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Phone Inbox
Nov. 25th, 2020 09:18 pmHi, this is Simon. I can't believe they just gave us mobiles.
Bye.
Bye.
(no subject)
Apr. 4th, 2019 05:19 pmPlayer Information
Name: Sarah/fahrbot
Age: 38
Contact: discord @ fahrbot#9239 and plurk @fahrbot
Other Characters: none
Character Information
Name: Simon Snow
Canon: Carry On (novel by Rainbow Rowell)
Canon Point: Simon leaves canon near the beginning of his eighth term at Watford, having just refused the Mage’s request that he leave for a secret, safe location until his time to fight the Humdrum arrived.
Age: 18
History:
(player note: The Carry On novel sprang from the novel Fangirl, which is a love story of sorts to the Harry Potter fandom and its fanfic writers. In many ways, Carry On is a Harry Potter pastiche, so if it gives you major deja vu, that's why! Superficially many broad elements of canon are the same, but Simon is a very different character than Harry Potter.)
No one knows where Simon Snow came from, including Simon Snow. He grew up an orphan, passed from care home to care home in Lancashire, and never had a clue that he might be extraordinary until he was eleven years old. One night he went to bed hungry and dreamed that his stomach was on fire. When he woke up, magic was pouring from his skin like an electric current, the care home was burnt to the ground, and everyone in it besides him woke up unharmed but several streets away.
That’s when the Mage came for him.
The Mage explained to Simon that Simon was a powerful mage, maybe the most powerful of their time. He told him that his birth was prophesied to fight the magic world’s greatest enemy, the Humdrum, an evil force that sucked up magic like a black hole and left magical deadspots in its wake. At eleven, Simon couldn't understand the severity of what that meant. What he did understand was that he now had a foster father, and that he got to go to a school for mages called Watford, where all his clothes would fit him, where he would be able to eat anything that he wanted, where he might actually have friends.
It wasn’t until he killed his first dragon that Simon began to realize how dangerous his new life would truly be. And it wasn’t until he’d spent a few years at Watford that he began to wonder, why me? But Simon isn’t one to run from a fight, and even as more dark forces conspired to kill him, their attacks bold enough to reach the very doors of Watford, every year he came back to Watford ready to grow strong enough to fight the Humdrum.
There’s just one problem - Simon’s not very good at using his magic. He’s filled to the brim with it, but he can’t control it. He doesn’t have the finesse to speak spells the way other, better mages can. He’s more magic bomb than soldier, a blunt instrument to be aimed in the right spot and fired, no matter the consequence to Simon himself.
By his eighth term at Watford, Simon has accepted that he probably won’t survive defeating the Humdrum, but he’s going to try anyway. He’s not a very good last, best hope, but he’s the only one the World of Mages has got.
Personality:
Simon doesn’t realize it, but he’s had very little time in his life to be his own person. When he was young and growing up in care homes, his only thought was to survive - to stay out from underfoot of the meaner caretakers, to avoid the more violent children, to manage to get his share of food at the table. And when he joined the world of Mages, he was immediately treated like their savior, the prophesied Chosen One when he was only eleven years old. To a young boy just discovering his place in a magical new world, this was exciting, but now that he’s older and has survived multiple attempts on his life, Simon has begun to feel weary. He has so little time to slow down, when he does have time to think about what he wants, he doesn’t - he falls back into the role he’s been prophesied to fulfill and lets that destiny dictate his life. This passiveness towards his fate is something the Mage has been only too happy to cultivate in Simon. Simon looks up to him like a father and he wants to please him, enough so that it’s easy for the Mage to manipulate Simon into the weapon he’s always dreamt of wielding.
Simon does his best to trust the Mage, but not only does Simon feel overwhelmed most of the time, he also feels like a failure. He knows he’s powerful, but he can’t control it. His magic is unpredictable at best, and he often prefers to use the Mage’s Sword he carries with him rather than chance his magic. He worries constantly that he won’t be strong enough to fight the Humdrum, but he does his best to believe the Mage when he says that Simon is their only hope.
Despite the burdens placed on him, when left to the company of his closest friends, Simon is able to be the youth he truly is. He’s quick to laugh and quick to care for others. He’s quick to anger, too, but like his magic his temper burns hot and dies away fast. He’s unrefined and brash but always well meaning. He loves sports, but he’s never around long enough to play for his school teams. He might even love danger and excitement, but the truth is, Simon’s never without them long enough to miss them. When a threat appears, he puts himself as the first thing in its path and does everything he can to stop it. Simon never stops to wonder if each new threat will be the end of him, because Simon accepted a long time ago that he won’t get to live to old age. In his paranoia and vigilance, he even believes that his roommate of eight years is plotting to kill him. Still, he faces every danger as courageously as he can. When the end comes for him, Simon hopes that his bravery and the raw magic inside of him will be enough, if not to save his own life, than at least to save everyone else’s.
Abilities & Skills: In his homeworld, Simon is immensely powerful in a way that he can’t control. In the World of Mages, mages use magic by speaking spells. The more use a common phrase has in the world, the more powerful the spell. For example, Up Up and Away! is a spell to make something levitate, but it only became a spell when the advent of Superman in pop culture made it a common phrase. In Simon’s world, there’s no spell more powerful than the phrases that everyone knows from childhood, making nursery rhymes some of the most powerful spells of all.
Simon can use magic by speaking spells, but not very well. The enormity of his power is something unseen anywhere else in the World of Mages, and the immensity of it makes it very difficult for him to control. When Simon is under real threat to his life, he does what everyone calls ‘going off,’ in which he literally goes off like a magical bomb, destroying every threat in the vicinity. He can also push his magic into other Mages, allowing them to wield his raw power with a finesse he himself isn’t capable of. Simon can also directly manifest his magic without a spell when under stress, which is not something a Mage is supposed to be able to do. For example, when desperate to escape a threat, he thought ‘I wish I could fly’ and suddenly had huge wings which he used to escape.
Inventory/Companions:
His Watford school uniform
The Mage's Sword
His wand
Choice: Monster - dragon
Reason: Simon Snow was born with too much magic inside him. He knows very well what it is to be incredibly powerful, so powerful that he can't control his power without help, so powerful that his body can barely contain it and his magic is literally eating him from within. He's lived with a fire in his belly all his life, both literal and figurative. He's passionate about doing good and Fighting Evil like the hero he's supposed to be, but all too often that desire leads him to make quick, destructive decisions that do more harm than good. Fire cleanses, but fire also destroys. All his life, he's been a weapon of mass destruction whether he wants to be or not, leaving craters of magically burnt and levelled land wherever he goes. In canon, Simon can only contain his magic when helped by other mages, which fits rather beautifully with the monster/mage relationships in this game. And, superficially, in canon he often sprouts a pair of leather wings and a forked tail when he wants to escape a situation, using them to fly away.
Sample: In which Simon Snow meets Doctor Strange and fanboys out.
Name: Sarah/fahrbot
Age: 38
Contact: discord @ fahrbot#9239 and plurk @fahrbot
Other Characters: none
Character Information
Name: Simon Snow
Canon: Carry On (novel by Rainbow Rowell)
Canon Point: Simon leaves canon near the beginning of his eighth term at Watford, having just refused the Mage’s request that he leave for a secret, safe location until his time to fight the Humdrum arrived.
Age: 18
History:
(player note: The Carry On novel sprang from the novel Fangirl, which is a love story of sorts to the Harry Potter fandom and its fanfic writers. In many ways, Carry On is a Harry Potter pastiche, so if it gives you major deja vu, that's why! Superficially many broad elements of canon are the same, but Simon is a very different character than Harry Potter.)
No one knows where Simon Snow came from, including Simon Snow. He grew up an orphan, passed from care home to care home in Lancashire, and never had a clue that he might be extraordinary until he was eleven years old. One night he went to bed hungry and dreamed that his stomach was on fire. When he woke up, magic was pouring from his skin like an electric current, the care home was burnt to the ground, and everyone in it besides him woke up unharmed but several streets away.
That’s when the Mage came for him.
The Mage explained to Simon that Simon was a powerful mage, maybe the most powerful of their time. He told him that his birth was prophesied to fight the magic world’s greatest enemy, the Humdrum, an evil force that sucked up magic like a black hole and left magical deadspots in its wake. At eleven, Simon couldn't understand the severity of what that meant. What he did understand was that he now had a foster father, and that he got to go to a school for mages called Watford, where all his clothes would fit him, where he would be able to eat anything that he wanted, where he might actually have friends.
It wasn’t until he killed his first dragon that Simon began to realize how dangerous his new life would truly be. And it wasn’t until he’d spent a few years at Watford that he began to wonder, why me? But Simon isn’t one to run from a fight, and even as more dark forces conspired to kill him, their attacks bold enough to reach the very doors of Watford, every year he came back to Watford ready to grow strong enough to fight the Humdrum.
There’s just one problem - Simon’s not very good at using his magic. He’s filled to the brim with it, but he can’t control it. He doesn’t have the finesse to speak spells the way other, better mages can. He’s more magic bomb than soldier, a blunt instrument to be aimed in the right spot and fired, no matter the consequence to Simon himself.
By his eighth term at Watford, Simon has accepted that he probably won’t survive defeating the Humdrum, but he’s going to try anyway. He’s not a very good last, best hope, but he’s the only one the World of Mages has got.
Personality:
Simon doesn’t realize it, but he’s had very little time in his life to be his own person. When he was young and growing up in care homes, his only thought was to survive - to stay out from underfoot of the meaner caretakers, to avoid the more violent children, to manage to get his share of food at the table. And when he joined the world of Mages, he was immediately treated like their savior, the prophesied Chosen One when he was only eleven years old. To a young boy just discovering his place in a magical new world, this was exciting, but now that he’s older and has survived multiple attempts on his life, Simon has begun to feel weary. He has so little time to slow down, when he does have time to think about what he wants, he doesn’t - he falls back into the role he’s been prophesied to fulfill and lets that destiny dictate his life. This passiveness towards his fate is something the Mage has been only too happy to cultivate in Simon. Simon looks up to him like a father and he wants to please him, enough so that it’s easy for the Mage to manipulate Simon into the weapon he’s always dreamt of wielding.
Simon does his best to trust the Mage, but not only does Simon feel overwhelmed most of the time, he also feels like a failure. He knows he’s powerful, but he can’t control it. His magic is unpredictable at best, and he often prefers to use the Mage’s Sword he carries with him rather than chance his magic. He worries constantly that he won’t be strong enough to fight the Humdrum, but he does his best to believe the Mage when he says that Simon is their only hope.
Despite the burdens placed on him, when left to the company of his closest friends, Simon is able to be the youth he truly is. He’s quick to laugh and quick to care for others. He’s quick to anger, too, but like his magic his temper burns hot and dies away fast. He’s unrefined and brash but always well meaning. He loves sports, but he’s never around long enough to play for his school teams. He might even love danger and excitement, but the truth is, Simon’s never without them long enough to miss them. When a threat appears, he puts himself as the first thing in its path and does everything he can to stop it. Simon never stops to wonder if each new threat will be the end of him, because Simon accepted a long time ago that he won’t get to live to old age. In his paranoia and vigilance, he even believes that his roommate of eight years is plotting to kill him. Still, he faces every danger as courageously as he can. When the end comes for him, Simon hopes that his bravery and the raw magic inside of him will be enough, if not to save his own life, than at least to save everyone else’s.
Abilities & Skills: In his homeworld, Simon is immensely powerful in a way that he can’t control. In the World of Mages, mages use magic by speaking spells. The more use a common phrase has in the world, the more powerful the spell. For example, Up Up and Away! is a spell to make something levitate, but it only became a spell when the advent of Superman in pop culture made it a common phrase. In Simon’s world, there’s no spell more powerful than the phrases that everyone knows from childhood, making nursery rhymes some of the most powerful spells of all.
Simon can use magic by speaking spells, but not very well. The enormity of his power is something unseen anywhere else in the World of Mages, and the immensity of it makes it very difficult for him to control. When Simon is under real threat to his life, he does what everyone calls ‘going off,’ in which he literally goes off like a magical bomb, destroying every threat in the vicinity. He can also push his magic into other Mages, allowing them to wield his raw power with a finesse he himself isn’t capable of. Simon can also directly manifest his magic without a spell when under stress, which is not something a Mage is supposed to be able to do. For example, when desperate to escape a threat, he thought ‘I wish I could fly’ and suddenly had huge wings which he used to escape.
Inventory/Companions:
His Watford school uniform
The Mage's Sword
His wand
Choice: Monster - dragon
Reason: Simon Snow was born with too much magic inside him. He knows very well what it is to be incredibly powerful, so powerful that he can't control his power without help, so powerful that his body can barely contain it and his magic is literally eating him from within. He's lived with a fire in his belly all his life, both literal and figurative. He's passionate about doing good and Fighting Evil like the hero he's supposed to be, but all too often that desire leads him to make quick, destructive decisions that do more harm than good. Fire cleanses, but fire also destroys. All his life, he's been a weapon of mass destruction whether he wants to be or not, leaving craters of magically burnt and levelled land wherever he goes. In canon, Simon can only contain his magic when helped by other mages, which fits rather beautifully with the monster/mage relationships in this game. And, superficially, in canon he often sprouts a pair of leather wings and a forked tail when he wants to escape a situation, using them to fly away.
Sample: In which Simon Snow meets Doctor Strange and fanboys out.
(no subject)
Jul. 30th, 2018 08:06 pmI've used every cleaning spell I know and then some, but the place just doesn't seem right. I grab my wand and point it at the table, intoning, "Out, out, damned spot!", gratified when only the stain from Genevieve's painting disappears and not the whole damn table. With that there's nothing left to clean, and so I fidget, staring at the foyer and then random points on the walls.
Will he use a portal like he sent that monster through? Will he use the fucking doorbell?
Maybe he's here already, and I turn, but there's no one, not even Baz. He's probably in the kitchens, thinking up a new list of dorky names to call me. It's not as if I don't know I'm being weird. It's just that I can't help it.
I've not met anyone like this Doctor since the Mage, and I want to learn everything.
Will he use a portal like he sent that monster through? Will he use the fucking doorbell?
Maybe he's here already, and I turn, but there's no one, not even Baz. He's probably in the kitchens, thinking up a new list of dorky names to call me. It's not as if I don't know I'm being weird. It's just that I can't help it.
I've not met anyone like this Doctor since the Mage, and I want to learn everything.
(no subject)
Jun. 8th, 2018 02:48 pmI don't know what's woken me until I look out the window.
"Snakes," I breathe, watching the star make its slow, shimmering arc across the sky. It's actually quite cool - I've never seen a shooting star before, especially not one so lingering - and I creep out of the bedroom. I've every intention of heading to the balconies by the library where I'll have the best view, but in passing the littluns rooms I spy a familiar head of hair.
"Gen," I whisper, trying to suppress a smile when she startles and turns with a guilty expression. She's been doing this of late. I thought maybe she was sneaking out to find treats in the kitchens, but then I realized we weren't haunted - those messes in the common room are from Genevieve sneaking out to paint.
"I wasn't gonna - " she starts, and I bend down to pick her up.
"We'll talk about it in the morning," I tell her, but instead of taking her back to her room, I find myself bringing her outside with me. "D'you want to see something cool?" I ask, and she lights up.
"Yes!" she squeals before I can shush her, and I rush the rest of the way outside. The star is still blazing, and in my arms Genevieve quiets. "Wishin'?" she asks against my shoulder, and that's when I remember.
"Wish on a star, huh?" I murmur. "Alright, I'll make a wish if you do." She opens her mouth, and I laugh. "Not aloud! It won't come true that way. We'll both look up, and we'll think of what it is we want, and maybe it'll come true. Yeah?"
"Yeah," Gen breathes out in wonder, her little face tilted up. I wish I knew what she's wishing for. I know what I am.
I wish Gen could stay with us forever.
***
I should be excited. The applications have been coming in non-stop, and of course it's every orphan's dream to go to a real home, with a real family, but at this rate Green Gardens will have no littluns left!
"Another one!" I shout, trusting that Baz can hear me in the hallway. This one's for Alan, the little ginger boy just growing into his gangly limbs. He's a lovely kid, but so awkward - I'd wondered if anyone would give him a chance. "Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin," I say, rubbing a hand over my eyes. I look up to see Baz in the doorway.
"For Alan. That's nearly all of them."
"Snakes," I breathe, watching the star make its slow, shimmering arc across the sky. It's actually quite cool - I've never seen a shooting star before, especially not one so lingering - and I creep out of the bedroom. I've every intention of heading to the balconies by the library where I'll have the best view, but in passing the littluns rooms I spy a familiar head of hair.
"Gen," I whisper, trying to suppress a smile when she startles and turns with a guilty expression. She's been doing this of late. I thought maybe she was sneaking out to find treats in the kitchens, but then I realized we weren't haunted - those messes in the common room are from Genevieve sneaking out to paint.
"I wasn't gonna - " she starts, and I bend down to pick her up.
"We'll talk about it in the morning," I tell her, but instead of taking her back to her room, I find myself bringing her outside with me. "D'you want to see something cool?" I ask, and she lights up.
"Yes!" she squeals before I can shush her, and I rush the rest of the way outside. The star is still blazing, and in my arms Genevieve quiets. "Wishin'?" she asks against my shoulder, and that's when I remember.
"Wish on a star, huh?" I murmur. "Alright, I'll make a wish if you do." She opens her mouth, and I laugh. "Not aloud! It won't come true that way. We'll both look up, and we'll think of what it is we want, and maybe it'll come true. Yeah?"
"Yeah," Gen breathes out in wonder, her little face tilted up. I wish I knew what she's wishing for. I know what I am.
I wish Gen could stay with us forever.
I should be excited. The applications have been coming in non-stop, and of course it's every orphan's dream to go to a real home, with a real family, but at this rate Green Gardens will have no littluns left!
"Another one!" I shout, trusting that Baz can hear me in the hallway. This one's for Alan, the little ginger boy just growing into his gangly limbs. He's a lovely kid, but so awkward - I'd wondered if anyone would give him a chance. "Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin," I say, rubbing a hand over my eyes. I look up to see Baz in the doorway.
"For Alan. That's nearly all of them."
(no subject)
Jun. 28th, 2017 03:06 pmI like working in the gardens. Most of the time, I don't even use magic, and not just because I'm never sure if my spell will result in a weeding or the eruption of every vegetable. I just like the way the soil feels creased into my hands, and I won't lie - I fucking love swinging a shovel or a hoe about.
The sun is beating down today, and I don't think twice about throwing half my kit off. The littluns are all at summer lessons, and if I get pink across my shoulders and back, I'll just have Baz charm it away again. After I've sown a row of snap peas I stand and stretch, simply enjoying the feel of the sun on my face, but I look down as a flash of something in the dirt catches my eye.
Curious, I venture towards it and crouch down, uncovering a piece of green glass. "One of the kids could've cut themselves on this," I mutter, but the more I look at the jagged slice of what must have been a bottle, the lovelier it becomes. I stand up and hold it to the light, turning it this way and that. "Wow," I say, turning towards the windows. "Hey Baz! Baz! Come look at this bit of glass!"
The sun is beating down today, and I don't think twice about throwing half my kit off. The littluns are all at summer lessons, and if I get pink across my shoulders and back, I'll just have Baz charm it away again. After I've sown a row of snap peas I stand and stretch, simply enjoying the feel of the sun on my face, but I look down as a flash of something in the dirt catches my eye.
Curious, I venture towards it and crouch down, uncovering a piece of green glass. "One of the kids could've cut themselves on this," I mutter, but the more I look at the jagged slice of what must have been a bottle, the lovelier it becomes. I stand up and hold it to the light, turning it this way and that. "Wow," I say, turning towards the windows. "Hey Baz! Baz! Come look at this bit of glass!"
(no subject)
Jan. 11th, 2017 04:48 pmI don't really know what the fuck I'm doing.
That doesn't much differentiate today from most other days, but I'm still nervous when I head into the coffee shop near Parliament. For once in my life I'm early, so I order four chocolate croissants and eat them all before finishing my first tea. Now I'm a bit sticky and still nervous, but at least I'm full.
I head back to the barista and order fresh hot water for myself and a large coffee, taking both to the table when I hear the door jingle. I look up, managing to seat myself at the same time without spilling either beverage, and offer the man a wave. We've never met, but I saw a picture of Luke's husband on Magnus' phone and this is surely him.
"Um, hey," I say, wondering if I should stand, but I have to compliment his eyes soon, and that will make it feel oddly formal. I push the coffee towards him instead. "Didn't know how you take it."
That doesn't much differentiate today from most other days, but I'm still nervous when I head into the coffee shop near Parliament. For once in my life I'm early, so I order four chocolate croissants and eat them all before finishing my first tea. Now I'm a bit sticky and still nervous, but at least I'm full.
I head back to the barista and order fresh hot water for myself and a large coffee, taking both to the table when I hear the door jingle. I look up, managing to seat myself at the same time without spilling either beverage, and offer the man a wave. We've never met, but I saw a picture of Luke's husband on Magnus' phone and this is surely him.
"Um, hey," I say, wondering if I should stand, but I have to compliment his eyes soon, and that will make it feel oddly formal. I push the coffee towards him instead. "Didn't know how you take it."
(no subject)
Sep. 19th, 2016 03:58 pmI feel like I'm going to be ill. Ever since we woke up it's been nonstop reports of some kind of hole in Darrow. They say it's a hole like a door, but a tear in the normal scheme of reality is still a tear, and I can't stop thinking that it's Him. I want to know, but I don't, but I can't bear the suspense.
"We've got to go to it," I tell Baz over the kitchen counter. "If it's Him, I've got to know. What if I'm the only one who can do anything?" Merlin, what will I do with Baz? My stomach twists. He'll try to protect me, and I barely got out of there the last time with my life and Penny's. I'm not going to risk his.
"Perhaps I should go alone."
"We've got to go to it," I tell Baz over the kitchen counter. "If it's Him, I've got to know. What if I'm the only one who can do anything?" Merlin, what will I do with Baz? My stomach twists. He'll try to protect me, and I barely got out of there the last time with my life and Penny's. I'm not going to risk his.
"Perhaps I should go alone."
(no subject)
Jul. 1st, 2016 07:26 pmI wake up slowly, stretching my arms overhead with the strangest thought that the bed feels too small. It makes no sense, and I turn over and go back to sleep, dreaming of milkshakes and candy floss and ferris wheels high in the air.
When I wake again, I sit bolt upright. Baz is next to me on the sheets, thank snakes, and I curl my hand around his shoulder before I can stop myself.
"Are - are you awake?"
When I wake again, I sit bolt upright. Baz is next to me on the sheets, thank snakes, and I curl my hand around his shoulder before I can stop myself.
"Are - are you awake?"
(no subject)
Feb. 26th, 2016 03:04 pmI burst a hole in the metal box and fly screaming into the sky.
It's not...exactly what I meant to do. One moment I'm sitting in a fucking metal box in the middle of the sea, happy as you please, and the next I'm wondering what the bloody hell I'm doing there. She brought me here, I remember that. And somehow, she made me want it.
It makes my skin crawl. It made fucking dragon wings pop out of my back, is what it did. I'm furious and wild eyed and about a mile above the ocean, but I can see the city not far away. Baz is there. She is probably there, and while I'd like to sort her, too, right now all I want is to get to my boyfriend.
I swipe an arm across my eyes, sobbing with anger and shame as I fly forward with awkward jerks of my wings. This would never happen to a proper mage - kidnapping, compulsion, fucking dragon wings. But I'm not proper, am I? And I just want to go home.
It's actually quite difficult to find from the air, and I'm sobbing even harder when I finally spot Dimera Apartments. I mean to fly to fire escape, but as soon as I find the right window I'm crashing through it, landing on my knees in our kitchen.
"Baz?" I call out, overturning the kitchen chairs with my wing as I twist and look for him. "Baz!"
It's not...exactly what I meant to do. One moment I'm sitting in a fucking metal box in the middle of the sea, happy as you please, and the next I'm wondering what the bloody hell I'm doing there. She brought me here, I remember that. And somehow, she made me want it.
It makes my skin crawl. It made fucking dragon wings pop out of my back, is what it did. I'm furious and wild eyed and about a mile above the ocean, but I can see the city not far away. Baz is there. She is probably there, and while I'd like to sort her, too, right now all I want is to get to my boyfriend.
I swipe an arm across my eyes, sobbing with anger and shame as I fly forward with awkward jerks of my wings. This would never happen to a proper mage - kidnapping, compulsion, fucking dragon wings. But I'm not proper, am I? And I just want to go home.
It's actually quite difficult to find from the air, and I'm sobbing even harder when I finally spot Dimera Apartments. I mean to fly to fire escape, but as soon as I find the right window I'm crashing through it, landing on my knees in our kitchen.
"Baz?" I call out, overturning the kitchen chairs with my wing as I twist and look for him. "Baz!"
(no subject)
Jan. 22nd, 2016 06:22 pmI can't believe this is happening to me again.
I heft the Mage's Sword, holding it out in front of me to show that I'm ready to fight anyone who dares try it.
Alright, I can believe this is happening to me again, because it happens to me often, but after just one attempt on my life in Darrow, I thought things might be different here. No such luck. I seem to smell as good to vampires as to any other magickal creature, as good to these vampires as I do to my vampire, but where Baz just wants to kiss me to death, I think these actually want to eat me.
"Don't!" I shout as one of the three comes closer. Just one step, but they can move faster than that, can't they? Baz can move much faster, and I wonder if they're just playing with me. They could be keeping me here, waiting for someone else to come along and eat me. That rather pisses me off.
A lick of flame curls from my fingertips, wrapping itself around the hilt of my sword. The thing is, I'm not usually afraid in these sorts of situations. If things go too pear shaped, I'll simply explode and that will be the end of it. Say what you like about my crap casting, my magic is incredible, and there's not been anything short of the Humdrum powerful enough to withstand me when I explode.
But I really don't like to explode. I'm not much more than a bomb, but lately I've been pretending I might could be, and more than that - I'm squeamish about killing these vampires. They're dark creatures, I have no doubts on that. With their mouthfuls of teeth and the lust I can see clearly in their dark blown eyes, I know they haven't cornered me in this alley for a handshake. But if they're dark creatures, then so is Baz, and if I kill dark creatures, well. I've started thinking that perhaps I ought to be a bit more discriminatory about that. Me bursting in an alley and killing three of Baz's kind might send the wrong sort of message as his boyfriend.
I can't decide what to do, but that same teethy bloke steps even closer, and I'm running out of time.
"God, you smell good," he purrs at me, and I must hesitate one second too long, because the next thing I know my back is against the wall and my sword arm is pinned at my side, my head wrenched sideways for him to nose along my throat.
"Get off!" I shout, wriggling as the fear finally rolls in, and the air goes thick and red around us.
"Mm," the vampire hums, "Even better," and at his back the other two agree like a pair of drunken idiots, the lot of them getting shitfaced on my magic. They don't know it means I'm going to explode.
"Fuck," I murmur, and as my thoughts begin to blank out, I wonder what building at my back it is I'm about to destroy.
I heft the Mage's Sword, holding it out in front of me to show that I'm ready to fight anyone who dares try it.
Alright, I can believe this is happening to me again, because it happens to me often, but after just one attempt on my life in Darrow, I thought things might be different here. No such luck. I seem to smell as good to vampires as to any other magickal creature, as good to these vampires as I do to my vampire, but where Baz just wants to kiss me to death, I think these actually want to eat me.
"Don't!" I shout as one of the three comes closer. Just one step, but they can move faster than that, can't they? Baz can move much faster, and I wonder if they're just playing with me. They could be keeping me here, waiting for someone else to come along and eat me. That rather pisses me off.
A lick of flame curls from my fingertips, wrapping itself around the hilt of my sword. The thing is, I'm not usually afraid in these sorts of situations. If things go too pear shaped, I'll simply explode and that will be the end of it. Say what you like about my crap casting, my magic is incredible, and there's not been anything short of the Humdrum powerful enough to withstand me when I explode.
But I really don't like to explode. I'm not much more than a bomb, but lately I've been pretending I might could be, and more than that - I'm squeamish about killing these vampires. They're dark creatures, I have no doubts on that. With their mouthfuls of teeth and the lust I can see clearly in their dark blown eyes, I know they haven't cornered me in this alley for a handshake. But if they're dark creatures, then so is Baz, and if I kill dark creatures, well. I've started thinking that perhaps I ought to be a bit more discriminatory about that. Me bursting in an alley and killing three of Baz's kind might send the wrong sort of message as his boyfriend.
I can't decide what to do, but that same teethy bloke steps even closer, and I'm running out of time.
"God, you smell good," he purrs at me, and I must hesitate one second too long, because the next thing I know my back is against the wall and my sword arm is pinned at my side, my head wrenched sideways for him to nose along my throat.
"Get off!" I shout, wriggling as the fear finally rolls in, and the air goes thick and red around us.
"Mm," the vampire hums, "Even better," and at his back the other two agree like a pair of drunken idiots, the lot of them getting shitfaced on my magic. They don't know it means I'm going to explode.
"Fuck," I murmur, and as my thoughts begin to blank out, I wonder what building at my back it is I'm about to destroy.
(no subject)
Dec. 25th, 2015 03:50 pmI walk for a long time, after. When I reach Dimera it's by accident, and I Nothing to see here my gifts near the steps and keep going. The air is cold bordering on frosty, but it feels good on my too hot cheeks, as does the wind cutting through my jumper.
I walk to the park, and it's nothing like the Wavering Wood, but it's just familiar enough that another sadness rises up to meet the pain of leaving Bitty. I miss Watford. I miss Penny. I miss having someone I'm sure I could talk to about this.
After another hour, maybe more, I can't be fucked to care, I wander home again. My presents are right where I left them, and I make myself smile at them. Bitty really is too kind. I carry them upstairs with me, and when I reach my flat, the first thing I do is open a window. Even after all that walking, I'm still too damn warm.
I drag the armchair close to it and sit down. My feet are aching, and so are my eyes. I close them and let the night air brush over my face. I think about her again, Baz's mum - the kiss she'd placed on my forehead and said was for him. This feels a little bit like that.
My heart hurts, too, now.
I walk to the park, and it's nothing like the Wavering Wood, but it's just familiar enough that another sadness rises up to meet the pain of leaving Bitty. I miss Watford. I miss Penny. I miss having someone I'm sure I could talk to about this.
After another hour, maybe more, I can't be fucked to care, I wander home again. My presents are right where I left them, and I make myself smile at them. Bitty really is too kind. I carry them upstairs with me, and when I reach my flat, the first thing I do is open a window. Even after all that walking, I'm still too damn warm.
I drag the armchair close to it and sit down. My feet are aching, and so are my eyes. I close them and let the night air brush over my face. I think about her again, Baz's mum - the kiss she'd placed on my forehead and said was for him. This feels a little bit like that.
My heart hurts, too, now.
(no subject)
Nov. 26th, 2015 03:49 pmIt's cold and dark by the time we leave The Runaway Cafe. I ate slowly and carefully for the first part of the date, but by the end I was having too much fun to remember my atrocious manners, and I pass a hand self-consciously down the front of my button-up, knocking away the crumbs. Bitty isn't far behind me, and when the first bite of wind sneaks over my collar, I grab for his hand.
"Not too cold for a walk, is it?" I ask hopefully. After spending so much time in the ice rink, the wintry air can't be so terrible for him, but the wind picks up now and then and I want Bitty to be comfortable. I nod in the direction of the park. "Wind will be less awful in the trees."
"Not too cold for a walk, is it?" I ask hopefully. After spending so much time in the ice rink, the wintry air can't be so terrible for him, but the wind picks up now and then and I want Bitty to be comfortable. I nod in the direction of the park. "Wind will be less awful in the trees."
(no subject)
Nov. 26th, 2015 03:25 pmI haven't labored over my clothes like this since Watford.
I don't have much money to spend on them, but I've brought home a nice enough pair of shirts, some trousers, and even some used Oxfords that still look nice. I haven't bought a tie, but I think that might be too much anyway. The truth is, I don't know. Agatha and I just sort of sprang into being as a couple.
I've never been on a date before.
I pull off the blue button-up and put it back on the bed. I forgot the undershirt anyway, but before I reach for it, I grab up the bottle of cologne. It's not bergamot and cedar - those are the only scents I could think of when the woman at the counter asked me, so I asked for something specifically not them. This bottle smells of a really fancy, clean forest, which should go well with the smokey smell that never quite leaves me.
I start to tip the bottle against my neck, then stop. Fuck, I forgot how much I'm meant to use.
I don't have much money to spend on them, but I've brought home a nice enough pair of shirts, some trousers, and even some used Oxfords that still look nice. I haven't bought a tie, but I think that might be too much anyway. The truth is, I don't know. Agatha and I just sort of sprang into being as a couple.
I've never been on a date before.
I pull off the blue button-up and put it back on the bed. I forgot the undershirt anyway, but before I reach for it, I grab up the bottle of cologne. It's not bergamot and cedar - those are the only scents I could think of when the woman at the counter asked me, so I asked for something specifically not them. This bottle smells of a really fancy, clean forest, which should go well with the smokey smell that never quite leaves me.
I start to tip the bottle against my neck, then stop. Fuck, I forgot how much I'm meant to use.
(no subject)
Nov. 21st, 2015 08:39 pmThe first few nights in Darrow, I slept like the dead. I didn't know where I was, but I knew that the Humdrum wasn't here, and that made all the difference.
Now, though - now I can hardly catch a few hours at a time before my racing heart wakes me up. The care homes had always been noisy, even at night, and at Watford I'd had Baz's rhythmic breathing in my ear. It's too quiet in my apartment, even when I leave the telly on, but somehow my thoughts are loud enough to drag me from sleep.
Why are we here? What sort of shadowy world did Bitty and his friends get trapped in? Will it happen to me? Who's controlling it?
What am I going to do without Penny?
My first nightmare melts my bedside lamp, so I don't replace it. I huddle in my blankets in the dark and close my eyes, but sleep is a long time coming.
I dream of my room at Watford. Can you dream about dreaming? I have, more than once. I dream about sleeping a whole night through, I dream about waking up to sunlight pouring through the open window at the top of Mummers House. I dream of sleeping for hours, but I always wake up after one or two.
It's three in the morning, and I turn over in bed. It's so damn quiet. In my desperation, I breathe in and out, listening to my own air as if it were Baz in the bed across from me. Somehow, it helps, and when sleep returns, shifts, mutates into a nightmare of fire that I can't control, for some reason the spectre of Baz I've called up is still there, standing in the middle of the flames.
"Make a wish," I murmur. I want to scream it, but my voice is only a whisper, and there's no magic in it at all. "Make a wish."
Now, though - now I can hardly catch a few hours at a time before my racing heart wakes me up. The care homes had always been noisy, even at night, and at Watford I'd had Baz's rhythmic breathing in my ear. It's too quiet in my apartment, even when I leave the telly on, but somehow my thoughts are loud enough to drag me from sleep.
Why are we here? What sort of shadowy world did Bitty and his friends get trapped in? Will it happen to me? Who's controlling it?
What am I going to do without Penny?
My first nightmare melts my bedside lamp, so I don't replace it. I huddle in my blankets in the dark and close my eyes, but sleep is a long time coming.
I dream of my room at Watford. Can you dream about dreaming? I have, more than once. I dream about sleeping a whole night through, I dream about waking up to sunlight pouring through the open window at the top of Mummers House. I dream of sleeping for hours, but I always wake up after one or two.
It's three in the morning, and I turn over in bed. It's so damn quiet. In my desperation, I breathe in and out, listening to my own air as if it were Baz in the bed across from me. Somehow, it helps, and when sleep returns, shifts, mutates into a nightmare of fire that I can't control, for some reason the spectre of Baz I've called up is still there, standing in the middle of the flames.
"Make a wish," I murmur. I want to scream it, but my voice is only a whisper, and there's no magic in it at all. "Make a wish."
(no subject)
Nov. 16th, 2015 07:46 pm[continued from here]
I stare at him doubtfully. "Whatever," I say and push up from the table, draining the last of my pint in one long go. I go back to the bar and get another, but this one I take to the far end, where I can still see Baz across the bar and through the crowd. He's off, and he's probably upset about his mum. I'm not going to outright leave him.
I drink my pint and order another round of breadsticks, and I make sure he doesn't go anywhere.
*
I longingly watch Snow's throat work while he drinks. I can't tell if I want to bite it, or lick it. Maybe I do need less beer. Or more...
I stare morosely down at my glass and don't watch him leave. I've already looked at him enough for one day, and now that he's gone I can brood appropriately instead of thinking about his stupid face. Like how his nose is just...right there, and how his eyes are all squinty and those awful moles that aren't even cute at all. The worst. Simon Snow is the worst.
*
He's not alright. That should be obvious, but it's a conclusion I come to slowly as I finish another pint of my own, and then another. Baz, getting sloshed out in the middle of a crowded pub, smiling at me, watching as I walk away.
I let him drink another pint and then I get up, returning to Baz's side to touch his shoulder. "C'mon," I say, lying in a sudden stroke of brilliance, "I forgot my key to the building. Have to use yours."
I stare at him doubtfully. "Whatever," I say and push up from the table, draining the last of my pint in one long go. I go back to the bar and get another, but this one I take to the far end, where I can still see Baz across the bar and through the crowd. He's off, and he's probably upset about his mum. I'm not going to outright leave him.
I drink my pint and order another round of breadsticks, and I make sure he doesn't go anywhere.
*
I longingly watch Snow's throat work while he drinks. I can't tell if I want to bite it, or lick it. Maybe I do need less beer. Or more...
I stare morosely down at my glass and don't watch him leave. I've already looked at him enough for one day, and now that he's gone I can brood appropriately instead of thinking about his stupid face. Like how his nose is just...right there, and how his eyes are all squinty and those awful moles that aren't even cute at all. The worst. Simon Snow is the worst.
*
He's not alright. That should be obvious, but it's a conclusion I come to slowly as I finish another pint of my own, and then another. Baz, getting sloshed out in the middle of a crowded pub, smiling at me, watching as I walk away.
I let him drink another pint and then I get up, returning to Baz's side to touch his shoulder. "C'mon," I say, lying in a sudden stroke of brilliance, "I forgot my key to the building. Have to use yours."
(no subject)
Nov. 5th, 2015 01:35 pmI’m still shaking when the ghost of Natasha Pitch finally fades. I’m sure Baz would love to see it - the Chosen One, trembling beneath his bedsheets like a child about to soil himself. Well, he would if the Visiting I just had hadn’t been of his own dead mother.
I drag my hands over my arms, trying to shake off the last of her chill, but the cold that came with her went bone deep. I could try a spell to warm up, but the last time I cast Some like it hot my sheets caught fire. I settle for rolling myself up as far into my blankets as I can get.
Her words keep coming back to me. Tell my son. Tell him that my killer walks. Tell Basilton to find Nico and bring me peace. Do you understand?
I said I did. Of course I did, she was freezing my bloody nuts off, I might have said anything to make her go away, but the truth is I don’t understand. I have no idea who Nico is, and I don’t have any idea how to tell Baz that he missed the ghost of his dead mother when he finally comes back from wherever he’s gone off to.
I rub my head. She kissed my temple. Give him this. The chance of me kissing Baz anywhere are next to zero, but every time I think of it, my eyes get hot. No one’s ever kissed my temple like a mum, no one’s ever been anywhere near that gentle with me. I barely know the feeling, and I already miss it. Baz must miss it, too.
I drift off still cold, still thinking of Baz and his long dead mum, heart still aching in a way I can’t shake off, but something wakes me.
Something soft. I sit bolt upright, nearly losing an eye to the cat I just dislodged from my face. What the hell? Looking around, I find myself in the middle of a cafe filled with cats, on tables and next to tea pots, in windows and on the floor in tiny cushions. One, apparently, still in my lap, pouring and rubbing its head against my belly.
Did I go off? I look down at my hands, but they’re not smoldering, and when I sniff the air there’s no hint of the smoke that accompanies my magic. And when I look up again, this cafe certainly isn't Watford. It’s not even in Lancashire. And its patrons are staring at me.
I gather my bedsheets, the only things it seems to have come with me apart from my pajamas - thank fuck I didn’t disappear straight from the shower - around my body like a shroud against their eyes.
I drag my hands over my arms, trying to shake off the last of her chill, but the cold that came with her went bone deep. I could try a spell to warm up, but the last time I cast Some like it hot my sheets caught fire. I settle for rolling myself up as far into my blankets as I can get.
Her words keep coming back to me. Tell my son. Tell him that my killer walks. Tell Basilton to find Nico and bring me peace. Do you understand?
I said I did. Of course I did, she was freezing my bloody nuts off, I might have said anything to make her go away, but the truth is I don’t understand. I have no idea who Nico is, and I don’t have any idea how to tell Baz that he missed the ghost of his dead mother when he finally comes back from wherever he’s gone off to.
I rub my head. She kissed my temple. Give him this. The chance of me kissing Baz anywhere are next to zero, but every time I think of it, my eyes get hot. No one’s ever kissed my temple like a mum, no one’s ever been anywhere near that gentle with me. I barely know the feeling, and I already miss it. Baz must miss it, too.
I drift off still cold, still thinking of Baz and his long dead mum, heart still aching in a way I can’t shake off, but something wakes me.
Something soft. I sit bolt upright, nearly losing an eye to the cat I just dislodged from my face. What the hell? Looking around, I find myself in the middle of a cafe filled with cats, on tables and next to tea pots, in windows and on the floor in tiny cushions. One, apparently, still in my lap, pouring and rubbing its head against my belly.
Did I go off? I look down at my hands, but they’re not smoldering, and when I sniff the air there’s no hint of the smoke that accompanies my magic. And when I look up again, this cafe certainly isn't Watford. It’s not even in Lancashire. And its patrons are staring at me.
I gather my bedsheets, the only things it seems to have come with me apart from my pajamas - thank fuck I didn’t disappear straight from the shower - around my body like a shroud against their eyes.
