Noctis
Zapdos
Damycles
Izurich
Teyao
Dark Cloud
Lucid Dreaming
xenon
Charybdis<Snipped quote by AvaP>
seems like a pretty plain hobby to me
I don't think another pun war is going to take off, Saiyan.
Booooo! Not this again. It's like a bi-annual event for you boys >:(
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Booooo! Not this again. It's like a bi-annual event for you boys >:(
@AvaPOh my gosh. Wow. What's that like? How long have you been doing this kind of thing? That's amazing xD
@AvaPWait, is that from a cockpit, or am I being silly?
"You won?" a child asked.
"Not yet," MacKensie answered. What was intended to be a story to stop one child from his constant crying, had become a tale captivating an audience of at least a dozen, children and even some adults. "Aurok was not done with us yet. With his dying breaths, he began charging his most powerful attack. A magical explosion - intending to destroy us and half of the canyon along with him." There was a pantomime-like gasp from the ring around MacKensie. "We had no way to stop him. All we could do was look on as the magical ball of destruction got bigger and bigger - the screeching noise getting louder and louder." The emotion in her voice translated the fear and intensity of that day, the frenchwoman's eyes almost sightless as she relived the memory. The audience felt it. "But then... Arthur - a valiant knight of our party - appeared above us, at the summit of the canyon. He dove from the top, swinging his incredible anchor above his head like a lasso. And with one powerful lash, his giant anchor flew towards Aurok, striking the monster's heart, killing the beast and saving us all."
"Wow," was the breathless sentiment.
"Arthur lost his life in that heroic attack - hit by the dangerously sharp tail of Aurok - but his noble sacrifice averted calamity for the rest of us. And rid Mytheria of that dangerous monster once and for all. He will never be forgotten."
"What happened to the water ninja?" one older girl asked.
MacKensie smiled, more out of picturing Arthur's face than anything else, but with a mischevious tone, she said, "That was not the end of our epic struggle with him. And I promise to tell you what happened tomorrow..." Big groans and moans ensued. "...if you are all good, and stay strong for your parents, and do as they say - we will continue our tale. Okay?"
It was an agreement 'signed under great duress,' one might say. MacKensie smiled at them. Then she set her sights back on the original crying child, a boy no more than seven years old, with big brown eyes and a smile making space for future adult-teeth. She detached her blue cape from her shoulders and wrapped the boy in it, much to his delight. He was so small that it went around him a full time and then over his shoulder, swallowing him up. MacKensie covered a giggle with her fingers. He was so cute.
A short exchange afterwards saw storytime come to a close. MacKensie got a quiet 'thank you' from the mother of the boy who was no longer crying but proudly sporting his new adventurer cloak. She continued to see to the needs of the citizens, but was stopped at the bedding supplies by a woman.
"You had them in the palm of your hand?" the woman said, making herself known. MacKensie gave her a warm smile. It was clear from the woman's garb and necklace that she was not of the working and middle classes who were staying in this hall. "Agatha Pendlebury."
Pendlebury? MacKensie echoed in her mind. That name was familiar but she could not place it. "MacKensie Trydant. How do you do?"
"How do you do?" Agatha returned. "Come. You've more than earned some tea and dinner."
There was barely a space unoccupied on the floor of the massive hall. Long columns of tightly arranged mattresses, with citizens in a slightly less organised fashion, gathered in groups according to familial ties and, loosely, house address. It was like a refugee camp. This was just one of many buildings atop Citadel Hill that had been co-opted for the relocation of the displaced citizenry. MacKensie walked among them, feeling a little out of her element but looking for a way to help.
"Adventurer?" came a voice, slicing through the hum of chatter. MacKensie looked to see a woman, smiled and squeezed through the columns to get over to her.
"Yes? How can I help you?"
"I was given one dinner too few for my children," the woman told her, presenting the empty bowls as proof.
MacKensie did not bother to count them, she simply nodded and said, "I'll see about getting you another."
She didn't get more than a few steps before other people had noticed that she was taking requests.
"Excuse me?"
"Adventurer?"
MacKensie's work for the evening had just begun.
I'm assuming the pictures of the brain represent the difficulty level and not the actual player. If so, I agree wholeheartedly. From; starting as the weakest character, picking Cleric class and being the only one keeping strict track of their character's spell count, to now having such a tricky writing task of merging two minds into James, @Teyao has always challenged himself admirably.
Sorry to hear about your bad news, Teyao. If you ever need to talk, I'm a PM away.
Sorry to hear about your bad news, Teyao. If you ever need to talk, I'm a PM away.
Sorry about the rambling dramatics. I should be able to get back to the plot and other things now lol xD
Well... so much for putting all of the blame on him. That lie was no longer an option.
She couldn't leave her room. She'd tried on two occassions but always ended up back on the bed, hidden under the quilt, face buried in the pillow. She'd cried a little, here and there - so ashamed of her actions that she was unable to face the world - but her tears were not of shame or guilt, but that of enormous loneliness. While at University in Paris, when the rare bout of homesickness hit her, she was always, at most, a few weeks away from getting a quick flight home to Lyon where she could spend some time with her family and old friends. And so, while being in a whole new city, her first time living away from her parents, her ability to go back was probably the reason that she never felt truly lonely. But now...
It was astonishing just how far from home she was. She was stranded an entire cosmos away. Not to mention; she was dead. And in spite of being just about as far away as one could possibly be from home, she was still drifting further away. With every day and every action, she was less 'MacKensie Trydant' and more 'MacKensie the Ranger.'
'MacKensie the Killer.' A horrible thought. 'MacKensie the Harlot.'
That day in the Temple of Hades when she'd crept up and slit the throat of the unsuspecting cultist, she'd lost a piece of herself that she could never get back. It was one thing to kill monsters and beasts in self-defence, but what she'd done in the temple was unequivocally murder. In that moment, she'd strangely thought of her mother and wondered what she would think of 'Ranger MacKensie.' Over the days she'd come to understand why it was that random thought that had entered her mind as the fight in the library began. She was losing them. Losing her parents. First in the physical. Now in the spiritual. And it all amounted to an incredible loneliness that she found impossible to resolve.
Zell. Beyond the multitude of reasons she was attracted to him - feelings amplified by a flirtatious rivalry, sparks and chemistry, and an unbelievable combat synergy in the face of danger - she knew that he was not serious about her. Zell was a suave, smooth-talking heartbreaker. Well-practiced in telling a girl everything she wanted to hear. And sure, she was a complete novice in love - gullible and happy to feel special, even if it was fake - but she could have stopped herself from making that mistake, that evening at The Nightingale. The truth was that; she was just lonely and seeking not to be. And it had worked. In addition to all of the pleasures that came with... the mistake (now, she finally knew what all the fuss was about and boy, did it live up to expectation!) ... in addition to those pleasures; for that span of time, the physical and emotional closeness to Zell had truly banished the loneliness. But when sobriety and clarity returned... guilt, shame and regret followed.
Her honour cut down in the Temple of Hades, and killed off in hotel room of The Nightingale. And now she was more lonely than ever. And while she could pretend that it was all Zell's fault - that he'd swept her off her feet with his lies and charm. Preyed on her vulnerability, knowing that she was just another conquest of many - how could she blame him for this afternoon? That was all her. Wanting that pleasure again. That closeness. Wanting to forget the pressure that she would soon be fighting not just for her own life, but the lives of thousands of people - children, elderly and all. And wanting that loneliness gone for a while.
She was no longer innocent, pure, irreproachable MacKensie Trydant, adored and admired by all. She was something different now. And she would have to accept this.
***
Late Afternoon - The Rooftop of a Northwestern Watchtower
***
After skipping swiftly and vertically up the side of the tower with the help of her magical grapplehook, MacKensie was sat on the edge of the roof, one leg crossed over the other, absently watching her foot make little figure-of-eights.
When she was finally able to freshen up and leave The Mended Drum, she still was not ready to see anyone she knew and most certainly did not want to bump into Zell, or worse, Adam. So she made the most of her agility and acrobatics and found this secluded spot to get some fresh air. There was an argument, within her, that would vouch for a sense of honour that was still very-much alive. It was hard to take on-board, but she did not entirely dismiss it, even if her guilt and shame still outweighed everything else. She had killed, yes, but in her doing so, she had helped free a local region from the tyranny and wanton destruction of a demonic Greater Wraith and it's growing cult. And yes, she had slept with another man, with no hope of a serious relationship in sight, let alone marriage, but was it really the end of the world? She was dead - and now in a world where her Christian God did not exist, nor her family, nor anything she ever knew. It was not an inhumane mistake. Quite the opposite.
This was the argument that she would hope, one day, to convince herself of. But for now, guilt or not - shame or not - she had no choice but to move forward. For a hope that Fenna might be able to get home. For the lives of Valhiem's citizens. For the fate of Mytheria.
Qui n'avance pas, recule.
MacKensie's lips pursed hard, her eyes hardening with determination.
Qui n'avance pas, recule.
<Snipped quote by Dark Cloud>
Indeed! Even if, per my most recent post, I can't write it worth a damn lol.
Can't write it worth a damn? Don't be silly, your post was really good. It was a nice idea, well written and very in character for Adam xD
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