http://burnedbrighter.livejournal.com/ (
burnedbrighter.livejournal.com) wrote in
trans_92011-05-30 02:26 pm
Entry tags:
You can look, but you can't touch I don't think I like you much
Freedom, what a silly word.
No matter how free she was nothing changed. The constant creeping paranoia, every shadow a potential threat, every blind corner could be hiding an assassin.
But she wouldn't hide. She wouldn't cower! She had been cleaned up, though her hair still hung about her shoulders in untamed tresses of inky black shine.
This ship had to be explored, she had to know as much about it as she could. Knowledge was power and at the moment she felt particularly weak.
After so much time of being locked away, barely moving, not training. Her body had lost it's edge. Her strength and power had waned and she knew it.
Even if she wasn't aware the voices would never let her forget.
And so barefoot and looking lost in more ways then one the pale young girl slipped through the ship quietly watching, learning.
In time her strength would return.
And then the screams of those that had defied her would fill this ship.
Freedom had done wonders for her mood.
((OOC: So since she's just wandering about wherever you'd like to meet her just mention it in your post and we'll roll from there. ^_^ ))
No matter how free she was nothing changed. The constant creeping paranoia, every shadow a potential threat, every blind corner could be hiding an assassin.
But she wouldn't hide. She wouldn't cower! She had been cleaned up, though her hair still hung about her shoulders in untamed tresses of inky black shine.
This ship had to be explored, she had to know as much about it as she could. Knowledge was power and at the moment she felt particularly weak.
After so much time of being locked away, barely moving, not training. Her body had lost it's edge. Her strength and power had waned and she knew it.
Even if she wasn't aware the voices would never let her forget.
And so barefoot and looking lost in more ways then one the pale young girl slipped through the ship quietly watching, learning.
In time her strength would return.
And then the screams of those that had defied her would fill this ship.
Freedom had done wonders for her mood.
((OOC: So since she's just wandering about wherever you'd like to meet her just mention it in your post and we'll roll from there. ^_^ ))

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He looked away from the bleed, fixing his amethyst eyes on the princess's face, and smiled. "I once pulled a man from his grave, and he was breathing and talking as you and I are now. That is the extent of my capabilities, your highness."
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"You brought him back to life...through your magics?" She inquired further imagining the scene herself, "Do go on? In what manner did he pass?"
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He was spare on the details. Roger had been killed in a duel - by his twin, for attempting to murder the Queen. But that wasn't exactly prudent to disclose.
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"May I see some of your skill? Perhaps with fire magic?" Fire was something she was comfortable with.
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He held out his hand, the sleeve falling away from his pale arm. Calling his Gift was the work of a second, his power rushing eagerly to pool in his palm. Fire the color of old blood grew up around him in an aura, and he pulled his arm back and hurled it down the hallway, sending a roar of flame out toward Hydroponics.
He pressed his mouth together, scowling, and twisted his fingers. The torrent of Gift-fire vanished. "Fine control is something I spent several years mastering," he explained casually, as if he hadn't broken out in a sweat.
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But just to prove she ould she managed to summon forth a fireball in her hand, but noted with disgust it was orange. Not her preferred blue.
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"Fascinating," he said. "It's unlike any sorcery I've ever seen - what is it called?"
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Though they were rusty from lack of use...and focus.
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All right, so perhaps that last part was a lie. But what difference did it make? He wasn't trying to be truthful, he was trying to impress.
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People coming up to him in Court, awed by the stories of power to rival even the Duke's. Could he do this? Could he do that?
Could he raise a man from the dead?
All of that and more, Thom thought, smirking.
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"And yet here we are, once again surrounded by people of lesser ability and value expected to do the work of gods" It sounded like such a chore.
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Thom, for one, had never been among so much different and varying talent. When he allowed himself, he grew unbearably excited at the prospect.
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They were trapped under the ship's control. Most of the time she was relatively benign, but that fact still remained.
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The very green uniforms. At least his robes were black.
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"A challenge fit for someone of my abilities, yet a chore far too tedious for someone of my status. How bothersome."
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She was a funny, spoiled thing. Like what might happen if Deliah had ever been given power.
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As if she had a choice.