with his muzzle.
“You know what?” Laquisha said, barely loud enough for the others to hear.
“What?”
“I can do . . .” She took a deep breath. “ANYTHING! I can do exactly ANYTHING! Anything I want! I don’t have to always be the responsible one! I’m not obligated to resolve disputes between my classmates all the time! And when I grow up, I can be WHATEVER I WANT! WHOOOOO!” She stretched her arms up, fists balled like Superman’s when he flies, and charged straight out of the auditorium.
Her classmates stared at her empty seat for a moment. Then Wilma squacked, “Holy crap, after her!” They charged down the aisle, Alfajiri easily slipping through agents’ legs. Wilma, however, was having to duck between fighting agents, and took a fist right above her jaw before she could make it through.
Once out the auditorium doors, Alfajiri and Wilma tried to follow after Laquisha, but Wilma soon had to lean against the generic wall, holding the right side of her head. Alfa gave up the chase and nuzzled her leg. “You okay, Wilma?”
“I just . . . damn, that hurt!” Eyes closed, she rested her forehead gently against the wall, feeling a sheet of paper attached there, waiting for the pounding ache in her head to fade. Eventually, she opened her eyes, and jumped back when she saw sand pouring right in front of her.
“What is this?” she wondered. Distracted from the pain, she ran a finger over the hourglass image. It still felt like paper, but the sand in the hourglass was very clearly flowing from the top to the bottom.
Then she read the poster.
“Wait a minute, ‘Tash.’ That’s that god from Narnia Ilcharheen believes in, isn’t it?”
“Uh, yep!” Alfajiri leaped up in excitement. “Tash the Inexorable! Ilcharheen says he’s pretty cool!”
“And he’s one of the gods doing concerts? No, there’s no way that’s a coincidence. That has to be Ilcharheen, right?”
Alfajiri gasped and his pupils dilated to a hilarious degree. “Of course, yeah!”
Wilma tapped a finger on the poster again. “Tash—ugh! I mean, Ilcharheen is doing a concert later today. Small Auditorium. All right.” She narrowed her eyes and said quietly, “Okay, ‘Tash.’ Let’s find out just how inexorable you and your music really are.” She paused. “Alfajiri, what does ‘inexorable’ mean?”
2nd
Hunkered down near the back wall of the Small Auditorium, Alfajiri and Wilma witnessed both Tash’s concert, as well as the confrontation that followed between her, the Ellimist, and two humans. (At least, it appeared to only be two humans to them; they were too far away to hear the different inflections between Julian and Estrid.)
And when Tash erupted upwards into a massive specter, they hunkered down even lower.
Alfajiri was trembling. “What do we do, Wilma? This is so bad! Ilcharheen isn’t acting like herself at all! How will we turn her back?”
Wilma stared at the colossal monster. Saving Ilcharheen was pretty far from her mind, at this point—not that she could tell Alfajiri that. “I’m. Uh. Thinking.” She traced a hand lightly over the anti-music symbol on her shirt. We turn the diamonds back into coal. Finally, she said, “I have an idea. Once we can sneak out of here, we need to find an RC no one’s using. And I need to do some research.”
1 . . .
“Welp, gosh, here I am, a desert-dwelling carnivore that feasts on carrion, very thematically appropriate to any sand-themed death gods from desert nations.” Alfajiri paced back and forth in a corridor that contained the former RCs of the Wrecked Music Department. “It’s such a shame there aren’t any such gods around right now, since I totally know the best desert in the multiverse, and I was about to visit! Sure would be nice to bring a desert god along with meeeee . . .” He trailed off, and peeked inside the nearby RC whose door was ajar. “I don’t think this is working, Wilma!”
“It has too!” Wilma whispered sharply. She was hiding behind a pile of termite-ruined wood that had once been a bunk bed and storage chest. Aside from the immovable console, the rest of the RC was empty and strangely dim, considering there was no light source to begin with. “The Ironic Overpower is supposed to—oh wait, I think we are doing it wrong. Start saying you don’t want anyone to come with you. That should make it work!”
Alfajiri sighed. “Ilcharheen could be anywhere right now . . .”
“We have to keep trying! It’s not like she’s just going to pop up unexpectedly without any input from us!”
“Thou hast called me into an abandoned response center for some strange reason, Wilma Harrison. Here I am. What hast thou to say?”
Wilma sputtered and spun around. There was Tash, indeed. “Hey, Ilcharheen, long time no see! You’re looking . . . real . . . different! In those clothes! How have you been?”
“I am no longer Ilcharheen. Ilcharheen is ended.” She shuffled a bit though, because . . . that wasn’t quite right, was it? Ilcharheen’s story wouldn’t end for a long time . . . yet how could that be, if Tash was here now, and Tash was Inevitable?
“Ilcharheen, please . . .” whined Alfajiri, padding into the room. “We miss you, and we want you to come back!”
Tash flung out her arms, dress swishing around her knees. “Ilcharheen is no more!” she cried, and her hands trembled, because it suddenly didn’t sound true. What was happening?
“Stick to the plan!” Wilma hissed at Alfajiri. To Tash, she said, “Never mind about that! We heard you were into deserts, and we searched the PPC’s records for the best desert there is! Burning hot in the day, freezing cold at night, spiny plants and venomous animals everywhere, and hardly any precipitation. We thought you’d like to visit?”
“Why . . . yes, it sounds excellent.”
“Good, good! I already entered the coordinates, just need to open ‘er up . . .” Wilma backed up towards the wall, leading Tash forwards while pinning Alfajiri in place with a look over Tash’s shoulder. “Here we are, I’ll just hit this button here, and . . . voila!”
The limited practice consoles the students used in school and for the Sprouts opened portals like an anode tv, starting as a point in the center and expanding outwards. But the WMD agents who once used this one had apparently programmed a joke into theirs, as it opened with a string of piano notes, with the generator filling in as the shapes of individual piano keys from top to bottom. Wilma gritted her teeth against the unexpected sound.
“Very well.” Tash stepped closer to the blue glow. Wilma watched her expectantly, not blinking. She heard Alfajiri’s feet moving behind her.
Tash stopped just shy of the portal and frowned. “This is—” But Alfajiri’s shoulder slamming into her back cut her off, and she disappeared into the portal.
Wilma slammed her hand down on the button again, and the portal closed in the same piano keys-style as before. “Yes!” she roared, jumping up and down and pumping her fists in the air. “One down, eleven to go!”
Alfajiri cocked his head. “Wait what? What are you doing? Open the portal back up!”
Wilma froze in mid-hand pump. “Oh. Uh. Slight change to the plan? We’re just going to leave her there for a while, let the Tash parts go away on their own. In the meantime, let’s work on catching the other gods, okay? We’ll check on Ilcharheen again once we get rid of the rest.”
An extremely low-pitched grunt began rolling out of Alfajiri’s throat, as he slowly padded closer to Wilma.
“Whoa, what is that noise? That’s creepy, don’t make that noise at me!”
“You lied,” fumed the hyena cub. “You’re supposed to be helping Ilcharheen! But you’re just trying to lock her out of HQ so she can’t sing any more, huh?”
Wilma scowled. “Well, duh. Hello?” She pointed to her shirt. “This is exactly the kind of thing Mom trained me for. Silence the noise! Turn the hype into hope! Music turns everyone into mindless zombies who can’t think for themselves. You saw it yourself at those concerts!”
“I still have to help my friend!” Alfajiri snarled and leaped forwards.
Wilma screamed, shutting her eyes and wincing against the wall. But all that happened was the sound of a button being smacked, and a lilting piano chord as the portal reopened. Then she screamed again as a tug on her shoe sent her toppling to the floor, and she was dragged across the RC towards the portal. She tried to warn Alfajiri. “Don’t go in there! It’s dangerous!”
But then they were through the portal, on spongy, shifting soil. Trees towered multiple stories over their heads, all twisted into sharp edges and wavering slightly as their trunks and roots continued to spiral and knot before the kids’ eyes. The air reeked of pollens, saps and oils, and everything was wet and hot and slimy like a rainforest. Massive insects wandered endlessly across every visible surface, with a spider the size of a pickup truck hovering a dozen yards away in a massive web, waiting for the insect life to wander too close.
Alfajiri narrowed his eyes at Wilma as she stood up. “This is Tash’s Country?”
“No, that was a lie, too,” Wilma said as she waved hand-sized gnats away from her face. “This is some fantasy forest that’s getting mutated by a magic weapon, so everything is growing out of control. I figured surrounding Ilcharheen with life energy would weaken her Tash powers.”
“Ah, but life and death art connected.” Tash emerged from behind a tree, filth flies swarming around her, though not touching her. “Thou cannot have one without the other. Behold!” She pointed to a tree behind the children.
They looked, and saw a tree just behind the open portal. It was producing fruit at an impossible rate, the flowers swelling into full-bodied green fruits in moments before bursting into juice and dying right on the branch. The ground beneath was littered with sludge, which beetles, ants and flies were greedily swarming over.
“Yes,” Tash continued, “there art much death here. I thank thee for bringing me here.” She made a clawing motion with her outstretched hand and drew it towards her. The sludge began sliding across the floor, prompting Alfajiri and Wilma to scramble across the heaving ground to avoid getting smeared with it.
The sludge rose up to meet Tash, and began coating her body. “And I feel the magic of this forest as well.” Debris began to drift from every direction: feathers and fur and bones, shed skin and dried out exoskeletons, and particles of dirt from untold numbers of previous plants and animals and fungi. “My power grows beyond the reach of the Lion, at last!” All the detritus collected over her, growing into a shifting shell that expanded, more and more, increasing her height. “No longer must I take only the rightful prizes I am allowed! Thou two shall be my first true prey.” She was massive now, towering over them like she had appeared after her concert, but solid rather than smoke. She took a step forward, heavy foot sinking deep into the roiling ground. She boomed out, “Now Tash is the one who declares the end! And all must end!” She reached a massive, fly-swarmed hand for her former classmates, who were both backpedaling towards the portal, eyes locked on Tash.
So that only Tash saw Ananke step out of the glow. And even through her veil, Tash could see the woman was crying. “Yes, Tash, all must end. Even you.” She whispered, but Tash heard her clearly. “I’ll miss you.”
And then Tash was not. Ilcharheen, dozens of feet in the air, began to fall.
Even as she fell, her mind was on the being that had been part of her just a moment ago. “Tash!?” she called out, frantically twisting about, looking for some sign of the deity she had worshipped all her life. “Tash, come back! Tash, help me!”
Then her head landed on an exposed tree root, and everything went dark.
0
Ilcharheen had no awareness of her friends dragging her out of the twisted forest, through the generic corridors, into the Medical Department. Her mind was lost in a quiet, dark fog, gently bobbing about with no ability to move or see. “Tash,” she tried to say, but the sound of her own voice was muted, shadowy, almost underwater. But she tried again. “Tash. Wasn’t I good enough? Haven’t I been loyal? Why? Why did you take your power away from me?”
“That power was not for you,” a deep voice rumbled. It wasn’t muted at all, but rang clear and strong in Ilcharheen’s ears&mdashif, indeed, it was her ears doing the listening at all.
“Where are you?” She tried to turn, to roll over, but it was like she was dreaming, and couldn’t get herself to move properly. “Please, Tash, come to me! Help me!”
“You’re all right now,” said the voice, and something brushed against Ilcharheen. Immediately, she felt stronger, and reached to grab the furry . . . no, not fur, feathers, of course it was feathers! The feathers of Tash the Inexorable!
She snuggled into the feathers, buried her face in the fluff, and felt so much more secure. “Thank you, Tash.” Her voice was even more muffled now, drifting further from herself than before. “I knew you wouldn’t really abandon me.”
“Never in this world, nor the next.” The owner of the voice wrapped a great arm around Ilcharheen, and she was surprised to discover that Tash’s clawlike bird hands were quite warm and gentle. Her consciousness began to drift . . .
She never quite heard the deep voice say, “Yes, sleep now, Daughter of Eve. You deserve a long rest.”
((Just to explain that forest near the end: that's Krosa from Magic: the Gathering, during a period when a magic-enhancing device called the Mirari was pumping magic straight into the forest floor, leading to Consequences for the life there. I know it's kind of a weird curveball to throw into the RP, but it seemed like a logical train of thought for Wilma to take in trying to negate a death god's power, and Mirari-infected Krosa is just about the most "lively" place I know of in fiction.))
—doctorlit, only now realizing how hilarious it might have been if someone had selected the Ironic Overpower as one of the gods
I'll try and break up the final issue with images, so it won't just be "here's a block of text, most of it is Tash". Fear not.
The alternative would be integrating the component pieces back into earlier issues. "4?" could sit on the end of [i]Rumours[/i], and "2nd" could obviously nestle on the end of [i]Coarse and Unrefined[/i], but there's not really an appropriate place to stick "3!", so we'll just stick with the way you have it. :)
I enjoyed this! It's nice to see a wrap-up of one of the various sub-plots we had going, and I liked the fact that the plan was... well, a bit of a shambles really. It's more realistic that way. ^_^ And the final scene was... sweet. :)
It would be fascinating to know how Tash's meltdown would have ended in the timeline where Ananke didn't intervene - we know she's still alive two years later, and everyone else isn't dead, so presumably someone managed to calm her down and/or lock her away. Quite possibly the Ellimist and the wizards dropped a local time-freeze on her, keeping her out of the way until they couldn't maintain it any more.
There are so many gods it would be hilarious to see in an event like this. Destiny of the Endless is one of my picks - carrying a book which theoretically tells them everything that's going to happen, but in the PPC just melts down. I had a sketch done (in case 11 people didn't join up) for one of the HQ Daleks as the Gallifreyan god Time. I was equal parts dreading and hoping for someone to pull out one of the Chaos Gods of Warhammer 40K.
But y'know, I think we had a pretty good Pantheon - and Tash, both because she's an amazing bundle of contradictions and because you did so much with her, was definitely one of the stars. Thanks for taking part. :)
hS
((I was worried I was giving the Nursery kids a little too much agency and freedom in traveling around HQ, but I suppose the events playing out would make the whole place a lot more disorderly, and easier for kids to be sneaking around abandoned RCs and testing portal coordinates? But yeah, kids forming plans with very few limits on their imaginations are going to land more on the "outlandish" end of the plan scale.))
((Hm. If Ananke hadn't stopped things when she did . . . The thing is, Tash only got that power boost from being within the Mirari's area of influence. Returning to HQ would revert her to her baseline power, so it then becomes a question of how much threat she poses to Krosa, and the continent it sits on, with a side order of whether she could sense where the power was coming from, and seek the Mirari for herself. Krosa is inhabited by centaur druids, who would certainly notice Tash's presence before long, and awaken Kamahl, a long-meditating human druid who's responsible for putting the Mirari in Krosa in the first place. Krosa's wildlife during this period is mad with aggression and attacks anyone on sight, so Kamahl probably has a decent chance of reaching the Mirari before Tash, since she'll be slowed down by every random deer, bear and rabbit that crosses her path. I do think that Kamahl, using the Mirari to channel life-based magic, actually has a chance at destroying the aspects of Tash without doing fatal harm to Ilcharheen herself, but that's getting a bit too far into "could Optimus Prime beat up Voltron" territory. Plus, External Security would certainly be involved by that point, so quite a few variables to think about.))
((I'm glad you enjoyed Tash! I never imagined, when we started last year, just how much things would escalate, but it was major fun RPing such a cold and powerful villain!))
—doctorlit
Lucian played with her power. By herself. Away from others. One performance was enough. She didn't know how the other gods could handle the crowds, the cheering, the headache...
She fixed her robe, letting her thoughts wander. Was she really going to be dead within a few years? Doomed to fix whatever problems then just, fade?
How was she suppose to fix problems, anyways? She was a god of chaos (sorta), not one to fix problems, but rather one to start them.
Somewhere, in a different timeline, she sent balls of electricity down the halls, trying to unwarp the halls the gods tried to fixed.
Her fabric felt smooth again, just like first time. Smooth, slick, perfect for navigating through the cold waters. No water would soak through, she would not shiver. Just like when she became Lucian.
Somewhere in the future, she cried, curling herself up in her RC. What had everyone done? Was anyone still alive? O'Ryan?
Became. That word stuck into her head. She was always Lucian, wasn't she?
Wasn't she?
She forced herself off the bench. She couldn't angst. She needed to preoccupy her mind with something else.
She wandered around, navigating the crowds. Being 6' tall, in other situations, would make herself stick out, but plenty of the agents were tall, non-humaniod in the least.
She walked towards north. She saw Natalie walk this way earlier. Maybe she could make amends!
Meanwhile, O'Ryan had watched one of the gods (he was terrible with names. What was his name? Which one?) on stage. He seemed to blink... and the god was no longer a god. Just a kid.
A fear chord, had this been a video game, would've sounded. O'Ryan felt himself stiffen.
Oh gods.
Was Kitty not Lucian, then? A wave of relief fell over him. His partner, his friend, she wasn't a Sue. Not in the least. Slight cold leaked into the warmth, however.
Oh gods! How would Kitty take this?
He had to find her! Before she turned back too!
He ran. He ran like heck.
Lucian had found Natalie with a strange man^ following besides her.
"Natalie!" Lucian cried out. "Hang on a second! Let me catch up!" Her boots crunch on the ground, crushing the glass underfoot to powder. Her cloak, a simple thing to hide her identity flew off, its knot untied. It wasn't a very sturdy knot, of course, but still.
"Yes?" Natalie replied, eyeing the god warily.
Lucian tripped on her own robe, sending her tumbling down. She caught herself, as one did, biting back a screaming as some glass entered her left palm.
A woman walked up besides Lucian and offered her hand. Lucian, without a second thought, grabbed it with her right hand and helped herself up.
It seems that the laws of Narrative Comedy (or was it irony? It dodn't seem very funny.) did not like Lucian today. At all.
She faced the older woman, the words thank you on Lucian's lips, but she saw that she was crying. Beneath a veil.
The person who started it all.
"I love you," she whispered. "I'm sorry. But you were never a god."
O'Ryan fell down on the glass some boots had crushed mere minutes earlier, feeling some cloth distinctly wrap around him. He bit back the scream of pain from the little glass shards entering into his left arm, his ears ringing. He swatted at the cloth which wrapped halfway around his torso, felt the slick fabric. Stopped. He looked at it.
Lucian's.
He could hear someone sobbing. He turned his head left...
Kittyauthor sat by herself, her black dress wrinkled, her eyelids swollen and puffy from crying.
Caring less about his pain, he crawled to Kitty and hugged her.
"I'm not a god," she said. "I... can't tell, can't t-tell whether I should be happy or sad." She hugged O'Ryan back, pressing her head onto his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"Don't be," Kitty said, smiling through her tears into O'Ryan's shoulder. She pushed herself out of his hug. "It'll be fine. Like you said."
"Like I- gah! Qnza cloak!" For the cloak just smacked him in the face. Kitty giggled.
"I guess everything's back to normal," she said.
^The man is Atticus. I plan on writing him to enter the PPC during this event... once I get the courage to write Natalie outside of RPs.
Gah! It's angsty, sorry. I can't think of any other way to end this.
I planned on writing two things: one, O'Ryan and Kitty sharing a bonding moment, where Kitty is awkwardly getting used to her new height of 6 feet, and (two) O'Ryan telling Crow this story, although the latter will probably be an interlude. Probably.
So, hS, correct me if I'm wrong, but you also said that Spoilers for the RP, I guess So, will we see a line of that or was that dropped? Just curious!
-kA, who has been writing too much angst lately.
Edit: spelling.
It doesn't feel like angst - it feels bittersweet, which is just perfect. (I do love the different timeline/future hints!) Thank you for writing it - and for taking part. Lucian's performance in the Party in the Parc was one of my favourite to make. I hope you had fun with it too!
hS
((But I want to set it up more, since I left Ilcharheen's friends in limbo after they set out rescuing her. I'll try to whip the full story together this coming weekend, although I'm worried it might get too long compared to everyone else's. We'll see how it turns out, I suppose. But in any case, it's on the way!))
((And if I don't get another chance: hS, thank you for this whole event! It was a really different and unique sort of story to have to tell. Never thought I would have to put myself in the headspace of the antiAslan! It's been a wild good time. : ) And this might finally force me to get a reasonable timeline together for my Nursery kids and overall spin-off.))
—doctorlit, plotting
The last issue.
hS
I originally planned to do so before the end of the month, but we have two RPs that are getting close to finished, and I don't want to interfere with that. Should I hold off until the drama with Tash has wrapped up, and the cats have engaged in some recreational chasing? Or should I start it off now and it can run in parallel.
I'm also aware that the Badfic Game is coming up next month... I have A Plan for that too, but obviously that relies on me being the one to start it, and it's been pushing earlier and earlier in the month these last few years. Are we able to keep an RP or three going underneath the Badfic thread?
hS
((I don't have a ton of plans for the cat-chasing, I'll reply soon- but I don't think anything plot-altering might happen then.))
The lights go down. When they return, all is blue: sky blue lighting the upturned faces of the audience, midnight blue skulking in the shadowed places, ocean blue flowing through the gaps in between; and onstage, the blueshift of time-space rapidly contracting to a single point.
The Ellimist has not always been there, but he is there now: a tall, thin figure with dark hair framing a long, solemn face, young and old at once. His long robe ripples as he raises his arms for quiet. The theremin is his instrument, and it is perfect for him. He sees the timestream flowing all around him, and when he reaches out to play upon it with his long, dexterous fingers, the theremin catches the movements and translates them into frequency and amplitude, waves his mortal audience can perceive. With his help, they may even begin to understand.
Time...
Time is precious.
Time passes.
Time waits for no one.
Time flies.
Time is of the essence.
Time heals all wounds?
Time will tell.
The time is now.
The Ellimist has seen Time and knows the infinitely branching possibilities it contains. He also knows there isn’t a moment to lose. Each person in the audience has choices before them, and those choices will create the texture of the Time to come. Will it be rough, or smooth? Will it be hard, or soft? Will it be shifting, or steady?
He strokes the air, and Time sings in both the ears and the hearts of all:
Choose love.
Choose life.
Choose now.
(( I would've liked to do this whole post in shades of blue, but the first paragraph took way too long by itself. {X D hS, please feel no obligation to replicate it. Though, if Gdocs will let you do a text color gradient without doing it a word or two at a time, doing that for the whole thing would be lovely. ^_^
~Neshomeh did a thing! ))
“I don’t like it,” said Nita Incog, co-editor-in-chief of the New Multiverse Monitor. “All of our years of crafting a reputation for actual decent news and journalistic integrity at Headquarters, and you want to squander it all on clickbait videos?”
“It’s not clickbait if he’ll actually be reading and answering the questions,” Anon E. Maus, her fellow co-editor-in-chief, pointed out cheerily. “Besides, times are changing, and we’ve gotta change with it! The future of media is on the internet! That’s why we have a TikTok now!”
“We have a what?!” demanded Nita, feeling the beginnings of a headache.
“A TikTok!” Anon grinned from ear to ear, pulling up the relevant channel on his tablet. A series of short videos showed up: various newsbytes of Headquarters goings-on, commentary clips and reactions from the Monitor’s staff, even a cover of a bunch of agents singing the PPC Wellerman in very bad four-part harmony—
“That’s enough,” said Nita, pushing the phone away. “I can’t believe that that’s what you’ve been up to instead of working on our perfectly sensible news magazine.”
“Which one of us agreed to serialise Lux and Tahira’s collaboration manga about Jacques Bonnefoy and that Chinese wizard man again?”
Nita gasped. “I’ll have you know that ‘Bonnefoy’s Little Crush’ is a tour de force of visual storytelling,” she declared, “and thus very worthy of a feature in our humble publication.”
“I still don’t know why you refuse to bring back Page Three,” grumbled Anon.
“You would rather we run around catching illicit photographs of various ‘hott’ agents in states of undress,” stated Nita flatly, “than serialise a BL manga about Agents Bonnefoy and Wei that they actually approved.”
Anon shrugged. “What’s life without a little excitement?”
Nita rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” A loud keening whimper of a theremin began to float out of the Who Do You Think You Are, Apollo? Auditorium doors. “There he goes. You have your…” she grimaced, “TikTok ready for this?”
“Naturally,” replied Anon, producing a camcorder from his bag. “Let’s go.”
((Coming soon to an RP near you: The Ellimist Reads Frequently Googled Questions About the Ellimist!))
It's got a real ebb and flow feel to it for some reason (I am, as always, good at saying what text feels like, but terrible at knowing why), which fits perfectly with the Ellimist.
For the moment, I've spliced this onto the end of Let the Show Begin, because it works nicely as an endcap to that story; if it attracts RP attention I may separate it out, unless said RP fits with that positioning.
And yes, the Ellimist can have his colour gradient! I've found a gradient generator which is positively nightmarish for HTML, but copies perfectly into GDocs. I've put a fairly simple treatment in the doc for now, but feel free to provide either comments or a better version. :)
hS
I may have some fun with that later, but for right now I'll just say the paragraphs aren't wrapping for some reason, and I think the current lightest shade is too light to be comfortably readable. Whatever it is around "rapidly" is probably as light as it should get, and I might lean more into the brighter shades of "between" for the majority of the rest. We'll see!
Thank you!
~Neshomeh
The new Board does have a "let's pretend this was posted at a time other than when it actually was" feature, which can be used for keeping threads alive and for banishing them off the front page.
It might draw back some of the absent gods, after all. But I am somewhat biased. ;)
hS
Ok, yes, from a technical perspective I can go in the database and edit things or give myself the moderator flag, but socially that power belongs to the Nameless Admin (which is a title I don't hold, and giving it to me is a separate discussion)
So, Their Adminship needs to go in to the post that started the RP, edit it, and change the sort timestamp to something more recent (I think there's also a box that'll need to be checked to make the change go through).
((This was intended to be the final Party in the Parc performance, but if anyone wants to RP a reaction here go right on ahead.))
((I made use of unusual spacing here, and it looks like viewing on mobile ruins that, so please read on desktop if able. hS, I'm sorry if that makes this difficult to archive, but you can change the spacing if need be to make it work.))
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1wM9WFWEaKLoogag65EKxnUrEza9kXCtuGy6i1eyt14k/edit?usp=drivesdk
—doctorlit
First off, I loved the performance. Though, be warned, there's probably an "... and it gets everywhere" joke coming in the logo circle, because. Sand. The archiving should be fine; I'm just gonna copy directly from your GDoc to mine. ^_^
Anyway, cover!
This cover may wind up swapping out; if the Tash mission goes ahead, I might need to switch it to that story. Basically depends on which one produces the best 'substitute for a god' for the cover; at the moment it's probably Jadis, since I can at least get a reference picture for her.*
*But would it be Disney or BBC Jadis? And would they even look different after I drew them?
This cover was originally earmarked for the finale, as a "The End" gag, but I already had an alternate lined up for that. ^_^
hS
Edit: Putting together the archive version... I think the sand-explosion at the end of the performance has been knocked out of the timeline, which is a shame, because it was kind of cool. Let me know if you want me to put it back in somewhere in the RP section. ~hS
((Right, the mission. Claire, if you're reading this, did you want to get the ball rolling there, or leave it to Tash skulking outside the RC to start?))
((Adaptations, hS? Why not go for the original Jadis?))
((Ooooh crap, no. Sand explosion is too good to lose. Tomash, may I present the following edit?))
Just as the crowd was beginning to murmur their disquieted reactions to each other, the sand on the stage and in the three remaining sand figures blasted outwards, coating the nearest seating levels in grey and increasing the level of alarm among the audience.
And Tash was gone.
Her question, however, did not go unanswered. From near the back of the crowd, Estril-and-Julian called out, with one voice that nevertheless gave the distinct impression of belonging to two people at once, "Fairest and Fallen, greetings and defiance!"
And Tash was back, instantly reforming from the sand in the same place she had stood before. She had not expected "defiance."
—doctorlit, refusing to surrender his one allotted sand explosion for the year
> Then, she croaked, “What hast thou to say?”
From near the back of the crowd, Estril-and-Julian called out, with one voice that nevertheless gave the distinct impression of belonging to two people at once, "Fairest and Fallen, greetings and defiance!"
(( How they'd made it out of the fic I'm writing into HQ is very much not relevant here, this timeline has enough weirdness in it as it is. ))
(( Continuing from this post below. ))
He could feel his face heating up. "And I was going to tell them you're not her, either, just so you know! You're welcome!"
He knew right away he'd messed up by letting Tash make him so angry. He was a god, and one of the nice ones, too; he wasn't supposed to act like this, especially not in front of regular people. The trouble was, Tash was striking close to home, maybe even more so than she realized. The Ellimist's future tangled up with his past and made the present extremely uncomfortable and embarrassing.
But he wouldn't let that show. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood there like he'd done exactly what he meant to do and tried to pretend he didn't care what Julian/Estril and Rebecca thought about it.
(( Oooh, Tash really wound him up! I find this amusing, so don't feel bad, doc. Character =/= author. ^_^
~Neshomeh enjoys writing an eleven-year-old with delusions of godhood. ))
"Am I wrong, though?" she asked as she sauntered back towards the group. "This enemy of the paired ones sounds awfully familiar, doth she not? A 'Meddler' they call her, and thee do meddle with time, do thee not? A 'Prince of Lies'—and thee do manipulate many souls to get thy desired outcome, yes? Hm." She stopped in front of the Ellimist and rested a contemplative finger and thumb on her chin. "Hmmmm. We did not realize our true identities until this very month. Are you certain, Ellimist, truly certain that you are not this dangerous Power they warn of? They did say she has many aspects!" She stared directly into the Ellimist's eyes, teeth on full display.
—doctorlit, being villainous
Julian cut them off. “Let’s not think too much about how gods work between universes, it’ll give us a headache.”
“But you,” he said, pointing at Tash, “feel very evil and Lone Power-ish, while you,” he pointed at the Ellimist, “don’t - and also your concert was pretty cool.”
"But . . . but what about my concert?"
((Sorry, I felt like the Ellimist would want to reply to the compliment first, and I got wrapped up in writing Tash's conclusion most of the weekend.))
—doctorlit
He hadn't meant to, but he'd held his tongue all through Tash's lecture, and on top of that, Julian/Estril's and Rebecca's comments tickled his funnybone. He was still angry, but he no longer felt helpless about it. Quite the contrary, in fact.
"Thank you," he said to the non-gods. "You see clearly. And so do I."
He turned back to Tash with a cool smile. "I am sure who I am, actually. Like you said, I see a lot: beginnings, middles, and ends. Lots of them. Endless possibilities. But some are more likely than others. Me being the Lone One? Not gonna happen. But you... I guess you could say you've got choices, at least until our two years are up. I want to make sure you know that. If you want to call that 'meddling'..." His eyes narrowed slightly. It was such a loaded word, completely unfair to go throwing it around like that. But he took a deep breath and put it aside. "I guess that's fine. But it's your choice what you do about it, not mine."
He paused, then added, "'The End' doesn't have to be a bad thing, you know."
(( Gods be speech-y. Sorry this took so long. ~Neshomeh ))
"I know that, oh weaver of time. The End is neither bad nor good, merely inevitable. I am merely she who waits for it to come, and collects my due." She crossed her arms and gazed at the Ellimist for a few moments, an almost serene look on her face. "Time is strange in this place. I sense many endings . . . too many endings, for the paths each life may take lie close to each other here, side by side. 'Multiple choice' endings. Tell me, Ellimist, what do thee sense here? How does thy power . . . feel to thee, in this place?"
—doctorlit is glad someone finally named the Lone One out loud so Tash doesn't have to keep referring to them through euphemisms, although the conversation has moved on from that anyway
wondering if they'd need to do something. It didn't seem like Tash was up to any shenanigans, though, and they didn't have any speeches of their own to toss in yet.
“The timelines here are so tangled that even the Powers get confused,” Estril eventually muttered.
"Time is always branching, and everyone's branches get mixed up with everyone else's, and they make a certain pattern. That's no different here than anywhere else. It's like..." He paused, thinking, then reached into the pocket of his robe and took out a glowing blue cube. He tossed it gently into the air, and there it hovered, slowly rotating just above head-height. Its light wavered, taking on the limpid form of innumerable glinting strands of light, all weaving and flowing together.
"If a timeline is like a stream," said the Ellimist, gesturing to the image before him, "and making a choice is like tossing something into it, most choices are like little pebbles." He flicked his fingers, imitating the act, and a light-mote leaped into the light-stream with barely a splash. "Little pebbles make little ripples, and they don't make much difference to where the stream goes. But, if a whole lot of people throw a whole lot of stuff in the same place, it can turn a stream—and sometimes, somebody gets a chance to throw a big rock." He rolled a softball of light between his hands and dropped it. The stream split unevenly around the rock, and the larger branch bent in a new direction while the smaller continued on its original path, but faded into irrelevance.
"My power," he said, meeting Tash's eyes, "the kind of power we both have, feels like a very big rock. So we have to be careful how we put it in."
(( He's going to be very annoyed when he finds out that some people interpreted his concert(s) as "YOLO!!!" {; P
(( Just to head off a couple of potential questions, 1. No, it's not THAT blue cube, and 2. It's not even a real object. If anyone *coughTashcough* tries to take it, it'll just vanish, taking the whole light show with it. ^_~
~Neshomeh did not deliberately choose a water metaphor to contrast with Tash's desert theme, but there it is! ))
"I do not throw rocks," she ground out. She reached for the end of the fading time stream and pinched the farthest star between index finger and thumb. As she cupped it in her palm, its twinkling white began to dim into a rusty red. "I take only that which has no further place in the river." She clenched the fist, and the stars of the minor time stream all winked out, the stronger stream diverted by the Ellimist's "rock" still shining strong and bright.
Tash was desperate to confront the Ellimist further, but glanced at the mortals. She was embarrassed to admit any weakness before them, and yet . . . her curiosity and envy won out. She turned to face the Ellimist and spoke quietly. "My power is constrained by the will of the Lion. Thee has no such restriction upon thy power. Why, then, do thee choose to limit thyself?"
—doctorlit, suddenly humanizing Tash a bit, I guess
((Nesh, if my Nursery kids' reactions to the Ellimist's concert weren't what you had in mind, I can absolutely edit that!))
... but I swore never to use what power I have unjustly and self-servingly. I wouldn't be worth even the shirt on my back if I broke that promise and did whatever I wanted. A house or country divided against itself falls, and friends who do not keep their promises become enemies. You, Tash may be the Inexorable, but that does not mean that everyone will obey you," said Rebecca. ((-Claire, talking like a book for some reason or other))
"We both swore the Oath to get these powers in the first place, and I sure don't want my magic yoinked for turning evil."
"And even if we could do whatever we wanted, we shouldn't," Estril added. "I didn't turn on the Empire just to become them but with magic, for one thing. It'd be wrong!"
He couldn't help smiling at them for rallying behind him (or so it felt to his ego), but they hadn't quite gotten the message he'd showed up to give. "Tash isn't evil," he told Julian/Estril, "and she never said anything about obeying her," he added to Rebecca. "She didn't get to choose her job."
He could remember the time before Ananke opened his eyes, when he used to get so angry with his mother for telling him he couldn't do as he pleased. Talk about meddling! But it all seemed very distant now. Of course there had to be rules, and not just for silly little boys like the one he'd been.
He turned back to Tash. "The thing is, back when I was first inventing myself, I made a lot of mistakes." He prodded his "boulder" upstream with one finger, and the river rushed over and around it in a messy froth, only to find a completely different channel than before. "I'm more careful now because I know how bad things can get when I'm not. Even Crayak figured out that there was such a thing as going too far—and I'm not convinced he isn't a version of the Lone Power." He pulled a disgruntled face.
(( I'm not entirely clear on what Tash's deal is in canon, but if s/he's got "lawful prey" then I figure whoever made the law (the Emperor over the Sea?) is responsible.
(( Doc, what I was going for with the performance is something like "the time to choose life and love is now, because if you wait, you might find it's too late." I had Young Wizards on my mind when I wrote it—the language of the Wizard's Oath is very compatible with the Ellimist's philosophy in canon. {= )
(( That said, I'm very okay with people getting the wrong idea. hS explained to me that the sway the Wic+Div gods have with their music isn't mind-control, just good ol' fan mania, so it follows that people can have their own interpretations of the experience!
~Neshomeh ))
"Thou merely lack ambition, then. Thy might is wasted on thee. If I possessed this Lone Power of thy Crayak, I would rule over millions of souls! Tash's Country would become Tash's Universe."
—doctorlit, also low in the ambition department
((Really should have been someone else's tag, but it's been a while.))
—doctorlit
...than you trying to get rid of Sauron?" Rebecca asked.
"Or do we need to stick around to foil your plans?"
and I'm staying right here because I'm not going to do nothing and have all of Narnia to be turned into a death desert," said Rebecca.
I went with the moment the Ellimist first appears, because by golly, if there's an action scene I want in on it. ^_^ Originally wanted to show it from behind the mortal trio, but that didn't work, so we get a basic plan view.
Sorry, Estril doesn't make an appearance ^_~, but my linked-infinity version of the Wizard's Knot seems particularly appropriate here.
hS
If they were, things might not be going so well for these two...
Also, even though this is something of a funky interpretation, eeeeeeeeee someone drew fanart of characters from my fic!
I disclaimed back last year that the drawings were artist's impressions - that's why Lucian is still tiny in her picture, despite being tall in her stories. In this case, for an inch-high sketch, I just scribbled a Generic Teenager.
That said, if there's specific things I can tweak in (hair, clothes), let me know - it's pencil, after all!
hS
I meant that calling this "fanart" was a stretch.
As to accuracy, I rarely have a detailed mental picture of what my characters look like, and even if I did, I haven't said anything, so Generic Teenager is the correct interpretation for now.
... or maybe pester my sister to draw one for me because she is better at drawing than me. -Claire))
She turned her head very slowly, back and forth, scanning the entire audience. "Who hath spoken?"
—doctorlit is incredibly down for this Narnia/Young Wizards/Animorphs/PPC crossover
Despite the different presentation, they recognized Her from previous encounters - if nothing else, the message was quite familiar.
We're standing together here? Estril asked Julian. (Being wrapped around his brain made it easy to keep the question private)
Yep, same as before! Let's do this!
Julian got the sense that his partner was, yet again, sighing at his enthusiasm.
"Julian Anders," the young teen near the back of the crowd said.
"and Estril 447." continued the Yeerk sharing his head. Attentive observers would notice that Estril deliberately gave themself a distinct accent.
Tash's form on the stage abruptly collapsed into a pile of sand.
Not an instant later, smoke rose from the floor directly in front of the speakers, taking Tash's human shape before re-solidifying into flesh and clothing.
"Thou speak," she croaked, apparently leaving her feminine voice behind with her musical performance. "Thou say, 'Fairest.' Thou say, 'Fallen.' I am neither. What mean thou by these words?"
—doctorlit thinks the Old English pronouns are the hardest part of all this, and is probably getting them wrong
"and we know You. You are,"
The two wizards then ping-ponged through a list of titles.
"the Collapser of Caverns," Estril began.
"the Prince of Lies," Julian continued.
"the Muddler,"
"the Author of Entropy,"
Then, they finished together, "and many other names. We know You, and we defy You and Your so-called inevitability."
They squared up to look Tash in the eyes with the thoroughly inflated confidence of teenagers on a mission to save the world (for that is, indeed, what they were).
"Two," she muttered quietly. She leaned in closer still, peering into the human eyes, and perceiving the Yeerk inside. "Two threads, twined together so closely. And the ends . . . But those ends are long from now, and far from here. Thee are not mine to take." She flung her arms out, swishing her dress dramatically. "I ask thee again, then: Why do thee greet me with defiance?"
—doctorlit
They stumbled a bit over their reply. "Uh, we're wizards?" Then, with Estril handing Julian the voice box, they continued, more confidently, "We're sworn to stand against entropy and death, and She who created them, in all their forms. And that's you."
A moment later, since Estril couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was off here, they added, "Right?"
. . . This is a creature that inhabits your own world, is She not? And thou . . . Thou do stand against her." A very small smile crept across Tash's face. "Very well. I shall grant thy wish, servants of the Lion—for thee do serve the Lion, I think, though thee may know Him not. Bring me to thy world, and I shall remove this Author of Entropy for you. Thy world shall be safe forever, and thee shall be known evermore as the heroic young wizards who vanquished death."
Tash reached forward, and offered her hand. "Let me help thee."
—doctorlit
but Estril stopped him. It's a trap, they said.
Huh? Julia's hand was awkwardly frozen halfway out.
I'm pretty sure She's tried this on those mobiles we read about a while back... Estril turned their thoughts to pulling up the relevant information from the Powers, and Julian moved his hand back as he listened in.
Soon enough, Julian realized what he'd been about to sign up for. Thanks, buddy, he said.
It's nothing, Estril reassured him. You'd have done the same for me.
By the time Julian got around to replying, the silence had gotten awkward. "No thanks," he said. "I know how that one goes."
She clutched the unmet hand closed as she hissed the "this" out through her teeth. "Thou will take me to thy world, and I will bring back this, this 'Muddler' with me. Thy world shall be safe—I offer nothing but truth in these words."
She leapt up nimbly and landed with her feet on the headrest of the seat in front of the one Estril-and-Julian sat in. It was empty; unsurprisingly, the area around the speakers was quite deserted by now. The citizens of HQ who still lingered in the auditorium were close to the door, and didn't seem particularly invested in approaching.
Tash flung her arms, making her dress billow out in an unseen wind yet again. "And I shall return to Narnia, where I cannot stand against the Lion. But perhaps your great Enemy can! And together, we shall topple the reign of the Lion at last! And reshape Narnia into a boundless desert of death!" She laughed then, evil laughter . . . but coming out of a skinny teenage girl's lungs, it was more of a tee-hee-hee. Nonetheless, it came close to emptying the stragglers still in the room with them.
—doctorlit thinks that's enough scene-chewing for one turn . . .
Suddenly a girl stood up from where she had been sitting unnoticed by everyone. "Hey!" she said loudly. "By Elbereth and Lúthien the fair, you won't turn Narnia into a desert if I have anything to say about it! And you'd never tell the truth, you subtle, perjur’d, false, disloyal knave!"
"And," Estril added, taking Julian a forward, "no. I've dealt with enough of Your nonsense to help spread it.
"On top of that," the Yeerk continued, "as far as our respective worlds are concerned, You and our Enemy might just be different... aspects of the same Power. Maybe. I'm not a theologian.
"But if that's the case, more of the same won't actually help you." Estril concluded.
Julian followed Estril's comments up with a shrug. He wasn't quite sure what his partner was on about.
When the girl started shouting, Julian instinctively looked her way. After he worked out what she was on about, he quickly shifted gears from stating down Tash, smiled at her, and called out "Hi!"
"Are you a ventriloquist or something? If you are, you're doing a pretty good job." Rebecca had never seen nor heard of Yeerks, and she was wondering if this so-called wizard was completely sane.
"Tash is Tash. I am aspect of no other Power. But never mind."
She turned her attention to the new speaker, Rebecca—at least it wasn't Robecca. "You there! You speak the tongue of Sindarin*. I offer you the same deal. Take me to middle-Earth, and I shall take Sauron away forever!"
— *doctorlit thinks those words are Sindarin, hS please correct?
((The funniest part of this is there's no way even the real, fully powered Tash could possibly force Sauron or the Lone Power to do anything against their will. He's just not at that level of power.))
and darkness cannot defeat darkness, only light can do that. I've heard of people like you making empty promises that usually end up with the well-intentioned person who wants to get rid of evil in their world being dead or worse than dead."
"I'm not trying to defeat darkness with darkness. I'm trying to defeat light with darkness, by kidnapping another darkness. Very simple." She shifted her feet forward and slid into the seat, taking a more recognizably human position. "So it's more like Sauron using Morgoth to defeat Boromir. Except Sauron could defeat Boromir easily without assistance, so it's more like Sauron using Morgoth to defeat Gandalf. Except I'm looking for help from another universe, so it's more like Sauron getting Lord Voldemort to defeat Gandalf. Except Sauron is more powerful than Lord Voldemort, so it's actually more like . . ." She continued to drone on for a bit.
—doctorlit, sucking all the menace out of Tash with a single post.
and I'm still not going to sit there and let you enlist random evil people from other universes to make Narnia into a desert, even if you are good at making weird analogies," Rebecca told Tash.
Estril and Julian looked over at Rebecca. "Nah, not a ventriloquist," Julian said. "I'm Julian, and for a while now, I've been sharing my body with..."
"Estril," the Yeerk said, exaggerating their accent to drive the point home. "I've been wrapped around his brain for a few weeks now, except for the occasional break."
"We've teamed up to fight evil and help save the world!" they finished, using forms of the Speech that signified multiple independent people using one voice (turns out, they're nowhere near the first wizards to be in a situation like this).
They kept checking back on Tash while they were saying this, just in case the monologue turned into something a bit more concerning.
"Then again," Estril added, "a lot of Yeerks are less symbiotic about it. I'd say Julian and I are more like the Tok'ra from Stargate."
". . . Mostly this is like if Ursula the sea witch asked the smoke monster from Lost to defeat a My Little Pony, but only if it's a unicorn or a pegasus. An earth pony ruins the metaphor completely." Tash sighed in satisfaction and drummed her fingers on the armrest.
Then she blinked. "Where were we?"
—doctorlit
Julian said. "And then.. big climactic fight between good and evil?"
He paused. "Or do we still need to do the speeches?"
Estril wasn't as hyped about this idea, but didn't say anything. Maybe we should walk away, they suggested. We're less prepared here.
Whatrver happened to setting aside fear for courage? Julian ccountered.
The only external evidence of this debate was rather confused body language, as if Estril-and-Julian couldn't decide between running for it and throwing down.
Nothing happened for a moment.
Then smoke erupted all around Tash's body, pillaring straight up towards the ceiling. Its shape coalesced into a four-armed woman with the head of a vulture—the very same form of Tash that King Tirian's party saw entering the outskirts of Narnia.
"Thou failed to see reason," Tash grated out, and her voice was more raspy and inhuman than ever before. "Now thou will fall instead." Four great, smoky hands reached downwards, grasping for the two human bodies. "I am the Inexorable!"
—doctorlit, providing a dose of mood whiplash this evening
Instead, pulling out a variation of a spell they'd used before, they threw up a bubble of strong wind around themselves and Rebecca, aiming to push Tash's hands aside, or at least to prevent them from getting in.
As the wizardly wind-screen arose, there was a flash of blue, and the Ellimist was there between his fellow god and the humans. Though he wasn't as tall as the enormous figure of Tash, he stood proud and defiant, fists planted firmly on his hips.
"That's enough, Tash!" he said. "Leave them alone. Don't make me put you in time-out."
(( *jumps off the couch* I felt like the situation begged for meddling intervention, but if it's unwelcome just let me know and we'll pretend it never happened. {= )
~Neshomeh ))
She stared down the Ellimist for several seconds.
Then the smoke drew together and formed the proper human body of Tash once again, standing on the floor. She closed her eyes and turned her face away from the Ellimist's gaze. "They are not mine to take, anyway."
She began sauntering towards the door, then stopped. Without turning around, she asked, "How about thou let me borrow Crayak for a month or so?
—doctorlit rolls with it
She was seriously considering throwing this confounded vulture-demon into Mt. Doom and being done with the whole thing. The problem was, that would probably be considered murder, so she settled on glaring and muttering insulting Shakespeare quotes under her breath.
"and who are you?" he asked the Ellimist.
He hadn't been sure he would get away with calling her on the carpet like that. "Er. Yeah. That's right," he muttered. In response to her question, though, his expression set once more into a self-assured frown. "No," he answered, "that would be meddling with the plot continua, and we're not allowed to do that."
At that point, Julian spoke. Mildly surprised and just a little crestfallen at being neither known nor thanked, the Ellimist blinked and turned to address him. "Hello. I'm the Ellimist. You, uh, don't recognize me?" He took in Rebecca with his glance. Maybe she knew who he was?
(( To be clear, he's thinking they might ought to know him from his own performance(s), not the Animorphs connection or anything else. I actually have no idea if the Yeerks in general have heard of the Ellimist.
(( If you need a reminder of his current appearance, I refer you to Issue 4: "Future Tense." {= )
~Neshomeh ))
about your continuum." She wasn't really sure what to say, and she felt kind of embarrassed to admit that she didn't know anything about The Ellimist, or his home continuum.
"I have, I think?" Estril added. "You're some sort of Andalite folk figure? And so maybe one of the Powers?"
"He, too, sees ends. And beginnings, and middles, besides. But he does not play by the rules, like me, for the Ellimist changes things, yes. Changes what is meant to be, and changes fates. A true Meddler, wouldn't thee say?" She watched the Ellimist's face. "Perhaps he is this dangerous Power thou fear, joined ones?"
—doctorlit feels like a mean, mean bully
"You just got done monologuing about how you're going to take over the world, and now you're trying 'the person trying to stop me is the real villain'?!"
And yes, I'm procrastinating. I might possibly be a nutter. :)
((After all, they're not hers to take! But I also recognize this was a rather dramatic escalation of threat, so I don't blame you for wanting to intervene . . . Sorry!))
— doctorlit, abashed
I kinda thought something like that could be the case, but TBH I was looking for any excuse to introduce the Ellimist to the RP, and if he ends up looking silly for jumping to conclusions and completely overreacting, that's fine with me if it's fine with you all.
If not, again, that's fine, too.
~Neshomeh
That's because I have it! Mwahaha!
-OrangeFox
You have successfully stolen a dislike of null-terminated strings (as opposed to length-tabbed ones). Welcome to being a systems programmer.
(for actual context: mobile keyboards do silly things sometimes)
((Jumping on the bandwagon of spectating! I don't know who Julian and Estril are, but this is fun!))
((I was just having a nice quiet box of popcorn, and now half the PPC's here swiping it, along with a dog who could have shown up in WicDiv of his own accord.
((...
((... I wonder if Ponch can create some more popcorn for us.))
((~hS))
(( But bugging us for it is more fun, so ... ))
(( Also: hi, hello, I still exist and I really, really hope I can get my brain to do something in this thread soon. ~Neshomeh ))
It's been over a year since I've had popcorn because I have braces, and my family has agreed not to make it because having popcorn in the house and being forbidden to eat it is torture. Now I'm forcing myself to not steal this popcorn for fear of incurring your wrath. -Claire, who really wants to eat your popcorn and is trying not to succumb to the temptation of stealing it
1. The room was dark, silent, and smelled faintly of strange, dark waters and coppery blood. 2. The audience was, in turn, almost silent, but the faint sound of their breathing filled the small room. 3. In the center of the room, on a small podium, was Stone. The cat who was a mountain who was a god. Silver blood tricked from the wound on her side. 4. She drew herself up, opened her mouth, and began to sing.
Light poured from the podium as the sudden size that was the Mountain of Light became apparent to all who watched. The light, the heart of the world, all of it was here.
The audience alternately drew closer, backed away, or fell to the ground with the weight of it.
The song began. The bright blood of the Mountain became the sound, a thin reverberation of light that grew ever stronger. Healing flowed through it, and strength, as every heart began to beat as one.
Stone looked out at the audience, and noticed as some began to stand straighter, or tension in their shoulders loosened, as pain became more bearable.
She looked at them. She recognized them. And she promised:
I know you. I remember you. I see who you are, what you have done, and the pain you have endured for others. Every sacrifice you have made, I see it. I honor it. It will be remembered, and it will be worth it.
For I remember you, and I endure forever. You will not be forgotten. Those lost will not be forgotten. And none of it was meaningless.
It ended, as all things do. The audience trickled out, murmuring their thanks or talking quietly, earnestly, to their friends or simply going home to process the experience. Stone nodded graciously in reply to her listeners for some time before staggering out the back and winding her way through the hallways until she was thoroughly lost. Then, finally, she lay down and began to bathe carefully, twitching occasionally as she cleaned near the wound. Weary to the bone, she collapsed and closed her eyes for a moment. She then looked up.
"Oh, hello, I didn't see you there."
((thought this might be a usable prompt? if anyone's interesting in seeing a rather tired god, for whatever purposes, hey, here she is.))
That wasn't actually what was said. Agent Mmrrowl didn't actually say anything, in the way that two-legged agents generally mean the term; he merely flirted his tail in a particular way that meant something on the order of "I acknowledge your existence, and have decided that at present I will permit you to share my personal space without complaint."
For a cat, that's about as close to a greeting as you're likely to get.
Mmrrowl sat down a few strides away from Stone and examined her for a couple of seconds. Then, ducking his head, he casually washed his ear with one paw. "Interesting song," he said, in the glint of one half-hidden eye, and for him that was equivalent to a standing ovation.
((Because I remembered I have a couple of cats strolling about HQ. I'm sure the other one will be along any minute... :D Neither of them speak anything other than Cat, but they both understand English if Stone would rather use it.))
((And I loved the performance! It really evokes both her god, and the impact it has on her listeners. :) ))
((Do you have a feel for when in the month this happened? Both for archiving purposes, and so I know whether Mmrrowl has already spent a couple of weeks thinking condescending thoughts about two-leggeds and their foibles before he happened to see Stone's show.))
((hS))
((PS: Mmrrowl is a black cat, but not, as he once took pains to point out, a Black Cat.))
Stone twitched her tail with some degree of surprise, since this was her first time encountering... another feline? Wait. That wasn't right. She wasn't that much of a cat now, she was a god. Did it matter so much? Well. Whether or not it mattered, this seemed like quite an enjoyable conversation to have. She blinked in greeting and paused in her bathing to convey a proper sense of attentiveness. "I'm glad you found value in my song," she conveyed with a nod of her head. It really was nice to communicate as a cat did, wasn't it? To avoid the notice of humans. A harmless enough part of who she was before she knew she was Stone, yes? Of course.
((kitties kitties kitties)) ((I'm so glad you liked the performance! I enjoyed writing it quite a lot. I don't have any particular opinions on the date- perhaps the 9th? So a while after Let The Show Begin.)) ((And the Ambitious Calico is, as you might guess, a calico. :3 ))
Mmrrowl twitched his other ear in Stone's direction, a simple acknowledgement that he had seen what she said, and would get round to replying when he was good and ready. After a couple more seconds of washing, he stood back up and tipped his head to the side. "I have a question," the tilt indicated, and then, in a flick of his whiskers and a soft 'pprt,' he said, "I was wondering why?"
Keeping one eye on the Calico, he walked over to the wall and raised a paw, patting at the grey surface as if it were a door. As a sign for the two-legged agents of the PPC, it encapsulated both "the two-leggeds are all very excited by these songs" and "they are prone to giving things away for free," with a hint of "but they're weird anyway". Then, in the curve of his spine and a slight flex of his claws, he said, "But we are hunters. What we get, we keep. Why do you... share?"
From the ripple of his fur, that last was something of a dirty word.
((I have known many cats. Some have been flighty and skittish, some - only a few - have been friendly, and almost all have exuded self-confidence and self-reliance. Mmrrowl is drawing heavily on the latter: his point here is that, in his view, a cat with a good thing, for instance a magical song, would normally just keep it - unless, of course, they got something out of letting others enjoy it.
((Also I amuse myself by imagining that the patting of the door to be let out is just cat-sign for "oy, human!". ^_^))
((hS))
Stone drooped slightly, and tucked her nose beneath her tail, before straightening. "I'm not just a cat. I'm a god. Maybe before- especially before I came to the PPC- I may have been selfish, perhaps. But that wasn't the real me. Of course not. It wasn't that important, and now I'm loved. Doesn't everyone want love, attention, all of that? And despite being a cat, being Stone, sacrifice, giving- all these things are important to me. Though I do expect my followers to be willing to give of themselves, when such a thing is necessary. Mostly, I lead by example in that department." "Though I do miss certain feline traditions. Cat-chasing, for one. Not that anyone in the PPC knows the rules there. I don't suppose you're from a place where cat-chasing is common?"
"Ah. A... god."
Mmrrowl said the word, with its slight upward glance to indicate one above the speaker, with visible discomfort. It wasn't disbelief, but more a feeling that, as a cat, no-one should be above him.
"I know little of gods, though there was one once, in a dream..." He flicked his tail, dismissing the thought. "If that is how gods are loved, may it give you much pleasure/entertainment/pride." The concepts were difficult to separate, but Mmrrowl didn't even try. "For myself, it seems like a lot of work - but I will still listen to your song, if I may."
"Games, now..." The black cat dropped to the floor, rolling onto his back for a moment before leaping back to his feet. "We play only one game, the Game, among my people; I don't know if it is the same. Though, if it is chasing you want, there is someone you must meet."
He flashed his teeth, showing the irony of his last words, but then his ears pricked up as a faint jingling echoed down the hall. "The Ironic Overpower," he grumbled, the same look upward as 'god' paired with the barest show of his fangs. "I apologise for this."
"Mmrrowl!" Another cat scampered up the corridor, her fur long and white, a small golden bell on her collar. "I found you! Oh!" She skittered to a halt, staring at Stone. "I know you! My human loves you!"
Mmrrowl rolled his eyes, one of the few gestures he had adopted from the two-legged agents. "Stone," he said, "meet Aunt Sam."
(("one once, in a dream" and "the [Cat] Game" are both somewhat oblique references to different things.
((Aunt Sam is a mini-Mogget. I'll mention this in narrative next time if you don't cover it, but her feline speech is much more exaggerated than Mmrrowl's - it might feel like a kitten speaking, maybe, or maybe like she's shouting - or just clumsy. The bell on her collar is a mini-Kibeth, which when rung, eg by her jumping about, gives people an impulse or urge to move. I think that can be either walking or dancing, but it can be resisted by force of will as well.
((Mmrrowl really doesn't like Aunt Sam, partly because she's a mini, and partly because she just really winds him up. ^_^
((hS))
((PS: Most cats I've known played the Cat Game, but my parents' current pair are sibling house-cats, and they love to chase from end to end of the house.))
Stone dipped her head graciously. "You are always welcome at my performances- everyone is. Excuse me a moment?" Stone flicked her tail, politely (as difficult as that was, in Cat) indicating that she had someone else to speak to. She smiled at the newcomer, with the grace of both a feline and a god. Then twitched, jumped, and looked incredibly uncomfortable. "Ah... hello. What on earth is that bell? It seems like a piece of a god, or something? But I don't understand it at all." "Regardless. If either of you are curious, it is similar to a simple chasing game- except catching a cat means catching a secret with them. If you're interested, I could think of a few secrets to tell."
"My bell?" said Aunt Sam. "I love my bell! It's-- wait." She dropped into a mock crouch, tail lashing like a kitten after a toy mouse. "Are we playing already? Are you trying to trick me into telling you a secret?"
Mmrrowl sighed and strolled over. "While generally I am loath to play... games with the," he ducked his head, mimicking the same pose for 'kitten', but with a derisive tail-flick to make it 'mini', "this does sound... intriguing."
((They'll play, but I have no idea what they're doing. ~hS))
((I'm scrambling for free time lately, but I definitely want to participate in this again, and to continue both with what Tash is doing, and with Ilcharheen's friends trying to figure out what's happening. I do have a . . . soooong? of sorts? Written for Tash's performance at Party in the Parc, so I'm at least ready to go on that front.))
((I also figure Tash will spend the non-musical portions of the month trying to tag along on the missions of as many agent pairs as she can possibly charisma-roll into taking her. (Not that she has mush charisma in spooky death bird mode, but hey, extra help is extra help, right? If the creepy, raspy-voiced teenage girl says she's been assigned as a temporary teammate, who's to turn her down? She's probably just in DOGA or something, lot of smoke in the air.) So if anyone wants to very slowly RP a shortish, probably made-up-badfic mission where Tash is standing around in an unsettling manner, and then does something even more unsettling at the end, hit me up!))
((I'm also semi-planning an interview for Tash, but I'm still muddling over the proper balance of keeping things light while still allowing her to be somewhat threatening to some underpaid PPC staffer. Thoughts?))
((Lastly, hS and Nesh: I notice in the graphic at the end of "Future Tense," Tash is one of the still-living gods at that point. If that RP is going to continue, let me know if you need anything written about her. Unless the definitive end in August 2020 means that timeline doesn't matter any more anyway? Just let me know.))
—Why did doctorlit choose such a serious, spooky death god? The one from the Inkheart series would have been SO much easier . . .
We're definitely planning part 2 of Future Tense, but we don't know whether Tash will actually show up at this point. My mental image of her in the final "gone a little cuckoo" stages of godhood has been shifting back and forth between "wanders the halls being spooky and unkillable (because she is The End, and so cannot be Ended against her will)" and "full-on human sacrifice extravaganza", so actually, your position on how she'll wind up would be great even if she doesn't show up directly.
(The canonical quote about how things go at the late stage is "You don't see many gods bathing in blood in the first year of their return". One way to describe it could be that their preferences and tendencies - whether mortal or godly - grow more and more obsessive as time passes.)
Also: I would love to see Tash's performance, for the Party in the Parc or otherwise. I think if it was the Party I'd probably archive the account in either the Special Edition (as a standalone, literally as an account of what her show was like), or to its own issue (if people respond to it, like how Yavanna's show is archived). See, I'm already planning... :D
Alsø alsø wik: I really want to see the interview. ^_^ One way of keeping it light would be to have an interviewer who refuses to be anything but bubbly, and ignores obvious attempts by Tash to lead her down darker paths. Sort of like:
So, Tashie, you keep calling yourself 'the end'. What's that all about?
I am The End. All lives are stories, and all stories End, and I am that End. I will stand when you, and everything in the PPC, are naught but dust and memories, and that time will come very soon.
Cool. So, what's your favourite flavour of chocolate?
(Obviously over a full interview you'd be a little more subtle than that. ^_~)
hS
would be the sacrifice extravaganza. As out of place as that concept feels in HQ, it's less problematic in a doomed timeline, so we might as well go big, huh?))
((I'll read-through the performance again, try to decide if it feels more Parc finale or rising action to me. Or even just post it and see if it gets any RP attention; if not, you can retcon it as part of the Party afterwards!))
(( Still fiddling with the interview, as well. We'll see how it shapes up!))
—doctorlit, typing slowly on only a phone keyboard
This sounds like fun and craziness. l don't have Permission yet, but I have been reading up on PPC stuff and I have my second Permission Request in the works, (I've finished writing it, but I need someone to beta it) and this sounds like a fun thing to do while I procrastinate on my photography class have time to do random stuff because it's summer break. I also have at least one agent who can do Narnia.
... along as mission co-writer!))
((I'll try to write a little mock-up Narnia badfic over lunch today, and submit it for your approval once it's typed up!))
— doctorlit, assuming he will have time for a lunch break in a most arrogant manner (but it did rain last night, so at least I don't have to water the trees)
It might take me awhile to look over it, because I'm not sure if we are in anything like the same timezone. Also, why does everyone think that Edmund Pevensie is gay? As far as I know, there's no basis for assuming that. Edmund is my favorite character, and anything that messes with him will be terminated with Shakespearean insults and all the creativity I possess. Another thing with the Narnia fandom is that there are a lot of incest fics. Personally, I think that is disgusting. That is a thing I could probably go ranting about for pages and pages, so I'll stop now. All of this is not to say I don't like the Narnia fandom, (I do, and it's one of my favorite series of books) but I have lots of beefs with it.
Do you have an email you're comfortable giving so I can share this to you? Or shall I just post it here so everyone can tremble at the deranged crack I have produced?
As for gay!Edmund, you say there's no basis for assuming that, but there's no basis for assuming he's straight either. There's a major dearth of any romantic content in Narnia, other than, like, the beavers being married. ("Straight as a log," as beavers might say.) That means that most characters can have any sexuality mapped onto them in fanfic without fundamentally changing their characterization—especially since the protagonists are by-and-large too young to be expressing any such feelings during their respective page time, anyway. So Edmund growing up and learning he's gay wouldn't make him any less Edmund, but it might help some queer fanfic writers and readers connect with him in an even deeper way than they did while reading him in canon.
—doctorlit, coming up with sapient beaver slang this morning, apparently
I'm just hoping its not anything really crazy because I have a little sister who likes to look over my shoulder when I'm on the computer (ok, she's not really little, she's only 2 years younger than me, but I don't really want her seeing anything especially weird) and parents who sometimes have a tendency to get snarky about stuff on the computer. —Claire
Merely very bizarre.
Prepare to meet Jadis' older sister.
—doctorlit is powering HQ on Lewis energy today
That is... can I use the word "impressive" of something that makes me want to simultaneously pull my hair our and collapse in fits of giggles?
I am so looking forward to watching you mission this. ^_^
hS
That is a horror of a Narnia crackfic
El-Ahrairah had suggested the DAS-SQUEE Totally-Not-A-Botany-Lab; Yavanna had countered with the Courtyard; Ananke had proposed New Caledonia. Yavanna had suggested the Tparc Pterry (lots of trees), El-Ahrairah had countered with the Parc Tolkien (no trees, lots of grass), and Ananke had shown a surprising knowledge of the New Cal city and proposed the Arboretum.
So Yavanna sat on a bench beneath the high glass dome, tossing an Araucaria pine-cone from hand to hand. Most passers-by gave him a wide berth, though one teenaged agent did ask for his autograph. Apart from that, he just fumed quietly to himself, waiting for the other god to arrive.
A god, even a speedster god, can always be fashionably late.
El-Ahrairah declined to use his powers for this, though. Instead he simply sauntered into the Arboretum in a manner that implied "saunter" ought best be followed by "vaguely downwards". His boots crunched on the occasional dry, fallen leaf. His long, rangy limbs swung with a languid grace. And the silver ferrule of his swagger stick klik, klik, klik-ed along the ground, the four-four time of it audible even over the noise of his assembled hangers-on as they followed behind him like a carnival procession, or possibly a crusade.
On second thoughts, perhaps he had been using his powers after all.
The rabbit god stopped, holding up his cane as he did so. The followers stopped behind him, though they weren't stood still. Rabbits milled about among the crowds, hopping here and chewing on the Arboretum's lawn there. "Yavanna!" His voice was electroswing, all brass and artifice. "My comrade in godhood! That it should come to this." He shook his head, amidst booing from the crowd; a tap of the stick silenced them. And how was it tapping with that echoing klik anyway? The ground was grassy and soft with dew. "What was even the cause of this war in Heaven? Rabbits harassing you? Perhaps one of my non-leporine worshippers ate one of your costumes in the mistaken belief it was a helping of broccoli? A hare in your soup, maybe?"
A dutiful laugh from the followers, mob-happy and showing teeth.
"But we know why this truly is, Yavanna. Why this must be." A wave of the cane silenced the crowd. "You know full well that the father of my mortal vessel, for all his noble qualities, has taken umbrage with our godhood. With all us gods. He heeds only his own counsel, and that of those who would enable him. Frith knows he heeds not reason." Another rolling laugh passed through the crowd, fake rabbit ears bobbing in mirth. "He seeks our ends, harvester. An end to divinity. And for all the gifts of the kind old Sun I have been given, I can no more control him than I can the sea. I wonder how your vessel's own father took your ascension? But only briefly, I assure you; Feanorians are beneath my notice."
The cane lashed out at the air, a stave on a blank page. "That it should come to this," El-Ahrairah said again. "That mortal bonds should sunder the unity of the divine. That mortal animus be rewarded so."
El-Ahrairah jerked forward, a lucky follower catching the sheath of his swordstick and nearly swooned from feeling a relic of the gods in her hand. The blade glittered in the light of the Arboretum, dappled leaf shadows dancing across the silver steel.
"I don't want to hurt you, Yavanna," he said, and now his tone was serious and sad. "And I am sorry that now I must."
"Oh, dramatise."
The pine-cone stopped, held securely in Yavanna's right hand. With his left, he worked one of the nuts out of its hard shell and flicked it in El-Ahrairah's general direction. It fell to the ground somewhere behind the other god, vanishing into the grass.
"That's the whole problem with you," Yavanna went on, digging out another pine-nut. "You could've just reacted like a normal person when I asked you if you could do something about him waving signs in my face whenever I perform." Flick, and another nut sailed past. "Instead, you had to go all 'hearken, fool, for you besmirch the honour of my noble lineage!'" Flick, and a rabbit hopped aside as the nut fell. "You're a god, and you're still thinking in such terms?" Flick, and the Vala rolled his eyes. "You're getting all snooty about House Feanor - which of us do you think sounds more like him?" Flick, and the nut actually bounced off El-Ahrairah's ear before falling at his feet.
((Copied from the previous posts except for the last three paragraphs. I've also tweaked Yavanna's opening to place him inside the Arboretum dome, since I think that's where you were imagining this happening.))
((I know it's a bit of a run-on paragraph, but I don't really know how to break it up without giving the impression that El-Ahrairah is just standing there slack-jawed waiting for Yavanna to finish monologuing. Which isn't what's happening.))
((Whether Yavanna is being deliberately obnoxious or just thirteen is open for interpretation. :D ~hS))
I love this kind of nerdy silliness. Since when does El-Ahrairah wear 19-century neckwear?
Yes, apparently the first half last year established that "This is broadly canon but doesn't require Permission to participate," so your non Permissioned agents can interact with other agents and the gods.
El-Ahrairah has worn 19th century neckwear since his return, in the very first issue of WicDivPPC "Once Again...". I linked the full set in the opening post.
hS
(Just to double check because my brain is a bit foggy, did the gods return on the 1st this year or were they always here for about a year? Just double-checking (because, if it's the latter, Crow would have no reaction to Kitty, the former would have Crow react to Kitty suddenly being taller than them) and I might show Natalie Green's reaction. Maybe.)
-kA, trying to find the mission that they started with Ms. Green to make sure they spelled her name correctly.
We're working retroactively now: everything took place in 2020, but we never finished it up. Aside from certain parts of issue 4, nothing takes place in 2021. Is that what you were asking?
hS
I don't think it would be wise for me to get involved involved but maybe I have characters who can react to the shenanigans...? I shall have to look through the archive. Might at the minimum provide some Multiverse Monitor stuff if the ~esteemed editors~ want the help? :P
Now that the Non-Propaganda Communications Department has showed up, it's clear that the 'Special Edition' material is not all from the same source, so any version of the Monitor is fair game. ^_^
hS
The NPCs are a Division, not a Department. Specifically, they're a division of Postal, on the basis that their remit is communications and also Otik wasn't in the room when they were deciding who got to deal with the Shallot. =]
I really should do something else with them. Especially with the ongoing subplot involving the Cube. Maybe I'll get the impetus after WicDivPPC gives them more to do and more people to interact with. Karen in particular needs more screen time. And hugs.
But yeah, reminder: the NPC Division is free to use if you want to put characters in it. The Shallot is also free to use, but why you'd want to inflict him on anyone I don't know. =]
It might be a fun idea to rp one of the interviews, if you'd like? I think it might be funny to see the Division's reporters trying to clickbait-ify Stone's somewhat melodramatic domain of Sacrifice and Healing.
At least I went with "Was that what you were asking?" and not "Does that answer your question?". Small mercies, but we're about six inches off "So let's circle back and minute our actions to push this forward and reconvene in two weeks".
hS
25th August, 2020
It's been nearly a month since "the gods returned", and we're less and less inclined to keep the scare-quotes in place. We've all seen them around HQ and New Cal by now. We all know someone who's been to one of their concerts - whether it was a bombastic affair like Kord's, a small, intimate gathering like Stone's, or whatever goes on at the Raven Queen's audiences.
And of course, we all - all of us, literally figuratively everyone in the PPC - at least glimpsed the magnificently over-the-top extravaganza of the Party in the Parc (Tolkien). No-one who heard their performances (for 'songs' is far too brief a word for this) or saw the lights over New Cal can doubt that the gods are… something.
So whether you're an ardent believer in their oft-stated divinity, or are convinced they're a bunch of charlatans and Suvians - or if you're just tagging along for the inevitable drama of the whole thing - we dedicate this special edition of the Multiverse Monitor to you. To the fans - and to the kids turned gods turned superstars who inspire us.
Yep, one of HQ's increasing number of identically-titled tabloids, magazines, and newspapers has gotten its claws into the Pantheon. They're willing to print basically anything - interviews, profiles, advertising, gossip columns, you name it, you can write it. I've got an interview with Yavanna coming out, but if you want to write an interview with your own god, go for it! Or a piece about someone else... it'd be great if Team Conspiracy published something (maybe even as a 'conclusion' of their storyline, given that this is only 6 days before the end of the event), but we could have fan reactions, descriptions of concerts... anything. Go wild!
hS
[Editor's Note: That's right, we here at the Multiverse Monitor have gained EXCLUSIVE access to Tash the Inexorable! All thanks to our intrepid reporter, Leslie Ruth! Apparently, Leslie didn't have time write it out properly, but we've taken the liberty of creating a transcript based on the original audio he recorded while interviewing Tash. Read it here, because you won't get this content anywhere else!]
Leslie Ruth: Hello! Thank you for coming! I understand you turned down a couple of my colleagues for interviews, so I feel quite honored!
Tash: Thou hast called me here.
LR: Uh, yes. Indeed right! Welcome to Headquarters, I suppose.
T: I do feel welcome, yes. It is good.
LR: . . . Good! So, I’m told that your previous . . . you . . . was a student who was training to become an agent here, Ilcharheen?
T: Tash hath always been Tash. Ilcharheen was merely preparation. Now Tash art her full self, and here Tash art.
LR: So . . . you going back to finish your schooling?
T: For what purpose? I know all I need to know. I know what art mine . . . to take.
LR: What do your classmates think of you being a god?
T: I have not asked. Tash hath no "mates." Thou wouldst know something of this, yes?
LR: What do you—Um. Never mind. Let's just . . . keep moving, move along to . . . Uh, okay. We here in the PPC tend to think of you as being from Narnia, the series. But of course, Narnia, the world, isn't really your home, is it? You have your own world.
T: I was birthed of Narnia, by the wicked thoughts hidden away in wicked hearts. But wickedness belongs not in Narnia, and so Tash stays in Tash's Country, and all the wicked alongside.
LR: And what is Tash's Country like?
T: Cooold. Dryyy. Quiiiet. Daaark.
LR: And what do you do there, exactly?
T: I shall take you there, and you shall know.
LR: Whoa ho ho, that will not be necessary! Say, there's a mission record in which you got turned into a parrot and hit with a lightning bolt. Do you remember?
T: . . . I do not, mercifully. It wouldst seem thy organization is thorough in fulfilling its purpose, including the memory erasure. Though not every member is always so successful. Is that not so, Agent Ruth?
LR: . . . What . . . What do you mean? Uh, and I'm not a field agent anymore. You can just call me Leslie.
T: Very well, Leslie.
LR: So, um . . . It seems the people of Calormen worship at least two other gods, apart from you. They're named "Azaroth" and "Zardeenah." What are they like, and what other gods do the Calormene worship?
T: I know not. I hath never met them.
LR: . . . Seriously?
T: Indeed. I cannot speak for them, but I hath been most busy.
LR: You're an immortal deity, all the time in the world, and you . . . just never met them?
T: We didst not hang out.
LR: . . . Wow. Wow. Okay, well. I was kind of hoping to pad this interview out with detailed descriptions of Narniaverse deities that never got mentioned in canon, but sure. You never hung out with them, of course.
T: Worry not. I beg an answer of thee.
LR: Sure, why not?
T: Doth the guilt weigh heavily upon thy mind?
LR: G—G—Guilt? I, uh, I don't know what you mean . . .
T: Of course thou do, Leslie Ruth. Not all men can be as brave as a high king of Narnia, but three partners? All cast into danger and death to save thyself?
LR: That isn't, that's not . . . What, did you look up my history? The official records show—
T: The only record that doth concern me is the one that beats heavy within thy chest now, Leslie Ruth. One partner, caught by an explosion thee detonated too early . . .
LR: There was no time! The Suvian was about to escape!
T: . . . Another partner, cast from thy hands directly into those of the Slow Mutants . . .
LR: It was him or me! The mine cart was too heavy!
T: . . . The last partner, blinked away with a whole story as its author cut the thread.
LR: The fic was being deleted! That wasn't my fault, she just didn't make it through the portal in time!
T: So thou hast convinced thyself. But I yet feel thy hand upon her shoulder. I feel thee shoving her backwards.
LR: Noooooooo . . .
T: Yes, thee may run now, Leslie Ruth. Thou may run, but thou mayst not hide from the end. The Inevitable will find thee. I am the Inevitable.
[Ed: Fantastic interview, Leslie! And we really miss you, so if you're reading this, come back to the office, okay?]
—doctorlit wrote this entirely on his cell phone '~'
((I do not have much insight but I love how everyone reacts with utter confusion to the terrifying Inevitable))
After a brief run-in with a group of Janitorial workers protesting the unfair amounts of concert debris to clean up, one of our newer reporters managed to reach out to one of the gods and request an interview during a lucky Cafeteria break.
Mary Poppins! So, can you tell us a bit about yourself?
Huh? Oh, hello. Are you, um. Are you reporting, by any chance?
As you could probably tell. Now, about the question…
Um. Alright then. I’m Mary Poppins, and I exist.
Right. And how about before that? Any details you care to share with us?
To be honest, no.
(beat)
Well, moving on, then. So what’s your opinion on the PPC, and has it changed since your delu- er, ascension? How did you feel after it?
Um. Well, it’s a strange place. I don’t think my opinion’s changed much, truth be told. I, um. I guess the place seems a bit more chaotic now? But in a stable, weirdly balanced sort of way. I think most of the change was, like, more personal than anything. (He shifts his umbrella off his shoulder, letting the point rest on the floor.)
I see. So! Let’s get to the real meaty questions.
Meaty?
So how’s it feel knowing you’ll die in two years?
(Mary Poppins shrugs.) Pretty terrible.
...That’s it? No further thoughts? No deep speeches from one of the Pantheon?
Not really, no. I figure at least this way, I can worry less about the future, so best not to spend too long dwelling on it. Centuries of life might appeal to some people, but I don’t think it was ever for me. Besides, stay too long and people could get desensitized.
Excuse me, centuries?
Centuries.
Hm. Well. Moving on, where did those fox bits of yours come from? Last time I checked, Poppins didn't have those.
Oh. Um, well. Actually, these are natural. (He shifts his tail so that it rests over his lap.) Even before the ascension, I was - er, still am, that is - a gumiho. Fox spirit. Most definitely not bloodthirsty, really. Um.
...Alright then. Explains the centuries, at least. Doesn’t it seem rather strange, though, the idea of Mary Poppins as a ‘most definitely not bloodthirsty’ fox spirit?
No more than a mountain incarnating as a cat, I think.
So you’re a field agent, right? How does your godhood affect that work?
Um. To be frank, I think it really helped. At least, I feel like I’m no longer a burden on missions anymore. Confidence does volumes for performance, it turns out.
Confidence. I see. So, any grand shows of power during field work?
Of course not, I’m still an agent, after all. There are rules and regulations to follow, and... this doesn’t change that. To be honest, I think my partner still helps me more than I help them. They were there while I tried to get my mind together, and they helped keep my… emotions in check. They’re good that way.
Right, right. So, any thoughts on the rumours circulating around that you’re actually a Time Lord?
...Pardon? Last time I checked, I wasn’t. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.
Any thoughts on the other gods in the Pantheon?
They, uh, seem friendly enough? Sometimes I feel like I should meet up with them more often, but our schedules rarely seem to line up.
Alright then, last question. How do you feel about those claiming you all are nothing more than Suvian infiltrators sent to undermine the stability of the PPC?
Um. I, uh, don’t think we are? It’s been weeks by now. Surely someone’s taken a CAD scan?
Have you been scanned yet?
I… think so? I got ambushed by agents with CADs, at one point. It was real awkward. But anyway, I thought you already asked the last question?
(beat)
Good day to you.
You too. Take care of yourself.
((hyyyype))
((Seriously, though. Glad to see this little storyline-type thing coming to a close, hopefully I’ll actually be able to contribute more this time around. Thanks! And here’s hoping I didn’t mess this up much; I think I’m a bit rusty, to be honest.))
-OrangeFox
... because it means I can use the Mary Poppins cover for this issue:
He was actually one of the more difficult covers, because my original art of Mary was pretty much "Jiwon with an umbrella". He's come out looking a little James Bond, but that's meant to be the little red bow-tie from the movie version.
hS
Mary Poppins has been one of the hardest gods for me to get a mental handle on. Most of the others I can picture /something/, and then update it when they show up in RP, but Mary is tricky. So I'm very pleased to see more of him.
I'm doubly pleased, because he was tentatively the cover of the interview issue, which works a lot better now he's actually in it! I'll post the image when I have access to it again.
hS
1: So first, the ears? Totally real! Which is super wild!
The young god posed for the camera, his cravat rakishly loose, his entire outfit artful in its unkemptness. Sprezzatura, it was called. Effortless cool. His cane twirled in his fingers, captured by the gif.
2: El-Ahrairah's from a really dark continuum: it's violent, and gory, and somehow also for kids! Which is great. Obviously.
This pose was more sombre, the sword being slowly drawn from its cane sheath for the benefit of the gif, a stern and serious expression on the god's face.
3: So, what's he a god of exactly? Well, bunnies, obviously, but also speed, laughter, tricks...
The gif from above continued, and the drawn sword flashed out in a shimmer of silver - to cut a giant carrot in half as it is hurled towards the smiling god.
4: ... Aaaaand other stuff. And lots of it. Which probably explains all the fans.
A panning shot of the crowd behind El-Ahrairah showed a bunch of extremely energetic fans, carrying placards and fanart. Quite a lot of it has had to be pixelated, so much so that it was of lower quality than the average video purporting to be proof that UFOs exist.
5: But don't worry, everybody, he's a perfect gentleman.
The next gif showed an obviously different scene, with El-Ahrairah sipping tea at a fan meet-and-greet in the Courtyard. A DMS agent blushed and appeared entirely too flustered as he kissed her hand, eliciting some swoons from others in the queue.
6: Literally, in fact!
This time, El-Ahrairah was shown swirling something in a brandy glass in the Pennacook Club, of which he was a hereditary member on a technicality. It was a mix of radish juice and carrot juice, at least according to the caption.
7: Our incredible investigative journalism technique of "asking people" determined that not only is he a god, he's a lord! Fancy!
A shot, obviously staged, showed El-Ahrairah rising from the Fountain in a pastiche of the Colin Firth ornamental lake scene from Pride and Prejudice. Clearly, not even the divine can determine the location of HQ's fabled Pool.
8: Don't be fooled though. He's no snooty, pompous stick-in-the-mud.
The next shot showed El-Ahrairah slipping on the Fountain's tiles and falling backwards with a splash, laughing all the way down.
9: He's a party god. Like Dionysus! Or Dionysus's fursona.
There was no sound with the gifs, but even so, a reader could almost feel the bass throb from the pictures of the club. El-Ahrairah's shirt was blue under the blacklight, his cane was absent, his care was forgotten, his movements to the music entrancing.
10: This bunny got moves. That's not grammatically correct, but it is actually correct, so don't send us angry letters. Notary.
More footage from the club. The lights flashed a rainbow of colours. Handprints in glow-paint covered El-Ahrairah's shirt, and he was still dancing, still moving, everything but the music forgotten.
11: He's a really happy guy, is our point. The life of the party.
Foam cascaded down at the club, glowing the iridescent bluish-purple of ultraviolet light. El-Ahrairah rose up through it like a sea eagle surfacing, flicking his long lop ears back in a spray of colour. He was on a table and looked like there was nowhere else he should be.
12: Any party.
The next gif showed the god at some kind of formal masquerade ball, dancing a slow but passionate waltz with a fan.
12a: Any party.
The next showed him from a wider angle playing musical chairs with a gaggle of Nursery children, some Generic Bunting spelling out Happy Relevant Birthday Insert Name Here in the background.
14: But not everything is sunshine and rainbows. Though there are a lot of rainbows.
A short gif of El-Ahrairah smirking in an entirely lascivious manner. Hanging off his arm were a woman, a man, and (in defiance of physics) a novelty toilet brush on a skateboard.
15: You see, El-Ahrairah's got issues with his ex-family.
Beneath is a picture, alas unmoving, of a small round-looking man in a powdered wig and green frock coat, looking like nothing so much as a Regency Brussels sprout. The man had a manic cast to his features and the haft of a placard in his hands.
16: Meet Algernon, 7th Earl Wymbourne. He's one of the Anti-Divinity protestors... and El-Ahrairah's former dad. Yes, former.
A small mob - a moblet, perhaps, a bijou mob perfect for the first-time rioter - surrounded Algie in the photograph, each carrying their own placards. One was a sleep-deprived Pokémon whose placard simply reads "SHUT UP DOK", the reason for which they alone were privy.
17: Before their ascension to godhood, the gods had a mortal life.
This time the still image was of an oil painting, a family portrait in Regency style of Algie, a young boy (obviously his son), and someone who even the most untrained eye could tell was a Suvian, resplendent in a pink crop top, black skinny jeans, and two different spiked belts.
18: Though some of the gods say they were always gods, and never were mortal in the first place.
This gif showed the protestors being harangued by a crowd of PPC personnel wearing bunny ears. There's arguing, but it hasn't turned violent, the worst being the occasional bop on the head with a giant inflatable carrot.
19: El-Ahrairah is one of those gods.
The shot tracked right in the next gif, revealing El-Ahrairah, his back turned to the crowd, his posture far more aloof and cold than in previous footage.
20: Though obviously, it brings him pain.
A new setting again. This gif showed El-Ahrairah lounging in a chair, his posture loose and laissez-faire but his face cast down, as though deep in an ill thought.
21: Quite at odds with the playboy image he's cultivated.
Another new setting, this time vibrant, sunlit. New Caledonia's streets, a crowd of fans watching and cheering for the god as he bounded and danced along them.
22: Heh, didn't realise I'd done that.
Another gif showed El-Ahrairah in a dressing gown smoking a bubble pipe for some unknown reason, a bevy of attractive persons surrounding him in leotards and the ubiquitous ears.
23: Still, he's the fun-loving carefree god-about-town-and/or-corridor we've grown to love.
The next gif returned to New Caledonia. El-Ahrairah put a jaunty spring in his step, leaping and tumbling like an acrobat. So smooth, so natural. So hypnotic.
24: Always ready with a smile and an autograph for his fanbase.
El-Ahrairah tucked and rolled up to a girl and spun around to take a selfie with her phone, then handed it back and bounced away again, leaving her screaming with joy in his wake.
25: And if he isn't?
El-Ahrairah looked back in the next gif, the shot freezing on a tiny knot of protestors, a blob of green visible at their forefront.
26: He can get there fast.
The gif tracked back to El-Ahrairah as he turned away from Algie, then counted on his fingers before disappearing with a THOOM of displaced air that almost, almost drowned the cheers.
Recommended Mildly Irritating Listicles With Noisy Ads That Eat All Your Mobile Data, Because Hey, At Least We're Honest About It:-
Eight Reasons Why Tash Is Our Autumn Fashion Icon!
Twelve And A Half Workout Tips From Kord!
Yavanna: Seventeen Point Four Recurring Gardening Tips
((OOC: Look, the Monitor isn't the only game in town. Not any more, at least.))
The following message arrived in the inbox of someone in the NPC division - what they do with it is up to them.
From: Agent Peregrin, D. Mary Sues, Protectors of the Plot Continuum Subject: Updates to local travel advisories
To Senior Clerk 416e6479 or their successors, greetings,
Please add the following to the travel advisories for the headquarters of the PPC, unless they have already been reported - I would not wish for anyone planning to visit to encounter difficulties.
Time of onset: August 1, 2020, local standard time, precise details unknown
Time of reporting: August 23, 2020, local standard time
Reporter: Agent Peregrin, Department of Mary Sues, Protectors of the Plot Continuum
Recently, twelve entities, all claiming to be gods from different fictional universes known to the Protectors of the Plot Continuum, have appeared within our Headquarters by replacing twelve individuals. The extent of their abilities is unclear, and their divinity cannot be clearly established (is anyone surprised?). These entities have begun to amass significant followings among the population, but have not, to my knowledge, overridden anyone's free will. There is also a significant movement dedicated to denying the divinity of these entities, leading to an extreme increase in epistemological unrest.
In addition to the usual recommendations for visiting Headquarters, you are advised to:
Yours,
Peregrin
P.S. Please let Karn know that I will return the books I borrowed as soon as I can, and that there is no need to, for example, send a dragon to my door.
Is this a reference to something generally recognisable, or something more obscure? My pop culture knowledge is getting increasingly outdated.
hS
And it's not a reference to anything in particular, though it's inspired by the travel advisories governments and the like sometimes put out (and the not-yet-named collective of science people from across the meta-fictional world that definitely exists and would publish warnings like this.)
It's beautiful... so beautiful... [Wipes away tears of delight]
I think my favourite line might be "Dionysus' Fursona", which just really captures something about bunnyboy. It's actually really interesting to see how people think their gods would be perceived a month in - Act One was mostly very early, so none of them really settled into character. It's fun!
(PS did you want me to resurrect the never-got-anywhere "Rabbit Season" RP?)
hS
Yeah, I wanted to do something in-universe to show how my god has been shown in media, and the NPCs were perfect for that. I was inspired by what you wrote though.
And sure, I'd like that! The only slight problem is that I'm away on holiday for the next few days, so I can't post super actively.
Yknow.
Like last time.
=]
... I'd love to see what El-Ahrairah and Yavanna get up to. I put the partial RP (with new reply from me) up... somewhere. Uh... here, found it, complete with El-Bunnyface cover image.
hS
After getting back from Brighton, I had people over, then four days of being boiled in a booth, and then my partner tested positive for Covid.
And then I tested positive for Covid.
So the past couple weeks has been A Lot.
Of course that's absolutely fine; I hope things improve for you soon, that's really rotten.
hS
This was also after deep-cleaning the house, dealing with the fact that the wardrobe literally collapsed, finding a gigantic black mould infestation, and getting messed around with by my physiotherapy clinic.
2021 woke up and chose violence.
But yeah, I'm grateful for your understanding. It's... it's not been an easy time, and I wanted to try and RP but I just couldn't get into the right headspace for El-Ahrairah. I'm sorry to have messed you about like that though.
I'll put Rabbit Season back up once I've figured out how to respond to it - it was I who let it down last time, so yeah. Then we can take our time about reaching some kind of story in it.
hS
I especially love the detail you put in about the gifs. Brief enough to read quickly, but descriptive enough that I could picture each perfectly in my head. I love it.
-kA, who also liked the cult idea and might snag it for their own god (if you're okay with it). Except pins will be used.
I do always try to be funny, which is good for a comedic shared universe. =]
I'm glad that the format worked for you. It's very different to how I normally write, so I was a bit nervous about how well it would turn out. Trying to tell a coherent narrative through headlines and descriptions of gifs was a real challenge, but I reckon it went okay. =]
((I gotta say, I greatly enjoy parody stuff from you. I both find it hilarious and can sense a very relatable bit of listicle rage. Also, I love the elaborate descriptions of the photos. And poor Gabrielle! I'm guessing the biggenbrassenparpenthingen has not ceased to parp since Yavanna's concert.))
It helps that the Non-Propaganda Communications Division is my own, and I've wanted to do something with them - and with their in-universe format - for a while now. This seemed like a good stab at making it work.
And yeah, I do have some... issues with Buzzfeed listicles. However, I understand why they're there: the ad money from those funds the actual journalism, which has been quietly improving for a while now. A Buzzfeed duo of writers were shortlisted for the Paul Foot prize for investigative journalism a year or two ago, if memory serves. It's something I tried to replicate from the point of view of the NPCs, which also let me do a recap of the plot stuff with Algie and Agamemnon/El-Ahrairah. Having hack journo characters on tap is useful, it turns out! =]
It does seem like an interesting compromise, the way Buzzfeed separates their Consumable Content from their Actual Journalism. I suppose it's better than letting the journalism quality slip to farm outraged clicks? It's definitely good to see the Division again. I had forgotten about them! Just reread it, which was as great as always.
The day after Party in the Parc, one of our lovely interviewers caught up with Lucian, a self proclaimed "Dark God," discussing a matter with Ms. Natalie Green.
Excuse me, Lucian? Could I talk to you for a moment?
Sure. Natalie, I'll talk some more later, okay?
Natalie left, allowing our interviewer to interview the Dark God herself.
How do you feel about being here at the PPC?
Odd. I'm closer to the Upper Layer than I think I should be. This world is weird, half what I remember, half not.
How did it feel to find out that you were Lucian?
Weird? I mean, I had just joined the PPC almost two months ago and haven't even gotten used to it yet. I had just completed my first mission as well. But, now I'm... er, I know I'm Lucian and I thought I would never get this far.
What were you before you be-, I mean, learned that you were Lucian?
Just... Kittyauthor. A former Mii turned human. A decent swordfighter.
Swordfighter?
Yeah. I apparently came from this game called Find Mii, where I had to help rescue Whitney. It's, uh, a long story.
So, you were a Mii?
Yeah. But whatever brought me here changed me into a human.
How does it feel to be six feet tall?
laughs A little weird. I'm almost as tall as O'Ryan! Well, kinda sorta almost. He's still six inches taller.
What were you doing before you found out you were Lucian?
Walking. Listening to music.
Did you have a destination in mind?
No.
What did it feel like to learn that you were Lucian?
Weird. It felt... awesome, true, like I could touch the stars if I wanted to... but weird. Especially with the Power running through me now.
Does the Power have anything to do with the "Upper Layer" you mentioned?
Yeah. The Upper Layer is were my power originates, actually.
How do you feel about the other Gods?
I dunno. I'm a loner by nature, so I tend to avoid them.
Do you exclude O'Ryan Keys from your activities more now that you know you're Lucian?
Actually... no. I think we've grow closer together. He's my friend, he helps me through the PPC, especially now since I have all these memories. She laughs. Although I normal don't mess with mortals, but when exiled, I kinda got used to it.
Do you have anything motivating to say to your followers?
I have followers?
Yes.
Huh. Well, I guess believe in what you think is right and follow that belief.
Alright then. Thank you for this interview.
Had to include the "I have followers?" because Lucian thought she was just alone in the world. She likes the idea, sure, but she just thought that, since she didn't often talk to the other gods since schoolwork kept me away from the RP oops that no one would really know her.
-kA, who wrote this as soon as possible and might draw up a profile or an advertisement later.
(PS: Still have to draw Lucian, dang it.)
(Edit: Forgot to include event name because I'm silly. Fixed!)
((I love how happy Lucian is for the people she's close to, and to be cared about. It's really endearing!))
That's awesome. I love how different she is to Yavanna - he flatly refuses to talk about his past, she spends half the interview on it. It's fun!
Please do draw any pictures that take your fancy, by the way. Art of Lucian would slot beautifully into the published version of this interview.
(Also, hilarious synergy: she's six feet tall, but Yavanna still thinks she should play young Eponine. I guess he just thinks she 'feels' small? :D)
hS
How did I miss that part lol
Maybe she just... acts small? I mean, she been small all her (mortal, non-god) life, so she just sorta acts like that. (And, I learned that, in Tomodachi Life, Miis are small enough to call a normal-sized sandcastle a mountain, so (assuming sizes stay the same) she was tiny as a Mii and had only spent about a month or so as a 3' 2" human before learning about her god-ness and becoming six foot tall due to magic.)
Well, I mean Lucian could walk around on her knees like that one actor did for the play/musical Shrek.
But thanks! I'm happy to see that you liked it!
-kA, rambling.
In the aftermath of the Party in the Parc, our independent reporters caught up with one of the younger gods: Yavanna, the first of the Pantheon to return.
So, Yavanna, an easy one to start with: tell us about yourself.
I'm Yavanna - uh, you knew that. I'm the Earthqueen, the Giver of Fruits, patron of trees and forests. Of the autumn, I suppose, but also of growth and the harvest. I'm one of the fourteen Valar - well, fifteen if you count Melkor, but we don't - we're from Middle-earth, but you probably knew that too. Uh, I guess that's me?
And before that?
Before Middle-earth? I was in the Timeless Halls, singing in the Music of the Ainur. It's how we created the world, you know?
No, I meant… before you were Yavanna, who were you?
Oh. Uh. So I'm… I was the son of a pair of retired PPC agents - I don't really want to say who.
Seriously? We all know it's Dafydd Illian.
I really don't want to say. I'm half-elven, and have grown up around the PPC - I was actually picking my sisters up from Sprouts when I learnt who I really was.
Okay, let's talk about that. How did it feel to become - or learn you were - a god?
It was… like hearing all the trees of the forest suddenly calling my name. And not just calling me, but waiting for my response, longing for my response. And then the very earth itself, reaching up to me, into me, until the whole natural world sang through me. That's why I have to go up onto the stage, I think - not for my own sake, but to give all green and living things the voice they deserve.
But only for a while, right? You've never been shy about how briefly you'll be here. Two years - how do you cope with that?
Well, I mean, as a half-elf I've always had two paths ahead of me. I can be mortal, live a century or so and then leave the worlds behind; or I can choose my father's kin, become an elf and never die. I've never known which was right for me… but maybe this is the third way. To live for two years, to inspire and uplift - and then to return, ninety years from now. It's not called the Recurrence for nothing.
But-
And you know, sometimes I think things need to be brief to be bright. A forest in spring or summer is lovely, all green and growing. But a forest in autumn, decked in reds and golds, its floor a carpet of crisp fallen leaves - that's the true beauty of the woods, right before it fades into winter.
I suppose I've never thought of it like that. Do the other gods see it the same way?
Heh. Okay, yes, there have been some debates on that point, but I think by now they're all… reconciled, I guess, to the time we have. They're not sitting in empty RCs bewailing their fate, if that's what you mean.
You say 'debates'... how do you get on with the rest of the Pantheon? Are you all one big happy family?
I can tell you don't have a large family. I've got two, now, and some things hold true across both. There are always arguments, always people who get on well and those who don't. I like to think I've done a lot to keep the peace - because, well, we have to. If we fall out, if we start properly fighting, it will… I mean, it'll be bad, is all.
You were the first of the gods to return, and the first to go public. It sounds like you feel some kind of responsibility towards the rest of them.
Well, 'first' doesn't mean a lot when we all popped up in the space of, what, two hours? But you're right that I feel responsible. I've had- I can imagine how things could go wrong, if they let themselves get out of control. Some of the things the others could potentially do chill my blood. But it's okay! You don't need to be frightened - that's not why we're here, not who we are. We're here to sing, to inspire you, to help the PPC become even better than it already is.
What're your thoughts on these rumours of extra gods walking around?
What?! Where is she? What have you heard? Because if you know anything - we have to find her, have to stop her before she can ruin eve...ry… wait, what have you heard?
Um… that there are extra gods beside you twelve. There's a girl in Bad Slash claiming to be Aphrael the Child-Goddess of Styricum, though that might just be Kayleigh being Kayleigh. And there's a rumour of some kind of Lovecraftian horror in the Cafeteria, but given what happened to the meatloaf a few years back I'm not convinced. What have you heard?
Nothing.
Really? Because that sounded like a something. Who is 'she'?
Did I say 'she'? I don't think I said 'she'.
You know we're recording this, right?
It was a slip of the tongue. I meant to say that any rumours are clearly mistaken, because the Pantheon is twelve and no more, ever. Are we done?
… sure. Um… so I was able to catch most of the Party in the Parc. You were great, by the way. Do you think there'll be more collaborations in the Pantheon's future, or are you going back to solo shows?
I think you can take it as read that there'll be more. We really need the Pantheon to stick together, to stay united; arguments just hurt everyone, doubly so when there's miracles involved.
Do you think you might branch out a bit? The Troupe By Any Other Name have been asking about doing a musical with you, maybe Hamilton?
I'm not old enough to listen to Hamilton. But, oh! Oh oh oh! What about Les Mis? Lady Kee'ra would make an amazing Valjean, and can't you just hear the Raven Queen singing 'Little Fall of Rain' with me? For Cosette, it'd have to be… hmm, Meridia as young Cosette, with Lucian as little Eppie, but I'm not sure about after she grows up. Ellimist or Gaia? Obviously El-Ahrairah has to be Gavroche, and I think Mary Poppins would make an amazing Javert.
So we can take that as a yes?
It's an incredible idea and I'm suggesting it next time we get together.
Cool. Real talk for a minute: lots of people have noticed this whole thing is taken from a canon called The Wicked + The Divine. Having read it, are you worried about-
Whoa! Spoilers!
… what?
Mom says I'm not old enough to read the comics yet, so I don't want to hear anything about them. Tell you what, I'll read them next year and we can do another interview.
You… I mean… yes, that would be great. Um. So, last question: have you got a message for your fans?
Sure I do!
…
…
I meant one we could write down.
Oh! Uh, be excellent to each other? Sorry, that's from this old movie. Uh, remember that even when things seem cold and dark, and the winter wind is howling around you, that sooner or later spring will come, and everything will be all right again.
And if you want to see me on stage - look for the falling leaves.
^_~
hS
Your writing's always a joy to read, and the interview format worked great as both recap and character piece. One thing struck me as curious: I'm not a musical theatre weirdo, but surely El-Ahrairah would make a better Marius than Gavroche. He is seventeen, after all. =]
But you have to remember that Yavanna is 13. He just about gets that he shouldn't try to play one of the adults, but he's definitely stealing Marius for himself. His view of the other gods is also coloured by what he's seen - hence he thinks of Lucian as 'young' because of how she introduced herself at the council.
A proper Pantheon Les Mis cast would probably look more like this:
Valjean: Gaia Javert: Tash The Bishop / Lead Chorus: Ellimist Fantine: Lucian Thenardier: Kord Mme. Thenardier: Stone Young Cosette: Meridia Marius: El-Ahrairah Cosette: Raven Queen Eponine: Lady Kee'ra Gavroche: Yavanna Enjolras: Mary Poppins
But even that's really subjective. The only real fixed points are Meridia and Yavanna as the two kids, and so of course Yavanna mucked that up.
hS, who has never acted in a musical
((Everything here hinting about Yavanna having heard some stuff from Ananke maybe, but not actually knowing the plot of the canon itself, it's truly wonderful. And so exciting! I'm excited! I'm excited for the plot and to do some more writing! Thank you for doing this! Eee!))
