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3 yrs ago
Current Awake O Sleeper
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Back From The Ashes. Again.
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8 yrs ago
Don't sweat the small stuff, it's all in your head
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8 yrs ago
Back From The Ashes

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Alright I hit a mental rut for a minute there, got a case of the feel-bads, but I'm working on a post now just to get some activity going.
"No! You can't! Graintaire!"

Her words were crafted upon the chords of fate, and rang true through the din of combat and storm. It was a miracle I could hear her over it all—The screams of men as they lay dying, the torment of souls as the Gate opened in the sky above, the tempestuous rush of wind as it escaped our mortal realm into the Hell that rent our sky asunder—and yet it was also my damnation. My blade quavered in the air. My arms felt, at last, the weight and labor of the day's fighting. I hesitated, but did not lower my weapon. Even as her cries reached me, I dared not look away from Grennich. His pale features stared back at me, and in the blackness of his eyes I saw myself reflected in the arcane glow of the Gate above.

That reflection struck me; it was the same vision from the Oracle. My blade coursing with energy, raised to a point as if it were my own hands that had cleaved the sky in twain. My eyes widened, and Grennich sneered up at me as if he could read my mind.

"You see it now. How the butterfly's wings—" Grennich's venomous words halted with a gurgling, wretching, cough. Black phlegm and ichor flecked his lips and ran from a gash upon his forehead. I dared not move, even as I sensed the dark energies of the Otherworld manifesting around me. Every second I hesitated, the more death and carnage would wax around me. At last, Grennich continued in a whisper; "—Bring the hurricane. This is your fault, Grantaire. You cannot do it because you are weak! Without me, you are but a vessel for a blade, with no will of your own! Better that I use your power than it! I at least gave you a choice!"

My shoulders slackened at his words. My eyes shut for the briefest of moments. When I opened my eyes next, the blade's energy was coursing through them. Lightning crackled within my eyes and I raised the blade higher. As I swung it about slowly above my head, I felt the weight of the sword multiply as the sky moved with its tip. The tempest above, the scar in the sky which was spreading and devouring our world, reacted to the blade's movements. Each swing of my arms brought the storm to greater heights, the clouds darkening and thickening until great streaks of lightning were raining down around me. In great swathes, the hordes of Otherkin that were streaming earthward from the Gate were obliterated in the surging electrical blasts.

"No!" Her words rang true yet again, but this time I deafened myself to them. Fighting through fatigue, exhaustion, and the loss of my own blood I raised the blade one last time. Its weight was incredible. I could feel my entire body aching under Atlas' burden, the blade holding the sky itself on its point. In that last moment, which to me stretched for an eternity as I stared down into Grennich's blackened eyes and saw the storm raging against the hellfire of the Gate and myself silhouetted against that impossible arcane horrorscape, I felt like a God.

But when I brought my blade down, that moment of ecstasy turned to torture and obliteration. As I brought the blade down, bringing with it a column of lightning that sprung from beyond the firmament of the heavens, Yvonne was suddenly before me. I could not believe how quickly triumph could turn to horror. How swiftly Godhood could become a curse. In the blinding light that fell, the last thing I saw as she shielded Grennich's body with her own was her lips moving. My own blood filled my ears, I could no longer hear her voice, but in the glow of lightning the words 'I love you' were seared into my vision and mind.

Then, all was dark.

Bang! Bang! Bang!


Tobias jerked away from his desk with such violence that he tumbled to the ground and hurtled into the empty bedframe. The banging on the door was joined by his head knocking against the metal edge of the frame, then the less significant thud of his head hitting the floor with the rest of his body. He groaned quietly, shutting his eyes tight.

"Malkinson you were scheduled to be out of there yesterday. This is your last chance before they bill you for the summer and write your grandmother—" Before the threat could be finished, Tobias was on his feet with a hand pressed to the back of his head. He reached the door and threw it open just as the speaker finished their intimidation, "—That you're being a nuisance. Ah, somehow I knew that would get you on your feet."

"Mel." Toby said in a groan. "Can't you cut me a break, all my stuff is already moved over to Phil's, I'm just finishing something up. I'll be out here in...Two hours, tops!"

"Two hours?" The stern face of his dormitory RA Mel(ody) somehow became more stern. "Toby, I'm supposed to be out of here myself. I'm glad you're finally showing some...spirit, or whatever it is you need to write, but if you take any longer then I'll be taking the flakk myself. You need to get everything out of there now, I can't delay any longer."

He rubbed the back of his head, wincing now for multiple reasons. Firstly because of the nasty bruise that must be forming, and secondly because of the cringing sensation he often got when he felt as if he was being a nuisance to someone. He sighed and nodded glumly.

"...Yeah, I'm sorry Mel. I'll wrap this up now and get out of your hair."

"Thank you." She said, her stern expression melting into a more amicable one. "Enjoy your summer" She concluded the dialogue with a wave of her hand in farewell and a friendly wink. Toby waved after her, then turned and ran back into his dormitory room to hastily save his manuscript, then print the paperwork to get compiled into his physical binder of pages, then he had to swiftly annotate the pages with color-coded sticky notes and...

An hour later, Toby was rushing out of the dorm with a stack of books in his arms, a computer being lugged behind him on a cart, and a second bruise parallel to the first on the back of his head from where Mel had thumped him for wasting more of her time. He sighed and rummaged awkwardly in his vest pocket for the keys to his car when the first raindrop fell onto the hood of the car. He blinked slowly, looked skyward, then allowed the panic to set in.

By the time the rain began to fall in earnest, Toby had managed to get his things lumped unceremoniously into the trunk of the car. When he was safely seated himself in the driver's seat, he slowly lowered his forehead against the steering wheel and let the throbbing headache he was trying to ignore finally emanate throughout his entire body. Reluctantly he pushed the key into the ignition, and twisted.

Phil's Coffeehouse

@kalanggam
Toby sprinted into the building from the rear entrance, feeling quite lucky that he had managed to get a parking spot right outside the door. He lumbered to a halt a few feet within the door, smoothing out his vest with one hand as the other brushed loose strands of damp hair back into place. With a quiet exhalation of calming, he returned his hands to his sides and made a small gesture that universally symbolized 'I'm okay'. He was almost convincing with it, too. He turned on his heel and pressed against the window beside the door to peer at his car.

"...I can wait, I've already lost my muse anyway." He spoke to himself in plain language and a strained conversational tone, externally on edge for some reason but internally struggling against the severe pain of his throbbing cranium. He cast his gaze about at the busy state of the cafe, and felt a genuine happiness slowly bubbling within the depths of his headache. He strode across the room quickly, stooping and conversing along the way to the counter;

"Why hello there Michael, I'll go ahead and take those plates for you—It's no trouble, I'm heading up that way myself. Oh, you guys stopping here before heading home? Yeah, I can't believe how insane Professor Olston's exam was. Did you guys manage to make the connection to Arusianus Messius in the third essay prompt?...I guess you guys didn't, huh? It's okay, it was a seriously tricky prompt that I think he was being deliberately misleading by mentioning Fronto prior to the year 1815. Oh, you still have library books? I can return those for you, I'm still going to be there volunteering over the summer. It really is no trouble at all, I can just stack these things like this...and...voila!..."

By the time Toby reached the counter, he was holding a stack of books, dirty dishes, and a hand-written note for someone else's drink order. He deposited his stack of gathered items onto the counter, took a deep breath, then looked Val straight in the eye.

"I need an..Er.." He looked at the note, losing his steam as suddenly as he seemed to get it. "Mocha frappuchino with whipped cream for Miss Enfield over there. Upside down? Upside down. I didn't know you could order drinks upside down." He slowly folds the note in his fingers. "And whatever you can legally give me that has the highest concentration of caffeine possible."
I should finally be free this evening to catch up on things, barring hectic shenanigans at the homefront. I’ve been stewing mentally for a while, so it should go smooth once I actually have time to write.
Holiday buildup with work and the actual 4th of July itself has had be extremely sleep deprived and busy, I'll get a post out sometime this week. After the holiday.
Holiday has me swamped, I'll catch up later this week.
woo.
There, barring altering the relationships I’ll call the dweeb done. Character sheet updated, appearance finalized.
Grandma isn’t just letting him have the money, and he’s attending out of her preferences and having attained scholarships as well. It’s all a deliberate design to develop the ‘nice guy’ mental state. Weak father figure, raised by a singular ‘mother’ entity, relied on by others for emotional support, having to earn everything in transactions, and then a (subtle) sense of abandonment instilled by being drip fed the money and thrown to the wolves (so to speak) by living alone.

It’s a complex mental state that I pretty much just followed the textbook recipe to develop with his background and circumstances. Having enough money to do whatever he wants but feeling like it might all go away if he makes a mistake is a huge stressor. So, to answer you directly, in a way he is ‘slumming’ it because, and he doesn’t realize this overtly, he’s worried that he’ll end up cut off if he displeases the family matriarch.

In short, he has money but not ‘fuck you’ money and though he could live beyond his current means comfortably he has a fear that it will all go away without anything he can do about it.
[Everyone] - Everyone would generally be aware that, for Toby Malkinson, 'money' is no issue. The wealth of the Malkinson Estate is significant, but he is a frugal and does not flaunt it at all aside from his personal fashion. The fact he makes the effort and expends the time and energy to maintain his volunteer work and part time job are because of the rigorous requirements of his grandmother's upbringing, as well as his own personal interest.

@Expendable Samantha "Sam" Igorina Semenova - Sam was probably the second person he met when arriving at Sanctuary Hills. He would have needed furniture. However, I do not believe they would have interacted intimately or frequently unless they crossed paths in the town itself while he was working at the coffeeshop or awaiting repairs on his car. A possible angle would be his fascination with her magic; if she was willing to talk about, experiment, or otherwise just show it off he would have gladly observed and spent time with her on that subject.

@naomimyselfandi Aoife Fitzgerald - Toby, being a liberal arts student, likely has had little professional reason to seek out or engage Aoife. Her reputation on campus is known to him, of course, and any interactions they have had would have been either in passing or in relation to their mutual creative writing interests. If they have any further relationship at all, it likely hinges on this aspect; Upon hearing about her (official) published works, he would have voraciously hunted them down and questioned her on her methodology and literary style, as well as ventured to ask for help in things like developing his pitch and cover letter. Perhaps, somewhere in the rabbit-hole of Message Boards and BBS fanfiction zones, they've interacted without even being aware that it's the other? If so, then she may even know of the fantastical occult writings of the Mystical_Malkontent.

@shagranoz Rose Blossomdew - Toby has likely run into Rose while volunteering at the library. She would find that his voracious appetite for all literature extends into her own area of interests— but that he, strangely, refuses to practice the magic himself or admit that he has a fascination with magic at all. He would, conversely, absolutely encourage and try to get her talking about her own interests on the subject, and any discussions he engaged with her on this front would have been fronted as 'for the sake of my writing'. At first blush, I don't have anything more in mind than 'they've met in passing, and he chats with her at the library'.

@Gisk Georgia Patricia Keen V - Toby met Georgia when he first came to Sanctuary Hills. The 1946 Rolls Royce Silver Wraith that Grandmother Lorelei had given him as a highschool graduation gift had broken down— over fourty years sitting in a garage with no maintenance will do that to a luxury car. Thankfully Toby arrived in town safe and well, and the two met after he had to have the vehicle towed. He seems keenly aware that her soul isn't truly in her work; he has made it his goal to always try to pick her mind for her own cleverness whenever he's got a philosophical conundrum or wants an outside opinion on practical things. This means that he writes her letters (like the anachronistic madman he is) or pops in to say hello frequently even without car issues.

(just adding this one for funsies, to round out my NPC interactions) Lea Arnaud, Magical Arts major (Specializing in practical evocative arts) - Toby's ex-girlfriend and he maintain a cool distance. From Toby's side, he desperately hopes his wild and frantic desire to avoid her at all costs isn't as obvious as he feels it is. He met the young Magician-To-Be in a philosophy lecture, and they hit it off initially. However, over time, his inability to establish boundaries permitted her to take advantage of him and the relationship developed a deep toxicity until the prodigal witch broke it off with him after an argument about magic finally pushed them both over the edge. It's been a year, but Toby is still awkward around her, and honestly isn't over her yet. The only positive from the relationship was that whilst burning the candle at both ends to try and keep the demanding woman satisfied, his muse was hyperactive and the misery of the relationship stirred his writing to the most progress it had ever experienced. Objectively, they were bad for each other- but don't tell them that, they both need some growing up.
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