God save us all! More old stuff.
Feb. 22nd, 2004 01:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runicloreJust ignore this. My urge to post old, crappy work is masochistic and detrimental to your health.
This was going to be part of a story post, once upon a time. I swear I'll finish it eventually. (Was: Lorenta post #3.)
--------- BY ORDER OF THE CROWN ---------
All registered sorcerers under the panel at
the Academy of Sorcery are required to place
themselves under contract to the Tenth Marine
Division before the Solstice.
Failure to meet this deadline will result in
the temporary termination of employment and
property, and immediate drafting as stated
in Decree 277, Article 2, under the Provision
for the Study of Sorcery.
The order was accompanied by a list of mages currently registered, and a much shorter list of those exempt from the King's decree. That it included Lorenta's own name did little to comfort her. They were asking too much! Every able-bodied researcher, teacher, and even the few students old enough to register, but too young to graduate. /Students/. There was supposed to be an article somewhere protecting students and researchers from attempts like this to throw them away in times of war.
Never mind that the crown seemed to be confusing the concepts of /school/ and /military training/. The Academy was a place of research, not a training ground for combat. Fewer than half of the mages registered under the panel had any skill in the practical application of combat spells, and of those few, only a handfull could be considered competant in the area.
Lorenta let the scroll roll back up with a snap, strongly tempted to simply toss it into the fire. It was an insult. It was evidence of how much the King's view of the Academy's work had changed, or maybe just a clear sign of his weakening will. Crell Monferaigne had not yet laid a finger on Flenceburg territory, and he was already calling for the army! If he intended to strike first, they would all be in trouble. Magic had always given their small nation an edge in war, but it would not account for their enemy's great numbers.
But the king was old, and by the look of the decree, going senile. It was a shame his son wouldn't be any better. Replacing senility with inexperience would only spell another kind of doom.
"Things were much easier when you were a student." Isadore smiled faintly, hugging her shawl about her shoulders. "The King was more open to persuasion back then. And Kelande was particularly convincing. An auspicious pair, those two."
Lorenta dropped the scroll on her desk distastefully, turning to stare out the window. "If they're so much alike, it will only give us more to worry about." Kelande was the last person she wanted to think about. His method disgusted her, but sometimes it was tempting, and she didn't want to follow that road. "It's blatant exploitation. He is looking for an easy way out, and found us. As if we can carry a war for him."
"In the old days, perhaps it might have been possible. But too much has been lost. The King was raised on stories of our prowess... not our research."
The trees outside had lost their luster with their leaves, and stretched barren into the sky. In the spring they would comfort her with their whispering in the wind, but now they gave only an ominous creaking. It reminded her of the creaking decks of ships, which only brought her back to the subject at hand. There were so many important names on that list. Teachers from every department, researchers - even Mystina had been called upon, and her reaction to /that/ promised to be interesting. Only the heads of deparments and the panel had been exempt. Seven students were on the roll, and with them, under an extended deadline, the Academy scouts on the main continent.
"Her name is there, then?" came Isadore's soft voice again.
"Yes," Lorenta replied simply. She nudged the scroll over toward her guest, but there was no need. If the teachers sometimes lacked practical skill in attack magic, it was a well-known fact that the school's scouts were expert in that area. They had to be, to survive the trials of constant travel in such dangerous times.
Claira was the strongest of their number.
The older woman sighed and leaned back in her chair. "They're not so eager to call her an exile now, are they? If that boy's name isn't on the list, they have no business including hers."
Lezard. There was a student she hadn't thought of in quite some time. "No, I suppose not... but she is the lesser evil, so to speak."
"Don't worry yourself over her, dear." Isadore started to rise, pushing out of her chair with a bit less agility than she used to. She was getting old. It was easy to forget that those white streaks in her hair were natural, and no longer the latest fad. "I'm sure Claira is good enough to get herself out of this mess - and maybe the rest of us too. Just keep in mind that the war hasn't started yet. We may not have to live up to the King's expectations at all."
Lorenta rose with her, and watched her leave the office with a fading smile. Those assurances were little comfort, but they were all she could cling to. The thought of bidding farewell to her friend so soon... seven years of forced distance, and they would lose this chance to meet again because of an accursed decree. Claira would have to obey the law and place herself at the mercy of the military, or leave again and return to her exile. That wasn't much of a choice.
She sat down again and propped her chin on her hands, staring down at the hateful piece of paper that had stolen her friend. If not one thing, it's another. Maybe she should throw it into the fire after all.
---------------------------------------
My first stab at a beginning for that Zelgadis fic. If I ever write it, I'll come up with a new opening. (Was: Riddles in the Sand, chapter 1.)
"I have nothing to say to you."
The Trickster Priest smiled, sunny as the summer day shining over Saillune, and clucked his tongue like an exasperated mother. "Nothing for an old friend? Not even a 'hello'?"
"Maybe a 'good-bye'," Zelgadis said flatly, taking another sip of his coffee. He fully intended to make good on the threat, but he'd be damned if he let Xellos drive him away before he was finished with his meal. Travel was hard when he was on his own, and though his appetite wasn't as vast as Lina's, three days of walking and rations was enough to leave him with a hole where his stomach should be.
Perhaps the mazoku realized this, or maybe he'd been watching - either way, he made no move to leave, and Zelgadis had to settle for glaring over a forkfull of roast beef as his unwanted companion settled in across from him.
"Now now, is that any way to treat someone who's come to do you a favor?" Xellos raised a white-gloved hand to call a waitress over, and tilted his head toward Zelgadis. "You haven't changed at all, I see."
Zelgadis narrowed his eyes at the implication behind the statement, and stuffed another slice of meat into his mouth. He must be one hell of a meal for the mazoku; that was the only explanation he could come up with to justify their continued meetings. Amelia wouldn't be of any use, Gourry was too dim, and Lina had her Ragna Blade to assure Xellos kept his distance. Who did /that/ leave? He scowled. Maybe imitating Amelia's justice-loving ways wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.
---------------------------------------------
An old fic idea that didn't have enough substance to merit completion. It's just character development for Krelian, if you can call it that. Xenogears, early episode five.
The child was quiet, sleeping as though dead to the world. His face was turned away from the window but his chubbly little hands were twisted together over his head in a vain attempt to protect himself against the nightmares of the room. Pale, corpse-like. Life would animate those limbs again, but only to scream and writhe and curse in words that belonged to his other lives, other times.
He was a fascinating object to Krelian, and perhaps the only child he ever had the nerve to wish dead. Ironically, this was the one child he could not kill.
He had always wondered what he would do when this time came. Lacan's rebirth had been an object of both eager anticipation and dread, something that would further his goals, yes, but also remind him of the miserable past. The boy was only a child, still, just an echo of a past Krelian tried to deny without losing sight of the woman his life was dedicated to. But one could not have /her/ without /him/. It wasn't his fault. Krelian told himself this as he administered the tests, harsher than strictly necessary, more painful than they really needed to be with Solaris's finest technology at his fingertips. It was a display of emotion that repulsed him. His fine control was ashes where this boy was concerned.
Yet again, he found himself wondering: what will hurt this child? What will damage him beyond repair?
---------------------------------------------------
This was a random scene for an original project called "Aurora Verse," but I've changed my mind since writing this, so even if I liked it (which I don't, really), it's useless now.
... Then there are the Sarim. The most powerful always have that designation.
Sylvana frowned, taking a sip of Coke. Wait, you said there were only ten- wait, nine orders...?
There was a smile - or what felt like one. There are orders, designations, and ranks. There are even a select few born with what humans call a 'birthright' - they are the princes who carry The Name. There are only eight.
And let me guess, they outrank all of these Sarim people?
Outrank, yes... yet they also number among them. The voice was very clearly amused.
She sighed and took another swig of soda, eyes watering. Okay, never mind that. Uh... She searched for what she'd been about to ask, wracking her brain and cursing her inability to just stay -focused-. These big guys... are they the ones who are going to come after us?
There was a pause. I do not think that is possible.
Hesitation, from the King of Certainty? "What do you mean, you 'do not think'...?" Sylvana clamped her mouth shut as soon as she realized her mistake. The girl two tables down threw her a strange look, but thankfully, no one else seemed to notice her slip.
I simply do not know. He sighed and seemed to choose his words carefully. Another 'translation issue,' maybe. Who knew, with angels? They have the strength, but their presence in this world would tear it apart. Those that -will- come... I do not know how powerful they will be. Some of us are made to walk the material realms, and some simply cannot. We learned that lesson long ago.
Reminding herself not to speak aloud, she asked, What about you?
... Me?
Sylvana bent over her work, to make it look like she was concentrating on something other than thin air. The last thing she needed was to look weirder than people already thought she was. Can you come to... to this world? When you're up there?
There was another pause, and this one was much longer. She was beginning to wonder if he'd gone to sleep again instead of answering, when he finally said, I do not know. I have never tried.
It sounded like there were a lot of things he'd never tried. Being an angel sounded like a drag. Well, you're here now. Hope you like it, because it looks like it's going to be awhile.
Indeed, Sylvana. A very long while.
She didn't particularly like the sound of that.
Ouch. It's a blow to the pride, it is. But so, so funny.
This was going to be part of a story post, once upon a time. I swear I'll finish it eventually. (Was: Lorenta post #3.)
--------- BY ORDER OF THE CROWN ---------
All registered sorcerers under the panel at
the Academy of Sorcery are required to place
themselves under contract to the Tenth Marine
Division before the Solstice.
Failure to meet this deadline will result in
the temporary termination of employment and
property, and immediate drafting as stated
in Decree 277, Article 2, under the Provision
for the Study of Sorcery.
The order was accompanied by a list of mages currently registered, and a much shorter list of those exempt from the King's decree. That it included Lorenta's own name did little to comfort her. They were asking too much! Every able-bodied researcher, teacher, and even the few students old enough to register, but too young to graduate. /Students/. There was supposed to be an article somewhere protecting students and researchers from attempts like this to throw them away in times of war.
Never mind that the crown seemed to be confusing the concepts of /school/ and /military training/. The Academy was a place of research, not a training ground for combat. Fewer than half of the mages registered under the panel had any skill in the practical application of combat spells, and of those few, only a handfull could be considered competant in the area.
Lorenta let the scroll roll back up with a snap, strongly tempted to simply toss it into the fire. It was an insult. It was evidence of how much the King's view of the Academy's work had changed, or maybe just a clear sign of his weakening will. Crell Monferaigne had not yet laid a finger on Flenceburg territory, and he was already calling for the army! If he intended to strike first, they would all be in trouble. Magic had always given their small nation an edge in war, but it would not account for their enemy's great numbers.
But the king was old, and by the look of the decree, going senile. It was a shame his son wouldn't be any better. Replacing senility with inexperience would only spell another kind of doom.
"Things were much easier when you were a student." Isadore smiled faintly, hugging her shawl about her shoulders. "The King was more open to persuasion back then. And Kelande was particularly convincing. An auspicious pair, those two."
Lorenta dropped the scroll on her desk distastefully, turning to stare out the window. "If they're so much alike, it will only give us more to worry about." Kelande was the last person she wanted to think about. His method disgusted her, but sometimes it was tempting, and she didn't want to follow that road. "It's blatant exploitation. He is looking for an easy way out, and found us. As if we can carry a war for him."
"In the old days, perhaps it might have been possible. But too much has been lost. The King was raised on stories of our prowess... not our research."
The trees outside had lost their luster with their leaves, and stretched barren into the sky. In the spring they would comfort her with their whispering in the wind, but now they gave only an ominous creaking. It reminded her of the creaking decks of ships, which only brought her back to the subject at hand. There were so many important names on that list. Teachers from every department, researchers - even Mystina had been called upon, and her reaction to /that/ promised to be interesting. Only the heads of deparments and the panel had been exempt. Seven students were on the roll, and with them, under an extended deadline, the Academy scouts on the main continent.
"Her name is there, then?" came Isadore's soft voice again.
"Yes," Lorenta replied simply. She nudged the scroll over toward her guest, but there was no need. If the teachers sometimes lacked practical skill in attack magic, it was a well-known fact that the school's scouts were expert in that area. They had to be, to survive the trials of constant travel in such dangerous times.
Claira was the strongest of their number.
The older woman sighed and leaned back in her chair. "They're not so eager to call her an exile now, are they? If that boy's name isn't on the list, they have no business including hers."
Lezard. There was a student she hadn't thought of in quite some time. "No, I suppose not... but she is the lesser evil, so to speak."
"Don't worry yourself over her, dear." Isadore started to rise, pushing out of her chair with a bit less agility than she used to. She was getting old. It was easy to forget that those white streaks in her hair were natural, and no longer the latest fad. "I'm sure Claira is good enough to get herself out of this mess - and maybe the rest of us too. Just keep in mind that the war hasn't started yet. We may not have to live up to the King's expectations at all."
Lorenta rose with her, and watched her leave the office with a fading smile. Those assurances were little comfort, but they were all she could cling to. The thought of bidding farewell to her friend so soon... seven years of forced distance, and they would lose this chance to meet again because of an accursed decree. Claira would have to obey the law and place herself at the mercy of the military, or leave again and return to her exile. That wasn't much of a choice.
She sat down again and propped her chin on her hands, staring down at the hateful piece of paper that had stolen her friend. If not one thing, it's another. Maybe she should throw it into the fire after all.
---------------------------------------
My first stab at a beginning for that Zelgadis fic. If I ever write it, I'll come up with a new opening. (Was: Riddles in the Sand, chapter 1.)
"I have nothing to say to you."
The Trickster Priest smiled, sunny as the summer day shining over Saillune, and clucked his tongue like an exasperated mother. "Nothing for an old friend? Not even a 'hello'?"
"Maybe a 'good-bye'," Zelgadis said flatly, taking another sip of his coffee. He fully intended to make good on the threat, but he'd be damned if he let Xellos drive him away before he was finished with his meal. Travel was hard when he was on his own, and though his appetite wasn't as vast as Lina's, three days of walking and rations was enough to leave him with a hole where his stomach should be.
Perhaps the mazoku realized this, or maybe he'd been watching - either way, he made no move to leave, and Zelgadis had to settle for glaring over a forkfull of roast beef as his unwanted companion settled in across from him.
"Now now, is that any way to treat someone who's come to do you a favor?" Xellos raised a white-gloved hand to call a waitress over, and tilted his head toward Zelgadis. "You haven't changed at all, I see."
Zelgadis narrowed his eyes at the implication behind the statement, and stuffed another slice of meat into his mouth. He must be one hell of a meal for the mazoku; that was the only explanation he could come up with to justify their continued meetings. Amelia wouldn't be of any use, Gourry was too dim, and Lina had her Ragna Blade to assure Xellos kept his distance. Who did /that/ leave? He scowled. Maybe imitating Amelia's justice-loving ways wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.
---------------------------------------------
An old fic idea that didn't have enough substance to merit completion. It's just character development for Krelian, if you can call it that. Xenogears, early episode five.
The child was quiet, sleeping as though dead to the world. His face was turned away from the window but his chubbly little hands were twisted together over his head in a vain attempt to protect himself against the nightmares of the room. Pale, corpse-like. Life would animate those limbs again, but only to scream and writhe and curse in words that belonged to his other lives, other times.
He was a fascinating object to Krelian, and perhaps the only child he ever had the nerve to wish dead. Ironically, this was the one child he could not kill.
He had always wondered what he would do when this time came. Lacan's rebirth had been an object of both eager anticipation and dread, something that would further his goals, yes, but also remind him of the miserable past. The boy was only a child, still, just an echo of a past Krelian tried to deny without losing sight of the woman his life was dedicated to. But one could not have /her/ without /him/. It wasn't his fault. Krelian told himself this as he administered the tests, harsher than strictly necessary, more painful than they really needed to be with Solaris's finest technology at his fingertips. It was a display of emotion that repulsed him. His fine control was ashes where this boy was concerned.
Yet again, he found himself wondering: what will hurt this child? What will damage him beyond repair?
---------------------------------------------------
This was a random scene for an original project called "Aurora Verse," but I've changed my mind since writing this, so even if I liked it (which I don't, really), it's useless now.
... Then there are the Sarim. The most powerful always have that designation.
Sylvana frowned, taking a sip of Coke. Wait, you said there were only ten- wait, nine orders...?
There was a smile - or what felt like one. There are orders, designations, and ranks. There are even a select few born with what humans call a 'birthright' - they are the princes who carry The Name. There are only eight.
And let me guess, they outrank all of these Sarim people?
Outrank, yes... yet they also number among them. The voice was very clearly amused.
She sighed and took another swig of soda, eyes watering. Okay, never mind that. Uh... She searched for what she'd been about to ask, wracking her brain and cursing her inability to just stay -focused-. These big guys... are they the ones who are going to come after us?
There was a pause. I do not think that is possible.
Hesitation, from the King of Certainty? "What do you mean, you 'do not think'...?" Sylvana clamped her mouth shut as soon as she realized her mistake. The girl two tables down threw her a strange look, but thankfully, no one else seemed to notice her slip.
I simply do not know. He sighed and seemed to choose his words carefully. Another 'translation issue,' maybe. Who knew, with angels? They have the strength, but their presence in this world would tear it apart. Those that -will- come... I do not know how powerful they will be. Some of us are made to walk the material realms, and some simply cannot. We learned that lesson long ago.
Reminding herself not to speak aloud, she asked, What about you?
... Me?
Sylvana bent over her work, to make it look like she was concentrating on something other than thin air. The last thing she needed was to look weirder than people already thought she was. Can you come to... to this world? When you're up there?
There was another pause, and this one was much longer. She was beginning to wonder if he'd gone to sleep again instead of answering, when he finally said, I do not know. I have never tried.
It sounded like there were a lot of things he'd never tried. Being an angel sounded like a drag. Well, you're here now. Hope you like it, because it looks like it's going to be awhile.
Indeed, Sylvana. A very long while.
She didn't particularly like the sound of that.
Ouch. It's a blow to the pride, it is. But so, so funny.