(Untitled)
In the beginning, it was a nice day.
This is a word which here means 'pleasing', 'agreeable', or 'delightful', so it may come as a surprise to you, dear reader, to hear the day described as such, given the situation in Milliways these past two weeks. But then, 'nice' is such a relative term, don't you agree? And certainly it would be difficult for ( Read more... )
This is a word which here means 'pleasing', 'agreeable', or 'delightful', so it may come as a surprise to you, dear reader, to hear the day described as such, given the situation in Milliways these past two weeks. But then, 'nice' is such a relative term, don't you agree? And certainly it would be difficult for ( Read more... )
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The bunnies out in the forest are taking advantage of the lapse - however slight - in the icy weather, and have begun to congregate in a certain clearing. Make hay while the sun shines, and all that.
Energised by the recent influx of negative serendipity, the bunnies are snuffling and burrowing industriously, nudging and hauling into place their tribute for the Thing. Sheets from the forge, that are shiny and hard like the outside of the Thing. Lengths of long, tough grass stolen from inside the bar, that are curly like the red grass coming from the top of the Thing. Coins and buttons and one unfortunate keychain that glows under the light, like the two glowing eyes on the Thing.
Slowly, as the morning wears on, the tribute begins to take shape, mounting in an odd, misshapen structure around the Thing, to house it from the cold and to show off its splendour. The bunnies aren't much in the way of architects, but they are painstaking. Nice, even; a word which, dear reader, can also mean ' ( ... )
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Enzo does not trust it. The mood may have eased up, but his danger-sense code has not. And one thing looks worse, and that is the crack in the Observation Window.
So he has decided to move the suspicious objects to somewhere which seems marginally safer and is currently unoccupied: the forge. This takes a little while, of course, as to move them, he must move their containment fields, a moderately delicate process. He's got the pike out there already, though, and is now gently shifting the Elemental Stars across the grounds.
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(Not much. There isn't much left.)
The grounds are not quiet - the battle outside Milliways continues to rage, nearer and then farther, from simply loud to almost deafening; the bar and the forest and the earth itself continue to tremble when the combatants draw too near; and under all, the low, teeth-gritting hummmmm of power emanating from the two silver hemispheres.
But it's quieter. Much of the bustle and chaos now is inside the bar, where patrons are scrambling to evacuate, one way or another. There aren't many left outside to notice one more sound.
First, it's a jingle, tinny and distant. A thin clinking, a jarring clanking.
Then it's a jangle, steely and close, and then it's a thudthudthudthud of footsteps thudthudthudthudthud more footsteps, lots more footsteps thudthudthudTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD -
First one spills out, then two, then five, small-scaly-green, and spidery-black-wrong, and armour and teeth and rust, and then there are fifteen of them, twenty, pouring out of the open Darkgate, and then ( ... )
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Cy lifts both hands. The sonic cannons shift into place. The white noise begins.
And Cy offers a silent prayer to a God he doesn't turn that often, and hopes that this time, like the day when it was five Titans against Trigon for all the world, God is on his side.
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"Oh, dear...that doesn't look good at all."
Yeah, that slight grin on his face has kind of disappeared.
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And yet they do, time and again, churning the hard frost to mud beneath their feet, and staining the shallow scrims of snow as red as the sky above.
One place, though, remains untouched: a patch of land by the lake, neither so large nor so small as to make a difference, but remarkable only because of the two silver hemispheres still sitting there, quietly humming their skin-crawling hummmmmmmmmmmmmm.
It's louder now, though.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Rising a little in pitch and volume, in fact, every time an arc of lightning crackles over the silvery surface, grounding itself in the earth or spitting away into nothing.
( ... )
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Everything just got far worse.
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If she was still capable of thinking in terms of apologies, anyway.
Instead there's an Other out there, dancing on the edge of oblivion, swimming through and around the shadows, dragging creatures into the darkness behind the world with talons and hands and magic and leaving... bits, scattered over the battlefield. One creature that she takes is the one that was about to take a swipe at Will's head.
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He says thank you to the air as he keeps fighting, he'll have to rest soon or get back to where the healers are as he can't keep this up.
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