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- Aleranicus 11 yrs ago
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Revving the Writing Engine
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I will likely be posting tomorrow or Sunday, give everyone else an option to get a post up before we hit the gas and the plot bus leaves the station.
Adding it into my headcanon-- The Unicorns have a roller derby team. It just looks like a random collection of people that would never associate with one another ever, since Stella's the "last one" but, they dominate the hell out of roller derby.
The Strangetown Stranglers.
Stella's totally on the team too.
Headcanon seconded!
Sorry I haven't posted lately. Work got nuts. I have to go in a few hours earlier for the rest of June to deal with projects. But I'll try to post in the near future!
"You... you cheeky cun-niving child!"
Disregarding the facts that, A.) This sword had been hidden among his tax documents, B.) it could probably cut through most substances known to man- and some yet to be invented by him, and C.) it could make Smokey the Bear shit bricks, Parry had to admit that Abby had outdone him. He gingerly stepped across the basement, avoiding an overturned collection of vintage marbles along the way, and took the blade by the scabbard from her.
"Abby, I want you to know that I appreciate you being forthright about this." He couldn't help himself from giving the Change-child one quick little bear-hug, leaning close to her ear, and whispering, "The set of dolls you lost when you were 9? After you burned down the Ice Cream Parlor because I wouldn't buy you a two-scoop cone? I did in fact take them. They're in the Miami Greyhound Bus Station, locker 42. Combination 12-19-22."
Course, Parry didn't intend to stick around for the outburst that came next. After the dolls had gone missing, he owed Victor a new trailer. Their insurance didn't cover changeling tantrums, but hey- you gotta discipline children somehow! He disentangled himself from Abby and trotted (ran) up the stairs from the basement, sword in one hand and diaper bag over his shoulder, coming face to face with a lovely Celest @MancerNecro in his kitchen, trying to corral everyone into one place. Rusty was vegging out on one of Parry's mood stabilizers (hopefully not the horse tranquilizer, but with werewolf metabolism he was likely to burn off his buzz in no time at all). But Celest! Just the person he needed!
"Darling! You're awake!" Parry said, crossing the kitchen floor to give her a wake-up-hug. "And let me just congratulate you- you might not remember the rendition of Stairway to Heaven you did last night, but I most certainly will! I can't quite remember who played the guitar, but they did a passing job. What with being three bottles deep into Vodka.
"Now Celest, dearest, my most favorite sorceress that ever sorceressed, I need a small favor from you. I know you're pretty good at tracking energy movements and you've probably felt the... disturbance in the Force. I bought this building because it was built over a ley line. Do me a solid and ride the line as far as your consciousness will go. The Mummy threw a cage over the city but we need to know if we're just locked in downtown or the metro ares, or even out to the wildlife reserves. Also, I need... my clothes!"
Of course Stella @Utrax would go into his wardrobe to get her groove back. Of course she would enchant the thing to make it a form-fitting glitter bomb of gorgeous. And of course she would use his favorite suit, waltz down into the kitchen munching on frosted flakes, and strut her stuff like a rich busybody showing off her favorite new toy.
He had one true philosophy in life. One.
A Celestial's clothes were sacred. They were the Celestial's own. And no one- but no one, should touch Parry's clothes but Parry himself.
Especially not the frilly items in his underwear drawer. Victoria's Secret was damn expensive to have shipped from San Fran.
"I want you to know, Stella, that if anything happens to that suit, you won't have to worry about the mummy because I will bury you. I bought that from a Bee Gees concert back in the day. And if you raided my underwear drawer too, we're gonna need to take this out back."
Disregarding the facts that, A.) This sword had been hidden among his tax documents, B.) it could probably cut through most substances known to man- and some yet to be invented by him, and C.) it could make Smokey the Bear shit bricks, Parry had to admit that Abby had outdone him. He gingerly stepped across the basement, avoiding an overturned collection of vintage marbles along the way, and took the blade by the scabbard from her.
"Abby, I want you to know that I appreciate you being forthright about this." He couldn't help himself from giving the Change-child one quick little bear-hug, leaning close to her ear, and whispering, "The set of dolls you lost when you were 9? After you burned down the Ice Cream Parlor because I wouldn't buy you a two-scoop cone? I did in fact take them. They're in the Miami Greyhound Bus Station, locker 42. Combination 12-19-22."
Course, Parry didn't intend to stick around for the outburst that came next. After the dolls had gone missing, he owed Victor a new trailer. Their insurance didn't cover changeling tantrums, but hey- you gotta discipline children somehow! He disentangled himself from Abby and trotted (ran) up the stairs from the basement, sword in one hand and diaper bag over his shoulder, coming face to face with a lovely Celest @MancerNecro in his kitchen, trying to corral everyone into one place. Rusty was vegging out on one of Parry's mood stabilizers (hopefully not the horse tranquilizer, but with werewolf metabolism he was likely to burn off his buzz in no time at all). But Celest! Just the person he needed!
"Darling! You're awake!" Parry said, crossing the kitchen floor to give her a wake-up-hug. "And let me just congratulate you- you might not remember the rendition of Stairway to Heaven you did last night, but I most certainly will! I can't quite remember who played the guitar, but they did a passing job. What with being three bottles deep into Vodka.
"Now Celest, dearest, my most favorite sorceress that ever sorceressed, I need a small favor from you. I know you're pretty good at tracking energy movements and you've probably felt the... disturbance in the Force. I bought this building because it was built over a ley line. Do me a solid and ride the line as far as your consciousness will go. The Mummy threw a cage over the city but we need to know if we're just locked in downtown or the metro ares, or even out to the wildlife reserves. Also, I need... my clothes!"
Of course Stella @Utrax would go into his wardrobe to get her groove back. Of course she would enchant the thing to make it a form-fitting glitter bomb of gorgeous. And of course she would use his favorite suit, waltz down into the kitchen munching on frosted flakes, and strut her stuff like a rich busybody showing off her favorite new toy.
He had one true philosophy in life. One.
A Celestial's clothes were sacred. They were the Celestial's own. And no one- but no one, should touch Parry's clothes but Parry himself.
Especially not the frilly items in his underwear drawer. Victoria's Secret was damn expensive to have shipped from San Fran.
"I want you to know, Stella, that if anything happens to that suit, you won't have to worry about the mummy because I will bury you. I bought that from a Bee Gees concert back in the day. And if you raided my underwear drawer too, we're gonna need to take this out back."
I'll be posting later this evening. Bit busy at work today.
@Atrophy I can't wait for CC to show up at the place and find everybody expecting a Mummy messenger demanding loyalty XD
"Oh look, it's the last guy's tax man!"
"Oh look, it's the last guy's tax man!"
@Utrax "Muh Clothes!!!!!!!!" XD
"What's going on? What's going..." Parry had to freeze for a minute. Upending a plastic container didn't produce what he was looking for, just an old Prussian Pickelhaube. Pretty, but ultimately worthless. Like his panic. He was behaving like an animal trapped in a cage, not a proper Celestial. Then again, he hadn't behaved like a proper Celestial in thousands of years. So there was that to take into account too.
Finally, he had to collapse into the pallet of nappies, like King Lear facing his end in the third act (Or was that one the fifth act? He'd look it up in the Encyclopedia later) before the one person who trusted him implicitly. Parry would openly admit he never considered any child he watched over his own- they were his responsibility, sure. But not his own.
Abby came damn close to breaking that line.
Finally, he roused himself enough to say "Hey, Abby. Why don't you, uh, take a seat on the... throne of Pampers. I seem to have the Crown of Huggies on my head."
The Celestial had to pick his words carefully, but eventually, he had to say something too. Abby was scared. But Abby was also an adult now. Her bullshit detector was fully armed and operational, and she'd catch him on a lie without even trying. Hell, she was the only one who knew Parry was an honest-to-goddess Celestial (now that de Lacy was dead) because he couldn't keep that from her. The Fae blood and the adolescence helped with that one.
"Abby, remember when you were seven and I took you into Faerie? The Seelie took one of your friends off the playground and Victor and I didn't want to take you with us to get her back. You threw fits, you changed my shampoo with hair dye, and then you traded all of the balls in the ball pit with rocks. Never figured out how you managed the last one. But Victor said I wasn't supposed to take you to Faerie- and I finally told Victor to fuck off, we were going. I told you then- as I tell you now- that nothing in Faerie is set in stone. Your friend could've been perfectly fine, playing with Nixies and Pixies. Or we could've found her in the court's garbage, her bones picked clean of meat. I didn't know then what we'd find, but I was willing to take you, and tell you the rules of Faerie.
"Things went wrong, things went right, but we came back in one piece. So I'll tell you the rules for dealing with mummies and we will hope that we'll make it out the other side."
Parry leaned back into his pallet, drumming his fingers on a package of disposable infants' underwear like a king on his throne.
"Mummies... do not see themselves as undead. They wake up, and like a child after a short nap, are cranky as hell, and then they remember 'Oh yeah, I'm a god-king. These people should be glad I'm awake. Time to get the worshiping on!' And when a bigger fish shows up, a lot of the smaller fish swim around him to fawn and beg for favors.
"So we're probably going to get a phone call. Or a visit. But the mummy will ask for fealty. Normally that'd be enough, he'll run things for a little while, run out of juice in a year or two, and go back to sleep and we get on with our lives. Problem is, this is Nemsemet. I never met him. I stayed clear of him. Because he left Egypt a magically radioactive wasteland after running the show there for a century- and then went back to sleep. But we have a bit of time. He'll need to learn English, figure out where he is, unscramble his own brain.
"One thing I do know about him. He's flashy and self-centered. He's not gonna take it well when the first person stands up to him. He'll turn them to ash... and then he'll turn a city block to ash to show he can. Or he'll... or he'll lock us all in the city... with him..."
So that's what was up. Someone in the court had probably refused to pledge to the mummy when he started demanding people scrape and bow. So he'd locked the doors to let everyone know he was now the biggest, baddest rat in the cage. Rusty had wolf ears, so he'd undoubtedly heard everything Parry was saying. But they still had a Unicorn, a sorcerer and half a dozen others milling around in the kitchen.
"When they come for us... I want you to understand something, Abby. It will absolutely be the safest thing in the world for you to go and swear you'll be a good servant to Nemsemet. He'll nod, he'll wave, and it'll be like the courts. Just... he won't have any qualms about taking your life if you break his rules. I wouldn't judge you for going. Victor probably won't. And if anybody does, they'll have to plow through me first to get at you. If you stay... things will get bad. Very, very bad.
"But I will ask you one favor before you decide... did you ever hide a sword about yea long, made of black iron and sheathed, tended to turn into a fire inferno if you unsheathed it? Cause I can't find the damn thing and I have a feeling we may need it. Also, I do remember how you hid my copy of Batman Number One in Underhill even though I never gave the combination of my safe to anybody."
Finally, he had to collapse into the pallet of nappies, like King Lear facing his end in the third act (Or was that one the fifth act? He'd look it up in the Encyclopedia later) before the one person who trusted him implicitly. Parry would openly admit he never considered any child he watched over his own- they were his responsibility, sure. But not his own.
Abby came damn close to breaking that line.
Finally, he roused himself enough to say "Hey, Abby. Why don't you, uh, take a seat on the... throne of Pampers. I seem to have the Crown of Huggies on my head."
The Celestial had to pick his words carefully, but eventually, he had to say something too. Abby was scared. But Abby was also an adult now. Her bullshit detector was fully armed and operational, and she'd catch him on a lie without even trying. Hell, she was the only one who knew Parry was an honest-to-goddess Celestial (now that de Lacy was dead) because he couldn't keep that from her. The Fae blood and the adolescence helped with that one.
"Abby, remember when you were seven and I took you into Faerie? The Seelie took one of your friends off the playground and Victor and I didn't want to take you with us to get her back. You threw fits, you changed my shampoo with hair dye, and then you traded all of the balls in the ball pit with rocks. Never figured out how you managed the last one. But Victor said I wasn't supposed to take you to Faerie- and I finally told Victor to fuck off, we were going. I told you then- as I tell you now- that nothing in Faerie is set in stone. Your friend could've been perfectly fine, playing with Nixies and Pixies. Or we could've found her in the court's garbage, her bones picked clean of meat. I didn't know then what we'd find, but I was willing to take you, and tell you the rules of Faerie.
"Things went wrong, things went right, but we came back in one piece. So I'll tell you the rules for dealing with mummies and we will hope that we'll make it out the other side."
Parry leaned back into his pallet, drumming his fingers on a package of disposable infants' underwear like a king on his throne.
"Mummies... do not see themselves as undead. They wake up, and like a child after a short nap, are cranky as hell, and then they remember 'Oh yeah, I'm a god-king. These people should be glad I'm awake. Time to get the worshiping on!' And when a bigger fish shows up, a lot of the smaller fish swim around him to fawn and beg for favors.
"So we're probably going to get a phone call. Or a visit. But the mummy will ask for fealty. Normally that'd be enough, he'll run things for a little while, run out of juice in a year or two, and go back to sleep and we get on with our lives. Problem is, this is Nemsemet. I never met him. I stayed clear of him. Because he left Egypt a magically radioactive wasteland after running the show there for a century- and then went back to sleep. But we have a bit of time. He'll need to learn English, figure out where he is, unscramble his own brain.
"One thing I do know about him. He's flashy and self-centered. He's not gonna take it well when the first person stands up to him. He'll turn them to ash... and then he'll turn a city block to ash to show he can. Or he'll... or he'll lock us all in the city... with him..."
So that's what was up. Someone in the court had probably refused to pledge to the mummy when he started demanding people scrape and bow. So he'd locked the doors to let everyone know he was now the biggest, baddest rat in the cage. Rusty had wolf ears, so he'd undoubtedly heard everything Parry was saying. But they still had a Unicorn, a sorcerer and half a dozen others milling around in the kitchen.
"When they come for us... I want you to understand something, Abby. It will absolutely be the safest thing in the world for you to go and swear you'll be a good servant to Nemsemet. He'll nod, he'll wave, and it'll be like the courts. Just... he won't have any qualms about taking your life if you break his rules. I wouldn't judge you for going. Victor probably won't. And if anybody does, they'll have to plow through me first to get at you. If you stay... things will get bad. Very, very bad.
"But I will ask you one favor before you decide... did you ever hide a sword about yea long, made of black iron and sheathed, tended to turn into a fire inferno if you unsheathed it? Cause I can't find the damn thing and I have a feeling we may need it. Also, I do remember how you hid my copy of Batman Number One in Underhill even though I never gave the combination of my safe to anybody."
@Vowel Vagabond I know how it is. My coworkers are trying to get me to go to Pride tonight. Not sure if I'll hop on the bus or not.
@Utrax No. never. Never!
... I think.
But I'll try and make a post before work just to keep things rolling a bit.
Update: couldn't get one in before work. Sorry folks!
... I think.
But I'll try and make a post before work just to keep things rolling a bit.
Update: couldn't get one in before work. Sorry folks!
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