zandyne
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This is NOT Zetsu. DX
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Post by zandyne on May 19, 2009 4:13:41 GMT -5
She shrugged, or more accurately her stature was sagged, she had stress and bewilderment written all over her face, but she pointed urgently to the watch that was somehow still on her other wrist.
'We shouldn't waste any more time.'
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Post by TrueBlue© on May 19, 2009 10:18:10 GMT -5
Lucubro didn't know what a watch was, but he took Gen by the arm again and led her into the shadowed wall of the building they had just left.
The world was only black for a split second this time, and then they walked out the trunk of a black skeleton tree. They were in the dead grove he'd shown her from the base, but around this little clearing, all the trees were black as if they'd seen fire.
Littered on the ground was all kind of paraphernalia. Lots of clay jars, and glittering, broken pieces of somethings, and some white sand spilled all around in a circle, and weird tools everywhere. There were things in the trees, too, and here also all the branches were interwoven overhead, making a vague ceiling.
"Have a seat somewhere." The witch picked up a jar and looked inside. "I apologize for the way you were treated back there. I know you're no slave of his." He set the jar down and opened another, looking for something. "Can you speak, or are you mute? Don't worry about vomiting, honestly. I've seen much worse. Here, just in case." He found an empty pot and handed it to her, but kept looking for something else.
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zandyne
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This is NOT Zetsu. DX
Posts: 1,037
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Post by zandyne on May 20, 2009 0:04:33 GMT -5
She'd taken a seat as he suggested, picking the most empty part of the floor at that. At the offer of a pot she gladly took it and placed it comfortably before her face.
Gen was hesitant at first, weighing finding the words in terms of length and adequacy to describe her situation. "Thank you. It's a sickness. I'm far from home." The black substance gushed into the jar. Admittedly it was much less violent now and this gave her more confidence in speaking again.
The flow of the inky liquid was weaker, but still constant, she figured facing the jar while speaking would be the best way to hold the conversation. "I have no idea what's causing it. I've been stripped of many of my abilities since I've left home. I may not be a slave to that man in the sense you know, but I am in another way, it isn't important."
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Post by TrueBlue© on May 20, 2009 15:23:00 GMT -5
Lucubro finally drew a flat bluish stone from a mason jar and put it in his pants pocket. "Gray-eyed persons are not permitted to own slaves in the Northern Empire."
He sat down across from her, crossing his legs over each other and resting his elbows on his knees, watching her face with intensity that was a little spooky. "What kind of abilities did you have?"
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zandyne
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This is NOT Zetsu. DX
Posts: 1,037
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Post by zandyne on May 20, 2009 16:01:39 GMT -5
She laughed bitterly at the assurance Lucubro may or may not have been giving her, "I bartered my pride for allegiance so I can return home. He just happens to be the demon I gave it to."
Gen hadn't been watching what Lucubro was doing, but she was under the assumption that keeping the liquid off his floor would be best for whatever he was preparing. "Back where I belong I was a Corrector for the special cases, the powers I have lost are of creation, manipulation and even the destruction of reality with words. I could also break the personal walls of others and see the forces that propelled or damned them. Higher authority permitting, I could even rewrite their histories and existences."
Gen smiled mirthlessly at herself, she was so used to having all of those luxuries that the uncertainty was frightening.
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Post by TrueBlue© on May 21, 2009 10:59:17 GMT -5
"Really?" The Guardian asked, sounding impressed. "Do you already know of your spirit?"
Perhaps the right word was unique to the local language, or the translation was a little off, but Lucubro didn't elaborate, probably expecting Gen to understand. He was suddenly busy with some flimsy sheets that had been cut into stiff squares, like paper.
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zandyne
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This is NOT Zetsu. DX
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Post by zandyne on May 21, 2009 15:51:19 GMT -5
"Spirit? I'm afraid you'll need to elaborate on what that means."
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Post by TrueBlue© on May 22, 2009 11:49:41 GMT -5
Finally, he found a black can full of softer rocks, perhaps something like pastels. "Well, it doesn't really matter, you'll find out in a minute."
He set the can and papers down in front of her, taking for himself a sheet and a little cobalt piece. "Can you draw very well?"
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zandyne
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This is NOT Zetsu. DX
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Post by zandyne on May 22, 2009 16:16:39 GMT -5
She tilted up more to see what he was talking about. She wasn't exactly an artist but she wasn't artistically inept either. "I can manage nonliving things. Portraits aren't my forte. Writing is my strength."
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Post by TrueBlue© on May 22, 2009 16:29:52 GMT -5
"I'm sure that will work fine." He didn't look up at her as he talked, drawing perfect, concentric circles with the blue. "Try to write a story, it can be about anything."
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zandyne
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This is NOT Zetsu. DX
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Post by zandyne on May 23, 2009 19:54:12 GMT -5
She seemed shocked at the offer. At the Island she was often charged with editing or otherwise overseeing others works, at most she wrote creatively to directly affect her charges or example prompts in the workshops. It was disturbing how a trivial task suddenly was such a challenge. Nonetheless she took the medium.
Gen began writing about a bird of all things. Starting with how its insignificant life began and foreshadowing its miserable doom at the hands of a farmer. It wasn't her best work but she couldn't be bothered with effort for this particular assignment.
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Post by TrueBlue© on May 26, 2009 11:00:53 GMT -5
Lucubro's perfect circles had turned into a complex array that he was detailing with the zodiac. Its purpose was unknown, perhaps it was the only 'art' he could do.
He paused and laid it behind him, taking another sheet of paper and a different color pastel, a cotton candy pink. "Are you nearly finished?"
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zandyne
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Post by zandyne on May 27, 2009 23:59:43 GMT -5
"Yes, quite." It turned out to be a fairly existential piece after all, the chicken lamenting its precious few last seconds of life and a morbid little epilogue.
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Post by TrueBlue© on May 29, 2009 12:05:11 GMT -5
"May I see it?" asked the navy witch, without looking up or holding out his hand for her chicken story. He continued sketching, but this piece was more some vague idea compared to the array he'd just done.
*Base- The Big Room*
"Hello!"
The silver garage door was pushed up, the lithe, cat-eyed Guardian framed beneath it with the black hall for a background, having shoved the door open herself. Behind her somewhere was the Earthling she'd escorted, but she hadn't bothered "babysitting" him, or paying attention to the guest very much at all, short of telling him to leave his shoes at the door, if that was possible for his form.
Aspectus looked startled, like he was suddenly shaken out of inanimation. "Salutation," he protested.
Rush pointed at Aden and True and the Skull King, who'd all been silent, perhaps also frozen. "Weren't there a couple more of those guys?"
In the corner, another woman melted out of the shadows, her with blue hair and bright orange eyes, her form a little too perfect. "Yes," she agreed with a silky voice, "There were. How incredibly frustrating. This is exactly what happened the first time."
The Guardians didn't seem to hear or see her, but True muttered something under her breath. Ego's new form shot her a sharp look.
"Well," the psychic replied, "Lucubro took the girl that was throwing up to his clearing."
"Awesome."
For moment, the conversation seemed to slip, Aspectus was saying something else in his language, he nodded over his shoulder, "...the owner..."
Rush tilted her head. "He has grey eyes. He isn't her owner."
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zandyne
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This is NOT Zetsu. DX
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Post by zandyne on May 30, 2009 2:39:59 GMT -5
"Certainly," she replied as she handed it to him, vaguely wondering why he had asked her to write something at all.
*Base - The Big Room*
He'd been mulling over things, oh so many things when Rush's words suddenly caught his attention. So apparently eye color was important, this didn't bode well. He began thinking of ways he could properly convey that she was to bend to his will yet at the same time he didn't want to say anything too incriminating. If eye colors functioned as a caste system for all he knew his very clothing or words could play a part in it as well.
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