imeanforever: (i ~ collection)
[personal profile] imeanforever
He's moving her to a different court to see if it'll improve her attitude. She's allowed to fly. It's been a long, long time since she was allowed to -

She is only allowed to fly to her destination, not anywhere else. She notices that she is not where she should be, that she cannot progress to where she was told to go, and she careens out of control when her wings won't flap anymore, and she crashes.


with Miles (kappa)

with Minus (kappa)
alicornucopia: (Default)
[personal profile] alicornucopia
Several meta layers up, there is a... room.

As a courtesy to those of its occupants who prefer rooms, it does have a modality in which it presents itself that way: a room, with as many chairs as it needs, and a bulletin board, and a vending machine with candy and chips and concepts sold for nothing to anyone with the right prerequisites.

On the bulletin board, if one chooses to perceive it as a bulletin board (and not as a wiki or a flower or an ineffable cloud of information or an eternally malleable clay tablet) people whose only common trait is that they get to come here leave each other notes.

Notes about physics, about magic, about grand sweeps of narrative. Notes from people desperate to fix a never-ending heap of problems, smug about the condition of their homes, curious about the wider omniverse. Signed with names and sigils and "you ought to know who I am". Terse or verbose or nested with as much meaning as interests the reader.

In the vending machine, if one chooses to perceive it as a vending machine (and not a basket or a fruiting tree or a file repository or a crystalline fractal) are many things... and they have notes connecting them to their reviews on the bulletin board.

This one, for instance. She (it's usually, but not invariably, a she) has fairly glowing reviews from most of her previous purchasers. Here is what you need to install her; here are some things that are recommended for best results but optional especially if you just want to use her as a beacon for her other instances; here are some things she comes with as add-ons you can take or leave; here is what she is good for. The reviewers who don't like her are annoyed that theirs was too good at it, if you read between the lines. Well, that and the fact that if your universe is unpleasant enough sometimes these critters figure out how to flip you off and leave before they figure out how to solve all your problems. (There is a tangent thread about alternative solutions to similar problems which come bundled with stronger irrational attachment to their homes, but they have more stringent installation requirements.)

They come in these colors and styles; you will need to compensate for the following standard-issue drawbacks in some way if you require services of them that intersect with those areas of disability; they are only rated for upbringings of the following severity and are less likely to hate you if you stay thoroughly under that limit and less likely to fail at important goals if they are given opportunity to self-educate; if you have a way to generate them as instant adults they can begin work immediately but on the standard trajectory age six is the absolute earliest and teens is customary...

There is a chart (if one chooses to perceive it as a chart) of template interactions that have been tried before, but a lot of the more interesting accessory and companion templates are out-of-network for some visitors. What a pity.
hatchedplan: (k ~ centrist)
[personal profile] hatchedplan
It is a lovely Saturday morning. Feathered children are watching cartoons; furred adults are eating brunch; scaled teenagers - one scaled teenager in particular, actually - is arguing with the proprietor of a magic shop.

"How did these items get made if there's no way to learn magic? Are the magicians homeschooling their children and not writing any books? How did you learn?"

"Half this stuff is antiques," says the shopkeep. "Look, asking me a dozen times isn't gonna make the answer more to your liking. I don't have Hogwarts in the basement, deal with it."

"But where do you get the stuff that isn't antique - who made the Avalon itself? - isn't anybody panicking about the medallion supply? -"

"Kid, nobody knows how to make medallions."

"But some people apparently know how to make luck charms and protection amulets!"

"I'm not going to give out my suppliers' personal information. I wouldn't do it even if you weren't annoying."

"There have to be books -"

"Does this look like a library to you?"
chanuphis: (j ~ middle name)
[personal profile] chanuphis
This is not a shouting match, but it could get that way any moment now.

"I'm not impugning your quality, Mr. Ollivander, but if you don't want to sell me a wand -"

"I have sold you a wand, Miss Swan, and if you say it does not suffice for your purposes I do not see how else I could possibly interpret you."

"Only in quantity!" she says. "I just want two."

"With an attitude like that you might one day find yourself in possession of two pieces -"

"That's exactly the sort of reason I want a second! If you won't sell me one -"

"I have sold you one, good day, Miss Swan!" Ollivander turns to the next customer. "Pardon her. What can I do for you today?"


Dec. 19th, 2015 09:45 pm
purposeful_glory: (f ~ sorcery)
[personal profile] purposeful_glory
In the largest city on Asgard is the second-largest marketplace. (There is a smaller city with more of a commerce focus. Still.) In it, Asgardians are buying and selling objects. The aesthetic is premodern but the technology is high and the magic subtly prevalent; everyone is LARPing their very hardest that they are primordial forces of nature with only pointy sticks and their wits, and the electronics are gracefully hiding while the spellcraft props up the illusion.

Here is an Asgardian with a pointy stick, her wits, and more magic buzzing along in her than any other person for miles around. This is particular notable because she's a she. The more conventional amounts of magic locally had are all found in men.

She's not doing any magic right now, though, she's talking to a paper-seller.
onceandforall: (c ~ i know you)
[personal profile] onceandforall
This. This is a good bar.

She does not mind taking counterfeit currency and she sells everything.

Bella is going to exploit the fuck out of that but first she is eating really, really good pad thai and finally talking to a person who is a) interesting b) not someone she has already talked to a lot in the last... several years. Lovely friendly bar who makes a lovely delicious pad thai! Bella will have to try opening that door at that moment again in the past.
imeanforever: (h ~ puzzle)
[personal profile] imeanforever
Tree branch: check. Assorted lightweight seed-bearing fruits and nuts: check. Other seeds: check. Water bottle, for when she has to veer away from the river: check.

Better not linger in her starting place too much longer. Yellow's faster than her and may have already come home to a wreck. Thorn might have a habit of checking up on the place, even, just in case. She's invisible, inaudible, unsmellable - that won't help if he sends someone thorough. Or comes in person.

She sets out.

She's been flying for about thirty minutes after her shopping trip when she falls through a tear and squeaks inaudibly and lands in the middle of -


Nov. 15th, 2015 12:13 pm
go_meta: (j ~ darkness)
[personal profile] go_meta
This is a weird thing.

"Are you sure it's not just artificed folded space?" Kayam asks again.

"I'm sure. It's not completely unlike it, but the flavor's different. I think there's an artifact around somewhere but it's not doing your thing, it's doing - something else. I think ravelers must have worked together on this..."

"...and none of them was a folder."

"None of them was a folder. I've never seen the thing this is before. There's got to be an artifice -"

Shara takes a step closer.

She trips.


And then Shara can't hear the rest of Kayam's scream, because she's somewhere else, too quick to reravel or even start to try.

on a lark

Nov. 11th, 2015 10:00 am
alicornucopia: (Default)
[personal profile] alicornucopia
She combs and combs the world aside and there is another world, just ahead, and she steps in.

The combed-away hole closes behind her. She puts her comb in her pocket.

Thanjen (Unbitwise)

Blueberry (kappa)

Hivers (Rockeye)
if_at_first: (o ~ beluna)
[personal profile] if_at_first
The bar is unusually empty. Just one girl, sitting on a barstool, reading one of a rather large stack of napkins.
point_b: (i ~ scoping)
[personal profile] point_b
Bella finds it.

"Alli!" she twines. "C'mere."

"You c'mere. Easier for you."

"No, you need to come look at this, seriously."

"Okay, fine, where are you?"


So Alli comes out to the garage. Their parents aren't home; Charlie's working, Renée is volunteering with some of the refugee kids at a shelter, trying to find which have parents who just wound up somewhere else, which need adopting, which are going to wind up coming of age adrift in the bursting-at-the-seams system. It's just them, not attending school, recovering.

"Whoa," says Alli. "So when you said you were at the garage, you meant that you were at the freakish restaurant that someone put in our garage."

"This isn't somebody's idea of remodeling," Bella says. "It's too big to be the garage."

"Do you think it's safe?"

"I think one of you should go in first, for sure."

"We don't actually know if I work that way," say two Alli voices, but Bella pushes one of them towards the door anyway.

Nothing happens.

The Allis converge, inside the bar. Bella follows.
alicornucopia: (Default)
[personal profile] alicornucopia
Linya and Bella are working on wishes, in between light chat about runecasting and their personal lives. It is radiantly obvious to people paying attention that Bella wants to kiss her and Linya is married, although neither statement is made.

Ivans are playing cards.

Mileses, including Solvei, are debating the wisdom of borrowing another strategy game from Bar; Mark, a voice of caution, does not know what will happen if all of them (Solvei, Mial, Miles, Milo, Stalas) all start screaming at each other in twenty directions.

And -
cross_and_bow: (m ~ distress)
[personal profile] cross_and_bow
Bella wakes up in a house she's never seen before that has to violate six building codes and an air quality regulation. There's furniture - abandoned, crappy furniture - but she's on the floor in the plaster dust among shards of glass that miraculously haven't cut her. She's got her cross on her neck but no crossbow, no stakes, and she feels like she's moving through gelatin. She's not sure if she could stand - she used to be able to stand! - let alone walk, let alone kick a vampire in the chin.

Oh, fuck, what happened, the last thing she remembers is -

- her birthday magic teacher clearly not being Giles's present after all, stupid, stupid -

- she doesn't seem injured. There's a tender spot in her arm but no bruise, just - is that a needle mark. Oh, powers that be fried on a stick.

She shuffles on her knees over to the door, slowly, slowly, sneezing. She tries the knob. It doesn't work - she thinks that's a lock and not her kittenish weakness. Well, of fucking course, you don't dump incapacitated girls in houses and leave the door open, but she had to try. She tries a window. It is also locked, what the fuck kind of house locks from the outside like this, and painted shut to boot. She could punch right through the glass if -

She can't punch through the glass.

Maybe among the debris on this floor is something she can improvise into a lockpick. She's acquainted with the theory, just because she keeps having to break doors down -
warpfairy: (g ~ neutrality)
[personal profile] warpfairy
Isabella drifts into a new system. This is farther than she usually ventures, but she can make it back to a new human colony after a complete survey here, with a margin of error, and refuel there to get back into central Federation space. Still, she's a little apprehensive as she drops out of warp. If the system proves to be unusually complicated she'll have to do it in two stages.
autokinetic: (h ~ rapt)
[personal profile] autokinetic
The door opens, and into it goes a girl in her early teens. She's got her gray military pants on but just an undershirt on top, because her tactics teacher isn't a jerk about the uniform code and she got warm in the exercise room. But this is not the hallway out of her room. What the heck is this, Sue's dream bar?

...Well, if it's Sue's dream bar...

"Hey, is this Sue's dream bar?"

Yes. This is for you. A key appears.

That is indeed for her. She goes up to the corresponding room, checks it out, writes stuff in the notebook - wow, her handwriting is shit compared to the others', must be growing up with a desk - but there's nobody else here. She goes back down, gets Bar to give her a snack tray on Stella's tab, flops in an armchair by the fireplace with it.
isthisart: (c ~ lady)
[personal profile] isthisart
Linyabel finds the bar while she's on Komarr, up late in Dr. Cheung's lab, debugging software and making sure it plays nice with his scanning equipment. She meant to go into the kitchenette for a snack, and... this.

An interrogation, a Bar-recommended stimulant, and some variously expensive transactions later, Linyabel has a scanner sitting on Bar's surface, whirring away, converting borrowed paper books at many pages a second into sensible electronic formats, and she is finishing up a plate of loaded savory waffles and a slab of goose and a pomegranate pudding for her snack-plus-added-stimulant-related-appetite, and she is reading a book that has already been loaded onto her pen.
segreant: (l ~ not fun unless)
[personal profile] segreant
Imps are sort of terrible to fight; it has to be done in plainclothes most of the time, and with sigils alone, neither of which is optimal paladin combat conditions. Kaja is trudging to where she left Ragnar, murmuring prayers to the Winter Light for each of the bites she's received. But at least the imp is gone.
alicornucopia: (Default)
[personal profile] alicornucopia
Linus is dead. Stabbed in his sleep by a malcontent mortal who'd pretended friendship to invite the Archangel to stay in his home for the night after singing away a storm. The killer was himself killed by the Archangel's brother, along for the trip, but this does not the less widow the angelica. It does not the less leave the country without its Archangel.

There were eighteen years left in Linus's term, and someone has to fill them out. Alleluia shoos her acolytes and addresses her interface.

The Archangel Linus is dead. Who will be the next Archangel?

The angel Isabella, daughter of the angel Rinnah and the mortal man Charles.

Alleluia's met her... She's very young, she would have been readier if she'd succeeded Linus at the natural end of his term, but Isabella it is.

...She should wait for this news to reach the Eyrie and for Isabella to ask her, but this is an emergency interim change of leadership. Perhaps Isabella would like to have the answer ready as soon as she touches down at Sinai.

And who will be her angelico?

Darius, son of Noah and Abigail.

That's... Well, that's not her acolyte's father's name, but -

- but isn't he adopted -

Alleluia clears the interface. She goes into the acolytes' dormitory and knocks at Darius's door.
alicornucopia: (Default)
[personal profile] alicornucopia
And now this door is not itself any longer, not quite.


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