(no subject)
I stand there in the middle of a street that I'm pretty sure if I don't do something is going to explode. Two abyssal entities and Jack Death smirking his fool awakened head off because he kept unleashing the paradox that drew them, the ghost whipping my brother, the two blocks worth of property damage that I've no idea how I'm going to cover. I can imagine Cameron Michaels crusading on this city in about two hours.
My concillium is about to die because some fancy pants death master didn't have the sense to stay to his banishment and didn't have the common sense on the abyss that God gave a bunny rabbit with brain damage.
There's that moment where time stops for me, where all the problems are clear, and I know that I"m over my head; we all are.
Normally at this point - they're rarer than you'd think - I'd go to church and meditate it out for a bit, get myself recentered, come up with a plan. There's no time for that.
My fingers wrap around the hilt of the katana. I close my eyes. Kensai am I ready? He said I'd know. Solomon said it was a matter of honor.
Papa your cabal gave your lives to defend this city. You left me a legacy. Right now between you and God I could use a little help to keep carrying it, to keep them safe. The prayer is rapid and quick and I feel the weight of the sword sing free as it slides out and balances into my hand. I slide into the stance like I've always known how.
I don't remember clearly what happens, or what I feel, just the sense that I'm me but I'm not, that I'm in control, but I'm not. Something steps out of me, glowing and bright and I'd recognize that messy pony tail even if I were blind. There's armor on him and my nimbus is flaring gold fire and wings and the smell of his smoke. The apparition - he's not there, I know he's not - swings out his own sword and for a moment we're just mirrors of each other. There's a choking in my throat, a feeling that every step I take is planned and meant, that I'm supposed to be here, right now, right then.
The form of my father steps into the cloud of darkness around that first abyssal entity and there's a flare of light and a howl and the thing falls in half. The spirit-apparation steps out, looking ragged and tired but as it falls to its knees and starts to dissaparate back into my sword, it smiles at me and there's a slow wink.
I'm running then, the katana out, aiming for the ghost that's on my brother, aiming for the enemies of my city, of my concillium. The sword sings and flashes and all the training - even though I've a ways to go still - takes hold.
In the end we're all standing there, beaten and bruised but alive. Jack Death's body lays dead in the twilight. The abyssal entities are gone. The hole Jack ripped in the twilight is closed. The ghost is dead. Tampa has, miraculously, managed to piece the damage back together and wipe the minds of the sleepers that were there.
I carefully wipe the blade clean and put it back in the scabbard and stand there numb.
Until I realize my leg's on fire and I should probably go put that out.
My concillium is about to die because some fancy pants death master didn't have the sense to stay to his banishment and didn't have the common sense on the abyss that God gave a bunny rabbit with brain damage.
There's that moment where time stops for me, where all the problems are clear, and I know that I"m over my head; we all are.
Normally at this point - they're rarer than you'd think - I'd go to church and meditate it out for a bit, get myself recentered, come up with a plan. There's no time for that.
My fingers wrap around the hilt of the katana. I close my eyes. Kensai am I ready? He said I'd know. Solomon said it was a matter of honor.
Papa your cabal gave your lives to defend this city. You left me a legacy. Right now between you and God I could use a little help to keep carrying it, to keep them safe. The prayer is rapid and quick and I feel the weight of the sword sing free as it slides out and balances into my hand. I slide into the stance like I've always known how.
I don't remember clearly what happens, or what I feel, just the sense that I'm me but I'm not, that I'm in control, but I'm not. Something steps out of me, glowing and bright and I'd recognize that messy pony tail even if I were blind. There's armor on him and my nimbus is flaring gold fire and wings and the smell of his smoke. The apparition - he's not there, I know he's not - swings out his own sword and for a moment we're just mirrors of each other. There's a choking in my throat, a feeling that every step I take is planned and meant, that I'm supposed to be here, right now, right then.
The form of my father steps into the cloud of darkness around that first abyssal entity and there's a flare of light and a howl and the thing falls in half. The spirit-apparation steps out, looking ragged and tired but as it falls to its knees and starts to dissaparate back into my sword, it smiles at me and there's a slow wink.
I'm running then, the katana out, aiming for the ghost that's on my brother, aiming for the enemies of my city, of my concillium. The sword sings and flashes and all the training - even though I've a ways to go still - takes hold.
In the end we're all standing there, beaten and bruised but alive. Jack Death's body lays dead in the twilight. The abyssal entities are gone. The hole Jack ripped in the twilight is closed. The ghost is dead. Tampa has, miraculously, managed to piece the damage back together and wipe the minds of the sleepers that were there.
I carefully wipe the blade clean and put it back in the scabbard and stand there numb.
Until I realize my leg's on fire and I should probably go put that out.