Random Mage tat
Apr. 17th, 2009 11:28 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annwfyn.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
writing_shadowsThis is about my Mage: Awakening character.
For this story to make sense I think the following information needs to be shared:
a) Rae works as a live in care assistant in a rather posh old people's home in North London. As such, she has a small bedsit type place at the back of the home, probably where the servant's quarters used to be, and works the night shift there.
b) Rae has a complicated backstory which mostly can be summarized as 'used to be a necromancer but is trying to get better now'.
c) I played Rae at the London game. At the end of this she dragged![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rebel_wulf's slightly mentally unhinged mage out for ice cream and eventually extended conversations at her place until he basically fell asleep. It is an important part of the backstory to note that Rae is very tactile. DataWraith (Reb's PC) physically twitched pretty much every time she touched him all evening.
This will make this story more comprehensible.
All is quiet in the house of the dead
“Mrs Cooper” Rae said in stern tones. “What are you doing?”
The translucent figure of Genevieve Cooper, who had committed suicide in 1979 turned around to glower at the pink clad necromancer.
“Nothing!” she spat. “Nothing at all. Not allowed to do anything, am I? Not with your sort around.”
“No,” Rae said firmly. “You’re not allowed to do anything, because all the things you want to do are horrible.”
Mrs Cooper twisted her face into something particularly unpleasant and gorgon-like. Rae looked unimpressed.
“Well, you do,” she said. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about poor Mr Godfrey..”
“…he had betrayed his wife…” Mrs Cooper hissed.
Rae cast her an unforgiving look. “And so that gave you the right to kill him?”
Mrs Cooper wriggled in irritation, her long white hair rising up about her like a nest of snakes. Rae was unmoved. “Mr Godfrey was a perfectly nice man, who happened to have done something that you disapproved of a long time ago. And so you killed him, and that’s not nice. It would have served you right if he’d decided not to move on and to stick around to haunt you.
“Now, get away from Mrs Howlett, and get back to the front of the building. You can go and haunt that horrible cat from Number 10.”
The white clad female slid sulkily along the length of the hallway, glancing back over her shoulder at Rae.
“I could go and haunt your room,” she said, and grinned, showing a mouthful of unpleasant teeth.
Rae stiffened slightly.
“No,” she said. “No, you can’t. That’s Mr Cooper’s part of the house, and you well know it.”
Mrs Cooper grinned, with her shark like teeth gleaming yellow in the dim light.
“He won’t be there tonight, will he?” she said. “He turns his eyes away when you fill your bed up, doesn’t he? Thinks too much of you to look at you in that kind of way. And he leaves that part of the house all open and empty for me…”
Her voice had taken on a sing song quality, and her tongue slithered around in her mouth like a snake.
Rae glared at Mrs Cooper.
“Enough,” she said, sharply. “You won’t hurt anyone under my protection, or I’ll bind you so tightly you’ll forget which were your arms and which were your teeth.”
Mrs Cooper floated ever closer to Rae.
“Ravvvveeeennn…” she sang, in her sing-song voice, and Raven, who’s skin had gone as cold as ice, held out a thin white hand.
“Stop,” she said. The corridor smelled very slightly of the grave now, and Raven’s skin was slowly fading as grey as ashes. “I command you. In the name of Ereshkigal, Nergal and Mot, I command you.”
Mrs Cooper froze in the air, with her serpentine white hang hanging motionless.
The girl who called herself ‘Rae’ stared at her, with pitch black eyes.
“I command you,” she said, quietly. “Leave this place, and do not return before dawn.”
In the small hours of the morning Rae tried to finish her rounds. She checked up on Mrs Galloway, who had been suffering badly from indigestion earlier, and knocked gently on Mrs Fox’s bedroom door, because Mrs Fox sometimes forgot to go to the lavatory by herself. No one stirred, and when she walked out into the hallway again she realized that the building still stank of the grave.
Rae tried to wrap her arms around herself, but her skin was as cold as ice, and she couldn’t stop shivering. In the mirror, she saw herself and saw that she was still slightly grey around her lips and eyes.
“I look like a bloody corpse,” she muttered and blinked rapidly to try and stop the tears. “Doesn’t matter how hard I try, doesn’t matter what I do, I still look like a bloody corpse.”
A small icy trickle of saltwater slid down Rae’s cheek. She absent mindedly caught it in the small silver locket she wore around her neck. Tears were always a useful ritual component, and she might as well keep hold of them. Her tears weren't of any particular value - tears of self pity being notoriously lacking in real occult significance - but Rae liked to try and stop anything going to waste.
The clock in the hall struck four. The house was silent and empty now. William Cooper, who's wife had killed him in 1955, was nowhere to be found. Even Weeble, the obstreperous poodle who normally care of Rae and had done so since she was nineteen years old, was nowhere to be found.
Rae leant against the wall and sighed. At the back of the house the mage from the London gathering who she'd been for ice cream with earlier was sleeping. She had this feeling that she shouldn't have brought him back here either. Not just because of Genevieve's malice. Rather, a combination of Genevieve's malice, Rae's ineptitude and the fact that he was a mentally unhinged magic user who Rae had encouraged to not take his meds for the evening. As sensible life choices went, that was probably up there with dancing skyclad in November, or sleeping with a man who bought a stripper to your first date. Maybe it was like taking a job in a haunted house whilst you were trying to give up necromancy, or forgetting to tell your boyfriend that his friends were about to hold a seance with an angry spirit standing two foot to the right of them.
From a long way away, Rae was sure she could hear someone laughing.
It was 4.30 am when Rae gave up on trying to get herself warm by the leaking radiator and crawled into bed beside DataWraith. He didn't stir, but stayed sound asleep. Rae cautiously slid an icy arm around his waist and waited for him to wake up and probably (considering most of his responses to physical contact all evening) have a minor aneurysm. He only sighed a little in his sleep and pulled Rae closer to him. He felt warm to touch.
This, Rae thought, was what she wanted. She had slept with dozens of men and women over the years. She had tried orgies, sex magic, and listened to extended lectures on sacred prostitution. She had worn outfits which made odd squeaking noises and had a peculiar series of scars down her spine from an experiment which had gone wrong. She could give a full body massage with her tongue, and yet most of what she did very rarely touched her. It was just sex. This, however, this quiet warmth in the still of the night when half the world was dead, that mattered.
She held on to the sleeping man a little tighter. It felt a little as if she were feeding off his life and warmth. He didn't seem to flinch away, but it still felt wrong in some way. Yet Rae didn't let go.
Slowly, the heat began to seep back into her limbs, and at 6 am when she slid out of bed to go and check on the residents again she felt almost human. Her face, in the mirror, was pink and flushed, and she added perfumed oil behind her ears, so she could wallow in the scent of flowers.
When DataWraith woke up at 9 am, the room he was sleeping in was warm, and smelled slightly of bacon cooking. Rae was bouncy, and cheerful, and made no reference to anything that had happened the night before. She bought DW bacon sandwiches in bed, and perched cross legged on the end of the bed whilst he ate.
Weeble padded in from outside, and sprawled lazily on the hearth rug.
"Don't you have another gentleman caller arriving in the near future?" he commented, in acerbic tones. "Are you intending on just adding him to the bed?"
Rae glowered at Weeble.
"He'll probably turn up with some kind of alien princess in tow," she said, "wanting to learn about this earth thing called love. He does things like that. I just provide sleeping space."
DW looked at Rae with some mild confusion, and she pushed another bacon sandwich towards him and beamed determinedly until he decided he was better off not asking questions.
Outside, the sun was shining brightly, and Rae found her spirits rising. Today was a new day. She was still alive. And with the new day, she could begin anew.
For this story to make sense I think the following information needs to be shared:
a) Rae works as a live in care assistant in a rather posh old people's home in North London. As such, she has a small bedsit type place at the back of the home, probably where the servant's quarters used to be, and works the night shift there.
b) Rae has a complicated backstory which mostly can be summarized as 'used to be a necromancer but is trying to get better now'.
c) I played Rae at the London game. At the end of this she dragged
rebel_wulf's slightly mentally unhinged mage out for ice cream and eventually extended conversations at her place until he basically fell asleep. It is an important part of the backstory to note that Rae is very tactile. DataWraith (Reb's PC) physically twitched pretty much every time she touched him all evening. This will make this story more comprehensible.
All is quiet in the house of the dead
“Mrs Cooper” Rae said in stern tones. “What are you doing?”
The translucent figure of Genevieve Cooper, who had committed suicide in 1979 turned around to glower at the pink clad necromancer.
“Nothing!” she spat. “Nothing at all. Not allowed to do anything, am I? Not with your sort around.”
“No,” Rae said firmly. “You’re not allowed to do anything, because all the things you want to do are horrible.”
Mrs Cooper twisted her face into something particularly unpleasant and gorgon-like. Rae looked unimpressed.
“Well, you do,” she said. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about poor Mr Godfrey..”
“…he had betrayed his wife…” Mrs Cooper hissed.
Rae cast her an unforgiving look. “And so that gave you the right to kill him?”
Mrs Cooper wriggled in irritation, her long white hair rising up about her like a nest of snakes. Rae was unmoved. “Mr Godfrey was a perfectly nice man, who happened to have done something that you disapproved of a long time ago. And so you killed him, and that’s not nice. It would have served you right if he’d decided not to move on and to stick around to haunt you.
“Now, get away from Mrs Howlett, and get back to the front of the building. You can go and haunt that horrible cat from Number 10.”
The white clad female slid sulkily along the length of the hallway, glancing back over her shoulder at Rae.
“I could go and haunt your room,” she said, and grinned, showing a mouthful of unpleasant teeth.
Rae stiffened slightly.
“No,” she said. “No, you can’t. That’s Mr Cooper’s part of the house, and you well know it.”
Mrs Cooper grinned, with her shark like teeth gleaming yellow in the dim light.
“He won’t be there tonight, will he?” she said. “He turns his eyes away when you fill your bed up, doesn’t he? Thinks too much of you to look at you in that kind of way. And he leaves that part of the house all open and empty for me…”
Her voice had taken on a sing song quality, and her tongue slithered around in her mouth like a snake.
Rae glared at Mrs Cooper.
“Enough,” she said, sharply. “You won’t hurt anyone under my protection, or I’ll bind you so tightly you’ll forget which were your arms and which were your teeth.”
Mrs Cooper floated ever closer to Rae.
“Ravvvveeeennn…” she sang, in her sing-song voice, and Raven, who’s skin had gone as cold as ice, held out a thin white hand.
“Stop,” she said. The corridor smelled very slightly of the grave now, and Raven’s skin was slowly fading as grey as ashes. “I command you. In the name of Ereshkigal, Nergal and Mot, I command you.”
Mrs Cooper froze in the air, with her serpentine white hang hanging motionless.
The girl who called herself ‘Rae’ stared at her, with pitch black eyes.
“I command you,” she said, quietly. “Leave this place, and do not return before dawn.”
In the small hours of the morning Rae tried to finish her rounds. She checked up on Mrs Galloway, who had been suffering badly from indigestion earlier, and knocked gently on Mrs Fox’s bedroom door, because Mrs Fox sometimes forgot to go to the lavatory by herself. No one stirred, and when she walked out into the hallway again she realized that the building still stank of the grave.
Rae tried to wrap her arms around herself, but her skin was as cold as ice, and she couldn’t stop shivering. In the mirror, she saw herself and saw that she was still slightly grey around her lips and eyes.
“I look like a bloody corpse,” she muttered and blinked rapidly to try and stop the tears. “Doesn’t matter how hard I try, doesn’t matter what I do, I still look like a bloody corpse.”
A small icy trickle of saltwater slid down Rae’s cheek. She absent mindedly caught it in the small silver locket she wore around her neck. Tears were always a useful ritual component, and she might as well keep hold of them. Her tears weren't of any particular value - tears of self pity being notoriously lacking in real occult significance - but Rae liked to try and stop anything going to waste.
The clock in the hall struck four. The house was silent and empty now. William Cooper, who's wife had killed him in 1955, was nowhere to be found. Even Weeble, the obstreperous poodle who normally care of Rae and had done so since she was nineteen years old, was nowhere to be found.
Rae leant against the wall and sighed. At the back of the house the mage from the London gathering who she'd been for ice cream with earlier was sleeping. She had this feeling that she shouldn't have brought him back here either. Not just because of Genevieve's malice. Rather, a combination of Genevieve's malice, Rae's ineptitude and the fact that he was a mentally unhinged magic user who Rae had encouraged to not take his meds for the evening. As sensible life choices went, that was probably up there with dancing skyclad in November, or sleeping with a man who bought a stripper to your first date. Maybe it was like taking a job in a haunted house whilst you were trying to give up necromancy, or forgetting to tell your boyfriend that his friends were about to hold a seance with an angry spirit standing two foot to the right of them.
From a long way away, Rae was sure she could hear someone laughing.
It was 4.30 am when Rae gave up on trying to get herself warm by the leaking radiator and crawled into bed beside DataWraith. He didn't stir, but stayed sound asleep. Rae cautiously slid an icy arm around his waist and waited for him to wake up and probably (considering most of his responses to physical contact all evening) have a minor aneurysm. He only sighed a little in his sleep and pulled Rae closer to him. He felt warm to touch.
This, Rae thought, was what she wanted. She had slept with dozens of men and women over the years. She had tried orgies, sex magic, and listened to extended lectures on sacred prostitution. She had worn outfits which made odd squeaking noises and had a peculiar series of scars down her spine from an experiment which had gone wrong. She could give a full body massage with her tongue, and yet most of what she did very rarely touched her. It was just sex. This, however, this quiet warmth in the still of the night when half the world was dead, that mattered.
She held on to the sleeping man a little tighter. It felt a little as if she were feeding off his life and warmth. He didn't seem to flinch away, but it still felt wrong in some way. Yet Rae didn't let go.
Slowly, the heat began to seep back into her limbs, and at 6 am when she slid out of bed to go and check on the residents again she felt almost human. Her face, in the mirror, was pink and flushed, and she added perfumed oil behind her ears, so she could wallow in the scent of flowers.
When DataWraith woke up at 9 am, the room he was sleeping in was warm, and smelled slightly of bacon cooking. Rae was bouncy, and cheerful, and made no reference to anything that had happened the night before. She bought DW bacon sandwiches in bed, and perched cross legged on the end of the bed whilst he ate.
Weeble padded in from outside, and sprawled lazily on the hearth rug.
"Don't you have another gentleman caller arriving in the near future?" he commented, in acerbic tones. "Are you intending on just adding him to the bed?"
Rae glowered at Weeble.
"He'll probably turn up with some kind of alien princess in tow," she said, "wanting to learn about this earth thing called love. He does things like that. I just provide sleeping space."
DW looked at Rae with some mild confusion, and she pushed another bacon sandwich towards him and beamed determinedly until he decided he was better off not asking questions.
Outside, the sun was shining brightly, and Rae found her spirits rising. Today was a new day. She was still alive. And with the new day, she could begin anew.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-17 11:49 am (UTC)