|
|
Eudaimon's Writing Journal
|
|
|
|
[03 Jun 2003|02:53pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 sad |
] |
I have just posted the last bK novella, for those interested, over at ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=88.8) eudaimon
R
|
|
|
[24 Apr 2003|11:19am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
bored |
] |
I have a new Icarusline update, but...I have no sense of urgency where that fic's concerned...hmm...to post or not to post :P
R
|
|
|
[09 Apr 2003|02:02pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 crazy |
] |
[ Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<just [...] <lj>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.] <just for <lj user="interlock"> info on the city from <lj comm="neonwilderness">
*takes a deep breath*
Right. The premise of the RP is 'a city behind the city that we see' so to speak. At first glance, we're thinking any big city, when I think of it, I think London, but it could as easily be New York...Somewhere urban, busy and bustling and ALIVE. There's a been a back-city since the foundation of the city itself, when members of the Fey crossed the waters, and took up residence (see, in this detail, I've gone very "American Gods", so I'm obviously thinking America. This is an unnamed City, somewhere on the east coast of the USA). So the City itself is modern. The characters we're playing have homes and business among the normal populace of the City; if I go with my characters as an example, Finn is a musician, and regularly mingles. Nuala's bar, "Hannon's" is open to everybody during the day, but, at night, thanks to glamour is accessible only to The Others of the City. No Faux Medieval stylee *shudders* :P Taxes, being as they are, go the human coucil of the City: if you own property in the mortal realm, it's a given that you pay taxes to the mortal realm. Whoever, as far as actual 'RULING' goes, in the back-city, it's done by council - any 'ethnic' group, i.e, Fey, Shifters, etc, have an elected representative on the Council who looks after their interests. Protection against discovery, is, for the most part, the responsibility of the individual. However, if someone is deemed renegade, and a threat to the safety of society as a whole, the Council will take measures. Intrigue is rife, and not a few members of the Council are known to be corrupt. It's easy for citizens to cross over into the outer world because, in essence, they are always there. A fairy may need to cloak himself in glamour; an individual may need to assume a shape more suitable. For this reason, most of the inhabitants of the back-city are indeed humanoid. There are other "Cities" in other places for those who cannot assume a form at least reminiscant in its parts of humanity. It is not unheard of for a human to be made <i>aware</i> of the back-city. Nuala Hannon, for example, was married to a human some time before the Great War.
As with humans, individuals own lands and property accord to sliding scale, based on their means. Nuala owns Hannon's...Finn owns a flat...Tash owns very little of anything. There are places in the City; pockets of time where it is not possible for humanity to go (a little basic time manipulation is required), which house the more 'fantastic' elements of the City; the temples to the various old gods, meeting houses, 'silvery towers'. In these time pockets, the weather is always mild, but the sky appears as a kind of pearlescant grey. As with law and customs, it depends which district you're in. Through the years, the different races have taken over different sections of the City, with distinct buffer zones in between. The Fey, for example, due to their adversion to iron dwell mostly in the Jewelry, or Gold quarter. There is no generalised <b>LAW</b> in the back-city - justice, such as it is, is meted out on the whim of the Council. How much trouble you can get into depends on who you're dealing with - the fey, for example, I imagine to be a clannish lot, who believe in blood feuds and revenge :P There are, of course, low tech and hi tech parts of the City, again, depending on where you find yourself.
I'm aiming for Urban-esque fantasy with this - no ivory towers, etc, etc. A centaur *might* be difficult (although it would be possible to build in that it's possibly to live ENTIRELY in the pockets of time - a while back-world, so to speak, which touches the real world, but does not merge, yes...that's perfectly plausible :) ). Smith/Carpenter would work fine, even in a modern day City. And the greasy spoon guy sounds perfect :D So YES, resoundingly, both roles would be perfectly possibly. Yes, if characters went about with business, it'd be perfect. Like I say, I wrote it in that Nuala has a bar, solely so that we would have a focus for the start of play. I think I'm going to give Tash something to do with his hands :)
Good enough? ;) If I missed anything, tell me, and I'll give it a go :D
R |
|
|
[09 Apr 2003|11:39am] |
I'm going to advertise this here too :) Please consider playing!
An RP that I'm endevouring to run in an LJ community. Please, go take a look, and considering posting a character sheet :) Pleeeeease? Thanks :P
R
|
|
|
[06 Apr 2003|03:04am] |
|
doesn’t it just feel like forever ago now? Haven’t you pushed it back and back, until it was right at the back of mind, and then kept pushing until you barely even thought about it anymore? Wasn’t that what everything you had with her was all about – the spells she knew how to weave, because she was a woman, and there are things that only women know? Didn’t you try to lose yourself in her, every single time?
It was never quite deep enough, was it?
I didn’t want to lift the blanket, but, somehow, there it was, the corner of it clenched tight in my fist, and I was looking down at Iris…only, it wasn’t Iris…not how I remembered her. Iris was…I have this vision that’s Iris in my head…It’s early morning – the light is that peculiar violet that you only get just after dawn and just before dark…twilight dreaming light. I came awake suddenly; there was no transition. One minute I was sleeping, and the next minute, wide awake. I turned to look at her. She was lying on her side, her hair an Indian ink spill across the white pillow, her face all relaxed and girlish. My vision is Iris is all about the soft spilling movement of her breast, as she rolled in her sleep. It’s about the little stirring sounds she made, without waking, and the heat I could feel rising off her skin without even touching her. It’s the spill of her hair across the pillow, almost alive in it’s own right.
I held the blanket tight in my fist, and I looked down, and I knew that it wasn’t her anymore. Something was missing. Something was gone, and it wasn’t her without it. Part of it was the fact that she was cold, so cold, and silent, and still. Part of it was all that blood clotted in her hair. I was going to say goodbye, but I realised that she wasn’t there to say goodbye to. This wasn’t Iris at all – just some dead woman, who looked a little like a beautiful girl I used to know…
It hit me, all of a sudden, like lighting striking. No. Not like lightning striking; nothing so poetic. It hit me like a blow to the back of the head with something heavy. I saw stars.
--
”Oh…Jesus…Oh Christ, Zeke, don’t stop, don’t stop, please…fuck, don’t…uh…”
his body above me, and I’m going mad, mad with the pain, and the pleasure, and the sheer bloody terror of it all, because he makes me forget my feet. I don’t know who I am with him, and I don’t know where I am…I forget myself, and that’s why I hate him, and why I love him, and why I need him more than breathing. I forget who I am with him…
Suddenly I’m cold…suddenly I’m shivering, despite the heat in the room; the heat that pours off our bodies, kinetic energy that’s seething under my skin. What’s going on? Then, the light gutters and dies, and he lets out a soft, low cry of surprise, and everything’s going wrong.
The last clear thought I have is that we were so damn close…
Did you ever have one of those dreams where it was pitch dark…darker than 2.21am dark, and there was something chasing you, and you couldn’t see it, and you couldn’t get away? It was like that, only, I was naked, and I wasn’t dreaming, and, Christ, I never stood a chance in hell. I can hear him shouting, and he tries to hold on to me, his nails digging into my arms, but he can’t hold on tight enough, and I can’t move quick enough, and those claws; those wicked claws, they dig deep into my shoulder. I want to scream, but I don’t have the breath, so I just lie there, gasping, hardly breathing, sure that I’m being torn apart. This is how I am going to die. I’m going to die of a nightmare. I am going to torn apart by something that I can’t even see. Things like this don’t happen in real life, do they? I can’t die like this, can I? They do, and I am.
Fuck.
There’s a sound that sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard; razorsharp fingernails, and I’m released, as soon as I was taken. There’s a flood of blood which soaks the sheets, either that or I wet myself, I’m not sure. I manage to turn my head – the pain…the pain is everywhere, like a web of light thrown over the world. I can’t tell if it’s my eyes or the world that’s going wrong.
I see Zeke…he’s silloueted against the light that’s starting in the window, and my god, he is the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen. His hair falls around his face, loose and wild, and his eyes…his eyes are burning with green flame. He’s speaking low words in a language that I don’t recognise…it sounds like Irish, but I don’t think that’s what it is, and I don’t understand a word he says, but they do, and they’re leaving…dissolving like mist. Satisfied, Zeke turns to me, reaching out to me, that green fire still flickering in his eyes, and, just as I pluck up the courage and the strength to reach out to him, and black hand snakes across the floor, and grabs Zeke’s wrist. It’s stronger than he is, and he doesn’t know the magic words for this, so we’re saying goodbye. He has to go…I don’t know where he’s going. Jesus Christ, the pain is driving me half mad. I am dying. Bleeding to death on a ruined bed, and they’re taking him away from me.
The aren’t words. There aren’t any words, but, somehow, I think, just before he dissolves like they do, into summer mist, I think we almost, just barely touch…
--
I woke up in Zeke’s arms. He had me half in his lap, my head against his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around me to stop me from falling. I coughed. It felt like I’d been screaming. My voice was hoarse.
“Was that…” I swallowed, painfully. “Was…Did you do that?” He shook his head.
“No glamour, no tricks.” He said, his voice almost a whisper. “That’s Them.” Yes, I noticed the capital ‘T’. “They want us to follow them, so they’re telling us the truth…”
“You…” I wrestled my way up out of his arms, wanting to look at him. Managing to sit cross legged, I studied him for a moment. He was…I don’t want to call him ‘beautiful’, because, if I do, you won’t understand. There was grace in the way he sat there…pure grace, in the tousled tumble of his red hair, and the tilt of his head, and the quiet, questioning expression in his dark green eyes. “You tried to save me, and I always thought you were the one who…You tried to save me…”
He nodded.
“Of course I did.” He said, quietly, before looking away…
[x]
|
|
|
[28 Mar 2003|07:14pm] |
Doubt that this will be of any interest, but we have a super new layout :P
Yeah. Right :P
R
|
|
|
[27 Mar 2003|01:46pm] |
( “hush-a-bye )
don't know if anyone is reading this anymore, but, if you are, I'm sorry for the delay - I'm back at school, and don't get to update as often as I should -_-
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
content![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif?v=88.8){kind=small}
tired