Hopefully it'll work this time.
May. 8th, 2003 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sparkindarknessThis must be the tenth time I've posted this, I'm having horrible trouble with Ghost's dialogue....
And it isn't working, so I'm switching him to itallic to see if that works...
And again, for now the text of Ghost that WAS working isn't anymore. I hate computers. Ghost is getting transferred to italics until I can make it work again.
I thought I knew pain. I thought I knew suffer. I was so sure I had been to the deepest recesses of Hell, crawled through the bitter ashes of dispair and the glowing embers of endless burning agony. I thought I had been plunged into the lowest recesses of the human state, reduced to a formless mass of pain, fear and grief.
How wrong I was... This, this is true torment. This is the Hell of which the preaches prate. This is the torment beyond imagining, beyond any possibility of knowing. Torment so deep that every fibre of being wants nought more than to throw back your head and scream. Scream until your throat is raw and torn.
What was this place of such evil gathered in one place?
"Yo, Darren? You actually moving today? I'd like to leave the mall sometime today."
The mall... I think Rick arranged this entirely to torture me... oh, he will pay for this. Yet another person bumps into me - must be the 6th person this minute. He's a big guy and I nearly fall over. A bully, why go around the little guy when you can go through? Go over? He's less than you, after all, beneath you. Who cares what other people think, right?
I feel the hand in my pocket. A thief...
A scream wracks the tumultuous atmosphere of the mall. A tall muscular man falls on the floor screeching, holding something in front of him. A chorus of screams eachoes around him as they see what he holds. Some bones, with scraps of grey flesh clinging in ragged strands to the dessicated ligaments. Once it was a hand, you can still see the threads of ossified flesh attatching it to the stump of the big man's wrist.
I move on, pulling darkness into my form - the human mind rebells at some horrors, they look away, forget. They don't want to admit that there might be evil out there. They certainly don't want to admit there might be evil within arms length. Gods forbid they might have to open their blind eyes and see the world as it really is for a change rather than their endless comforting lies. The endless selfish deception that lets them spread death and chaos around the world while pretending it isn't happening. Look away, hide your eyes, it'll go away. Hah! The darkness doesn't leave when you hide, evil doesn't vanish when you close your eyes, but your conscious does, weak pathetic creature. Your conscious stays silent, doesn't it? And so long as you feel good that's all that matters.
Rick's looking at me with too wide eyes... I don't think he's breathing, his tan floats on too pale skin. He's not a run of the mill human, he's a shaman, and a powerful one too. He can see the darkness around, he can see evil and face it. I smooth the snarl from my face and try to calm down. He has seen me do far worse than this, I do not understand, why such a severe reaction?
"He tried to pick my pocket." It was a self-inflicted injury - he tried to pick the pocket of a sorcerer - frankly he's lucky. I should have destroyed the cretin and spared the world his wretched presence.
Rick just nods, blinking too fast. I almost see it. See the fear and hate in his eyes at what I am, what a monster he has taken to his bed. But it is gone too soon... too quickly. He frowns at me, and pulls me into a half hug.
"A little... excessive don't you think? Rotting off a guys arm for stealing your wallet?"
I shrug, excessive? There was no question of guilt, he's lucky to be alive. He should be thankful, surely? Considering what I could have done to him. Considering what he deserved.
Someone else bumps into me, I turn and see a small blonde woman, my darksight shows the selfish, cruel state of her tainted soul. She turns and runs like all the forces of hell are chasing her. Accurate, I suppose, but she didn't look that sensitive though.
"Darren... um. Your eyes are glowing black." Oh. That explains her fear. Though how these pathetic excuses for humanity can fear darkness when they wear it so proudly on their souls, sank into their hearts, I don't know.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I think I need to create another set of wards, these are clearly not enough anymore.
Someone else brushes too close, and I can't help but snarl. Someone else so desperate to buy, some vacusous nothing that they're willing to trample anyone in the way. Someone else who thinks two seconds of their time is worth more than another human being's comfort and well being.
"If another consumer-crazed fool runs over me, once more, I'm going to re-populate this mall with zombies." even to my ears my voice sounds dangerous - low and hissing. I hate crowds. The air feels stale. You can't move without hitting someone, touching somone. So many people, so close, so many useless sacks of skin, so much wasted air. A palpable aura of darkness swirls above them like a miasma, a reflection of the plague they are.
Then I realise we're walking in an oasis of space. No-one else seems to notice - I nearly missed it, but no-one comes within a good foot of us. I concentrate my vision and see the spirits, spirits of deception, spirits of illusion, spirits of air, change and chance. All dancing and intricate weave around us. I'm impressed. I hadn't noticed him do a thing. Most shamans would need to dance, or sing, or do something overt to summon a spirit, never this subtly, never in a place so spiritually drained. And to make so many different spirits come together, co-operate and weave so intricate a dance. I think I've been staring at him for the past few paces, he's got this little smile on his face. I underestimated him... I don't think I've ever met a shaman whose powers were so intricate, and whose links to the spirit world were so intimate.
"I'm impressed."
He shrugs, false modesty becomes him. And he seems to have dropped me rotting off someone's arm. Modest and wise, what more could I ask for? This trip to the mall might not be all that bad.
I was wrong. Very very wrong. I forgot the point of the trip - for him to make me wear hideous rags he calls clothes.
I look at the shirt. I look at the... well I assume their trousers. Shorts?
"What are these?"
"Shit, Darren, where're you from, middle of nowhere? It's a Hawaiian shirt and some Bermuda shorts."
"They're very... colourful."
"Yep. Go try them on. I wanna see how they look on you."
I'm sure this is his revenge for me destroying that fool thief's hand. I storm off to the changing rooms and change into the revolting things. I can't believe I'm doing this. Even wearing them feels like ants across my skin! I storm out the changing rooms. Even wearing them feels like ants across my skin! At least I'm not the only one miserable, there's a kid across from me who looks absolutely furious in an absolutely ridiculous beach outfit.
Then I take a step closer, and see it's a mirror. Ye gods! I look like a 13 year old at most! The bright swirling colours bleach my pale skin and look very wrong with my black hair. The baggy folds bury me, making me look tiny. A child... I look like a child again. Oh gods... I look vulnerable, like before. I grit my teeth and try to shake away the memories. Latching onto my anger as an anchor and turn to face Rick.
Rick's looking very serious. He so much as begins to smile and he's leaving here in a body bag. No, they won't need a body bag, they could use several of them little plastic bags they wrap fruit in.
Then the shop assisstant arrives. She knows Rick. "Awww, I never knew you had a younger cousin! He's such an adorable kid!"
Rick collapses onto the floor, laughing so hard you can hear him weazing for breath. Younger cousin... a child... I feel my lips skin back from my teeth in a snarl.
I remember my magick rising, my wards flaring to life with incredible intensity. The darkness roars like the sea...
Then staggering onto the floor, sobbing in pain. The wards feel like they've melted into my chest. There's molten metal dripping out of my gloves, falling to the floor and burning the carpet. Sprinklers pour water over the entire shop, I see where fire has eaten at the floor around me, a charred mark outlines my prone form. Oh gods it hurts. I'm crying so hard I can feel my muscles cramp and spasm. Oh gods, what did I do?!"
Rick leans over me, his eyes misted with tears.
"Hey gorgeous." His voice is so gentle, so kind. He traces one hand through my sodden hair and tries to smile. I look at him with streaming eyes. "Does it hurt?"
He strokes my face. My skin tingles, rich and warm. The pain recedes, incredibly quickly, not gone, but bearable. A spirit of life rolls through me like a stream, spirits of health, serpentine and graceful flow around me. A spirit of serenity passes through my eyes, and an artificial calm quiets my tears. How did he manage to make them touch me? Such noble, beautiful, powerful spirits should never come near one so tainted as I.
A voice whispers in my ear, so soft I barely here it.
Because he loves you, fool that he is. His love gives him strength, his love honours us, his love calls us to him, to honour what he has and the truth he sees. 'Bout time he did something right even if he did choose unstable goth boy to do it with. Or to rather... Don't screw it up, sorcerer.
Did I hear something?... Oh gods, what about the people? "Rick... what did I do? The people?" Talking hurt... I think I clenched my jaw when the wards flared - my whole face feels cramped.
"Don't worry, I said. No-one was hurt - I made sure of it. Even sent the daemon back home again, so you don't have to worry about that either. Can you move?"
I struggled to my feet, surveying the destruction. "I summoned a daemon?! Even I need a circle and ritual for that Rick... don't I?" Oh, gods, please tell me I do. Surely I haven't given into my darkness nearly enough for my powers to have grown so. Gods, please.
"Well, an Imp, anyway. I took care of it. It's OK. No-one's hurt, scrathes, a couple of bruises. I helped them. Everyone's gonna be fine. Ok?"
It wasn't Not even close. But I nod. He looks at me like he knows I'm lying.
"Now lets get out of here, the spirits on the security cameras will keep a low profile but I don't want to screw with someone's mind so we don't get hauled in for trashing half the mall."
I can't seem to stand up - the spirits used far more of my energy to heal and protect me than they normally would. Can't say I blame them. Rick catches on quickly and hoists me into his arms. Gods, are the spirits helping him? How can he lift me so easily?
Aha, behold, him using ancient chinese technique of physical labour, you lazy sod. Also check a mirror, him normal sized person. You, gnome.
What? I think I hit my head... I'm hearing things... in my head. Did the daemon possess me?
Yeah, I'm an imp. Boo, snarl, angry evil and shit. Gimme a break, you always this quick or you on medication? Like a poggy imp could possess the Lord Angsty the sorcerer. Here, you seem to be in pain, I'll help you through all of this evil, hard thinking you're clearly not used to it. One or two syllables tops, you might get it. Maybe. Rick shaman. He talk-um spirits. You in his arms. You gotta clue yet?
Through my blurred vision I see Rick's face twist to shock. My eyes must be glowing black again. Time for some spring cleaning... power roars through me and my mind, burning through my thoughts, washing my brain with pure entropy. I nearly pass out - the pain and effort too much for me. I grit my teeth and cling grimly to consciousness. My voice is slow and cracked, speaking dredges the last of my reserves.
"I do not share my mind with anything. Pass the word along Rick, or they'll get hurt. Badly."
Darkness claims me - not the darkness of my soul, the sweet darkness of oblivion. Leaving me with one vague thought - what did Rick do with the imp? It could be useful.
I am too tired to be scared at the alien thought. Too tired... and perhaps too lost.
And it isn't working, so I'm switching him to itallic to see if that works...
And again, for now the text of Ghost that WAS working isn't anymore. I hate computers. Ghost is getting transferred to italics until I can make it work again.
I thought I knew pain. I thought I knew suffer. I was so sure I had been to the deepest recesses of Hell, crawled through the bitter ashes of dispair and the glowing embers of endless burning agony. I thought I had been plunged into the lowest recesses of the human state, reduced to a formless mass of pain, fear and grief.
How wrong I was... This, this is true torment. This is the Hell of which the preaches prate. This is the torment beyond imagining, beyond any possibility of knowing. Torment so deep that every fibre of being wants nought more than to throw back your head and scream. Scream until your throat is raw and torn.
What was this place of such evil gathered in one place?
"Yo, Darren? You actually moving today? I'd like to leave the mall sometime today."
The mall... I think Rick arranged this entirely to torture me... oh, he will pay for this. Yet another person bumps into me - must be the 6th person this minute. He's a big guy and I nearly fall over. A bully, why go around the little guy when you can go through? Go over? He's less than you, after all, beneath you. Who cares what other people think, right?
I feel the hand in my pocket. A thief...
A scream wracks the tumultuous atmosphere of the mall. A tall muscular man falls on the floor screeching, holding something in front of him. A chorus of screams eachoes around him as they see what he holds. Some bones, with scraps of grey flesh clinging in ragged strands to the dessicated ligaments. Once it was a hand, you can still see the threads of ossified flesh attatching it to the stump of the big man's wrist.
I move on, pulling darkness into my form - the human mind rebells at some horrors, they look away, forget. They don't want to admit that there might be evil out there. They certainly don't want to admit there might be evil within arms length. Gods forbid they might have to open their blind eyes and see the world as it really is for a change rather than their endless comforting lies. The endless selfish deception that lets them spread death and chaos around the world while pretending it isn't happening. Look away, hide your eyes, it'll go away. Hah! The darkness doesn't leave when you hide, evil doesn't vanish when you close your eyes, but your conscious does, weak pathetic creature. Your conscious stays silent, doesn't it? And so long as you feel good that's all that matters.
Rick's looking at me with too wide eyes... I don't think he's breathing, his tan floats on too pale skin. He's not a run of the mill human, he's a shaman, and a powerful one too. He can see the darkness around, he can see evil and face it. I smooth the snarl from my face and try to calm down. He has seen me do far worse than this, I do not understand, why such a severe reaction?
"He tried to pick my pocket." It was a self-inflicted injury - he tried to pick the pocket of a sorcerer - frankly he's lucky. I should have destroyed the cretin and spared the world his wretched presence.
Rick just nods, blinking too fast. I almost see it. See the fear and hate in his eyes at what I am, what a monster he has taken to his bed. But it is gone too soon... too quickly. He frowns at me, and pulls me into a half hug.
"A little... excessive don't you think? Rotting off a guys arm for stealing your wallet?"
I shrug, excessive? There was no question of guilt, he's lucky to be alive. He should be thankful, surely? Considering what I could have done to him. Considering what he deserved.
Someone else bumps into me, I turn and see a small blonde woman, my darksight shows the selfish, cruel state of her tainted soul. She turns and runs like all the forces of hell are chasing her. Accurate, I suppose, but she didn't look that sensitive though.
"Darren... um. Your eyes are glowing black." Oh. That explains her fear. Though how these pathetic excuses for humanity can fear darkness when they wear it so proudly on their souls, sank into their hearts, I don't know.
I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I think I need to create another set of wards, these are clearly not enough anymore.
Someone else brushes too close, and I can't help but snarl. Someone else so desperate to buy, some vacusous nothing that they're willing to trample anyone in the way. Someone else who thinks two seconds of their time is worth more than another human being's comfort and well being.
"If another consumer-crazed fool runs over me, once more, I'm going to re-populate this mall with zombies." even to my ears my voice sounds dangerous - low and hissing. I hate crowds. The air feels stale. You can't move without hitting someone, touching somone. So many people, so close, so many useless sacks of skin, so much wasted air. A palpable aura of darkness swirls above them like a miasma, a reflection of the plague they are.
Then I realise we're walking in an oasis of space. No-one else seems to notice - I nearly missed it, but no-one comes within a good foot of us. I concentrate my vision and see the spirits, spirits of deception, spirits of illusion, spirits of air, change and chance. All dancing and intricate weave around us. I'm impressed. I hadn't noticed him do a thing. Most shamans would need to dance, or sing, or do something overt to summon a spirit, never this subtly, never in a place so spiritually drained. And to make so many different spirits come together, co-operate and weave so intricate a dance. I think I've been staring at him for the past few paces, he's got this little smile on his face. I underestimated him... I don't think I've ever met a shaman whose powers were so intricate, and whose links to the spirit world were so intimate.
"I'm impressed."
He shrugs, false modesty becomes him. And he seems to have dropped me rotting off someone's arm. Modest and wise, what more could I ask for? This trip to the mall might not be all that bad.
I was wrong. Very very wrong. I forgot the point of the trip - for him to make me wear hideous rags he calls clothes.
I look at the shirt. I look at the... well I assume their trousers. Shorts?
"What are these?"
"Shit, Darren, where're you from, middle of nowhere? It's a Hawaiian shirt and some Bermuda shorts."
"They're very... colourful."
"Yep. Go try them on. I wanna see how they look on you."
I'm sure this is his revenge for me destroying that fool thief's hand. I storm off to the changing rooms and change into the revolting things. I can't believe I'm doing this. Even wearing them feels like ants across my skin! I storm out the changing rooms. Even wearing them feels like ants across my skin! At least I'm not the only one miserable, there's a kid across from me who looks absolutely furious in an absolutely ridiculous beach outfit.
Then I take a step closer, and see it's a mirror. Ye gods! I look like a 13 year old at most! The bright swirling colours bleach my pale skin and look very wrong with my black hair. The baggy folds bury me, making me look tiny. A child... I look like a child again. Oh gods... I look vulnerable, like before. I grit my teeth and try to shake away the memories. Latching onto my anger as an anchor and turn to face Rick.
Rick's looking very serious. He so much as begins to smile and he's leaving here in a body bag. No, they won't need a body bag, they could use several of them little plastic bags they wrap fruit in.
Then the shop assisstant arrives. She knows Rick. "Awww, I never knew you had a younger cousin! He's such an adorable kid!"
Rick collapses onto the floor, laughing so hard you can hear him weazing for breath. Younger cousin... a child... I feel my lips skin back from my teeth in a snarl.
I remember my magick rising, my wards flaring to life with incredible intensity. The darkness roars like the sea...
Then staggering onto the floor, sobbing in pain. The wards feel like they've melted into my chest. There's molten metal dripping out of my gloves, falling to the floor and burning the carpet. Sprinklers pour water over the entire shop, I see where fire has eaten at the floor around me, a charred mark outlines my prone form. Oh gods it hurts. I'm crying so hard I can feel my muscles cramp and spasm. Oh gods, what did I do?!"
Rick leans over me, his eyes misted with tears.
"Hey gorgeous." His voice is so gentle, so kind. He traces one hand through my sodden hair and tries to smile. I look at him with streaming eyes. "Does it hurt?"
He strokes my face. My skin tingles, rich and warm. The pain recedes, incredibly quickly, not gone, but bearable. A spirit of life rolls through me like a stream, spirits of health, serpentine and graceful flow around me. A spirit of serenity passes through my eyes, and an artificial calm quiets my tears. How did he manage to make them touch me? Such noble, beautiful, powerful spirits should never come near one so tainted as I.
A voice whispers in my ear, so soft I barely here it.
Because he loves you, fool that he is. His love gives him strength, his love honours us, his love calls us to him, to honour what he has and the truth he sees. 'Bout time he did something right even if he did choose unstable goth boy to do it with. Or to rather... Don't screw it up, sorcerer.
Did I hear something?... Oh gods, what about the people? "Rick... what did I do? The people?" Talking hurt... I think I clenched my jaw when the wards flared - my whole face feels cramped.
"Don't worry, I said. No-one was hurt - I made sure of it. Even sent the daemon back home again, so you don't have to worry about that either. Can you move?"
I struggled to my feet, surveying the destruction. "I summoned a daemon?! Even I need a circle and ritual for that Rick... don't I?" Oh, gods, please tell me I do. Surely I haven't given into my darkness nearly enough for my powers to have grown so. Gods, please.
"Well, an Imp, anyway. I took care of it. It's OK. No-one's hurt, scrathes, a couple of bruises. I helped them. Everyone's gonna be fine. Ok?"
It wasn't Not even close. But I nod. He looks at me like he knows I'm lying.
"Now lets get out of here, the spirits on the security cameras will keep a low profile but I don't want to screw with someone's mind so we don't get hauled in for trashing half the mall."
I can't seem to stand up - the spirits used far more of my energy to heal and protect me than they normally would. Can't say I blame them. Rick catches on quickly and hoists me into his arms. Gods, are the spirits helping him? How can he lift me so easily?
Aha, behold, him using ancient chinese technique of physical labour, you lazy sod. Also check a mirror, him normal sized person. You, gnome.
What? I think I hit my head... I'm hearing things... in my head. Did the daemon possess me?
Yeah, I'm an imp. Boo, snarl, angry evil and shit. Gimme a break, you always this quick or you on medication? Like a poggy imp could possess the Lord Angsty the sorcerer. Here, you seem to be in pain, I'll help you through all of this evil, hard thinking you're clearly not used to it. One or two syllables tops, you might get it. Maybe. Rick shaman. He talk-um spirits. You in his arms. You gotta clue yet?
Through my blurred vision I see Rick's face twist to shock. My eyes must be glowing black again. Time for some spring cleaning... power roars through me and my mind, burning through my thoughts, washing my brain with pure entropy. I nearly pass out - the pain and effort too much for me. I grit my teeth and cling grimly to consciousness. My voice is slow and cracked, speaking dredges the last of my reserves.
"I do not share my mind with anything. Pass the word along Rick, or they'll get hurt. Badly."
Darkness claims me - not the darkness of my soul, the sweet darkness of oblivion. Leaving me with one vague thought - what did Rick do with the imp? It could be useful.
I am too tired to be scared at the alien thought. Too tired... and perhaps too lost.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-05-08 04:02 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2003-05-09 10:14 am (UTC)I like Ghost, and am going to let him speak more often, he lighten's Darren's problems well.
I wondered what clothes Darren would hate above all, and I just got this picture in my head... and Rick INSISTED.
My poor Darren's always having trouble... he's always sad really.