http://worm-dancer.livejournal.com/ (
worm-dancer.livejournal.com) wrote in
trans_92009-12-16 01:58 am
Entry tags:
the test of techniques/the forms/and stances/the flow/the rythm/the internal answers [open]
God knows where she'd gotten the blades.
They hovered in the air, little menacing antigravity buzzsaw shuriken. Violence lay coiled within them, not directed outward but in, at Sheeana who stood poised with her arms spread. This was the attitude with which she called the great worm. Her toes curled in, feeling the strange, unfamiliar grass (coarse, yes, like the rare poverty grasses that sometimes grew on the leeward side of the dunes but still far too thick for her liking and multicolored). She opened her awareness, allowing herself to become part of the place and her of it.
Seven, a warm up. Their timer finished counting down, they converged in on her
There was a series of contortions that blurred in and out of visibility. She leapt. She hugged the ground. At one point she found herself poised on one hand, feet thrown up into the air like a Minoan athlete over the bull.
For practicing the Weirding Way, no artificial lightshow would do, no matter how real feeling.
They hovered in the air, little menacing antigravity buzzsaw shuriken. Violence lay coiled within them, not directed outward but in, at Sheeana who stood poised with her arms spread. This was the attitude with which she called the great worm. Her toes curled in, feeling the strange, unfamiliar grass (coarse, yes, like the rare poverty grasses that sometimes grew on the leeward side of the dunes but still far too thick for her liking and multicolored). She opened her awareness, allowing herself to become part of the place and her of it.
Seven, a warm up. Their timer finished counting down, they converged in on her
There was a series of contortions that blurred in and out of visibility. She leapt. She hugged the ground. At one point she found herself poised on one hand, feet thrown up into the air like a Minoan athlete over the bull.
For practicing the Weirding Way, no artificial lightshow would do, no matter how real feeling.

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There. One of the voices from Other Memory, much decayed by millenia chimed in. A small, ground dwelling insectivore with spikes on its back. Quite strange, but he did say his race was a product of the fusing of men and beasts...Perhaps he can help me figure out the origins of Futars.
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"What's a Reverend Mother, anyway?"
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"A Reverend Mother is one who can access Other Memory....That is, complete ancestral memory on the female side, plus the memory of all Reverend Mothers that have come before."
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"Well, this scientist named Nate Morgan made the power rings by mixing magic and technology or something like that. It's a long story, but I used to be able to use Power Rings to boost my speed or strength temporarily, or to give myself flashes of knowledge and insight. That part really kicks my rear, though, so I tried to avoid using them for that reason.
"Anyway, ever since I absorbed my billionth power ring, I don't get as huge a boost from them anymore, because I'm already pumped up so much from them. Now we mainly use them to help others out. Like my buddy Monkey Khan. Most of his body was forcefully cyberized by Doctor Robotnik, so he uses a Power Ring crown to keep anyone from taking control of the cyborg parts of his body."
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"Interesting. I know a substance in my world that is similar. Would you like to try the blades?" A dangerous suggestion and the devil's own smile came with it, but she had a feeling he was up to the challenge.
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"Sure! I'm game, if you want me to," he replied, accepting the invite eagerly.
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"Alright, but i'm not responsible for any injury you might incur. Let's start easy..." And from the pile, she handed him two of the blades. "When you're ready, throw them."
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He hoped this was fun.
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That's right, Sheeana. Not only was he fighting the blades and keeping them from slicing him to bits, but he was also having a conversation with the woman. About Mobian history.