ML

Beyond the Storms

I just wanted to thank everyone once more for bringing this world to life with me. To be honest, I didn't really expect it to get this far when we started out, but now we have so much going on in this world, and I am so happy about that

Some cool stuff is coming. Now, I just wanted to say that even though this weekend we've seen a cluster of activity, the same posting rules still apply: there's not any rush to post. I'm patient, and you've all be patient with me thus far so, there's no pressure to up your posting speed. I guess I've just been inspired lol

so thanks again people

Beyond the Storms

O N E W E E K T O D I S C O V E R Y

This was a disaster. Edward's heart sank with every compounding piece of disarray. What had originally been meant to placate Constance had instead enraged her, and then Luna, bless her soul, had gone in and savaged the woman's pride further, and then some other woman had popped in and witnessed it occurring, which Edward sensed was as bad or worse than actually receiving it, to someone like Constance.

He opened his mouth to stop her from leaving, but it was too late: she'd already gone in a stone-cold fury. Great. Just great. In an effort to bring them all slightly closer together, he had blasted them apart. Why, oh why did Constance have to be such a great big lug? Lost in herself, all the time.

His pen tapped at the notebook in his lap with a quiet, consistent intensity. "Hello, Myra," he mumbled, staring off in the direction of the departed businesswoman. "It's nice to meet you, I'm just...sorry we couldn't have met at a better time." He finally broke off from staring to focus on the newcomer's face.

He glanced away almost immediately--it was an instinct when speaking to an attractive woman for the first time. If he had met Constance or Luna under similar, more relaxed circumstances, he likely would had the same reaction, but given that they had just left home and almost immediately had to fight a massive fire, he felt they had moved past that awkward, introductory phase.

"I'm Edward Samick," he continued, holding out a hand. "Reporter for the Winged Gazette in Edgenook. Or at least, that's what I left the U.I. as. Now..." he trailed off, glancing over to Luna. "That's Luna. She's a nurse. Damned good one, too. And you, ah, met Constance. I guess she would call herself our fearless leader, wouldn't she? Still not sure how to interact with her. Maybe you'll have better luck than either of us."

His urge to ask questions bubbled again to the surface unbidden. "Not to be rude or anything, but if you're an engineer assigned to the bird, why are you suddenly being put with us?"

Something clicked in his mind then. "More importantly, if you're 'joining ranks' with us, what the hell does that mean? It's not like we're an elite exploration team or anythi--" Well, that was partially true: they weren't elite by any stretch of the imagination, but so far they had been the ones to explore the furthest. "Just a little confused, is all."

He unconsciously picked up the cube he'd set down to write, flicking it on and off once more in an almost nervous habit. By his estimate, they were traveling in the right direction still: the map seemed to track their immediate location, and they had been consistently moving right toward the large landmass for a while. They would probably be there in, give or take...seven days, given their current speed.

Of course, Edward was going to hound Conway with all his might to be allowed to take the bird and get there sooner. He really, really wanted to know what the hell was out there. God, it was eating him alive, even more so than this Constance business.

Beyond the Storms

thinking. dont know what to do lol

@Caits

If you don't mind being patient a bit, Vicier and I are working to introduce a new bit of lore to the world, and I might hit up atrophy to write that conway-constance discussion.

I also can write a reply for edward as well. To be honest, I'm just a little surprised we've been having the activity that we are: I'd kind of settled into the chill environment tbh

Beyond the Storms

hmm.

@Caits

???

Beyond the Storms

Ah Constance you wild thing

That was a good post

@Atrophy I think Constance would benefit from a heart to heart with captain Conway, since he's been the only one so far to successfully crack into her facade a little (during the fire)

Spiritum

post up

Spiritum

Exhaustion.

The longer Zimmy had been in the truck, the more exhausted she felt. Maybe the rest of them were gods among men, but she was just a girl who may or may not have come very close to being burned by the Mist. She had overexerted herself, and as they drove along, she had to constantly fight down an urge to pull on more of the magical world surrounding her. Some base part of her was urging her on, wanting more and more power at the cost of everything else.

As she fought back against the energy, it slowly slipped away. It was after that that she realized how dead tired she really was. Sore, probably hungover...she was in no mood to be productive.

When they stopped for gas and Darryl got them actual beds to sleep in, she just about whined with relief. "Fuckin' hell," she mumbled, stumbling from the car with no grace whatsoever. "You," she said, whipping a finger over toward the princess they had just rescued. "You can take a room with me if you want. Least then you won't have to deal with any horny bastards." She glared at the Lee. Lookin' at you, bright eyes. Plenty of girls in your league."

"Or I guess anyone can sleep with me if they want." She looked down at the ground, swore, and the back up. "Bunk with me. I meant bunk with me. Whatever." She grumbled again and left them, heading for the nearest room available. Once inside, she barely had the energy to unlace her shoes before she fell to the mattress. She fully intended to be dead to the world in minutes.

So when the bracelet on her wrist warmed against her skin, she took a few moments to process what was going on. "You fucking kidding me?" The bracelet began to hum, and Zimmy wanted nothing more than to throw it in the trash. Instead, she groaned and sat up. "What do you want?"

"Morander. Report in." It was the same voice as the guy who had met her after graduation. The one who had given her that stupid bracelet.

"My party plan is ruined. I'm a bit hungover, nearly died a few times today from bad judgement calls. Your turn, shadowman. What's up?"

"Any news on the Palatine? Princess Colette?" Zimmy froze at the words. How the fuck had they known about the princess? Alarm bells went off in her head immediately. There was no way they could have found out so quickly. Suspicion flared in her gut, and she was glad that she hadn't mentioned anything damning before.

"Come again? Dunno if you've been keeping tabs on me, but my friends and I have just been out in the woods partying. Or something, we got pretty drunk."

"Princess Colette was aboard a Vangar Envoy with the name Palatine. A few hours ago, all contact with the ship ceased. Do you have any information that might be of use? The princess was arriving under a statement of peace. If something has happened to her within our borders, then...shit is about to go down, if you'll pardon the expression."

Still those alarm bells in her head. Zimmy wasn't sure why: maybe it was because, now that she thought about it, all she really knew about this man and his bracelet was that he had stepped out of the shadows, said he was part of an intelligence agency, and given her the bracelet. Why the hell had she been wearing it all this time without even thinking about it? "Uh...no. Don't think so. I feel like if I'd been near anything like that, we would have sensed it. Sorry."

"Of course, of course." The man on the other end sounded deflated. "You will tell us if you learn anything, though?"

"Uh, yeah. One thing though: how the hell do I contact you? All I have is this bracelet thing." Zimmy peeled the band off her wrist and tossed it on the bed. "You have a phone number or something?"

"Oh, yes. Apologies. If you have your cell-phone on you, you'll see that we've sent you a number which you can use to contact us if need be. We don't send out that information until an agent has been activated. Which is what this conversation is, by the way. Welcome to Rassvet Collections Institution." The voice cut out, and the glowing bracelet became dull once more.

Zimmy checked her phone. Sure enough, there was a new number there. How had they gotten her number in the first place? "Fuck my life," she sighed, before putting the phone on the nightstand and lying down on one side of the bed. Maybe someone else would come in, or maybe they wouldn't. Right now, she had bigger things on her mind.

Spiritum

It's on my to do list for the weekend

Beyond the Storms

New post is up, UP

In which Edward can't stop running his mouth, and ends up deliberating on the nature of their futures while trying to damage control his big
fat
mouth

Also, I HIGHLY recommend listening to musics for this one, because I think it adds a good feeling for the whole post.

Beyond the Storms

S T O R I E S A N D S T R I F E S

Edward was writing absolutely furiously. This was heavy, heavy stuff, and he was going to make sure he recorded every bit of it. He'd gotten so caught up in the whole adventure, he'd nearly forgotten the whole point to him showing up to this madness in the first place! The people, the stories, the way they would all interact.

This was perfect stuff for his story, which he was absolutely sure would win him a Pulitzer Prize, if only due to the level of insane experiences he had already found himself in. Chased by a giant cat-monkey beast on an obscure island in the middle of nowhere? A mystic cube which projected a map into thin air? What would come next?

And the people on the journey! Right now, he felt like a boring piece of gum by comparison. A wildly narcissistic woman with a penchant for over-theatrics, one of the most stubborn and sass-filled nurses he'd ever met--not that he'd met many nurses, of course--and others besides. Conway, Krauss, and Armas...and whoever else might show up on this adventure. He smiled briefly, lost in thoughts while they argued nearby.

It was a while before he noticed Constance looking at him with pained eyes. He lurched, desperately reeling back through the last set of things he remembered being said. They had been...very Constance-esque, to say the least. "Hm," he mumbled, still partially distracted by the magnitude of his thoughts. "Constance, where would you say your excessive narcissism stems from? Maybe the stress of an early life? That'd be a good bit of drama for the sto--" he said the words without thinking, scratching a new section in his notebook to keep writing. Then the words clicked.

"Oh, Plummet!" he blurted. "Constance I am so sorry, I didn't mean anything by that--I know you've been through a lot and I respect everything you've been through, it's just that I don't get why it still matters so much to you because, well..." He was in full out rambling mode, now, hoping to drown the stupid things he said with pure volume. "We are out here in the middle of nowhere, aren't we? Out here in the middle of God knows where, and who knows if we'll ever make it back. I mean, does it really matter what any of us have accomplished before this?"

He kept going, now feeling emotion take root. "We're out here risking our lives to see what might be, what we're missing up in that tiny little sliver of this huge world, and...and no one cares! No one cares if I'm a reporter, or if you were rich once upon a time, or if Luna is getting into bed with whoever she pleases--not that I'm insinuating that," he broke off to Luna, not wanting to be misunderstood. "I mean, really, when you think about it, why does it matter so much to you about being remembered, when all of this world is brand new and full of wonder?"

He fell silent then, looking down at his notebook. It had seemed so important just a few seconds ago, but now it seemed as if he'd talked himself out of his enthusiasm. Really, what was the point of him writing all this down if they never returned? Even more important, if they did return, how could he go back to being what he was before? A normal reporter at a normal job would drive him out of his mind with boredom, after this.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "For the babbling, I mean."