The Wanderer by Dion except from the radio on your PIP-Boy, as you wander around the wasteland.
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Xuebing Du
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@magozine
The Wanderer by Dion except from the radio on your PIP-Boy, as you wander around the wasteland.
hcavensarrow:
“Ha, I didn’t realize you two got along so well. Apparently I should make you babysit more often.” Considering they’d gone a few weeks and nobody had come home horribly injured, dead, or covered in blood of any kind, she figured Mago must be more responsible than he looked. And acted.
She pours a second cup and sets it on the table for Mago. “She did say I can close the shop for New Year’s. What have you been up to all day, anyway? He must have made you help him with a snowman at least once now, right?”
“Easy dealin’ with kids when you ain’t grown up much yourself,” he laughs, settling down at the table. “ ‘s what my wife would say, anyways.” Also easier than dealing with Hiroko. Couldn’t argue with someone you didn’t talk to.
“I’m pretty sure we’ve cycled through every snow activity twice now: snowmen, snowball fights, sledding. I dunno, usually depends on the weather. When it’s not so frigid we mostly run around the woods. Play tag and that sort of thing. Been working with his fires a lil bit too--not too much, before you give me that look. Thinkin’ of showin’ him how to prep game soon. Make it a lil easier on ya when we start movin’ again.”
hcavensarrow:
Miss Ayane was away, off meeting with some high-profile client about a comission or such. With the shop and home to herself (and Ryouta), though, she could finally chat freely with Mago without having to worry about looking like an absolute lunatic. The shop had closed up for the night and Hiroko was putting together dinner for herself and her brother; the teapot whistles and she takes it off the fire, glancing over her shoulder at Mago as she does.
“It’s not alcohol, but do you want a cup?” She asks, pouring herself one. “Thanks for keeping Ryouta entertained while I’m busy. He seems like he’s been having fun.” // @magozine
“Mn?” His head barely lifted from the floor to see what exactly she was offering. Tea? It’d been a long while since anyone had offered him that. Might be nice to get a little warmth from the outside. “Yeah, thanks.”
That also meant he couldn’t lounge around on the floor anymore. He sat up with a grunt, stretching out the stiffness of the day before joining Hiro.
“Oh, you don’t have to thank me for that. Kid’s a hoot. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be a pile of cobwebs in some corner of something.” Or dug a trench around town with his shuffling.
“You should try and get a lil time off though. He’d love it if you joined us one of these days.”
systemstarter:
Morgan put their hands up to protect themselves from the attack, a squealing laugh escaping them as they danced a few small steps away from the bear. “No!” Their feet stilled. “The giant panda was not native to the United States. Records do not exist of any zoo housing them when the Great War began.”
Morgan took the toy from Mags. Holding it in front of their face, they did a child’s mimic of a lower voice. “Panda is a herbivore. Though Panda is big it does not want to hurt humans.”
Mags laughed along with her, letting the bear be pulled from his hands, considering it was to be hers anyways.
“Is that so, Mister Panda?” He stoked his chin thoughtfully, tilting his head, “I’m not sure I believe you. Can you resist the temptation of.....a nice juicy finger!?” He reached out suddenly, poking the bear in the nose and wiggling it in front of it’s stitched mouth. No teeth. No bite. All clear.
“Alright, I guess he’s safe.” With a few more strokes to bat off more dust, he seemed travel ready too. “He’ll be a lil hard to feed, considering we don’t run into many fruits or vegetables or anything, but I guess I’ll just be extra motivated to find them, huh?” Mo always scolded him for his snack-cake diet.
systemstarter:
“This one requires data to come to a conclusion. While some data can be gathered through observation, that of brainwaves must be input manually. This one has limited functions for human brain activity due to her prime directive.”
“A dolphin is an aquatic mammal,” Morgan began, drawing in the dust with a finger and half wishing they’d had that projector installed after all. “They lived in the oceans. They might still. If they adapted to the radiation instead of being killed by it.”
Mago adjusted himself on the floor to get a better look at the drawing, eyes lighting up. “Hey, I think I have seen one of those before! Sports teams used to use animals as symbols, yeah? I think there was a team that used a dolphin.”
He propped his head up with one hand, drawing in the dust next to her dolphin with another finger. What other sea creatures did he know....besides the irradiated ones? Regular fish were kinda boring.....
Oh! There was that thing from an amusement park--a bulbous head and eight squiggly tentacles that held carts for people to ride in. It looked like the machine was supposed to spin, but he could never figure out how to start it. The whole park was water themed, so that must have lived in the ocean...but it looked pretty terrifying with the beady cartoon eyes.
“Maybe one of these days we’ll run into the ocean and find out.” He drew in a couple bubbles around his octopus. “Do you have a favorite sea creature?”
systemstarter:
A low whirr could be heard as the AI gave it some thought. “This one would not be able to gather the data herself,” they said slowly. “A human would be necessary to study the brainwaves and translate the findings into data. Then this one could compile the data.”
“Papa must be right, however. If birds have a brain that allows for self-recognition, they must be capable of feeling. Some species were theorized to have an intelligence level similar to that of dolphins and pigs.”
“You couldn’t?” That seemed weird. She could compile all sorts of other data. Maybe it was because of brainwaves-robots only got so advanced in the feeling front before the bombs dropped, right?
Pigs were used in comparison with intelligence? Did that mean pigs were smart? Maybe not the ones in this day and age, given all the nuclear hellwaste they must have eaten, but that was just of everything wandering around the wasteland.
“What’s a dolphin?” His mind put together some freakishly fishy sort of doll with a fish’s fin, but that seemed like a little too literal interpretation of the name.
systemstarter:
@magozine
Nights were long for the AI. Ever since the bombs fell Morgan’s sleep mode had been unused. It still existed, but the machines she needed to be plugged into were far away and the passwords needed to execute a safe function lost to time. There was, simply, too many things that might happen for her scans to cease.
Morgan’s nights were mostly spent going over stored files to pass the time or constructing maps of new areas. The time went quicker when Mags was awake. “This one does not know if pigeons have feelings, Papa. This one’s database does not have enough information on the brainwaves of birds to have such information.”
The building they decided to squat in for the night actually had working locks on some of the interior doors, which meant there was finally an opportunity to relax for the night (well, the giant hole in the corner of the roof was still sort of dangerous, but unless raiders figured out how to fly, they didn’t leave much of a reason to get firebombed or something).
Would he use the opportunity to get, you know, actual rest? Nah.
“Theoretically, if I snagged you a bird, would you be able to figure it out?” They were awfully skittish critters, so that would be a hell and a half to actually do, but.... “I figure they gotta though, yeah? I mean, every animal’s got feelings you would think, otherwise why would they do anything? They’d just be like...plants or something.”
drylicu:
“Unless you’re shooting at me first, I have no reason to shoot at you first.”
When was the last time she got to so freely observe everything? It was astounding, amazing. And seeing a man…that no one else seemed to see…was an absolute abnormality that must be studied. For it could be a multitude of things. The man could truly be invisible, or she could simply be having one of the most vivid hallucinations of her life. And truthfully…there was no real way for her to tell. Her twin was not here to deny nor confirm her little theories.
“If you were a spy…you would have killed me by now. Don’t you think? Me talking to you like this could blow your cover. In fact, you becoming aware that I can see you would be enough reason for you to strike me down where I stand! How funny would that be?”
A small hum comes from the young mage as she glances at the man, then at the other Shepherds who seem to pass by giving her strange looks, or concerned ones. But none seem to bother her, for this could be considered normal and within her range of behavior.
“I study lots of curses under Uncle Henry. But…hm…the question is, is it a curse on you? Or me? Because for all either of us know, you could just be one of the most life like and vivid hallucinations I’ve ever had. Or you could truly be invisible.”
“Hallucination? Damn, wish I thought of that.” How much easier would it have been to explain himself away as a figment of her imagination? Not that he really wanted out of the conversation, though- it was kind of nice. Dead men didn’t get an opportunity to spin many tales, to cling to a cliche.
“If I were a hallucination, that would be as far as both of us know, but since I know I’m not, I know a lot farther.” Proving he was right, though, was something a little farther than he knew for certain. Mago glanced around, looking for something he could affect in any way, shape or form to prove he was slightly more real than he let on.
The birds would know, he reasoned, pulling his rifle from his shoulder to hold it at the ready. With a snap of his free hand, a spark jumped from his glove to the match-wire. He raised the gun above his head and fired, ringing a shot through the air. No one else seemed much bothered by the explosion, as far as he could see, but the furious caws and frantic wings of the nearby fowl followed behind.
“Think your mind could do that?”
hcavensarrow:
“Around the village. Hiro likes to take care of them. They keep the mice outta the food. And from eating the archive books.” He only knew about the latter because his uncle had complained about a mouse getting at the corners of a particularly old tome once, which had resulted in him trying to chase down a local cat to let loose in the archive building. (It had been pretty funny to watch.)
“They always hiss at me. Hiro said when I was littler I tried to play with one and when I got close it scratched me and ran away.” He huffs. “Cats are jerks.”
“Must be why your sister likes them.” A knee jerk quip, one that made him chuckle to himself. Bored with the boy’s tail, he circled around to his front to sit in front of him, leaning back on his hands and stretchering out his legs.
“Not a bad idea though- keepin’ em for pest control. We always just used traps. Knew some guys that would use the carcasses for target practice. Throw them into the fields and just shoot. Super gross, but the crows loved it. Loss less effort to eat if they were already in lil pieces.”
He tilted his head back, squinting, “Not sure we had much of a library or anything though. Not even sure how many folk could read.”
Not much happened out in the middle of nowhere....but he supposed that’s why it was called the middle of nowhere. Usually it was just a train on the nearby track, rattling the old rusted truck bed of a bed he’d found a couple days ago. It was a nice enough place to camp.
So when rustling was afoot just a stone’s throw from the rustbucket, Mago’s head perked up. It didn’t sound like animals, no, it was.....kind of freaky. Otherworldly?
Magical. Just straight magic was all anyone could use to describe what was going on.
Now, rationally, one could deduce that if someone was practicing some funky arcane art in the middle of nowhere, they meant for it to be a secret. Mago was not a rational man.
“Hey, kid! How’d you do that? That’s pretty sweet.”
@gamenu
drylicu:
“It’s very funny!”
Chirping back happily, Morgan bounds her way over to the stranger. Of course there was the ever present warning of stranger danger ringing in the back of her head, but looking up at this man…if he truly wanted to cause harm, he would have. Besides, last time she met someone who had been sneaking around the camp, he had become a friend. Just a boy who wanted some arrows so he could protect his critter friends.
Hands clasped behind her back, Morgan made no aggressive movements. For now, this man was allowed to live.
“I do wonder why no one has raised the alarm yet. Frederick of all people should have had you tied up by now…but…for some reason, no one seems to pay you much mind. Is it a hex? A curse? I like to observe things first before I do anything though.”
Huh. Funky little mage indeed- chipper, too. A lot sweeter than he made her out to be, given the clothes.
“Questions first, shoot later, huh? Not usually how I would run things, but I guess an army always needs someone with a good head on their shoulders.” He shouldered his rifle, relaxing his posture to lean on one foot, his fee hand on his hip.
“Don’t think I’m just some invisible spy either?” A beat to think. “--Guess I wouldn’t be talking to you if I was, or suggest it in the first place. Forget I said that.”
To think, she was right on the money. “You could call it a curse, yeah. How’d you figure? Or are you just throwing darts hoping for a bulls-eye?”
hcavensarrow:
“I dunno. I’m not a normal fox.” Though based on the context, Mago could probably assume he was mad. He was just fidgeting the same way any other frustratingly bored kid might.
…Buuuut, the question was something, so he couldn’t help but consider it further.
“Cats don’t like me much,” he reasoned, “So maybe more like a dog?” It tracks, doesn’t it? Foxes have a lot of traits in common with dogs. They can’t hide their claws, they have longer muzzles… Not that he could say he’d met many other foxes, particularly ones that didn’t turn into people. “But I don’t think dogs like me either… I think I smell funny to them.”
Mago gave a long, deep, exaggerated inhale through his nose, sighing the breath away. “Yeah, something smells funky, but that’s usually me, and I’m not a dog, so I couldn’t tell you.”
He swatted at the tail a little more, anticipating it’s flicks as best he could to softly bat it back with the barrel of the gun. “Never had a dog either-- or a cat. More of a bird man, really. Suppose they wouldn’t like you much if you were a cat or a dog, but I don’t think birds smell, so maybe they wouldn’t really notice.”
“How d’you know they don’t like you? Keep some at home?”
Another year, another war, another bastion of humanity holding the world together by pride and stubbornness alone.
Or, well, maybe not alone, given his presence among them, watching mortals flit about their work and patrols as the sun dipped over the range. It’d only been a few days since he’d arrived, name breathed in doubt and incense- honestly one of the least eventful Callings he’d ever been pulled by. Something about tipping the war further to win the favor of a loved one- whatever it was, he was there, and he was stuck until they perished or persevered.
So far none of the mortals had enough sight to pay him any mind. Some of the sorcerers quirked a brow at his footfalls, but they all saw right through him
All except this one.
“You’re a funky little mage, aren’t you?” He called once he noticed her staring. “Come on then- what are you going to do? Stranger in camp. Armed, but no one’s screamed yet, eh? Funny, isn’t it?”
@drylicu
[starter/lowkey plot call?]
hcavensarrow:
Stay here, Ryouta. Don’t cause any trouble, Ryouta. Didn’t his sister think he could do anything for himself? Sure, he was only ten, but he wasn’t helpless! She won’t even let him so much as look at dad’s sword, much less try to learn how to use it. And helping her fight monsters? Forget it!
He huffs, laying on his stomach while his tail sways idly. Hiroko had gone to do… something. Whatever it was, it was probably more entertaining than sitting here by himself. “Stupid Hiroko… I never get to do anything…”
You turn your back for five minutes and your human goes and disappears.
Not that he really cared- if she needed him, he’d know, and she was probably thankful for the alone time anyways. Most of their group trips ended with him getting yelled at for something or another- Huh. So the human disappears, but shortstack had to stay put. Maybe she was off doing something dangerous, which meant he might be useful.
But on second thought, fuck her for today.
“So are you like a cat and your tail flicking means you’re mad, or like a dog in that it’s a good thing?” He gave it a light bat with the end of his rifle, “Don’t think I ever dealt with foxes enough to know what they’re more like.”
When you learned of the god of war, you thought he’d be tall and muscular and angry. When you were about to meet him, you braced yourself for the worst.
You weren’t quite expecting the short, scrawny, shy kid you ended up getting instead.
Olive skin, black hair, skinny, dirty face with pale lines where tears had sliced through the ash and dust. A white chiton dress and a threadbare shawl draped over her shoulders.
A pair of wings - huge, black vulture wings, far too large on her tiny body - were the only things that suggested she was divine.
The general shifted his weight from foot to foot. Obviously respect had to be given to gods, but… “Er - I’m sorry, I was invoking Ares? The god of war?”
The child god shrunk in on herself, and pulled the shawl over her shoulders. She muttered something. “Sorry?” the general asked.
“Ares is the god of slaughter,” the child god said in a slightly louder voice. “Not war.”
The general looked at the priest. The priest shrugged, clearly lost at sea. “Well,” the general said, “then maybe Athena? Goddess of tactics in war?”
“Tactics,” the child god repeated. “Not war.”
There was a long, ugly silence, as the huge vulture wings shifted with the whisper of brushing feathers. “My name is - was - Iphigenia. Daughter of Agamemnon, king of Mycenae, commander of the Greeks who stormed the walls of Troy. When my father disgraced Artemis, and the winds of Greece would not blow her battleships to Troy, I was brought to Aulis. For my wedding, I was told. I was-”
She sobbed. Teardrops dribbled off her chin and fell to the temple floor. “I was fourteen. And then I was brought to the highest altar in Aulis, and - and then - and-”
Another sob. “I was fourteen,” she said.
The vulture wings draped over her, and she disappeared under the cloak of black feathers. When they parted, and when the child god looked up at the general, he fell backwards. Those eyes. Eyes he’d seen a thousand times in battle -
“I am the true spirit of war, general,” the child god said. “I am the goddess of bloodshed, of sacrifice, of the slaughter of innocents. I am invoked when men ravage, burn and pillage. I am invoked when mothers cry out, when sons die, when daughters are stolen. I hear it all, general. I have heard it all since the fall of Troy.”
The terrible wings opened up. The child god loomed over the fallen man, twenty, thirty feet tall. Somewhere, the priest was screaming. “How dare you call upon my name.”
“You gonna eat that?”