♌ arsenicCatnip (Nepeta Leijon) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
purrfectlycute) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxion2012-08-25 12:44 am
purrfectlycute) wrote in ataraxion2012-08-25 12:44 am
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:33 < im sorry fur those who expected a continuation of my last story but
:33 < in light of current events i couldnt really muster the heart fur it
:33 < maybe another day
:33 < i decided to write something else in the mean time though
:33 < its mostly to make myself f33l better
:33 < maybe itll help someone else too
A man wakes in his own bed.
He doesn't consider this abnormal. He wakes. He goes about his normal morning routine. It's only when he exits his door does his sharp mind register that something is wrong.
This isn't as unnerving as it is confusing. Intriguing.
He walks briskly, fidgeting with a phone. The streets that were once familiar to him become something new. Trees pop up where they weren't before. The sunlight seems too hot, too bright, almost uncomfortably so. Perhaps most suspicious of all is that the world is empty except for the chirp and hums of insects.
Not until his eyes reach the girl, anyway.
Something seems off about her too, but he can't quite put his finger on what. It's as though his mind is stuck back in his sleeping world and can't keep up with his walking. This is far more frustrating to the man than the transformation of his world.
The girl smiles as she reads his expression. "Don't worry. You're actually doing much better than most new people. It takes a bit for the disorientation to wear off. You must have quite the intellect to make it this far this quickly."
There are too many questions to ask. Though the man is usually brisk, offering only words that serve a purpose, he stalls to size up the situation.
"Is that impressive?" he asks.
"Only somewhat," the girl admits. "But you're an impressive man, aren't you?"
"Yes." There is no humbleness or hesitation, but still, the girl can see he's telling the truth. She motions for him to follow her into the copse of trees. He walks with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Their steps are muffled in the cool soil. Thankfully, the path the girl leads him through is sheltered from the blazing sun by a canopy of trees.
He takes opportunity of the mutual silence to think back to how he got here. Before waking. Before that there was…
Oh.
"You're a troll." The man can't pin down her identity--perhaps he's never even met her before--but he's certain of her species. How he's certain, he's still deciphering. Trolls aren't native to his world. In fact, this should strike him as entirely odd. Surprising. Maybe even startling.
Instead he continues to do mental gymnastics. It's actually enjoyable to an extent.
"I am!" the girl says. She sounds excited that he's recognized this. Or maybe he remembered. It's hard to tell at this point. "You're adapting pretty quickly. At this rate I won't--"
"--have to tell me that I'm dead?" the man interrupts. This stops the girl in her tracks. She turns to stare at him. Brows raised in surprise, he notices, but not fear or anger. There are no negative repercussions for this realization. None from her, anyway. There may be some to come.
"It wasn't hard to figure out," he explains. Curt. To the point. She doesn't ask for clarification and he offers none.
And there is a gut instinct, a feeling, that he's dead, even if there are no memories of how he died. But this is hardly solid evidence.
The girl smiles again and continues leading him away from his own world into the unknown. "Not for you, maybe. It took me a while, but now I think I understand."
The man remains silent while she explains. He notices, too, that the sun seems to have dulled. Still warm, still bright, but not uncomfortably so. The forest thins. The trees begins to have more needles than leaves, bark that looks like it could shred skin if it was stroked. Tough. The sort of trees that could survive anything short of fire. The sort of trees that can survive the rocky soil (more rock than soil) the two souls now tread on.
In what seems like only seconds later, the forest opens up to an entirely new landscape. Rocks jet upward high, higher, nearly scraping the sky. Nestled in the sharps points and sheer drops is a magnificent castle. At first glance it seems like a wasteland of stone and certain death. But looking closer it's apparent that there is nothing lifeless or washed-out about this place; tough, yes, forboding, definitely, but the sky is blue and beautiful. The cliffs glitter with minerals. Certainly if one were to scale the high points of this land, they could see to the edges of other worlds.
A shadow blots out the sun for a moment. Looking up, the man thinks the gliding figure overhead must be some sort of bird. On further inspection he sees four legs instead of two. Scales, not feathers.
It's a dragon. (For the first time the man is surprised, but the bafflement quickly turns to excitement. He'd like to get a good look at one of those things up close. Preferably dead.)
"Everything dies," says the girl. It sounds less like a lecture. More like musing. "People, plants, animals. Cities. Worlds. Universes. Not all are fortunate enough--or unfortunate enough--to have life breathed into them again. But memories live on. Death doesn't really mean things end. They just continue differently."
Now he notices the frog she's holding. (When did she pick that up? Maybe he should have been paying more attention to her than planning the best way to dissect a dragon.) He leans in to see twinkling lights and swirls and, if he squints, colorful little spheres.
Stars. Galaxies. Planets. The universe blinks and offers a introductory ribbit. (Hello, my name is Reginald. Too bad neither of them speaks frog.)
Thousands of thoughts and questions swirl in the man's head, faster than even his own extraordinary mind can sort and place. Almost distantly the question falls out of his lips.
"Name?"
The girl smiles. "Nepeta Leijon. Nice too see you again, Mr. Sherlock! I've been--oh gosh, erm, please don't prod the universe like that! He may be dead but it's rather mean to do an autopsy at this point. How about I show you around some more?"
This story begins with a death.
That does not mean it ends with nothingness.
Meanwhile, aboard the Tranquility, a direwolf eats Mr. Wheatley. The end.
:33 < in light of current events i couldnt really muster the heart fur it
:33 < maybe another day
:33 < i decided to write something else in the mean time though
:33 < its mostly to make myself f33l better
:33 < maybe itll help someone else too
A man wakes in his own bed.
He doesn't consider this abnormal. He wakes. He goes about his normal morning routine. It's only when he exits his door does his sharp mind register that something is wrong.
This isn't as unnerving as it is confusing. Intriguing.
He walks briskly, fidgeting with a phone. The streets that were once familiar to him become something new. Trees pop up where they weren't before. The sunlight seems too hot, too bright, almost uncomfortably so. Perhaps most suspicious of all is that the world is empty except for the chirp and hums of insects.
Not until his eyes reach the girl, anyway.
Something seems off about her too, but he can't quite put his finger on what. It's as though his mind is stuck back in his sleeping world and can't keep up with his walking. This is far more frustrating to the man than the transformation of his world.
The girl smiles as she reads his expression. "Don't worry. You're actually doing much better than most new people. It takes a bit for the disorientation to wear off. You must have quite the intellect to make it this far this quickly."
There are too many questions to ask. Though the man is usually brisk, offering only words that serve a purpose, he stalls to size up the situation.
"Is that impressive?" he asks.
"Only somewhat," the girl admits. "But you're an impressive man, aren't you?"
"Yes." There is no humbleness or hesitation, but still, the girl can see he's telling the truth. She motions for him to follow her into the copse of trees. He walks with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Their steps are muffled in the cool soil. Thankfully, the path the girl leads him through is sheltered from the blazing sun by a canopy of trees.
He takes opportunity of the mutual silence to think back to how he got here. Before waking. Before that there was…
Oh.
"You're a troll." The man can't pin down her identity--perhaps he's never even met her before--but he's certain of her species. How he's certain, he's still deciphering. Trolls aren't native to his world. In fact, this should strike him as entirely odd. Surprising. Maybe even startling.
Instead he continues to do mental gymnastics. It's actually enjoyable to an extent.
"I am!" the girl says. She sounds excited that he's recognized this. Or maybe he remembered. It's hard to tell at this point. "You're adapting pretty quickly. At this rate I won't--"
"--have to tell me that I'm dead?" the man interrupts. This stops the girl in her tracks. She turns to stare at him. Brows raised in surprise, he notices, but not fear or anger. There are no negative repercussions for this realization. None from her, anyway. There may be some to come.
"It wasn't hard to figure out," he explains. Curt. To the point. She doesn't ask for clarification and he offers none.
And there is a gut instinct, a feeling, that he's dead, even if there are no memories of how he died. But this is hardly solid evidence.
The girl smiles again and continues leading him away from his own world into the unknown. "Not for you, maybe. It took me a while, but now I think I understand."
The man remains silent while she explains. He notices, too, that the sun seems to have dulled. Still warm, still bright, but not uncomfortably so. The forest thins. The trees begins to have more needles than leaves, bark that looks like it could shred skin if it was stroked. Tough. The sort of trees that could survive anything short of fire. The sort of trees that can survive the rocky soil (more rock than soil) the two souls now tread on.
In what seems like only seconds later, the forest opens up to an entirely new landscape. Rocks jet upward high, higher, nearly scraping the sky. Nestled in the sharps points and sheer drops is a magnificent castle. At first glance it seems like a wasteland of stone and certain death. But looking closer it's apparent that there is nothing lifeless or washed-out about this place; tough, yes, forboding, definitely, but the sky is blue and beautiful. The cliffs glitter with minerals. Certainly if one were to scale the high points of this land, they could see to the edges of other worlds.
A shadow blots out the sun for a moment. Looking up, the man thinks the gliding figure overhead must be some sort of bird. On further inspection he sees four legs instead of two. Scales, not feathers.
It's a dragon. (For the first time the man is surprised, but the bafflement quickly turns to excitement. He'd like to get a good look at one of those things up close. Preferably dead.)
"Everything dies," says the girl. It sounds less like a lecture. More like musing. "People, plants, animals. Cities. Worlds. Universes. Not all are fortunate enough--or unfortunate enough--to have life breathed into them again. But memories live on. Death doesn't really mean things end. They just continue differently."
Now he notices the frog she's holding. (When did she pick that up? Maybe he should have been paying more attention to her than planning the best way to dissect a dragon.) He leans in to see twinkling lights and swirls and, if he squints, colorful little spheres.
Stars. Galaxies. Planets. The universe blinks and offers a introductory ribbit. (Hello, my name is Reginald. Too bad neither of them speaks frog.)
Thousands of thoughts and questions swirl in the man's head, faster than even his own extraordinary mind can sort and place. Almost distantly the question falls out of his lips.
"Name?"
The girl smiles. "Nepeta Leijon. Nice too see you again, Mr. Sherlock! I've been--oh gosh, erm, please don't prod the universe like that! He may be dead but it's rather mean to do an autopsy at this point. How about I show you around some more?"
This story begins with a death.
That does not mean it ends with nothingness.
Meanwhile, aboard the Tranquility, a direwolf eats Mr. Wheatley. The end.
[text]
:33 < as fur me its not all that remarkable i dont think
:33 < ive already lost a lot in my own universe
:33 < i say this not to make you f33l bad fur me or anything, but give a little context
:33 < i mean if i was sad ALL the time fur all the people and places i miss, id just be downright gloomy!
:33 < better to balance the mourning with remembrance
:33 < not at all! its a common question fur me
:33 < simply put, its a typing quirk
:33 < my kind uses it to expurress our individual identities and whatnot through text
:33 < i use the ":33" in purrticular beclaws my lusus (the equivalent to a parent except instead of an adult of the same species a lusus is an adult animal) had two mouths
:33 < pounce de leon was purrobably one of the sw33test, bravest kitties ive had the pleasure of knowing
:33 < not to mention a fantastic guardian to boot!
:33 < the color is actually my blood color
:33 < which has a lot of implications in my culture buuuut thats a whole nother long explanation
Re: [text]
∞ like thi2?
∞ or i2 it 2omething re2erved for troll2 only?
∞ I wouldn't want to mimic your cu2toms if it'2 offen2ive in any way
∞ I'm 2orry to hear of your lo22e2
∞ I have lo2t many of my brother2 and 2i2ter2 in civil war
∞ and other2 I cared for deeply
∞ it i2 not 2omething I would wi2h on anyone
∞ I wa2 having a lot of trouble dealing with it before I wa2 brought here
∞ 2o I admire your will to overcome the 2adness
Re: [text]
:33 < i dont think its something thats limited only to trolls nor should it be
:33 < so youre fine :33
:33 < yours kinda reminds me of my furiends sollux and aradia actually!
[ and because of that she's reading everything as though you have a lisp whoops ]
:33 < im sorry fur your losses as well :((
:33 < its never easy to deal with death or disappurrances
:33 < i certainly get heartsick sometimes
:33 < even now i still struggle with certain events that happened recently back home
:33 < im just furtunate enough to still have furiends and loved ones still around to help me!
:33 < that s33ms to be the key to continuing on
Re: [text]
∞ i2 it the red blood or the number2 or the infinity 2ign?
∞ two i2 my model number, which i2 2omething like my name
∞ and ∞ is a 2ymbol of my God
∞ tho2e 2eemed the mo2t important part2 of my per2onality to expre22
∞ it does help a great deal to have loved one2 here
∞ one of the 2i2ters I'd lo2t wa2 here for a brief time
∞ I wa2 very happy to have the chance to 2ee her again
∞ many people are di2contented or angry about being here
∞ but it'2 2omething of a gift for me
[text]
:33 < aradia had red blood and sollux used "2" fur "s" as well
:33 < but of course that doesnt diminish your own uniqueness!
:33 < youre doing a very good job expurressing the most impurrtant parts of yourself :33
:33 < if i may ask, does model number mean youre some kind of robot?
:33 < awwww im glad you got to s33 her again!
:33 < i completely agr33 with you
:33 < tranquility certainly provides some wonderful oppurrtunities
:33 < although i understand how many people would miss their own worlds and be upset about being removed from them, especially if theyre really nice ones like asgard or winterfell,
:33 < this universe is a nice break fur me too
Text, 80% encrypted
∞ being unique i2n't 2omething I'm that inve2ted in :)
∞ I'm one of many copie2 of the 2ame per2on
∞ 2o a2 long a2 I'm not too clo2e to anyone el2e in a way that would be offen2ive, I'm happy
∞ and thank you!
∞ to an2wer your que2tion: I'm a Cylon, a biocybernetic life form
∞ we're alive, made of fle2h and bone, and appear human, but there are 2ome phy2ical and cultural difference2
∞ 2ome human2 don't con2ider u2 to be alive at all, and call u2 "toasters" becau2e they think of u2 a2 2oulle22 machine2
∞ (although con2idering many of u2 have been in relation2hip2 with human2, and in a couple of ca2e2 have even had children with them, I have trouble under2tanding that)
∞ 2o that was the ba2ic cau2e of the war that wa2 going on until recently in my univer2e
∞ 2ome Cylon2 - like my 2i2ter - are a little touchy about being called robot2 or machine2
∞ per2onally I try to take a philo2ophical approach, and talk it through - what it mean2 to be alive, and a per2on
∞ 2ince people here don't have the prejudice2 of our world'2 pa2t, mo2t have been very openminded and friendly
∞ although there are a couple of human2 from our world who are 2till ho2tile becau2e they've come from an earlier point in time, before peace was declared
∞ it's awkward, 2ince one of them I have a lot of history with, which ha2n't happened yet for her
∞ 2till, I'm glad to be near her again, and to meet 2o many new people
Text, 80% encrypted
:33 < im sorry you have to put up with that kind of purrsecution, even if youre doing a remarkably good job of taking it all in stride :((
:33 < my furiend aradia was a robot fur a while, and a few more of us have robotic parts, so i hardly think being mechanical in itself is anything bad
:33 < fur all their good points, humans can be very strange about some things
:33 < especially when it comes to romance
:33 < youre sure right about the m33ting new people thing!
:33 < if it werent fur tranquility id never s33 a human up close and purrsonal!
:33 < and after they get used to their surroundings theyre surpurrisingly accepting of diffurent species