The Goddess is Tall, Blond and Beautiful.
The Goddess is Short, Brunette and Beautiful.
The Goddess is Average in every way and yet she is still Beautiful.
The Goddess has a first name, it's S-H-A-E-N.
The Goddess is ageless, timeless, and a truer God than that of the Jews and the Christians and the Muslims.
She is a demon, out to destroy this world.
She is the Devil, evil in her Beauty.
She eats children for breakfast to feed her Beauty.
Showing posts with label 2.Trouble with Time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2.Trouble with Time. Show all posts
1.07.2008
2.5: Surviving
The shelter was probably significantly worse than what they could do for themselves, but the thing was, Time and Ritophe were not supposed to be noticeable. A young couple in a well-to-do house would arouse suspicion, and neither could afford that outcome of that. While death was no longer a certainty or even a question for the pair, there were things much worse than death that one could experience. And though neither had living family to watch die, still, there was worse out there.
The others that had been turned like them lived elsewhere now. When Shaen had forgotten them with the world, they had abandoned the City. For some, it had not been a choice. Either the City was too full of enemies without the threat of the sometimes Goddess, or else the disaster had made people too untrustworthy of someone who is too well off. Others though...others wanted nothing to do with what had stolen their life from then, even as it gave them life. Yet both remained, though for different reasons.
When the Misshapen had returned in full force though, that was when they had been finally forced to identify one another. Rien had sought after the woman who stuck out to him as she did to no one else. Each report of a super hero combating the forces of the Goddess settled uneasy with him, as they seemed all too...similar. Of course Reality refused to believe that it was even possible, but that didn't mean that it didn't keep happening. And the rejection he faced as well allowed him to see when it was happening all too easily. And so he found her, and interrogated her on her purposes.
Of course, most of his tactics would be better described as conversed rather than interrogated, simply because while he knew there were ways of torture that would actually cause damage to their eternal bodies, Rien couldn't bring himself to execute any of them. In reality, Time was also entirely fine with sharing everything about her objectives, and was amused that the young man that had found her had similar plans. Very similar plans.
So they were living together now, barely sheltered from the weather because it was less risky. Because it was easier to target the new Misshapen who did not know what to expect from the True Heirs of Her Power. Because it was better than being alone for another century or two.
The others that had been turned like them lived elsewhere now. When Shaen had forgotten them with the world, they had abandoned the City. For some, it had not been a choice. Either the City was too full of enemies without the threat of the sometimes Goddess, or else the disaster had made people too untrustworthy of someone who is too well off. Others though...others wanted nothing to do with what had stolen their life from then, even as it gave them life. Yet both remained, though for different reasons.
When the Misshapen had returned in full force though, that was when they had been finally forced to identify one another. Rien had sought after the woman who stuck out to him as she did to no one else. Each report of a super hero combating the forces of the Goddess settled uneasy with him, as they seemed all too...similar. Of course Reality refused to believe that it was even possible, but that didn't mean that it didn't keep happening. And the rejection he faced as well allowed him to see when it was happening all too easily. And so he found her, and interrogated her on her purposes.
Of course, most of his tactics would be better described as conversed rather than interrogated, simply because while he knew there were ways of torture that would actually cause damage to their eternal bodies, Rien couldn't bring himself to execute any of them. In reality, Time was also entirely fine with sharing everything about her objectives, and was amused that the young man that had found her had similar plans. Very similar plans.
So they were living together now, barely sheltered from the weather because it was less risky. Because it was easier to target the new Misshapen who did not know what to expect from the True Heirs of Her Power. Because it was better than being alone for another century or two.
1.05.2008
2.4: And It Comes to Pass Again
There was a frown lacing Shaen's lip at the close of the Council meeting, despite the mirth of the members that had already abandoned their seats. She remained seated, feeling that something was a bit off. Really, she had no evidence to justify the sensation, but justification rarely mattered when it came to her feelings. Intuition was everything to her, and her stricken expression caught the eye of her adviser.
"You are concerned you have forgotten something, perhaps? Something important, Mistress?" Chael inquired softly, making his presence known once more. With her alive again, he needn't bother with being vocal during the Council, serving only as Shaen's personal Scribe for the events, noting the facial expressions and subtle emotional fluctuations in the other Councilors. Not just the others, actually, these days. Shaen didn't really trust her own perceptions during meetings, and its not like her file system was perfect these days.
A nod indicated that Chael was correct in his assumption. The Misshapen had long figured out that someone else had accessed her files and changed the settings. Even his own access to the files had been modified, which was what perturbed him the most. Still, that had happened many years ago, before Chael's own current form had been shaped. He lacked some of the files from those days even now, despite rifling through the files when she was otherwise occupied. There was a tangible distrust in the air now, and he understood what was happening before it did once again.
The slender powerful fingers were around his throat with speed that was certainly superhuman if not divine in its nature. The pain ripping through his skull was familiar, unfortunately. Paranoia coupled with madness led her to often tearing through his memories, seeking evidence of betrayal. Even within his head, the violence continued as she shoved his consciousness to a corner where he could not attempt to hide or modify any of the files she would be shredding with a voracious appetite.
Assuaged only when she had raided years of information, raping his mind with the intensity of her search, the woman sat back at the table, eyes opened once more. Yet, still, the feeling that there was something missing plagued her, though at least for now, it was not the fault of her...most trusted. Frustrated by the lack of information...or perhaps, by his continuing loyalty, she exits the Council's chambers alone, storming out and onto the streets.
"You are concerned you have forgotten something, perhaps? Something important, Mistress?" Chael inquired softly, making his presence known once more. With her alive again, he needn't bother with being vocal during the Council, serving only as Shaen's personal Scribe for the events, noting the facial expressions and subtle emotional fluctuations in the other Councilors. Not just the others, actually, these days. Shaen didn't really trust her own perceptions during meetings, and its not like her file system was perfect these days.
A nod indicated that Chael was correct in his assumption. The Misshapen had long figured out that someone else had accessed her files and changed the settings. Even his own access to the files had been modified, which was what perturbed him the most. Still, that had happened many years ago, before Chael's own current form had been shaped. He lacked some of the files from those days even now, despite rifling through the files when she was otherwise occupied. There was a tangible distrust in the air now, and he understood what was happening before it did once again.
The slender powerful fingers were around his throat with speed that was certainly superhuman if not divine in its nature. The pain ripping through his skull was familiar, unfortunately. Paranoia coupled with madness led her to often tearing through his memories, seeking evidence of betrayal. Even within his head, the violence continued as she shoved his consciousness to a corner where he could not attempt to hide or modify any of the files she would be shredding with a voracious appetite.
Assuaged only when she had raided years of information, raping his mind with the intensity of her search, the woman sat back at the table, eyes opened once more. Yet, still, the feeling that there was something missing plagued her, though at least for now, it was not the fault of her...most trusted. Frustrated by the lack of information...or perhaps, by his continuing loyalty, she exits the Council's chambers alone, storming out and onto the streets.
1.04.2008
2.3: And They Forget
Rien did not need to support Tina. Even with the enormous amount of blood loss the woman had endured, she walked as if nothing had happened. There had been no battle royal in the streets of the City, and there certainly had not been a fall of over twenty stories. It was one of the characteristics of their shared situation. The costume she donned had been discarded...it was amazing how much a simple cape and mask were enough to convince people not to identify her.
That was another characteristic of being one of hers. Not even She would ever recognize you if she released you. And even then, it did not take her permission to allow you to hide who you were. The mask and cape were mostly just affectations of the white-haired woman who now kept pace with her stern successor.
"Have you noticed she hasn't taken another yet?" He finally asked with a frown, not looking up at her while he spoke, his gaze set on the path before them.
"I have. Do you think she's still looking for you in hopes of the rumors being false? She is not, Rien. She'd kill you as soon as she could remember how to undo what she did to you, just like she kills me at least once a week you know that." The woman said bitterly, feeling Rien's hesitance. No matter what the young man said, he had forgiven Her for abandoning him and certainly still longed to be by Her side. In her own mind, Time was fairly convinced that the young man loved Shaen, as absurd as that thought was. So she kept it to herself...just as she kept the fact that she thought of herself in terms of the name that had replaced hers so many years ago. It bothered her that she couldn't break that habit, but then, there were some appealing memories that went with being Time.
Silver eyes turning to other for a moment, she noted that he still was not taking advantage of his powers at all...neither hair nor eyes showed even a hint of color change. Sighing, she turned her eyes forward again, though she only had a faint idea of where they were going.
"No." Rien finally said, though what he was negating was anyone's guess. The youth...well, compared to Time, he was certainly a youth anyway, could be unreadable when he realized he was being read, and apparently, he had recognized that she was paying more attention to him than he had thought. Now his shields were tightened, locked, hiding away everything that he had from her.
Now, more than before, Time thought that he might actually be in love with Shaen.
Poor thing.
That was another characteristic of being one of hers. Not even She would ever recognize you if she released you. And even then, it did not take her permission to allow you to hide who you were. The mask and cape were mostly just affectations of the white-haired woman who now kept pace with her stern successor.
"Have you noticed she hasn't taken another yet?" He finally asked with a frown, not looking up at her while he spoke, his gaze set on the path before them.
"I have. Do you think she's still looking for you in hopes of the rumors being false? She is not, Rien. She'd kill you as soon as she could remember how to undo what she did to you, just like she kills me at least once a week you know that." The woman said bitterly, feeling Rien's hesitance. No matter what the young man said, he had forgiven Her for abandoning him and certainly still longed to be by Her side. In her own mind, Time was fairly convinced that the young man loved Shaen, as absurd as that thought was. So she kept it to herself...just as she kept the fact that she thought of herself in terms of the name that had replaced hers so many years ago. It bothered her that she couldn't break that habit, but then, there were some appealing memories that went with being Time.
Silver eyes turning to other for a moment, she noted that he still was not taking advantage of his powers at all...neither hair nor eyes showed even a hint of color change. Sighing, she turned her eyes forward again, though she only had a faint idea of where they were going.
"No." Rien finally said, though what he was negating was anyone's guess. The youth...well, compared to Time, he was certainly a youth anyway, could be unreadable when he realized he was being read, and apparently, he had recognized that she was paying more attention to him than he had thought. Now his shields were tightened, locked, hiding away everything that he had from her.
Now, more than before, Time thought that he might actually be in love with Shaen.
Poor thing.
1.02.2008
2.2: And it Wavers
There were others who had been watching the battle between the madwomen, not knowing what to make of it. A few videotaped the event absently, not really paying attention. Ever since the one madwoman had started to the streets, this sort of thing had become common. The videos probably wouldn't even get the most hits anyway, so they wouldn't be paid the finder's fee by the news station anyway.
It was common, disturbingly so, these days. But there were a reasonable number of people who had not yet forgotten about the last time. It was odd how willing society as a whole would forget her when she was gone, remembering only that there was an oddness to the City for a while back there. They would be astounded when she returned for a while but would quickly readjust to thinking that it was normal. Perfectly normal. It was always normal. Always just normal. Nothing more, nothing less, nothing other than that, even when it was pure madness, it was just normal for so many.
He envied them, sometimes, rarely, maybe never.
She certainly never did, even when it meant that she was lying face-down on the street, bleeding irresponsible amounts of blood, watching it pool momentarily, lingering in the near-death moment. One more death scene for the sake of the public. How many times had she performed this ridiculous bit of acting until all of the video feed was halted? Long ago...how long it had been now?
He watched her, even as Shaen left her, crumpled and barely living in a pool of her blood.
Of course, unlike the madwoman that was leaving, he could see the one who was staying still was clearly living.
Though that might have just been his perception given his background information.
Time felt the attention of the public wander away from her and she moved to right herself, feeling only one set of eyes that she had opted to trust in Shaen's most recent absence. The blood that had been pooling had already begun to congeal, but she had more where that came from. After all, that was one of the benefits of being one of the lady's converts. It also helped that she had threatened one of the memory-modifiers into locking the drawer with her name...it had been precious easy in those days to find one close to Her who didn't like being as such, really.
Normality shifted ever so briefly as the watcher slid from his position, silently joining Tina Metri.
It was common, disturbingly so, these days. But there were a reasonable number of people who had not yet forgotten about the last time. It was odd how willing society as a whole would forget her when she was gone, remembering only that there was an oddness to the City for a while back there. They would be astounded when she returned for a while but would quickly readjust to thinking that it was normal. Perfectly normal. It was always normal. Always just normal. Nothing more, nothing less, nothing other than that, even when it was pure madness, it was just normal for so many.
He envied them, sometimes, rarely, maybe never.
She certainly never did, even when it meant that she was lying face-down on the street, bleeding irresponsible amounts of blood, watching it pool momentarily, lingering in the near-death moment. One more death scene for the sake of the public. How many times had she performed this ridiculous bit of acting until all of the video feed was halted? Long ago...how long it had been now?
He watched her, even as Shaen left her, crumpled and barely living in a pool of her blood.
Of course, unlike the madwoman that was leaving, he could see the one who was staying still was clearly living.
Though that might have just been his perception given his background information.
Time felt the attention of the public wander away from her and she moved to right herself, feeling only one set of eyes that she had opted to trust in Shaen's most recent absence. The blood that had been pooling had already begun to congeal, but she had more where that came from. After all, that was one of the benefits of being one of the lady's converts. It also helped that she had threatened one of the memory-modifiers into locking the drawer with her name...it had been precious easy in those days to find one close to Her who didn't like being as such, really.
Normality shifted ever so briefly as the watcher slid from his position, silently joining Tina Metri.
12.22.2007
2.0.1: Second's Ticking
For a single moment, it looked like Time was actually going to be able to convince the insanity to subside.
Of course, in Time's perception, a single moment was a tremendous thing, something worth exploiting, something that held more information than just the status as it was at that moment. It was in that moment that she realized her downfall was going to be far more painful than the merciful execution she had planned for Shaen. Though Time was not gifted with future scribing, or anything so useful, the way time itself was wrapped around her center allowed her to sense outcomes in the crudest sense.
As she was crouching on the edge of the towering skyscraper, peering over the ledge to see if Shaen would manage to stop her fall before it wrecked this body, she knew it was hopeless.
But Time was a super heroine, and hopelessness was not an excuse to give up. Fingers wrapped around the ledge for milliseconds, she understood what she would have to do to force Shaen into using some of the energy that the other woman seemed to force herself to reserve. Time winced, white hair blowing into her face, bleached that way by time's flow through her regrettably human body. Just like the Misshapen, she was marked for her interference with the way things should be. Unlike the Misshapen, the latex-attired vixen seemed to cognate at super speed due to the abnormal flow of time around her.
Nanoseconds had passed as minutes as she contemplated the fact that what she was about to do was as close to suicide as one could get without actually slicing a blade from wrist to elbow. Pressing her fingers against her eyes ever so gently, she rocked forward, pushing time around her to slow further.
Her descent felt incredible, and terrifying, and she could not deny that it was everything and more than she actually had dreamed. Time was flying down the face of the building, though time itself moved so slowly that she had perfect control of her body. Her sneakers, seemingly out of place with her flashy costume, were targeted for the back of Shaen's head as she rose from the dent in the ground. It would not kill the demon, but it would cause her to plunge into her reserves to shield herself, or at least, Time thought so. No one really knew that much about the torturer of the city.
No matter what she did from here on out, she was going to fail. At least this way, she would make a ripple before time itself stole her from the reality she had so clung to with such frailty.
Of course, in Time's perception, a single moment was a tremendous thing, something worth exploiting, something that held more information than just the status as it was at that moment. It was in that moment that she realized her downfall was going to be far more painful than the merciful execution she had planned for Shaen. Though Time was not gifted with future scribing, or anything so useful, the way time itself was wrapped around her center allowed her to sense outcomes in the crudest sense.
As she was crouching on the edge of the towering skyscraper, peering over the ledge to see if Shaen would manage to stop her fall before it wrecked this body, she knew it was hopeless.
But Time was a super heroine, and hopelessness was not an excuse to give up. Fingers wrapped around the ledge for milliseconds, she understood what she would have to do to force Shaen into using some of the energy that the other woman seemed to force herself to reserve. Time winced, white hair blowing into her face, bleached that way by time's flow through her regrettably human body. Just like the Misshapen, she was marked for her interference with the way things should be. Unlike the Misshapen, the latex-attired vixen seemed to cognate at super speed due to the abnormal flow of time around her.
Nanoseconds had passed as minutes as she contemplated the fact that what she was about to do was as close to suicide as one could get without actually slicing a blade from wrist to elbow. Pressing her fingers against her eyes ever so gently, she rocked forward, pushing time around her to slow further.
Her descent felt incredible, and terrifying, and she could not deny that it was everything and more than she actually had dreamed. Time was flying down the face of the building, though time itself moved so slowly that she had perfect control of her body. Her sneakers, seemingly out of place with her flashy costume, were targeted for the back of Shaen's head as she rose from the dent in the ground. It would not kill the demon, but it would cause her to plunge into her reserves to shield herself, or at least, Time thought so. No one really knew that much about the torturer of the city.
No matter what she did from here on out, she was going to fail. At least this way, she would make a ripple before time itself stole her from the reality she had so clung to with such frailty.
12.21.2007
2.0: Unlike Time
Time moves swiftly when she is dead. It creeps when she lives sometimes, and it has crept on for months now. It is divided incredibly unevenly between three physical arenas: the lair, which occupies her least of all now, the Council Room, and the Arena, where the Misshapen have gathered and train and learn from her. The Arena is a former military base that Shaen had claimed before the City had been re-rebuilt. Those had been some rather glorious days, according to her now vivid recollections.
While time creeps in her living days, it is full of wonders and surprises, delightful memories and trips to destroy those that ought to have been destroyed the last time she had been skating this side of mortality.
Though, on the subject of those she ought to have already destroyed, Ritophe is strangely absent still...
that doesn't matter. The Council, in the time since Chael's last visit, has once more been overthrown. The Council is always being overthrown and made up differently. It is a little absurd sometimes, but Shaen doesn't mind. The last Elder died without any real fanfare, despite it being a proper assassination and all. Another had stepped up, and in the time since then, very little of the Council that Chael had spoken to over a year ago had anything to do with those that sat at the table now, listening to Shaen's status report.
Nodding complacently as she detailed the derailment of the last wave of Vigilante Justice Force attacks, the Scribe effortlessly typed away on his key-knuckles in shorthand, monitoring on his lenses the program that modified the shorthand to proper sentences. Tempted to let his mind wander down the path of natural language processing history, it took all of his efforts to focus on the failings of the VJF. Of course, there was some mirth at the discussion of the fall of the one who had called herself Time.
There had been plenty of quips at the petty thing's choice of pseudonym at previous Council meetings. When she had finally been crushed underneath Shaen's 'heel 'o death' as they'd taken to calling it with the number of 'heroes' they had disposed of, the jokes had erupted anew. The newspapers had taken a different approach to the situation, though the reporter had evidently had some Council-influence. The article about the last death due to the Council had been titled "Time Stopped by Woman," a rather pitiful attempt to play on the old adage "Time stops for no man." It had the right number of syllables. Shaen was relatively certain that that had been the purpose of the woman's choice of title anyway.
While time creeps in her living days, it is full of wonders and surprises, delightful memories and trips to destroy those that ought to have been destroyed the last time she had been skating this side of mortality.
Though, on the subject of those she ought to have already destroyed, Ritophe is strangely absent still...
that doesn't matter. The Council, in the time since Chael's last visit, has once more been overthrown. The Council is always being overthrown and made up differently. It is a little absurd sometimes, but Shaen doesn't mind. The last Elder died without any real fanfare, despite it being a proper assassination and all. Another had stepped up, and in the time since then, very little of the Council that Chael had spoken to over a year ago had anything to do with those that sat at the table now, listening to Shaen's status report.
Nodding complacently as she detailed the derailment of the last wave of Vigilante Justice Force attacks, the Scribe effortlessly typed away on his key-knuckles in shorthand, monitoring on his lenses the program that modified the shorthand to proper sentences. Tempted to let his mind wander down the path of natural language processing history, it took all of his efforts to focus on the failings of the VJF. Of course, there was some mirth at the discussion of the fall of the one who had called herself Time.
There had been plenty of quips at the petty thing's choice of pseudonym at previous Council meetings. When she had finally been crushed underneath Shaen's 'heel 'o death' as they'd taken to calling it with the number of 'heroes' they had disposed of, the jokes had erupted anew. The newspapers had taken a different approach to the situation, though the reporter had evidently had some Council-influence. The article about the last death due to the Council had been titled "Time Stopped by Woman," a rather pitiful attempt to play on the old adage "Time stops for no man." It had the right number of syllables. Shaen was relatively certain that that had been the purpose of the woman's choice of title anyway.
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