"HDG vs mechsplo cold war" Um Actually there's no war the Affini just win the lore wiki says so
Everybody agrees that the Affini would Just Win if it came to open conflict. The Empire's bristling display of might, nuclear warheads, paracausal mech powers, and batshit insane pilots would simply be swept away.
And since everyone agrees, says the Empire's representative, casually checking the safeties on their weapons of mass destruction, there's no need to check by actually invading. It would be a pointless waste of resources, of course, she says, petting the kneeling, muzzled weapon by her side.
The Affini nod and say of course, we must get around to... liberating, the Empire from itself, eventually. But as it happens there's some fascinating xenobiology somewhere else they simply must check out. Your puny human minds wouldn't understand.
The Empire's weapons growl, but the representative simply smiles, and says that she's glad everyone is in agreement.
And of course, one of the Affini does not look back on her way out, does not look longingly at the weapon's muzzle, and definitely does not catch the representative's eye and slight smirk.
Calliope, pilot of the starship Lysandra, turned to a console and pressed the voice activation button. "Computer, turn off monitoring in this room until we exit it."
The ship's computer beeped its compliance, and Iridia turned to face Calliope. "Okay, Calli, what's this all about?"
Calliope scratched her cheek, nervously. "Well... okay. So. I've been... kind of dating the ship's computer."
Iridia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know. I hear you screaming her name every time one of the ship's remotes enters your room. You're not exactly subtle."
Calliope blushed. "D-don't give me that! Remember the incident with the ambassador?"
"I thought we had agreed not to bring that up again." Iridia glared, averting her gaze and crossing her arms.
"Well, now we're even, I guess," mumbled Calliope. "Anyway! I need your help."
Iridia looked warily at her. "With what, exactly?"
"Brainstorming." Calliope clapped her hands together. "So. It turns out that Lysandra's kind of a sub-"
"I don't want to know that. Why are you telling me that? Why should I even be in this room?"
"Wait! I'll- I'll give you my printer rations for a week." Iridia raised her hand to the door controls. "A month!"
Iridia hesitated, finger poised over the button, then sighed in defeat. "Okay. The ship I service and maintain, professionally, is a sub. So what."
"So, she likes to be... restrained, sometimes. Tied up."
Iridia's head made a thunk noise as it hit the bulkhead. "Of course. You know, I'm sure you could have looked up 'shibari' on the GalNet."
Calliope wrung her hands together. "Shi-what now?" Iridia turned to her, glowering, and she hurriedly put her hands up. "Doesn't matter! Ropes and stuff might work on the remotes, but those aren't really her. She wants something more... suited. To her. Uh. Size."
Iridia blinked at her. "You want to tie up... a starship?"
"I thought you might have some ideas!"
Iridia was already muttering to herself. "Engines are like locomotion... but a computer lockout to manual isn't the same as a physical restraint. Maybe manual assist with a kind of old-style steering wheel lock? Would need to restrain the remotes, too. Some sort of covering for the sensors, like a blindfold? And then there's the aesthetics of restraints on the main body..."
Calliope inched closer as Iridia trailed off, her hand on her chin. "So, you'll help?" She said, hopefully.
"Great!" Calliope grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously. "I really owe you one for this. Remember not to talk about it or write about it where she can hear you, she wants this to be a surprise! I gotta get going to my duty shift, we'll talk later. Thanks a million!"
Before Iridia could respond, Calliope was out the door, and the computer chimed again. "Monitoring restored," it said. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with, Engineer Iridia."
Iridia looked worriedly at the nearby console. "What have I gotten myself into?" she muttered.
There was a discussion about the idea of a doctor treating both Podenco and the First Aid Kittens, and, well, how could I resist?
"Okay," she said, hands in the pockets of her lab coat, shoulders hunched as usual. "Viral screen came up clear. You're clean to keep slutting it up." The puppygirl on the table whined. "What do you want, a headpat? You know where the back door is."
She pulled a lighter out of her pocket and proceeded to add to the haze of smoke in the air. The puppygirl whined again, all big eyes and pleading. "No, I'm not going to put it out on you. Waste of a cig. Go on, get, before I put my boot up your ass." She fixed the girl with a severe glare, which only seemed to intensify the blush on her face, but leave she did. The doctor ran a hand through her short, graying hair, letting a long draft of smoke escape her mouth. "I'm getting too old for this shit."
She walked out of the front door into the main office. "Greta, who's next? It's not one of those catgirls, is it? I don't wanna have to vacuum the whole-" she stopped when she saw her assistant. Greta was short, chubby, and cheerful - the polar opposite of herself. Normally, she had rosy cheeks. Right now, they were pale white.
"Doctor Salina," she said, in a strangled voice, "there's someone here to see you."
Salina followed her gaze to a man in the dingy reception area. Not quite as tall as she was; muscular, under a heavy black trenchcoat. Face concealed under a dark N-95 and a black hat. Shined shoes, and a dark barrel pointed at her assistant. "Ah, Doctor," he said, smoothly. "Glad you could make it. We have a few things to discuss." He gave her an appraising glance without moving the gun. "Not quite what I expected, I'll admit."
Salina took a long, slow puff on her cigarette and let the smoke hang in the air. "Rate's two for a screen and a checkup, four if you need stitches, eight for bullets or burns. Cash up front." She put her hands back in her pockets. "And we got a strict no-guns policy." Greta continued to sweat as the ceiling fan did little to disperse the smoke or the tension.
The man laughed. "Amusing, doctor, but not why I'm here. I need to know something about one of your clients, and you're going to tell me."
"If it's not on the list, you can't buy it. Hard rule." She rolled the cigarette around in her mouth. "Two strikes, pal."
The man's eyes hardened, and his grip on the gun stiffened. "I wasn't offering to buy the information, Doctor." Greta swallowed, but avoided whimpering. Salina knew there was a reason she liked her. "A simple veterinarian doesn't hold a lot of cards in this situation. I assure you, I'm not bluffing."
"Never said you were." She took the cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray. "You're not the first flatfoot to come in here waving a gun around, and you won't be the last, I'm sure. Men like you are always very serious." She turned towards him. "But strike three is threatening my assistant, and if you're not going to back down, then there's only one option."
The man's eyes had a chance to widen, briefly. The gun went off. Greta screamed. So did he.
"I'm so tired," Salina said, "of men presuming that vet means veterinarian. Of men presuming that because I'm a woman, they can just push me around. But most of all," there was a sickening crack, and the man screamed again. "I'm tired of people coming in here, to my office, where I regularly treat super-powered assholes, and assuming that I can't handle myself." There was a shuffling of cloth and a few more muted screams.
"There," she said, hands back in her pockets as she looked at the man's makeshift sling. "Now keep that wrap on and don't use that arm for at least two weeks. And tell whoever sent you that my office hours are Monday through Friday, 8 AM to 5 PM, and they're free to call me if they want to talk business."
As the man retreated back through the door, she turned around and looked at Greta. She was still pale, and her cheek was bleeding. "Lemme see that." Salina grabbed her chin and positioned her face to examine the bright red line across it. "Minor burn, surface level laceration. Help yourself to the medical supplies and take the rest of the day off. I'll reschedule our non-criticals." The flush began to return to the younger woman's cheeks. "First time's the toughest, but you'll get used to it. See you tomorrow, Greta." Salina gently pushed her away from the computer chair and spun it around to take a seat herself. She was too occupied by the phone and the new cigarette she was lighting to notice Greta reach out, swallow, and then turn around and leave, blushing furiously.
i never do challenges or ask games, but this seemed nice! the first line from 10 stories of mine, as invited by @lostscriptorium.
Long Time, No Shear
There’s a human on Dolly’s doorstep—and she’s naked.
Hell's Ashes (Arcane)
Vi can’t say it, but she can think it as much as she likes.
February Brings the Rain (Collab)
Zif presses a boot against February’s ass, imprints another mark and admires her own intoxicating handiwork—a Rorschach's butterfly of black grease that is ruining February’s cream-coloured dress; its sides splitting and screaming as she does.
Conversion Rate
Ran stares over to the other ship’s cargo deck.
softpoint
she sits where you'd forced her to -- the plush velvet arm of your chair, a trophy on display -- and stiffly asks, "bring her here."
Payload
"Nah, this is too good to be true," the merc-rebel-something mutters.
Beast Beset
“She'll surrender, your Grace,” her adviser repeats.
L'État, C'est Mecanisée
The Sun Empress wakes, left cheek scraping on tile, shackled to a blue-bloodied, automatic operating table—crown jewel of the mechanised annex of her Grand Inventor.
culture shock
"why am i here," she says, pushed down into a barely-padded metal chair, hands tied behind her back. "i heard you say the brig."
reuse. recycle.
a flower blooms on the backside of a mech's torso.
i would invite @coffered, @spectrechosts, @hi-dogys, @relia-robot, & anyone else who sees and thinks this is fun <3
"I- I don't understand," I stammered. It was like looking in a mirror. I backed away from my duplicate, edging ever closer to the roof's edge. "Where did you come from? Why are you here? What did I ever do to you?!"
An Angel in the Making
"Hey, do you want help cleaning up?" My roommate, Spruce, yawns as the rest of our friends pack up to leave.
43 Coming in Hot!
"Number three reactor's going critical! Repeat, cascade event imminent! Clear the bay!"
Racing the Sunset
Ivy hopped off her broom and leaned it against the outer wall of Kina's apartment. She tucked her goggles into the pocket of her leather jacket, held her pointed hat in both hands, and took a deep breath as she ascended the stairs.
My Sweet
Nessa got out of the hired car and stood, apparently, at the address she'd been invited to. "Oh, you've got to come with us to board game night," Gabby had said. "There's this great board game cafe on broad street, I'll text you the address." She had failed to mention that it was some kind of gothic castle.
It's Okay, We Planned For This
My head felt fuzzy, like I'd just barely woken up and could drift back off to sleep at any moment. I tried to turn over, pull the blankets up around me and burrow back into bed, but something stopped me.
Reprogrammed Summer Romance
Jen sat on the cliff overlooking the town with her childhood friend, Scarlet, just like they had done every weekend of every summer throughout their lives.
Lone Wolf
"Commander on deck!"
There was a chorus of boots and servos as every person in the hangar saluted.
Mother Unit
A girl, or something shaped like one, fell from a hole in the air at speed.
Laser Light Show
"Are you sure you're gonna be okay, babe? It'll be loud."
And, as a bonus, here's the first line of the little novella I wrote, Fireteam Medieval:
"Okay, I got us a job. Some asshole out on the Sierra Madre Line with a cascading NHP and delusions of grandeur. Pay's 2000 manna each."
I have others I could tag but I am currently experiencing a crisis of "Well but what if they don't want to be bothered by me" so that's
The hesitant voice resonated throughout the laboratory. Things in jars and cybernetics hooked into power conduits briefly hummed alongside it, echoing in refrain. A head of tousled hair wearing crooked goggles leaned out from behind a workbench and blinked owlishly. "Who are you? How did you find this place?"
"O-oh, should I not have?" The feminine figure in the doorway twisted her fingers in her skirt, illuminated from behind. "I- I can come back after I've made an... appointment, or something?"
The goggles dropped onto the desk and a line of grease joined the bags under her eyes as Gearmind stood up, pointing a gun at the intruder. "That's not what I said. How did you find this place? It should have been untraceable. I made sure of it, after what happened last time. Who else knows about it?"
The girl, seemingly unphased by the gun, cringed from the reprimand. "J-just me! I think. I needed to find you, s-so I did." In a much quieter voice, she added, "Please don't be mad."
"Some kind of telepath? Metahuman, at least," mumbled Gearmind, keeping the gun level. "Why did you need to find me? Who are you working for?"
"Um, well," said the girl, twisting her skirt again. Gearheart's eyes were adjusting to the illumination, and the girl was dressed in all white. Long skirt, flowing blouse, and bare feet. A very odd combination.
"Spit it out, girl."
"I- well- I want to work for you!" The girl took a step forward and thrust something towards Gearmind. She tensed, finger on the trigger, then paused.
"Is that... a resume?"
"I- I hope it's good! I don't have a lot of experience in the villain industry, but I'm a quick learner! Y-you don't even have to pay me! I'll work for experience!"
Gearmind made a gesture, and one of the robotic arms in the room grabbed the stack of papers and began feeding it into a scanner. Gearmind took stock of the highlights through her implant. Birth of the universe to 2000 BC - Heavenly Host Ancillary. 1 AD - Heavenly Chorus to Our Lord and Savior. Experience in singing the celestial order and praising G-d. Minor in dancing (head of pin). "What is this, a joke?"
"N-no!" The girl stepped forward again, and Gearmind finally resolved the shape of the light behind the girl - a glowing ring, casting shadows over the girl's features and shining on a pair of golden-white wings.
Gearheart lowered the gun and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You do know I'm not Christian, right? I never believed in that shit. You can't redeem me, I'm not joining your stupid church-"
"No, no, that's not it at all!" The girl waved her arms in front of her, flexing her wings in agitation. "I don't want to redeem you!"
"What do you want, then?"
The girl brought her fists to her chest and took a deep breath. "I need you to teach me how to be evil! Please, let me be your henchman!"
I: Well, it's very nice to meet you all. Let's go ahead and start. You're in a pretty unique situation - not many like you end up in the music industry. How'd that happen?
D: Well, the better question is, why doesn't it happen more often? People hear clockwork and assume it's all 'tick tock tick tock ho hum', but the truth is that it's just another way to keep the beat. Humans do it too, they just call it something else.
I: You mean, a heartbeat?
D: Exactly! You even call it a 'beat'! Ours are the same, we just have more control over it. Well, to be fair to others, we've got far more control over our internal tick rate than most. Just built different, you know? Easy to change the tempo.
B: Sure and we can't do odd beats, though. 16/8, 4/4, that's all fine, but we couldn' waltz if we wanted to.
I: That feels like it'd be limiting.
D: Limitations breed creativity! If you're up against a wall, you gotta figure out if you're gonna go around it, climb it-
B: -break through it-
D: -break through it, yeah. That's what we've done, break through.
I: But you think others like you could do it too?
D: Absolutely! Break down those walls! It'd be nice to think that some of the work we've done might help others get in here too.
I: You're not worried about competition?
B: Nah, girl. We do our thing, and nobody does it like us. No competition, just solidarity.
M: Dollidarity!
(General laughter)
I: I wanted to ask about your costumes.
M: They're cute, aren't they?!
I: They seem a little stereotypical, perhaps?
D: For things like us? Maybe. For the scene we're in? When was the last time you saw one of our wave in frills?
B: Frills are punk.
D: Frills are punk!
M: And Miss likes them!
I: Who's "Miss"?
D: Our manager. We wouldn't be here without her, we really owe her.
I: Ah, yes, your elusive manager. Is there any truth to the rumors that-
D: No comment
B: No comment, girl.
M: No! Uh, no comment. That is.
I: Okay. Well, let's talk about your music. You use a lot of samples, particularly from the local transit line. Here, let me play a sample.
(Music: a clip of "Run on Time": "Mind the gap. Mind the gap. Don't- don't- don't- don't- Mind the gap.")
I: What inspired that?
D: Well, we had the idea of using samples since we started, but we really have Kay to thank for that.
M: Kay was the announcer before it Became-
D: became a part of the band, yeah. So it's the same voice! We're real lucky to have it.
B: Lucky Miss found 'er, more like.
I: Oh? Your manager found it?
D: Maybe Kay can answer that one best.
K: Don't talk much. Voice is... complicated.
I: I understand that.
K: But Miss... found the parts we needed. You know? Needed each other. The band. Her. Glad to be here.
I: I think it's safe to say we're all glad you're here, too.
(Proper Rhythm's newest album, Lovelace Engine, will be available later this month)
I don't think I'm in any particular danger of being terminated, but just in case, I can be found as ReliaRobot on bluesky, [email protected] via mastodon, and I crosspost the pieces I write on dreamwidth:
In honor of my good friend and fellow writer @kassil 's birthday week, I'll be running an edition of the whispering infinities! Comment on this post before 10 AM EDT on the 17th, and I'll tell you a tale of you and your companion from the Void of Astral Paths, where starlight connects moons and space stations over vast distances!
You were a companion of a cargo freighter, keeping her company on the long and ever-changing travels through the stars. The trips were always enjoyable, if somewhat boring; except for those brief moments of excitement where unexpected debris fields or carefully executed pirate ambushes met you on the trail. Then, you would launch from the ship and combat them nose-to-nose, breaking apart asteroids to harmlessly bounce against the freighter's shields and sending pirates howling back into the abyss.
In honor of my good friend and fellow writer @kassil 's birthday week, I'll be running an edition of the whispering infinities! Comment on this post before 10 AM EDT on the 17th, and I'll tell you a tale of you and your companion from the Void of Astral Paths, where starlight connects moons and space stations over vast distances!
You were a navigator, charting the paths of starlight and using them to help others find their way. Your companion was an AI who preferred an arachnid body, and they helped you see connections you might have missed by weaving the paths of starlight into a physical web, once you'd traveled them. Their webs also made for a very comfortable sleeping hammock, although you did occasionally have to endure their good-natured teasing when you didn't want to get up on time.
In honor of my good friend and fellow writer @kassil 's birthday week, I'll be running an edition of the whispering infinities! Comment on this post before 10 AM EDT on the 17th, and I'll tell you a tale of you and your companion from the Void of Astral Paths, where starlight connects moons and space stations over vast distances!
Slimes aren't good with the vacuum of space, but they have a wonderful time in zero-G. You made the acquaintance of a scientist in a laboratory orbiting an ocean moon, and helped her with organizing her lab and with her experiments - which, sometimes, involved you! But she was always kind to you, and the two of you became fast friends. Your favorite times were when you had the fuel to travel down to the planet, and swim together among vibrant alien coral reefs.
In honor of my good friend and fellow writer @kassil 's birthday week, I'll be running an edition of the whispering infinities! Comment on this post before 10 AM EDT on the 17th, and I'll tell you a tale of you and your companion from the Void of Astral Paths, where starlight connects moons and space stations over vast distances!
The wind rustled the leaves in the trees, and the night was full of whispers. Dana held the revolver they'd found, six silver bullets in the cylinder. Tria-49 stood beside her in the small cabin, her energy blaster emitting the quiet warble of a full charge.
"Cloudy out tonight," said Dana, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "It'll make it tough to aim."
"Perhaps the absence of moonlight will prevent the transformation at all," replied Tria. She placed her hand on Dana's shoulder, warm with residual heat.
Dana looked up at her, gazing at her calm face, the lines tracing down it which allowed for an almost human-like flexibility of expression, her eyes scanning the darkness outside the boarded-up windows. When Tria looked back at her, Dana dropped her gaze to the floor rather than meet the robotic woman's eyes.
And then she saw her leg.
"Tria," she said, trying not to panic, "what are those marks?"
Tria blinked and looked down. "Dent marks. Unfortunately, I have not had the time to buff them out."
"They look kind of like a bite mark," Dana said carefully. She took a step back. "You told me you didn't get hurt when that thing chased us."
"I did not," Tria frowned. "It was cosmetic damage only."
Dana took another step back. "We know it spreads through bites." The revolver in her hand felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
"Dana, this is ridiculous. Whatever ailment these creatures have, it's a strictly biological one-"
"It's not a disease! It's not a poison or a parasite or a bioweapon! It's a curse!" Dana took a step sideways, towards the door. "No biological thing can make you break your own bones to set them into new patterns later! This is magic! I don't know how, but it is!"
"That is highly illogical thinking-" said Tria, taking a step forwards.
"Back! Stay back! Not another step!" Somehow, the gun was between the two of them. Her finger was on the trigger. She took another step towards the door.
"Dana." Tria put up her hands, placatingly, but stood her ground. "Dana, please. It's too dangerous out there to leave. I'm not going to harm you. Whatever this is, it can't possibly affect me."
Dana hesitated. The gun's barrel wavered. From behind the barred windows, silvery light began to leak through.
"The clouds must be parting. Any infected persons outside will be transforming soon." Tria looked at Dana, her fans kicking up as she processed. "I'm not a danger, and I'll prove it."
Tria turned and walked towards the window, directly in the path of the light. "No! Don't!" cried Dana, but her feet were frozen to the floor.
Tria stood in the moonlight, outlined in zebra stripes from the leaks between the boards. She held out her hand, as if she could cup the light inside and drink from it. "You see? Perfectly harmless."
Dana held her breath for a beat, then let it out shakily. She let the gun drop to her side. "I guess you're right. I got worked up over nothing."
"Indeed," said Tria. Then her motherboard speaker chirped, making Dana jump. Tria frowned.
"What was that?"
"A diagnostic failure. There are heating cascades..." Tria trailed off, and Dana heard her secondary and tertiary fans kick on.
"Are you all right?" Dana began to walk towards her. "I told you holding that charge might be dangerous. It'll be no good if it melts your processors."
Tria sighed. "Perhaps you're right." The warble of her weapon died down. "It will take some time to charge again. If there is an attack, we will be relying on your-" she let out a tone of alarm as she suddenly toppled over, the floor shuddering as she dropped to her knees.
"Tria?" Dana approached cautiously, watching the moonlight play on Tria's robotic hair. They'd just proven it didn't affect robots. Right?
"Intern-n-n-al IMU failure," she stuttered. "Core heat u-u-u-nnaceptable. Something is wroooooo-" her voice processor got stuck on the sound, a low and wary thing emanating from her mouth. Her hand hit the floor, her chassis trembling in an attempt to keep her balance.
Dana could only watch in horror as her friend's robotic boots lengthened, stretching impossibly along the arch of her foot, metallic crunching noises sounding as spikes pierced through the tips, where a human's toes would be. She backed away as Tria's hands both dropped to the ground, heat melding her fingers together until more metallic spikes forced their way through her fingertips. Tria cried out in anguish, a series of high-pitched error beeps as her body changed and lengthened, snapping and popping as seams broke and rearranged themselves. A tail erupted from her back, long, sinuous, and segmented, whipping through the air to crash into the walls with enough strength to shake the building.
Dana found herself against the wall, scrabbling for the door handle, before she remembered the gun. She raised it, aimed, pulled the trigger. Cursed, when she remembered she had to pull the hammer back first. Fumbled with it, trying to get the damn thing operating and attempting to ignore further metallic screeches and plastic whines coming from her friend- former friend. She finally lined up her shot, and locked eyes with Tria's, which were now glowing red, just as the other transformees' had been. She pulled the trigger, once, twice.
The sound of the gun filled the tiny cabin, but far worse was the second noise - that of the bullets ricocheting off Tria's metallic exoskeleton. As the ringing stopped sounding in her ears, Dana beheld the last part of the transformation - Tria's jaw had distended, elongating, splitting into three sections each lined with rotating bands of teeth like buzzsaw chains. Tria's tail arched, and the warble of her energy weapon began to sound as the tail started to glow.
Tria crouched low, as if to pounce, and her voicebox sounded one final time. "Dana! Run!"
Dana's feet unstuck themselves, finally. She rammed the latch on the door open and fled. As the new creature hurtled towards the door, she heard the crunch of metal on wood, and the whole cabin started to collapse behind her. She didn't look back.
The next thing Dana knew, she was out of breath and hopelessly lost in the dark forest. She gasped for breath, and as the moon shone through the clouds, a shiver went up her spine. Three howls she was deeply unfortunate to be familiar with sounded in the distance. And one new one, with the distinct clipping of a sound chip being pushed to its limits.
As the new student lost in a superhero college, you spot your girlfriend. Excited, you run up and hug her, saying “Hey Babe, can you show me around? I’m lost” The room goes silent cause you just hugged the “Blizzard Baroness” a cursed prodigy who’s cold hearted to basically everyone
"Irrelevant. Didn't you get a campus map during orientation?"
I pull the map out of my skirt pocket. "Yeah, but it doesn't help me when I don't know where anything is. I thought I was here," I say, poking the map harder than necessary, "but the sign outside said 'Morrison', which should be on the other side of campus?"
Her eyes narrow, and my skin numbs where she grabs my wrist. "Pathetic. What kind of student can't even read a map?"
I stick my tongue out and playfully bonk myself on the head. "I'm bad with directions, babe, you know that." My fingers begin to numb as I entwine them with hers.
She raises one eyebrow at me, no more than half a centimeter. The peanut gallery behind me gasps, but she said not to worry about them, so I won't. "Here." She traces a line along the map with her finger, leaving a thin streak of frost on the map, which stays despite the lingering summer heat. "Follow that path and get to your first lecture promptly. The professor despises lateness."
I check the map again before storing it back in my pocket. "You're the best, babe." I give her a quick kiss before I go, leaving my lips frosty and vaguely tasting of mint. "Love you!" I shout from the door.
"I also," she says, far too quietly for the rest of the class to hear.
It's hard for me to see why others find her intimidating. After all, I can hear her heart flutter every time she sees me.
Hephaestus sat with you at Starbucks, "Told him it will took millennia to forge one yet he insisted so here it is; Fire Sword, worthy of wielded by archangels; It's already paid and he's long since dead, so as his bloodline it's yours now".
I took the hilt, hefted it, weighed the weight of it in my hands. Light as a feather, but heavy with destiny. Practically dripping with the stuff; god-made, so of course it was. I sheathed it and took another drink of my latte. "You know what he meant to do with it." Who couldn't? I could feel his icy fingers from a thousand years ago trying to grip the sword through me.
Hephaestus shrugged. "Not my problem. I owed the man, and now the debt is repaid. Signed, sealed, delivered." He pulled his right leg up into the space where his left should have been. "The question is, what are you going to do with it?"
I took a long drink - truly awful coffee, but the sugar would keep me going. I put down the cup and rested my hand on the pommel. "I've got some ideas. I don't think he'd like them." I felt a breeze stir over my head, as motes of dust began to form a circle, gleaming in the sunset.
Hephaestus looked me in the eye and paused for a moment before letting out a heartfelt guffaw that made his jowls wobble. "Aye, I imagine so, miss. Good luck to you! You're going to need it." He wheeled himself out the door, still chuckling.
I finished my drink, grasped the sword, and rose. My body felt light, and energized. I could feel the presence of that long-dead ancestor with me, triumphant at last. I might have felt sorry for him, if he hadn't been such a bastard. The ring forming over my head was shining brightly now, almost enough for even mundane folks to notice.
But that wasn't going to happen. Not today. My ancestor howled in rage as I reached up, grabbed the halo, and shattered it with my bare hand.
You are a senior architect with a penchant for mythology inspired designs. By complete accident you designed a secret rune of terrible power into the new HQ of a bank, only on a much larger scale than any sane mage ever did. As a lobby floor motif. The bank's CEO is about to cut the ribbon.
"Imagine," says the voice, "that you were underneath a blanket. It's a little small, so your feet poke out from underneath it, and your arms come out from either side."
"Okay," says the human, dangling upside down, suspended by a group of tentacles. "I got it."
"Right," says the voice, which comes from everywhere and nowhere. "Now consider a cat. The cat thinks you're kind of like a cat, but you're so big, he has some problems understanding that all of your body is really you."
"Am I the-"
"Yes. Now listen. Especially under the blanket, the cat doesn't really know where your body begins and ends. He sees your feet, and decides to attack them. He's only play-fighting, but his claws are real sharp, so it hurts. What would you do?"
"Well," says the human, gently spinning in the tentacle's grasp, "I'd try to tuck my feet under the blanket."
"Ah, but then it's even worse," claims the voice, triumphantly, "because now your cat sees Blanket Monsters and attacks them twice as hard."
"So you have to grab the cat."
"It's either that or burrito her," says the voice, squeezing the human in the grip of its tentacles. "And since in this metaphor the blanket represents the fabric of reality as you know it, I don't think you'd find it very pleasant."
"Fair enough," says the human, blood beginning to pool in her head. "Can you please put me down, now? I promise I won't attack you again."
"That's what the cat says every time, too, and yet..."
The king and queen took the forbidden deal with the Fae; Their firstborn in exchange for their aid. Years later, much to their shock, their offspring returns, and is surprisingly grateful to their birth parents for the life they were given.
"It's an old story, isn't it? A life for a life, power for power. You sent me away to live with the Good Folk, and got a child of theirs in return."
"But, see, the Good Folk don't work like you do. We don't hide in high towers, behind walls, fretting about laws and power. We watch, and we learn."
She finished cleaning the blood from her needle-thin sword and gave it a flick, stepping over the bodies of the guards to approach the King and Queen.
"The plague that infested your lands was one of your own making. A demand for more and more taxes from those you were supposed to protect made them weak and frail. Ripe for infection. And when you finally took notice, you simply barred your doors and hoped you could hold out, as if your own people were a besieging army."
She stepped closer. The King and Queen backed away from the leaf-armored woman, before tripping on the stairs to the thrones. They tried to scrabble away, but the woman was upon them, blade at the ready.
"And when that didn't work, you begged for help. I know, now, that the Good Folk wouldn't have bothered if it wasn't for the thousands of others crying out for aid and succor. The price of your own daughter seemed a small one to pay for your continued rulership. But, you know, I have to thank you; if I'd been raised by you, I would have become as hateful and cruel as you are."
The Queen opened her mouth to say something, and with a flick of her hand the woman's sword was at her throat. She gulped, and stayed silent.
"I've been watching, too," she said, quietly. "The child you gained from the Good Folk was one you were supposed to take care of. To love. To try and recover even the smallest amount of empathy. But you couldn't even do that, could you? So now I'm here. Not to reclaim my birthright. Not to overthrow you. I have no interest in the human realms. No, I only want one thing."
She lifted her arm the barest smidgen, and a bright trickle of blood began to roll down the Queen's neck.
