To Force Change (re... boot?...)

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by you're not my supervisor on Tue Nov 18, 2014 11:52 am

I'd say they're doing a pretty good job so far.

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by no mom its ironic on Mon Nov 24, 2014 4:42 am

Chapter Six

Qan began to have a sinking feeling that he was simply not made for map reading.

This suspicion had first started when a statue of the first headmaster of Olaenis had appeared not once, not twice, but seven times (he’d counted). These appearances weren’t even regular, and the span of time between each was… very long.

Eventually, Qan decided to just give up on finding his way alone. He was in some area of the school that was unlike anything he’d ever seen; it was clinical and white, with an imposing door at the other end of the hallway. Three people stood there, two women and one man, talking about something in hushed tones. They were obscuring some unidentifiable object that Qan didn’t particularly care to see. He was much more interested in finding his way to the lunchroom.

“Hey,” Qan began, but the (presumably) professors didn’t seem to hear him. “Excuse me?” he hesitantly asked as he walked forward, taking the more polite approach.

One of the women flinched slightly, her eyes widening as she saw Qan. Some odd sort of look was on her face; surprise, yes, but also confusion and anger. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.

“I got lost on my way to the lunchroom.” Glaring at the woman, Qan thought indignantly to himself, I didn’t do anything wrong, there’s no reason for her to be mad. Who does she think she is?

The other woman whispered something to her colleague, who noticeably stiffened, but her expression softened nonetheless. “Sorry,” she muttered. “But you must be very lost. This is the research area of Olaenis.”

Qan blanched. How had he gotten that lost? Wait—“isn’t the research institute a separate building?” he asked, certain that there was no way he could’ve failed to notice exiting the building entirely. Yes, he wasn’t exactly the best at reading maps, but he wasn’t blind.

The man sighed. “Well, yes,” he admitted, “but we were afraid that—” The man paused and swallowed before continuing. “…this, uh, specimen, could be interfering in our research. Uh, I think that you’d best be going now,” he added as an afterthought, seeing the others giving him meaningful looks. He must have said too much, Qan realized.

“How?...” Qan’s question was cut off as the first woman walked in front of him, indicating for him for follow. Although he was curious, his hunger easily won over his thirst for knowledge. Anyway, it probably wasn’t a big deal. Having made his decision, he followed the… well, she was probably a researcher, then, and not a professor.

Even so, Qan couldn’t help stealing a glance at the now less-obscured object at the end of the corridor. Though it was a bit far away, he could make out the brightest white he’d ever seen, even moreso than the walls of the corridor.

That hardly gave him any information about exactly what the researchers had been discussing, so Qan decided to just forget about it. And, as he’d thought before, it probably wasn’t a big deal.

*~*~*~*

Several thinly veiled threats, less thinly veiled insults, and not at all veiled biting comments later, Mr. Mande and Samuel arrived at the lunchroom. Mr. Mande was seriously considering throttling both the boy and Coyle when he had the chance, while Samuel was reconsidering his decision to stay at Olaenis until he knew enough about mutatis.

He’d expected his escort to be annoying, but this was near unbearable. Samuel had quite possibly been glaring at Mr. Mande for the past five minutes, and the professor, in turn, had made a mental note to give himself an excuse to blow something up in the laboratory. Multiple things, even.

The two arrived at the lunchroom a bit after the main crowd, Esa and Baden ahead of them by a few minutes. The redhead gave them a curious look and muttered to her brother, “Looks like they’re getting along just wonderfully,” to which he laughed. The two took a seat at a still fairly empty table.

There was yet another stage there, Samuel noted with some apprehension. Was the headmaster going to make another speech? He seriously doubted he had the patience for that right then. If he had to listen to Coyle Dane drone on about something-or-other for more than thirty seconds, he was liable to (at least) beat someone up.

Well, not badly, but still.

He hastily got his food and dashed around the spacious room in the hopes of losing Mr. Mande. The professor, he thought, certainly had no reason to follow him when he was eating. That crossed the line from ‘I want to make sure you don’t try to escape’ into ‘this is violating the little privacy I had left’.

Not knowing where else to go, Samuel sat across from Esa and Baden. The blond boy gave him an odd sort of look, but Samuel pleaded for silence with his eyes, so Baden shrugged and chatted about miscellaneous topics with Esa.

After several minutes, Qan showed up and seated himself beside the others, but there was no sign of Mr. Mande. Samuel let himself relax. So the professor wasn’t going to follow him when he was eating lunch.

“So you going to explain why you came sitting here looking like you’d just seen a Magistrae?” Esa asked, having finished her food already. Samuel looked at her like a deer in headlights for a few moments.

“Oh! …I was running from Mr. Mande,” he hissed in response, glancing nervously around. Esa’s raised eyebrow asked a clear question, and Baden gave Samuel a once-over. “I didn’t get into a fight with anyone, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he snapped.

“So then… why?” Baden continued examining Samuel, making the black-haired boy slightly unnerved. Hiding his nervousness, Samuel just glared, and Baden rolled his eyes, turning back to his food.

“Alright, I guess you just like being all mysterious,” Esa quipped. Samuel honestly couldn’t be bothered to be angry at her comment, however dumb he thought it was.

“Just… don’t,” Samuel said after some length. Esa mumbled something that could have been an agreement. Samuel chose to think of it as such.

Qan stayed silent, wondering if this had anything to do with that weird thing he’d accidentally stumbled upon (and had been immediately shepherded away from). Samuel did have a scar on his nose… maybe whatever it was had injured the other boy? The researchers had certainly acted like the thing could potentially be dangerous.

Well, Qan though, it’s plausible, at least. He kept his theory to himself, though. If Samuel had been hurt by that bright white thing, then he was probably going to be touchy about the subject and wouldn’t spill anything.

The black-haired boy had no idea what he had actually stumbled upon, nor how wrong his absurd theory was.

*~*~*~*

Mr. Mande smiled an apologetic smile. “Sorry I took so long; what with the new, ahem, position Coyle’s given me…” He paused and scratched the back of his head.

“It’s alright,” his colleague, Miranda Pent said. “I’m not sure what he was thinking, shoving that onto you… but never mind, you’re here.” She waved her hand dismissively.

“Yes,” he commented, his smile becoming more genuine. “In any case, any news?...”

“It’s definitely been more active since the students arrived,” the man said. “Hasn’t been reacting to any other stimulus, though. As of yet we’ve no idea why.”

“I,” the other woman said, “disagree with Jason. We do have an idea. Based on past studies, Magistrae tend to become more active when nearby someone who matches their variant type.”

Mr. Mande gave her a shocked look. “Erin… no human being has pure Mutata.” He shook his head, even though his expression turned thoughtful. “That’s preposterous.”

“Exactly!” Jason cried indignantly. “Only students have arrived, and nobody could sneak in. “You’re saying that someone who, for all we know, doesn’t exist, somehow arrived with the students?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve changed commonly held misconceptions,” Erin insisted.

Miranda sighed. “We’ve done it before, yes, but this is a matter of fact. Nobody ever recorded has had pure Mutata.”

“Well…” Mr. Mande began, then paused. “We have never determined exactly what variant whitehairs possessed.”

Jason looked at the professor like he’d grown a second head. “Alden—you can’t be saying that. Whitehairs can’t utilize mutatis at all. Pure Mutata Magistrae, on the other hand, are the exact opposite.”

Mr. Mande sighed. “Well, yes, but otherwise we have a completely unexplained increase in activity. At least Erin has an idea. If it’s wrong, it’s wrong. If it’s not—”

“We would know if a whitehair arrived,” Miranda pointed out. “They wouldn’t. And a whitehair, of all people? They’re even less likely to be capable of sneaking into Olaenis.”

“What if they didn’t?”

It was as if Alden had grown not only a second head, but a third one as well, this one spouting quite foul language.

“Are you saying a student is a whitehair? That’s—that’s—that’s just plain impossible, Alden.” Jason shook his head. “There’s taking an idea and running with it, and then there are things that are just—impossible.” Even Erin was incredulous.

“…it may not be,” the professor whispered to himself, remembering a particular oddly designed necklace worn by a certain student, but none of his colleagues heard. “I suppose so,” he sighed loudly, and then continued with, “It’s the only idea we’ve got.”

“It may be, but I’m certain we can come up with one less insane.” Miranda ran her hand through her long hair. “That kid must be wearing on your nerves, Alden. We’ll continue running some tests, you enjoy your free time.”

Mr. Mande laughed bitterly. “I will while I can, Miranda. I guess I’ll see all of you later today.” He waved goodbye to his colleagues, who waved back and continued talking amongst themselves.

Maybe Samuel’s behavior was making him grasp at straws. But maybe, just maybe, he had a worthwhile idea. The design was certainly odd; highly reminiscent of a Masker necklace, even though it seemed… oddly large.

Even if it was a Masker, then no whitehair ever known had been able to attempt mutatis. We haven’t ever been able to study a whitehair extensively, some part of Alden spoke up. He immediately dispelled the idea.

Even so, he decided to look into the background of one Esa Fallore. True, nobody knew much about whitehairs due to the lack of research on them.

But Mr. Mande knew one simple fact about them that could mean big things.

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by no mom its ironic on Mon Nov 24, 2014 4:44 am

what's the simple fact?

good question.

good.

question.

huehuehuehuehuehuehuehuehue

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by you're not my supervisor on Mon Nov 24, 2014 1:29 pm

Ohboy.

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by no mom its ironic on Mon Dec 15, 2014 5:17 am

Note to self: update tfc ya dingus

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by no mom its ironic on Sat Dec 20, 2014 3:45 am

elder wrote:Note to self: update tfc ya dingus

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by no mom its ironic on Thu Mar 05, 2015 2:26 am

reminding myself to update tfc four months later

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by you're not my supervisor on Thu Mar 05, 2015 2:21 pm

psst, don't forget to update this.

shit, i'm kind of a hypocrite, aren't i?

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by no mom its ironic on Sat Mar 07, 2015 10:20 pm

the answer is yes but its ok

i simultaneously dropped like, a dozen things so

but guess what

im writing

The document's open, I'm typing words
I didn't know I did that anymore
Who knew I had three pages already typed?

For months I've made everyone wait
Why have a story with no updates?
Now finally this inspiration's ripe

There'll be actual complete chapters
They'll be absolutely new
It's finally something I'm gonna do

'Cause for the first time in forever
There's no writer's block to fight
For the first time in forever
I'm going to write

Don't know if I'm inspired or sleepy
But I'm somewhere around there
Cause for the first time in forever
This stuff's getting somewhere

Today imagine me posting shit
Killing characters that didn't ask for it
Enjoying every devastated stare
Ooh! An idea for another AU
But I still need to update two
I wanna write it all, it's just not fair

But then I finish up an old one
Just out of the blue
Now I can move on to something new

For the first time in forever
I'm updating AUs
For the first time in forever
I could have nothing left to do

And I know it is totally crazy
To think I'd be all done
But for the first time in forever
It's possible I've won

im too lazy to do the rest but you get the idea

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by you're not my supervisor on Sat Mar 07, 2015 11:27 pm

A+++

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by no mom its ironic on Sat Jun 06, 2015 8:00 pm

the end times are coming, i woke up at a reasonable time today and i updated tfc. what the fuck is t his

Chapter Seven

A niggling suspicion was hardly grounds to actually confront Esa about what Mr. Mande had, potentially, stumbled upon. It was all just potential, he reminded himself; and if he leapt to conclusions before making sure it was all true, he could probably get in big trouble.

(Even if he made sure it was all true, he could get in big trouble—but Alden chose to ignore that thought when it popped up in his mind.)

Anyway, lunch was going to end soon, and then the students would have free time until dinner came around. With sudden urgency (a glance at a clock made him realize he had only a minute to get to the lunchroom), Mr. Mande hurried to the room. He slowed down as he turned the corner and made his way over to the entrance.

Blue eyes scanned the expanse of student’s heads, until finally Alden saw Samuel, sitting (funnily enough) with what appeared to be Esa, Qan, and Baden. Two birds with one stone, he thought to himself. Though he was still far off from coming to a conclusion, at the very least he could check if Esa was still wearing her necklace.

Samuel looked up to see the professor enter the room, hands in his pockets in a relaxed pose, and groaned audibly. “Guess who’s here,” he muttered darkly.

“Mr. Mande.” Qan didn’t even ask, he just stated the name flatly. “Maybe now you’ll tell why you were running from him earlier?” Samuel glared at Qan, and he promptly shut up. Why’s he so defensive about that? he wondered, an annoyed expression forming on his face.

“He’s probably already seen me by now,” Samuel remarked, mostly to himself. He turned to Qan and shrugged. “I guess I’ll see you later, Qan.”

“Lunch is about to end anyway, so it’ll be more like a matter of minutes,” Esa pointed out, standing up at the same time as Samuel. She thought for a second, and then added, “Or you could just go together, assuming you’re heading back to your dorm?”

“Well…” Samuel hesitated, taken off guard by Esa’s suggestion, and then nodded with a trace of reluctance. “I guess so.”

“So your goodbye was useless,” Baden piped up, an impish smile on his face. Samuel rolled his eyes without responding and left the table, making his way towards Mr. Mande. Alden couldn’t be any worse company than the others, he figured. Actually, he probably could—but Samuel couldn’t be bothered to stop walking for no reason.

Something about the fact that Samuel was willingly walking towards Alden gave him a sense of foreboding. Did Samuel hate the others that much? Was he plotting something? Was he looking forward to antagonizing Alden further?

After a moment’s consideration, Mr. Mande decided it was most likely all three, and took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly. It was the first day and Samuel was already grating on him. The kid had some sort of annoying ability to rub him the wrong way. Maybe, Alden hoped, he would build up a resistance with time.

Reality hit him two seconds later. Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

Realizing he was too far off to see if Esa was still wearing the necklace, Mr. Mande began walking towards Samuel. He took a moment to set a pace that wasn’t so slow as not to serve his purpose or too fast as to seem suspicious. Soon he found himself standing at a comfortable distance from Samuel, which turned out to be significantly greater than the distance he would stand from anyone else.

He purposefully avoided eye contact, instead glancing behind Samuel towards the table. “So,” Mr. Mande remarked, “let’s get going.” For a moment longer, he looked around, managing to catch a glimpse of black string at Esa’s neck, and a snatch of green which could be the gem, but he couldn’t be certain. Samuel stepped forward with an odd glance at Alden, so he turned around and started making his way out of the room like he couldn’t wait to get out (which was not untrue). Samuel didn’t follow.

Without turning around, Mr. Mande asked, “What is it?” There was no answer; instead, Samuel let the hurried footsteps of Qan do it for him. At this, Mr. Mande felt it was necessary to look back.

Qan looked at him with an emotionless gaze that unnerved Alden slightly, so he turned back around. “Alright Qan, you may accompany us,” he said with a casual tone. There was no response; further unnerved, Alden decided to start walking.

Samuel and Qan followed him as they made their way back to the dormitory in complete silence. Samuel wasn’t talking partially out of defiance and partially out of a lack of anything to say. Qan was just silent naturally and not the type to initiate conversation.

Mr. Mande was thinking. If Esa was a whitehair—what could that mean? It could mean breakthroughs in research of mutatis. A whitehair who could perform mutatis; it would be revolutionary, incredible, unbelievable even. But… a frown creased Alden’s brow as he remembered the potential repercussions his insane theory could create. If Esa was a whitehair, then he knew one thing it would definitely mean. And it was something he could not possibly risk even suggesting without conclusive evidence.

Enough thinking about that, though. He had more prevalent issues to deal with, one of which was currently glaring at the back of his head. Did Samuel really think he wouldn’t notice? The irritation in his gaze was almost tangible; Alden could practically feel his head heating up under Samuel’s stare. Of course, there was no way that was a thing that was actually happening. Samuel’s variants were ice and darkness, after all. Nonetheless, Alden scratched the back of his head self-consciously and was oddly relieved to find it the same temperature as the rest of him.

As if on cue, Samuel diverted his attention away from Mr. Mande and glanced over at Qan. Qan’s head immediately whipped around to look right back, one questioning eyebrow raised. When Samuel did nothing else, Qan’s eyes quickly flicked towards the scar on Samuel’s nose and then back up to his eyes, noticing the way Samuel just barely flinched and turned away with a huff. Jeez, the guy was sensitive about the scar. Why didn’t he hide it then? Certainly there was some way to conceal it, if people noticing it was that big of a deal to him.

“We’re almost there,” Mr. Mande announced, needing to break the oppressive silence some way or other. “You’ve got quite a lot of time until dinner, so when you do get there, feel free to do whatever you want.” He waved his hands around vaguely, turning very slightly to have a quick look at the boys behind him. Samuel was quite purposefully looking away from both Alden and Qan, while Qan was maintaining eye contact with Mr. Mande.

“Would wandering around be included under that?” Qan asked, earning narrowed eyes from Alden, along with a slight frown.

For a few moments he considered the question. “Well, as long as you manage to find your way back, I suppose it’s alright,” he conceded, glancing over at Samuel to see he was still determinedly focused on the floor. Personally, Alden was fine with that. He’d rather not deal with Samuel’s smart remarks. “Though, there are certain areas that students probably shouldn’t wander into…”

Like the area with that white thing? Qan mused to himself, but kept his mouth shut about it for fear of the professor… doing something. “Like what?”

Mr. Mande gave him an unimpressed look. “What are you thinking of, government conspiracies?” Qan shrugged, neither confirming nor denying it, and Mr. Mande chuckled softly, an amused smile spreading across his face. “There’s nothing of the sort here. It’s just that some areas aren’t totally set up yet, so you probably wouldn’t want to walk into people in the middle of work. I imagine they wouldn’t be terribly appreciative.”

Qan tried not to sound too disappointed as he said, “Ah.” Judging from Mr. Mande’s quirked eyebrow and barely concealed smirk, he failed miserably.

“If there were any conspiracies lurking in Olaenis, then they certainly would not be government ones, I can assure you of that.” Alden couldn’t resist poking fun at Qan, but didn’t get quite the reaction he wanted as Qan just shut up and started looking at the floor just as Samuel was, annoyance showing on his face. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that. Too late now, in any case.

Silence resumed as they turned the corner and once again arrived in the hallway leading up to Dormitory Twelve. “Here we are,” Alden said lamely, gesturing towards the door with one hand while the other rested in the pocket of his suit jacket. Qan went on ahead without a word, teeth clenched in some form of annoyance or anger and his pace quick, while Samuel walked considerably more slowly after him.

“Hold on, Samuel—” He whirled around immediately when the professor said his name. Alden pulled his hands out of his pockets, letting them fall to his sides. “We need to properly arrange how I’ll tutor you.”

“Can’t this wait?” Samuel snapped with a roll of his eyes, just wanting to get into the dormitory and—do something, he didn’t really know. He just didn’t want to talk to the professor. “We’ve got a week before classes start, we can sort your stupid idea out later.”

“Excuse me for wanting to be proactive,” Alden shot back. Samuel did have a point, but hell if he was going to admit that to the kid. “But if that’s what you want, then certainly. Also—if Qan’s question gave you any funny ideas, then you are most definitely not allowed to wander around the academy unaccompanied. That qualifies as ‘trouble.’”

There was a pause as Samuel looked from the door back to Mr. Mande, then raised his head defiantly. “You’ve got no way of knowing whether I do, do you?”

“Oh? I would’ve thought you noticed that there’s a monitor in your dormitory.” Judging from Samuel’s startled look, he had not. Alden didn’t even try to conceal his smirk. “Typically the older students arrive later, but a smaller group of more esteemed students arrive with the first batch. They help the staff out by performing smaller duties—like monitoring the dormitories, for example.”

Mr. Mande gestured towards the doors. “The monitor here has been informed that you are a… special case, and unless he sees me leaving with you, then you are to remain inside the dorm at all times.”

Hanging at his sides, Samuel’s hands clenched into fists. He tried to maintain a calm, collected look as he glared at Alden. “How’s he going to stop me?”

Right on cue, the doors to the dormitory opened with a soft creak and a tall boy with spiky, pale blond hair and icy blue eyes stepped out, closing the doors behind him. He was thin and angular, with an imposing, stern feeling to him, wearing a steel grey fitted suit that made him look far older than he must’ve actually been. Samuel jumped a little as he walked up to him and Mr. Mande with a relaxed stroll.

“Professor Mande,” he said, voice respectful and serious. Samuel already hated him.

“I am certain that he will be able to handle things,” Mr. Mande said matter-of-factly to Samuel, nodding at the blond boy before turning and walking away.

The boy glanced over at Samuel, who averted his gaze and practically stomped over to the dormitory. Quietly, he fumed to himself; he hadn’t known there were monitors. Damn it, he cursed mentally, opening the door jerkily and barely resisting the urge to slam it shut. He let it close on its own instead. There was no way he’d hold the door open, not for a monitor who was going to prevent him from scoping out the academy.

Several students looked up as Samuel came in, Qan among them. Samuel paid them no mind, instead immediately heading over to his suitcase to pull out a thin, worn book which was missing its cover, the pages yellowed with age. The others returned to whatever they were doing beforehand as he located a chair and sat down upon it. Although he made a face at the aged smell as he opened the book, Samuel quickly became absorbed in it. Qan looked at it curiously.

“Samuel.” Either Samuel ignored him, or he hadn’t heard him. “Hey, Samuel.”

With a slightly irritated look, Samuel looked up. “What is it?”

“What book is that?” Qan asked it with genuine curiosity, but Samuel’s face became a little more closed off, a little more defensive.

“None of your business is what,” Samuel huffed, turning back to it without any further conversation. Qan couldn’t help but feel a little hurt; but really, what had he expected? Samuel was… an abrasive person, to say the least, and they didn’t know each other very well. It would’ve been too much to hope for Samuel to be his friend. Qan was a solitary person, he knew that by now.

Not that he’d always been that way. But the past was the past, and there was no changing that now. Qan sighed a resigned sigh and left Samuel to whatever book he was reading.

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by you're not my supervisor on Sat Jun 06, 2015 9:53 pm

Look at you go, E!

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by no mom its ironic on Sat Aug 08, 2015 10:35 pm

*KICKS DOWN THE DOOR*

WORLDBUILDING SHIT.

the only two countries we deal with are aegnara and limnia, really, and i, am a lazy, and yes,

but uhhhh aegnara is on the coast and v large and limnia is technically landlocked but luckily(?) has a fuckton of rivers throughout and around which form the new border between it and aegnara, as well as a mountain range.

ok so the world (prob terra or some shit idkkk) has the same days, seasons, years as earth

different months tho. 10. half of em have 37 days, the others 36. orrr maybe i simplify things and we just have a 360 day years because that's so much of a nicer number to work with, honestly.

the current year is somewhere in the 1820s. 1824, just to put a random number. idk.

war of conquest took place somewhere in the later 1780s, probably.

Puris - first month - corresponds w/ belief that pure mutata is sorta the origin of everything else, which hasn't strictly been proven, but nonetheless is the commonly held belief.
Lumis - second month - there's a whole order of creation thing that the things follow. it's a thing.
Nyctis - third month
Ventis - fourth month
Earthis - fifth
Aquis - sixth
Flaris - seventh
Energis - eighth
Fris - ninth
Vacis - tenth, last month. emptiness is the END OF ALL THIGNS. fun times

holidays are a thing i frankly Cannot be Bothered With at this moment in time. there's probably at least one per each season. idk. and more sprinkled throughout for famous ppl n shit

as for days... six-day week, maybe? ye. sur.

uhhhh names uhhh do i gotta hm.

Mastersday - first day worst day. equiv of monday. at the end of the week you get the 'break day' deal. named so bc this is the day y'all get back to work and have to deal with yo masters bossing you around. fun times
Twainday - literally fucking two day im not shitting you
Midstday - third day turd day lmao. middle day bc the last day doesnt count fight me
Tetraday - fourth day. im not v original with these day names
Finday - fifth day. last day b4 u get to rest. yey
Respiteday - last day best day

there we go.

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by no mom its ironic on Sat Aug 08, 2015 10:55 pm

ALSO! there's a third contry, Estei, which is right next to Limnia and also blocked off from it by the mountain range and rivers. It's ''allies'' with Aegnara and also p small. it's also on the coast, together it and aegnara keep limnia landlocked. ye

esteise people look similar to limnian ppl, while aegnarans are basically white. samuel (adopted) is properly Aegnaran, technically his family is of esteise descent (as is esa's). the darkblithe family is the only pure aegnaran family among 'em.

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by no mom its ironic on Sun Aug 09, 2015 1:49 am

no wait hold on due to Reasons the war of conquest needs to have ended shortly before the kids were born (1809). um. maybe 1790s? maybe it just lasted a reaalllly long time. still, mid-1790s sounds like a good time. probably a lot of posturing and threatening before. idkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by no mom its ironic on Sun Aug 09, 2015 3:16 am

Chapter Eight

Samuel would never admit it, of course, but he held a certain amount of respect for the Delsor family. Not for his foster parents, no, but for one member in particular—the spy known as Foxtail. Veta Delsor was an inspirational figure, a woman with bright red hair and pale grey eyes and an impish smile, someone with a sly shrewdness to her that definitively earned her the title of ‘Foxtail.’

So, of course, he would never admit that when he (in a fit of annoyance and pent-up energy) had gone searching throughout the house for anything to occupy him, he had stumbled upon a collection of boxes. They looked old, and were, apparently, unopened. Intrigued by the mysterious containers, Samuel managed to open them by himself and found inside a variety of things. Some were commonplace items, clothes and trinkets. Inside one box, though, he found an aged notebook, its pages yellowed and brittle. There was a barely visible title on its front, which, after a great deal of squinting, Samuel made out to be Personal Records of the War.

This piqued Samuel’s curiosity. He opened the book to the first page and promptly recoiled from the musty smell and dust that filled the air. With one hand, he waved it away (or as much as he could, at least), the other still holding onto the book. When he could clearly see the page again, he found that it was… empty. A bit miffed, he turned to the next, this one filled with neat, thin writing, which had a slant to it. It was written so small, so many lines taking up the page, that he squinted at it for a few moments before deciding that there was no way he’d decipher it unless he read it in proper lighting.

Once he’d determined that there was nothing else of interest to be found in the boxes, he tucked the book beneath his arm and made his way to his room. He closed the door with a decisive enough slam to tell anyone outside to stay outside unless it was a matter of life or death, and then sat down in front of his desk. Gingerly, Samuel placed the book down.

It looked a simple enough thing, a fairly thin notebook, not remarkable in any way apart from perhaps the evident age of the thing. The title was odd—‘Personal Records of the War?’ More likely than not, it was talking about the War of Conquest, which was long enough ago for the age of the notebook to match up with it. Curious, Samuel once again opened the notebook to the first page. Now that he was in a room that was properly lit, he could make out the small words significantly better than before.

After only a few seconds, Samuel realized exactly whose personal records of the war he was reading.

17th of Ventis, 1792

Well, it’s happened. I, Veta Delsor, am now officially a spy for the Aegnaran army.

It was something we volunteered for, and there were pretty few volunteers at that, so I probably shouldn’t be so surprised I got picked. I mean, there are several contributing factors—first of all, I can easily pass for Limnian. Thank Mutata for Limnian and Esteise similarities. Second, I am already in the army, and if I say so myself, I’ve done pretty well for myself. Third, I’m not nobility or anyone important, so a high-risk job like this won’t create any problems. (That’s not really something to be glad about, I suppose, but eh.) Fourth, I already have some relatives in Limnia who seem willing to help after a few discreet letters back and forth. Fifth, I am smart. Maybe I’m being a little too proud, but who cares? It’s not like anyone but myself is going to be reading this, anyway.

Which brings me to the reason I’m writing in this notebook anyway. I figure if I’m going to be making my livelihood lying it’d be good to write down the lies so I don’t forget them. Also, just to jot down general notes. I don’t have a flawless memory, after all.

The details of my assignment and other things are still being worked out, so for the moment I’m still stuck in Aegnara. I’m told I’ll be shipped off to Limnia soon. Here’s hoping. Although maybe I shouldn’t be so enthusiastic? I do run the risk of being killed for what I’m doing.

…well, that was a sobering thought. Yeesh. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.


There the entry stopped, and Samuel paused a moment to mull over exactly what he’d found. Veta Delsor’s—journal, he supposed, because ‘personal records of the war’ was entirely too much of a mouthful for his taste.

Really, he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected from the journal of a famous spy. What was someone supposed to expect? Either way, he found himself strangely… disconcerted by what he’d read. Before, he’d never really considered Veta Delsor as a flesh-and-blood person. Her health was in decline when he’d been adopted, and he’d never gotten the chance to meet her as his grandmother. Though his adoptive parents had told him stories about her, he’d only ever thought of her as Foxtail, as a character in history. Not a real person, with doubts about what she was doing.

The reluctant admiration he’d held for Foxtail throughout his life suddenly blossomed into a full-blown respect for Veta Delsor, maybe even a kinship, an understanding of sorts. Maybe he didn’t entirely agree with everything she’d ever done. But…

He never really finished reading the journal, because it wasn’t like a book. Some entries were short, to-the-point things, hastily jotted down notes to remember later. Some were long, page after page of thoughts, of feelings. Some Samuel didn’t entirely understand.

For some reason, he’d decided to take the journal with him. He wasn’t entirely sure why, it wasn’t exactly his preferred reading material, just something he flipped through on occasion with mild interest. It was more of a whim than a decision to take it. When he’d glanced it out of the corner of his eye on his desk, he’d tucked it into his luggage without a further thought.

Then, when he’d seen it in his luggage, lying there (he’d ripped off the cover at some point, not wanting anyone to identify what the journal was), he’d grabbed it on a whim and sat down, intending to pick a random point and start reading. Idly, Samuel flipped back and forth before settling on a page he didn’t believe he’d read before. It was, he noticed, shortly after the end of the war, the date at the top clearly saying the 11th of Flaris, 1808.

What really caught his attention, though, was what followed. There was only one Pont that Samuel knew of that could’ve conceivably known Veta Delsor and asked her for her ‘help’ with something. Yet, Samuel didn’t recall anything notable happening with both Pont Fallore and Veta Delsor after the end of the war. Of course, Pont was still doing his work as the queen’s aide and advisor, and helped work out the peace treaty between Limnia and Aegnara, but nothing that should’ve required Veta’s help.

Intrigued, Samuel quickly grew absorbed in the entry. He didn’t really understand what it meant, but it was certainly interesting.

11th of Flaris, 1808

So, Pont’s requested my help with what he calls a ‘pet project.’ Which could mean a number of things. In this case, though, it’s something… a bit unusual.

Most of Pont’s ‘pet projects’ are… he doesn’t really have any. He seems entirely dedicated to the cause of Aegnara, even if he is originally from Estei. I suppose that’s one thing he’s got in common with me.

Anyway, Pont was pretty evasive about exactly what his ‘pet project’ was, until I got tired of beating around the bush and asked him straight out.

It’s… it’s something. I understand that, as he also acts as a historian, he jumps at the chance to ‘preserve’ pretty much anything. But this?

He wants to, in essence, kidnap a child from the Limnian royalty and sneak it away to Aegnara. To preserve the royal line or some bullshit. I told him I thought it was bullshit, which seemed to deflate him slightly, but nonetheless he sees no problem with this plan.

I told him that there was no point in it. The Limnian royalty’s in no real danger, even though he seems nervous that someone will take the opportunity to… assassinate them all, or something. Besides, we were just AT WAR WITH LIMNIA. To which Pont had a smart reply, as always.

Obviously, KIDNAPPING A LIMNIAN ROYAL isn’t something that Pont’s capable of by himself. He says that one of the princesses is due to give birth soon. Because obviously kidnapping a newborn child from the Limnian royalty and sneaking it over the border is the easiest thing, ever. Mutata’s sake.

I’m not entirely sure how Pont intends to keep the kid, anyway. He just kind of deflected the question and assured me that he had a way. Personally, I think he’s talking bullshit.

…nonetheless, he somehow managed to convince me to go along with the plan. Bribery was involved, as well as a few actually somehow logical arguments which I can’t write down because they’re so intricate. The child is in very real danger, and the Limnian royalty…

Well, from Pont’s accounts of them…

I can’t believe I’m friends with him. For the love of Mutata.

If I get killed doing this, I’m going to murder him. Despite being dead. I’ll figure out a way.


As the entry concluded, Samuel continued to stare at the page for a few moments longer, confused and shocked. Pont Fallore had conspired with Veta Delsor to kidnap one of the Limnian royal family. It was… it sounded incredibly far-fetched. He had never heard anything about this, though to be honest, it didn’t sound like the sort of thing that people would know about.

He was abruptly brought out of his confusion by Qan’s voice. “Samuel.” Samuel, recovering from his initial surprise at Qan speaking, ignored him. “Hey, Samuel.”

Annoyed, Samuel glanced up at him. “What is it?” he snapped. He had more pressing things to think about rather than whatever Qan was bothering him for.

“What book is that?” Immediately, Samuel bristled. There was a reason he’d ripped the cover off of the journal, no matter how vague the title was.

“None of your business is what.” Qan looked sufficiently told off for Samuel to turn back to the journal and continue reading the next entry. Had the hare-brained plan proved successful? Wait, obviously not, people would know if one of the Limnian royalty had gotten kidnapped. And Veta Delsor had lived a full life. Pont Fallore… if he recalled correctly, the man had fallen ill and died in an Aegnaran hospital.

…wait, when had that been? Samuel racked his brain for a date. Somewhere… either Energis or Flaris of 1808. He’d never been good memorizing dates.

So, Samuel concluded, the plan had never taken off at all. Yes. That was the only possible conclusion. For a few moments, he really, earnestly believed it.

After those moments passed, he immediately read the next entry. Just to be sure. His heart plummeted the moment he read the first words.

13th of Flaris, 1808

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Pont’s arranged everything. We both have excuses, and the necessary supplies, and now we’re off! Traveling covertly, on our own horses, taking windy untraveled roads that are not exactly the height of comfort. It’s taking much longer than it would if we travelled a more straightforward route. To be fair, that’s not exactly a possibility.

As each day passes I grow more conflicted about this plan. Pont still refuses to tell me why he wants to take a kid from the Limnian royalty to ‘study’ it. I think it’s kind of messed up. And I still don’t understand how he intends to take care of the kid. And I still don’t understand how he convinced me to go along with him. I have no idea why we’re friends, I swear to Mutata.

15th of Flaris, 1808

Nothing interesting is happening. Nobody knows about what we’re planning to do, so we’re encountering no opposition. It’s just travelling, riding on horseback hour after hour, day after day. Things are going to get interesting when we actually get to Limnia.

18th of Flaris, 1808

Nothing interesting happened when we actually got to Limnia. There’s no control of the border what with the fact it was recently changed. Now we just have to get to the capital. And kidnap a Limnian Royal. Mutata’s sake.

19th of Flaris, 1808

So, we’ve arrived at the capital. The kid hasn’t been born yet, so now we’re just sitting around and waiting for it to arrive so we can steal it away to Aegnara. Resonably, Pont is nervous. As am I. At least when we were travelling, we had something to do.

Now we’re just… waiting. It’s worse.

20th of Flaris, 1808.

Mutata’s sake.

Pont told me what he intends to do with the kid. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe him. Why are we friends?

I can’t even write it down because I’m not sure how to put it into words. I’m not sure how to put into words my feelings. I understand but…

It took him a while to convince me back into the plan again. The Limnian royalty being in danger, it turns out, isn’t bullshit. He was right about that. There have been numerous attempts on various prince and princesses’ lives during our time here, if hearsay is to be believed. People say that the child the princess is going to have, and the princess herself, are at great risk.

Oh Mutata. I don’t know anything. Help me.


The next entry, Samuel noticed, had no date. It was hastily scrawled, with an air of panic and urgency about it.

oh mutata oh mutata oh mutata this was a terrible idea this was a terrible idea pont’s been POISONED he’s been poisoned he’s going to die

we have the kid but oh mutata we’re on the run and pont’s been poisoned he’s stuffed himself full of herbs and other shit but he’s going to die he’s going to die

he tells me he won’t I know he’s lying and yet he also tells me that above all else I need to get the kid across the border she’s a girl she’s this delicate little girl and I don’t think you’re supposed to be exposing a newborn kid to the outdoors like this she could die

her name’s teruqaila, a mouthful of a name, but pretty too. pont says we’ve got to give her another name. he’s going to die and i know it.

we’re moving fast, we’ll be back in aegnara soon. soon enough? i can’t say. i hope so but i doubt it.

i shouldn’t have let him talk me into this.


Samuel’s confusion and shock earlier was nothing compared to what he felt as he finished reading the entry. He swallowed and tried to numb his mind to what he’d just read. How was it possible? Surely—surely—where had Pont Fallore died? An Aegnaran hospital. Which Aegnaran hospital?

One near the border?

No, no, don’t think about it. With shaking hands, Samuel closed the journal and rose from his seat to put the book away.

Oh Mutata, what had he just learned?

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by Führer Egg Roll on Sun Aug 09, 2015 3:25 am

Oooh. Very interesting!

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Re: To Force Change (re... boot?...)

Post by you're not my supervisor on Fri Aug 14, 2015 5:47 pm

duuude

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