Atrophy

Carvings of the Galaxy

@beyond visions@SheriffLlamaYo dudes! How's that collab going?

Heck, how's everything going all?

Beyond the Storms

Lower Deck 1

It had taken just a few seconds—to breath, to think, to right herself—but already Constance had fallen back into her old, comfortable self, her head held high as if she hadn’t just finished burying it into the chest of the Captain like a scared child. One hand worked her wet, matted hair out of her face while another reached for the compact mirror in her pocket, ready to find and fix anything that had been damaged by the seawater. Yet there was nothing in her pockets to fix the fact that she was soaked to the bone by seawater, nor anything to remove the stench of smoke that had seemingly become one with her clothing. Even with her plastic, carefree attitude, she was prepared to retreat to her room, partially to change into dry clothes and partially to assure that her possessions were still in tact. However, she was stopped when an excited Ed called her to come join him, saying something about how they had made it. Her eyebrow lifted, perplexed. Made what?

“We made it?” she echoed like a parrot, her eyes growing wide as she recognized what he meant. Her hands clapped together over her mouth. “We made it!”

Any thoughts of changing into dry clothes or fixing her face was stripped from her mind as she stumbled after the reporter. Constance was a bit sadden that she wasn’t the first one to see what laid beyond the storms, but she took a small, bittersweet solace in knowing that she was certainly the first Holloway to make it there—there was no way that the Devil Divers ever survived anything like what she had just experienced. She clambered up the steps to the main deck, struggling to keep herself from breathing too heavily after having sucked so much smoke into her lungs. She choked back a cough as she emerged from innards of the ship, refusing to let anything hold her back.

Main Deck - Fore

For a moment she was nearly blinded by the brightness before everything began to adjust, her eyes shielded behind a raised hand. Slowly, her hand sunk to cover her agape mouth as she saw the strange, blue world before her. It’s absolutely fantastic, she thought. The sea stretched further than it had seemed to from the dock, and the sky was just as she, no, better than she had imagined it would be. Even the white, fluffy clouds seemed more wonderful than the ones that she could sometimes spot above the ring, and were a hundred times more beautiful than the gray mess that swirled behind (she took another look to verify that, yes, it was behind) her.

She brayed with laughter and rushed past Ed, nearly throwing herself off the ship as she perched against the railing. Behind her was the Ring of Thunder, the Isles, and all of the problems that were connected with them; ahead of her was an endless world full of indescribable possibility. There were no other cutthroat tycoons for her to tread the line with, no old money socialites gossiping behind her back, no private investigators sneaking onto her property, no scam artists claiming that she owed them money, no debt collectors that she actually owed money, no...she smiled. Those things didn’t matter anymore; if they were so desperate to hold onto their old world that they actively sought to ruin any interlopers with schemes and slander, fine, then they could have their world up there. She’d just take everything that was new. As a foul member of the nouveau riche, it’d only be fitting.

“Oh, Eddy!” A ‘gleeful squeal’ could be the only words that described the noise that came out of Constance as she flung from the railing and, basically, skipped across the deck towards Ed, twisting and turning to look out all around her, visceral squishing sounds coming from her still soaked boots. “Everything we’ve ever seen before has already been named, right? Somebody had to make them up, right? Well then, don’t we get to name this, right?” She may have phrased it as a question, but it was clear that she wasn’t going to wait for an answer. Constance knew that others had made it this far before and have probably begun naming even the clouds, but she also knew that it was the loudest people, and not the most deserving, that left behind a legacy. Or rather, perhaps she thought that the loudest were the most deserving.

“A name, a name, mm,” she hummed as she put a finger to her chin, as if to show that she was thinking, and then she snapped her fingers. “I know! The Samick Sea,” she said, her hand waving across the air as if to paint the name over the sky like a street sign, “named after its discoverer. Pretty good, right?” she asked, smiling and clearly too proud of herself for creating such a clever name, as if she did not realize that perhaps some people would not want their names to be immortalized or, at the very least, not by her. “Right? You can say that you thought it up when you write about it, even!”

That was assuming, of course, that he also reported all of the places and landmarks that would be named after of by Constance, which would obviously be the rest of them.

Beyond the Storms

@Mercenary Lord A few touch ups, should post tomorrow at the latest.

Beyond the Storms

@LexiconIf you don't post on Thursday we will all be very, very, very, very, very, very, very upset but understanding in a way that is supportive, but uncomfortably so that it will actually guilt you for letting us down in the first place and then you'd feel pretty bad or something, I don't know, don't make us responsible for other people, we can hardly take care of ourselves.

...uh, I more or less got a post ready, just gotta do my usual ritual of procrastinating for just a while longer.

Beyond the Storms

Okay so I'm trying to post but I'm in Chicago and I have no idea where I am so I think I'm probably not gonna get to post tonight

@Mercenary Lord

You're in Chicago. You already said so yourself.

(Do yourself a favor and get some Portillo's while you're out there.)

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Happy One Year Anniversary, ya jerks, although technically I think we're a few days early. Consider that post a present or something, because otherwise I'd seem grossly unprepared for this achievement.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Ennis, Days Earlier

All things considered, he had been expecting a warmer welcome. The ambassador—no, that wouldn’t do anymore—the heir didn’t want some grand parade or a soiree for his return, nor did he expect fireworks or a string quartet, but at least a greeting by his family would have been nice. Instead, the only familiar face he saw was the one of his father’s steward, who coldly told him to wait for Lord Dedrick Cade in his study like a common businessman. Too tired by his travels to make a fuss, Ennis took a seat in the leather chair facing the much larger, emptier one across the desk from him. There he fidgeted nervously, trying to think of how he’d convince his father to have his men join forces with the Barceans and Guratans against Gartian. Certainly, more impossible tasks had been accomplished before.

Ennis heard footsteps and stood, turning in time to see his father arrival. Lord Cade had his son’s face and height but not his build. While Ennis could barely lift his sword without straining himself, even in his sixties Lord Cade still looked like he could best most men and even a few Divineborn in a fight. Looking again, however, Ennis could see the slow gait in his walk and the exhaustion in his eyes, and his hair had greyed significantly since the last time the two had spoken and had receded so aggressively that it looked like a bird’s beak and two wings. To make up for the lack of hair on the top of his head, the man had taken to growing plenty on the bottom. Ennis took a step forward and held out his hand; the old man was having none of that. Reaching forward, he pulled his son into his arms and gave him a strong hug, patting him twice on the back with both hands.

“What, they didn’t feed you down there?” said Dedrick, pulling himself back from his son as if to fully take him in again.

“It’s good to see you too, father.”

“Good doesn’t even begin to describe it, son,” he said, taking a seat at his desk. He gestured for Ennis to do the same. “I heard quite a few rumors about you growing friendly with those Serio brats and was worried that perhaps our King had heard the same. For once I am glad that he has deaf ears, otherwise I feared you may not have been able to make it home so easily.”

“Y-yes,” said Ennis, nervously glancing at the desk. Everything upon it was neatly sorted and organized, with not a single paper out of place. He swallowed hard, and then began to spin his yarn. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. Before I returned home, I had a chat with the Queen. She had any interesting proposition for me, well, for us.” He decided it would be easier if he made it sound like it wasn’t his idea; at least not until he could get a read on his father. “She called it a way to broker a prosperous peace between H’kela and Barcea. An alliance of sorts, if you will.”

Something in that statement struck the elder Cade as amusing, causing him to hoot and slam his fist on his desk. Ennis was able to muster a slight, uncomfortable smile as his father continued to laugh and shake his head, incredulously. “So she was like her father after all: unable to accept defeat.”

“Defeat?” said Ennis.

A smirk lined Dedrick’s lips. “Barcea lost. The Queen surrendered herself the other day to protect their city. An admirable, if naive, sacrifice. But surely this is not news to you, because I cannot see why you would want to talk about this amusing anecdote otherwise. Surely, it would be unwise to even suggest that you gave consideration to an alliance between our families. Why, it would almost be as stupid as admitting that you had willingly suggested the idea in the first place.”

“What?” asked Ennis, caught off guard by the clear implications of his father’s words. If he wasn’t certain of what his father was saying, he didn’t have to wait long to figure it out. Dedrick dropped the smoke and mirrors right there.

“Don’t try to play the fool with me, boy. Who do you think taught you that trick?” he said, standing up and putting his hands on the desk, his shadow looming over Ennis. “You think I don’t know what my own son has been up to? You think I won’t make sure that my heir doesn’t get himself killed because he was embarrassed once by his King? His King, mind you, that his father has sworn loyalty to, just as the Cades have always sworn loyalty to?”

“You were spying on me?”

“I was keeping you safe, boy,” said Dedrick, glaring down at his son, “from your own stupidity and from the talons of that Queen you so admired. Do you know what it would have done to our family, to our legacy, if word got out that you had been colluding with the enemy? If Yan and Nia hadn’t been there the Kirun would have been in flames. We both would have been hung. Is that what you want, boy?”

“No. I just thought—”

“You didn’t think. It’s not your job to think. Your job is to shut the hell up, produce a male heir, and to respect your father. Our time will come, boy, but not yet. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, father,” said Ennis softly as he sunk down in his chair, feeling as if he was a child being scolded for breaking a vase.

“Excellent. Until things have settled and I can see that you’ve come to your senses, I will not permit you to leave the premises. I had Danners make up your room for you; you are dismissed.” With that, Ennis stood from his chair as if he was a puppet being drawn by strings and made his way to the door. His hand had hardly grabbed the handle when Dedrick called out to him: “Oh, just one more thing.”

Ennis turned back, trying to avoid his father’s gaze.

“Welcome home, son.”

Vesta

Yet again a spell of silence had fallen over Vesta once Cyril broke the news about their Queen’s capture. She seemed calm on the surface as they headed into H’kela, but underneath she was a thunderstorm of anger. As they rode, she killed the time by passing judgment on the others, although mostly her eyes just casted accusations on Krissandria for failing in her duty to protect the Queen. If Olain’s daughter had been harmed by Gartian in anyway, or if she had been k—she felt herself bitedown on her lip, using the pain to distract her from the potential reality. Too many times did she picture what she would do to the Queen’s Guard if they didn’t reach Kori in times. It was hypocritical, considering her own failure years ago, but she couldn’t help herself nevertheless. They were to blame.

No, Gartian is to blame, said a tiny voice inside of her head, and it was this little voice that she forced herself to listen to, yet only when she witnessed that the Queen was still alive did she truly divorce the idea of seeking some form of retribution from Krissandria.

She was unable to enjoy the feeling of being able to freely walk again as she pushed herself through the crowd, desperately trying to get as close as possible to the scaffold. For every rib she elbowed and boot she stepped on the favor was returned right back to her by a H’kelan, eager for the blood of their enemy. It was easy to think of them as monsters, despite knowing deep down that if the roles had been reversed and if Gartian had been up in the block a similarly large crowd would’ve formed in Barcea as well, even if their new Queen seemed to be done with the barbaric way of the old. Yet as Alasa let his arrows fly and they pierced the executioner, the crowd changed back into a mass of humans that, upon witnessing the death of one of their own, fled in horror. And then, it was just two groups of soldiers, us and them.

Vesta dropped her cloak—it was too damn warm for that thing anyway—and drew her sword. She knew that the Lady of Demons had told her not to put too much strain on her knee, but she also knew that she was still better with a blade than she’d ever be with a bow. Besides, a trial by fire would be the perfect way to see just how much of her old movement she had retained. Running (Running!) at the first soldier in yellow that she could see, the woman had already slashed her sword across his side before he could even raise his weapon to thwart her. When was the last time she had been able to close a gap like that? She couldn’t remember.

She felt her vision shift from the execution block to temple balcony and then back to the block again. Their snipers would be able to keep their enemies off of Kori for the time being, but it was still imperative that they saved Kori before going after Gartian. How long until one of their watchful eyes missed a crossbowmen that had his sights trained on their Queen? But the way to the Queen was behind a sea of angry yellow and sharp steel, dotted with splashes of explosives, bursts of magic, and peppering of barrages from her side. It wouldn’t be easy for Vesta to reach alone, even if she was more whole than before, but even if it turned out to be impossible it didn’t matter to her; she had to save Kori.

Her sword bite into another soldier as she smacked a spear to her side with her scabbard before she dropped low to avoid a broad slash and then drove upwards with a mighty slash. No pain in her knee yet; she could feel a smile form on her face as she sprung to the side of a hammerblow. She ripped and tore into the enemy soldiers with her blade, twisting and turning her body like a dancer to avoid getting opened up herself. Slice, turn, stab, duck, cut, spin, sweep, gut; the routine continued on uninterrupted, each step as fluid and practiced as it had been decades ago. Yet she could still hear her breaths get more ragged, could still feel her arms get heavier with every swing. Karin may have cured her knee, but she couldn’t cure the damage of time.

The Queen, the Queen, she thought as she urged herself onward.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@The Darklight ProjectSoon, likely tomorrow or the day after.

Beyond the Storms

Lower Deck 1

Constance could not say what tossed her around more: the violent sea or their boorish Captain, who seemed to be under the impression that her limbs were the strings of a marionette. Regardless, she was entirely sick of it all, from her safety being held almost entirely in the (more capable, although she’d never admit it), hands of the Captain, to the frivolous concerns that seemingly always found a way to worm themselves into her mind. As the sea bucked her against the wall she found herself thinking of yet another sleeveless dress that she’d be unable to wear due to a new foray of unsightly bruises, although despite her trivial thoughts (or perhaps entirely because of them) she still managed a soft shriek—and, as if on cue, the Captain was already picking her back up, standing her like a pin ready for the next strike.

Perhaps Rick Garrloch had heard that she’d be aboard this ship and had informed the Captain that it was absolutely necessary that she be treated like a complete dog. She scowled, as Conway barked more words right into her ears. And after I had spoken so kindly of Mr. Garrloch at my last soiree despite him refusing to attend. She had spoken kind words, honestly, but anybody in attendance could tell that she hadn’t meant a single one of them, something that she had privately told half a dozen of partygoers. But her private conversations were for her and the other party alone, so it hardly held any relevance. Honestly, the nerve of that man. See if I ever invite him to one of my parties ever again.

Rick Garrloch had also never intended anyone of her parties, despite numerous invitations. But, again, hardly relevant.

Despite yelping (mixed with copious amounts of coughing) out of shock every time that she felt Conway’s rough hands push or pull her, she couldn’t help but grip his shoulder and lean her forehead against the back of her hand in relief as the fire was extinguished. She tittered softly as she tried to catch her breath and still her thumping heart. Her nose wrinkled at the stench of lingering smoke, salt, and sweat, and still her eyes were watered, but none of that mattered. Whatever curses she had for Conway were gone the second crisis had seemingly been averted, replaced with just the happiness to be alive. She blinked away the temporary blindness and surveyed the hall as she took a step away from the Captain, her hand already acting on its own to fix her hair that she had certainly messed up.

“Good job, boys,” she said, finding her voice. “That was a real treat; let’s do it again sometime. Really, though, perhaps we should leave the fire in the kit—”

She was cut off by the announcement for the upcoming wave. If she had the time to think about it, and perhaps if she was recounting the story at a later date with a mai tai in hand and her feet firmly on land, she would be able to find a way to have a laugh at the idea that after needing so much water to put out a fire some divine body had decided to answer their prays, if a minute too late and in the most inappropriate way ever. However, she didn’t have that sort of time. Already her body was tensed for the inevitable act that was to come next; it was as if she was some kind of super magnet and their Captain was a lump of iron. Still, despite being prepared for it, she still let out a shout as he grabbed her and dove to the floor.

“Why must the somethin’ you grab ahold of always be me?” she demanded even as she hung onto his jacket for dear life as the floor became the walls and seawater rushed past her, soaking her to the bone. She hardly registered the struggles happening beyond her as she dug herself into the man, fully aware that the only thing that kept her from falling freely to some final fate being the arm wrapped around her back and whatever cloth she could cling onto. Earlier that day she had been so excited to experience the Drop; now, she wanted nothing more than this second drop to be done and gone as the Garrloch crested over the top of the wave and began its ride back down.

And, much like the wave, the words she had for Conway seemed to swell up and out of her mouth, her better judgment unable to hold them back, “Obelisk take you, what sort of hurry are we in that we must rush off in the middle of the damn storm of the century? Was there some second ship built in secret that we are trying to beat? Are we that concerned that the other obelisk is going to fly away? Because, assuming it’s still there after all of this and not smashed against the hangar wall, we do have a means of reaching it even if it does. I’m not saying that you made an error, Captain, I’d never even think that. I know this is your ship and I’m positive that you know best, but I am saying is that we do need their to be a ship for you to captain. Otherw—”

Although Constance continued talking, her words were replaced with bubbling as the saltwater rushed into her mouth as it surged past her and Conway as the ship righted itself. She felt herself pulled upwards by Conway’s arms, the bubbling replaced with sputtering and choking as she coughed salt out of her lungs. She continued coughing as she rested her soaked head against Conway’s jacket like a tuckered out child, squeezing onto him tighter still. Meekily, she looked around and realized that, from her initial impressions, the boat was still one and that she was still alive in it. She was too thankful to feel embarrassed for her behavior or her previous words as she continued to claw at Conway’s coat, even as he no longer held onto her.

“Lass, I need ya to leggo. You aren’t as light as ya think.”

"Aye, Captain," she said as she withdrew her hands quickly and slide out of the way so that Conway could actually stand up.

“And it’d be best if ya keep yer comments about how I handle my ship ta yerself, lest you want ta swim back.”

“Aye, Captain,” she said, quieter this time, her eyes falling away as they sparked with guilt.

“We might make a sailor outta ya yet, lass,” said Conway, as he headed off to organize the others.

It was a horrific thought.

Beyond the Storms

Should be getting up a post fairly soon.