mogget_cat: (Death)
(ooc: From here.)

Yrael opens the door of the bar and steps down into what seems to be a benighted floodplain. The calm, ankle-deep waters stretch beyond the grey horizon, its surface glimmering with the reflections of what hangs above. The inverted bowl of the sky glows with a multitude of stars. Every star that ever existed, shining down softly upon the waters in a great cloud of luminescence. They sing; they call to those below with promises of sweet rest, neverending contentment. They call for those below to cast off all of their burdens, everything that weighs them down, keeps them from that perfect happiness.

Spirits of the Dead, little wisps of light, rise from the waters in torrents. Some go eagerly, eternal peace finally within their grasp. Some go slowly, fighting every inch of the way, holding on to all the things they still wanted to do in Life.
mogget_cat: (Default)
What's the worst thing someone could do?
Enslave another without just cause.
What's the worst thing someone could do to you?
Judge me, condemn me, dismiss me for not meeting their expectations when I am either not aware of their expectations or am obviously opposed to their expectations of me.
What's the worst thing that could happen to you?
To be imprisoned again.
What's the worst thing someone could say about a person?
That there is no reason for them to have ever existed.
What's the best thing someone could say about a person?
I would not have known this a few years ago, but I believe one of the highest compliments one can give to another is to say that they are glad to have known them. Not being a person that it is regrettable to have met is... a good feeling.

Are men and women basically different?
Of course they are. One can tell that just by looking.
Which is better, to be a woman or to be a man?
That depends on what one is using the shape to accomplish.
What can men do that women can't do?
Not much. It depends on the individual man and woman one is comparing.
What can women do that men can't do?
Unless it is different in a world I have yet to visit, men cannot bear young.
Is it possible to change genders?
Yes.

How old is old enough to have sex?
Old enough to think about having it.
Is it wrong to have sex if you're unmarried?
No.
Is it wrong to have sex with someone other than your spouse if you're married?
No.
Is it wrong to have sex with a person of the same gender?
No.
Is it wrong to have sex with a person of a different race (or a different intelligent non-human species)?
*snorts* No.
Is it wrong to have more than one sexual partner at the same time?
No.
Is it wrong to have sex with someone you don't love?
I think we've established that I am entirely in favor of letting anyone and everyone do whatever they want to do. It is not another's responsibility to label someone's actions right or wrong, and it's especially not my responsibility.

What are the responsibilities of a mother toward a child?
In most cultures, she's expected to raise the child, feed it and keep it clean until it is able to do so for itself.
What are the responsibilities of a father toward a child?
Also in most cultures I have come across, the father is expected to provide for the child and see that it is taught what it needs to know.
What are the responsibilities of a child toward a parent?
Not much. Be grateful, I suppose.
Which should be more important to you, your parent or your child?
Strange question, and one I am in not a very good position to answer. I suppose one is meant to say "my child," as children are the next generation of Life and all that. *rolls eyes*
Which should be more important to you, your parent or your spouse?
Again, a question I am not in a position to answer very well. I suppose most say their spouse.
Which should be more important to you, your child or your spouse?
...you do know that I'm not the marrying type, and am not even capable of having children, right?
Is it wrong to have a child if you're unmarried?
And you know what I think about labelling other peoples' actions as 'wrong.' As long as it doesn't affect me, I say anyone can do anything they want.
Is abortion wrong?
No.
Is contraception wrong?
No. Still asking the wrong person.

Is there one true religion?
Even the gods here agree that there isn't. Maybe one true religion for a specific world, but not for every one.
Does a deity or deities exist?
Of course.
How important is it to believe in a deity or deities?
About as important as it is to believe in the person you talk to over your evening glass of wine.
How important is it to actively practice your religion?
Ask someone who practices one.
Does magic exist?
... *snickers* Nooooooo.
Is practicing magic wrong?
No.

Is killing always wrong?
If it is, a lot of 'good' people are actually 'bad'. Personally, I do not believe it is wrong. Some people need killing.
Is war always wrong?
No.
How old is old enough to fight in a war?
Old enough to learn how.
Is rape always wrong?
As long as it's not someone I care about, I could care less.
Is torture always wrong?
No. It's really rather fun, on occasion.
Is theft always wrong?
Definitely not. I find some of the best Christmas gifts that way.
Is slavery wrong?
Yes.
Is lying wrong?
...Yes. *grins*
Is swearing wrong?
What was that phrase again? ...oh yeah. Hell yes.
mogget_cat: (human!Death)
(From here.)

The door he gallantly opened for her opened out into gently lapping waters, lit from overhead by a multitude of stars uncountable. So many together, they give off a glow stronger than the light of the full moon, singing softly of promised rest for those below. The insubstantial spirits of the dead rise from the waters, some quickly, eager for their eternal rest, and some slowly, fighting the pull even as they rise, foot by foot.

The two of them step down slightly into the water that only rises to their ankles, and Yrael closes the door behind them.

"As you can see," Yrael smiles. "I have been practicing even when not at the Milliways lake."

Despite the fact that the waters of Death aren't exactly the same as other water.
mogget_cat: (human!Death)
The door to Milliways closes behind Yrael with a soft click, barely audible over the gentle yet ceaseless lapping of the grey water. The multitudes of stars shine overhead, a soft, bright cloud of light to illuminate the waters of Death and to call the spirits of the Dead to their rest.

Yrael stands with the water lapping at his ankles, and watches the Dead rise like shimmering lights to the stars, some quick and eager, some fighting every step of the way.

The stars sing their song of peace and rest to the Dead, and to the silent Bright Shiner below them.
mogget_cat: (human!smirk)
His time in High Bridge was quite refreshing, Yrael found. A large trading center of the Old Kingdom, with direct river access and a fairly straight way to Belisaere to the North and East, High Bridge was a bustling town where traders from even as far away as the barbaric North, past the Clayr Glacier. Yrael found he had no problem fitting in as another of the far-traveling traders. He enjoyed the morning wandering through the fresh fish market above the harbor, idly strolling through town. He whistled cheerfully as he crossed the bridge for which the town was named, with houses built upon it as thickly as any normal street.

As they, too, must try to make a living, many of the town's Charter Mages lived along the heavily-travelled streets of the markets, their signs advertising healing or protection spells for reasonable prices. Yrael could feel occasional Charter Magic being worked in some of the houses along the market street.

It was no problem to pose as a prospective customer knocking at their doors. Any Charter spells thrown at him before Yrael got to them would not register as anything unusual to any other Mages in the area, that way. There was that one Mage who thought she would get smart and try something with a rowan wand imbued with three of the Master Marks, but she did not have time to do anything with it.

All in all, it was a good day. The prices on the fish were quite reasonable.

---

The roads were busy between High Bridge and Belisaere. They had been becoming moreso since the King, the Abhorsen and the recent Abhorsen-in-Waiting had been making Necromancy a hard career path to pursue. Merchants and travellers no longer had to fear the Dead, or passing Free Magic creatures, so much. People who had never before left their tiny villages were traveling, wanting to see new places.

Yrael decided he would leave them to it, and struck off through the woods, heading directly towards Belisaere rather than following the road North before gently curving East towards the capital.

---

Belisaere was alive with the encouraging shouts of farmers who have had a bountiful harvest and are more than willing to take one's money in exchange for the surplus. Fresh vegetables and fruit stalls lined the crowded streets that led down to the harbors and the fresh fish and poultry stalls. Yrael moved among the people with ease, laughing a reply at a fruitseller who said that perhaps some oranges would improve his color. He grinned upon overhearing that both the Abhorsen and Abhorsen-in-Waiting were out of town on business to the Perimeter and to elsewhere, dealing with some trouble that had cropped up.

The northern part of the markets were reserved for more of what Yrael was seeking. A sleek, sleeveless dress of rich, deep purple, altered slightly to fit his specifications. A loose silk blouse that feels wonderful against the skin, in the shifting bright blues at the heart of a blazing fire. He even found a shirt of deep forest green for himself, wondering if anyone would have a heart attack to see him wear other colors than white. It wasn't as if he owned any clothes of his own, after all. What he made was what he wore. It might be an interesting experiment, owning clothing.

At a quaint little jeweler's shop Yrael was also able to find a simple bracelet of many different shades of gold before he decided he had been long enough from home.

It was the matter of a moment to gather his purchases, turn into a nearby alley, and step into Death.
mogget_cat: (human!tips hat to you)
The sun beat down with the remains of its summer heat, sparkling on the waters of the Ratterlin. The river was wide here, and the shallows were filled with eddies where fish hid. A couple of delicious sunperch did much to soften Yrael's utter dislike of getting wet. Remembering that he was supposed to be practicing getting used to the water, as per his promise, helped as well.

That isn't to say that Yrael was not glad when the river traffic started to pick up enough that he needed to wade back to the shore to stay mostly unnoticed. It was another two hours to High Bridge, but there was no need to announce his presence prematurely, if at all.

He whistled a cheerful, warbling tune to fill the quiet left by the lack of birds singing near him. Those he met along the road who would recognize him as being other than just another traveller on his way to High Bridge were those he was seeking; Yrael would get to them soon enough. Those who would not recognize him would get a cheerful smile and a greeting from the strange traveller in white; the women would receive a smile and a nod accompanied by the tipping of the traveller's white hat. Such a strange hat, they would remark, in such a foreign style. He must be from Ancelstierre.
mogget_cat: (human!serious)
Jonarin kept up with the older Charter Mage as best he could. Ten years old and apprenticed now for nearly a year already, he mostly functioned as an assistant, when not simply instructed to stay out of the way.

But this was exciting! In the last twenty years or so, since the King had taken the throne, things had quietened down terribly. Nothing ever interesting happened, any more, it seemed. But today at sunset, Jonarin had been interrupted in sweeping the doorstep by one of the local men. The man had hurried up to him, saying something had happened to three of the other Charter Mages of the town. Someone coming along the road had caused an altercation of some sort, and, as the Mages were most often used as mediators in arguments between townspeople, they had been sent for.

The three Charter Mages who were easiest to be found had come and... the man had been uncertain exactly what had happened next. The Mages had yelled for the people to get away from the traveller, and had tried quickly to throw Charter spells of binding at it, but they had no effect. The townspeople were trying to get out of the way of the spells, heading for the gate, but the traveller somehow... and at this part of the man's story Jonarin starting thinking the man was embellishing the story a bit too much for even a ten-year-old to believe... the traveller had blurred and somehow was between the Charter Mages and the gates to the town, blocking their retreat.

The man had been trying to get out of the way, himself, at the time, but had seen how the traveller seemed to stay just short of contact with any of the Mages. He would get close enough to make them stumble back a few steps, yes, but not ever touching. The traveller, the man said, moved so fast the Mages never hit him with the spells they cast. Sometimes the spells would come so close as to seem to pass right through the traveller, but they would never hit.

As he rushed along after the Charter Mage, towards the gate, Jonarin wondered about what the local man had said, about how the traveller almost seemed to drive the three Charter Mages farther away from the gates and into the surrounding woods, making them step back or stumble with every movement: like a sheepdog with sheep, or a cat playing with cornered mice, the man had said.

Who acts like that? Jonarin had thought to himself, shaking his head.

Jonarin had quickly told the Mage he was apprenticed to, and the Mage had immediately headed out the door, a tense, closed look upon his face.

Jonarin wasn't about to miss whatever happened, if he had anything to say about it.
mogget_cat: (human!serious)
It was a very disappointed Bright Shiner who trudged up the now-muddy Old North Road out of Roble's Town. The little village had had but one Charter Mage, in charge of instructing those who wished to become Charter Mages as well, some day. The Mage was elderly, and all the students were too young to have much hope of teaching themselves yet, so, in the way of a hunter not killing a doe who has a fawn so that there will be more deer later to shoot, Yrael left the town alone.

That in itself wasn't so disappointing. It was the rain that had moved in as Yrael was wandering along that simply ruined his day. This part of the country was all forest, and instead of affording any sort of shelter from the rain, the leaves of the trees just gave the raindrops a place to congregate and become even bigger raindrops before getting too heavy, and splashing down on the passing Bright Shiner.

Augh.

His presence was enough of a beacon to surrounding Free Magic and Dead that he knew that he would not be bothered by them. To any wandering Charter Mage, though, Yrael would be known only when he came within a certain distance. Not that the small warning would keep Yrael from killing the unfortunate Charter Mage, but Yrael liked to at least surprise them.


Rather miserable and sopping wet, Yrael wished he still had his coffee from the bar. Coffee that had been spelled into existance just did not measure up.
mogget_cat: (trueform half)
It was a lovely, crisp autumn evening for a leisurely hike through the hills just north of the Wall. The air held just the faintest hint of the coming winter, but was easily warm enough to erase the remembered chill of travelling through Death. Were the breeze coming from the South, Yrael could probably feel the lingering heat of high summer in Ancelstierre, but today the wind was from the North and the West, sending the cooler air over the Old Kingdom over the Wall into the summery south.

Northerly winds always bode ill for the Perimeter Scouts.

---

"Lieutenant! Report!" shouted the major to the out-of-breath younger man who approached, half-carried by another soldier. "What happened to you?"

"Broken leg, sir," the lieutenant managed to gasp out, "Fell crooked... trying to get back."

"You fell? Why? Where are the rest of your patrol?"

"Dead," he said, hoarsely. "At least, the Charter Mages. The rest I... don't know. We scattered."

Charter Mages, thought the major. Over half of all patrols into the Old Kingdom are Charter Mages. There're only a few things that'll go for a Charter Mage first, and neither of them mean any good for us. "What was it? Dead hands? A Mordicant?"

The Perimeter Scouts know better than to hold to the rest of Ancelstierre's scoffing attitude towards the Old Kingdom tales of magic and the walking Dead.

"No, sir," the young lieutenant shook his head, feeling dizzy. "I'd never seen anything like it. Some sort of creature, I'd guess." His brow furrowed as he tried to remember the details. "It was so bright, it was hard to tell what it looked like. It," he swallowed hard, "tore the throats out of Parker and Warren, and... just ignored us while it drank their blood, then it went for Simpson." His face wasn't just pale from pain, but from the sickening memory. "Our bullets didn't even faze it, and when it came at us, the guns stopped working at all," he finished, looking ill.

"An Old Kingdom creature, it must have been, sir," the soldier supporting the lieutenant spoke up, trying to be helpful and failing.

This is just what we need, thought the major, grimly. "Free Magic," he said, shortly. "Get this man to the infirmary before he passes out," he ordered the soldiers nearby, "tell those who're on watch to keep an eye out for any returning survivors, and call back the other patrols this instant."

"Sir," one of them said, dread already audible in his voice "I think they've come back."

The major, his mind already on the letter he will be sending tonight to the Abhorsen, whirled to look at the distant gate under the Wall, where a number of soldiers in much the same condition as the lieutenant now being shuffled off to the infirmary were stumbling though, back onto the Ancelstierre side of the Wall. None of those the major recognized bore the Charter Mark upon their foreheads.

He should have known not to expect any good from a night when the northerly wind blew down across the Wall.

---

The Free Magic creature, the Bright Shiner

(Who would not fear the Nine Bright Shiners, highest of the high?)

wandered unhurriedly north through the woods. The night was cool and the moon was high and bright, an orb of mirrored sunlight in the night sky. As he traveled, Yrael hummed a serene little tune composed by the current Abhorsen's great, great, great, great aunt. Or was it her great, great, great, great, great uncle's daughter? Ah, memory. He smiled to himself. Soon, his path will intersect the Old North Road and he shall make his way up towards Roble's Town.
mogget_cat: (Stick Kitty!)
Haiku2 for mogget_cat
ic ooc to ic ooc
to ooc about ic are all
fine just clarify
@
Created by Grahame


*cackles*

Nightmare

Apr. 19th, 2006 12:08 am
mogget_cat: (pain)
Yrael rests in a grey haze. Like the River, but warm. Maybe not Death, but Life, or somewhere in between. He is comfortable enough. A young child, its gaze quiet and wise, leans over Yrael, speaking gently.

"Do not worry, little brother. We will take care of you.
Now is when you should sleep.
"
No!
The haze disappears into darkness. If something were there to see in the blackness, it is too dark to see. Soon, the darkness is just as comfortable as the grey haze. It is peaceful, at least. A loud voice rouses the darkness, insistently calling it back to light.

"Now is when you should wake, little brother! Do not worry. We will take care of you."
No, you will not!
Yrael stares at the elderly woman calling him, blinking in the sudden brightness. A young woman, laughing, strides over to him and pulls him to his feet, causing him to stumble a bit. Her voice is a cheerful laugh.

"This is where you should go." She points into the hazy distance and gives him a little push. "We will take care of you, little brother. Do not worry."
No!
Yrael wanders in the brightness. No landmarks show that he has gone any distance whatsoever. Soon, though, he sees a middle-aged man, smiling openly at him. His voice is smooth and warm.

"We will take care of you. Do not worry, little brother. This is what you should say."

The man begins to sing. The song is compelling and beautiful, a wonder to hear. Once the rhythm and melody are familiar enough, Yrael joins in without a thought, wanting to know this song of such beauty. When the two voices meld, Yrael can hear that it is the Charter that they sing. He stops singing, cutting off his voice with a cry of surprise and shock. He goes away, quickly.
No, I will not!
Seated before him is an old man, bearded and somber. With a deft flip of his hand that belies his apparant age, he tosses a small stone to Yrael. On reflex, Yrael catches it.

"Little brother, do not worry. We will take care of you. This is what you should think." As Yrael examines the stone, Charter Marks flare along its surface: Marks of binding. Yrael drops the stone in surprise and distaste, and turns to glare at the old man, but he is not there anymore.
I will not let you!
Instead, there is a fierce-looking woman, tall and imposing. She holds a mirror before her.

"This is what you should be, little brother."
He cannot help but look.
"Do not worry. We will take care of you."
No!
He stumbles back, away from what he sees, turning to run. Haze envelops him. He is nowhere, with nowhere to go, running from nowhere. A shape. There, in the distance. A tall lady with arms outstretched. She will help him. She will have pity, and let him go.

He runs into the lady's welcoming embrace. She holds him, running her hands through his hair, soothingly.

"Shhhhhh, shhhhhhh. Do not worry. I will take care of you."
Yes.
Yrael looks up at her, finding his reflection in a tear upon her cheek.
Yes.
"This is how you should die, little brother."
Yes.
Her kiss is cold.
mogget_cat: (cat!curled up)
*It's going to be a cloudy day, the sky a drab, overcast grey. The early morning chill is still making its presence felt, to the group's discomfort. Luckily, it hasn't rained, so the going is still relatively easy.*

*Jason is walking a ways in front of Elizabeth and Khemrys. Yrael rides on Jason's shoulders to both keep the chill wind off Jason's neck and to help himself stay balanced as he rides in varying degrees of waking and sleeping.*
mogget_cat: (human!Death)
You already know about the stars...

*Yrael says as he opens the door of Milliways on the stretch of grey water that is the Ninth Precinct of Death. He looks odd in the glow from the multitude of stars. He's wearing the deep green and black suit for which he asked the bar. Golden thread emboidered into the fabric shines as he steps out into the water. He is, of course, still barefoot. Yrael turns, holding the door open for Svava as she steps through.*

It will not take long, but it may feel like it. We should come into Life a little ways outside of Belisaere. The shops close early for the celebrations of the night, then there is a parade at dawn.
mogget_cat: (Boom Boom)
*Even the bar is quiet at this time of night. The wait-rats have all gone to bed, and the kitchen is dark.*

*Perfect time for scrounging some snacks.*

*The little white kitty goes "slink slink slink."*
mogget_cat: (human!smirk)
Leave a comment. I'll ask you five questions, you post the answers in your journal and leave me a comment with a link to the answers. Then let your friends request five questions from you.

IC to IC, OOC to IC, and OOC to OOC about IC are all fine. Just clarify what you want.
mogget_cat: (amused!human)
*The not'cat tilts his head and raises an eyebrow.*

I will, of course, try to satisfy your curiosity, my friend. However, I promise nothing. Is there something you wish to know?

Memory

Feb. 4th, 2005 10:23 pm
mogget_cat: (Default)
Brightly the sun of summer shone,
Green fields and waving woods upon,
And soft winds wandered by;
Above, a sky of purest blue,
Around, bright flowers of loveliest hue,
Allured the lover's eye.
We are not sure of sorrow;
But what were all these charms to me,
When one sweet breath of memory
Came gently wafting by?
I closed my eyes against the day,
And called my willing soul away,
From earth, and air, and sky;
And joy was never sure;
That I might simply fancy there
One little flower -- a blue bell fair,
Just opening into sight;
As in the days of infancy,
An opening blue bell seemed to me
A source of strange delight.
To-day will die to-morrow;
Sweet Memory! ever smile on me;
Life's chief beauties spring from thee,
Oh, still thy tribute bring!
Still make the golden crocus shine
Among the flowers the most divine,
The glory of the spring.
Time stoops to no man's lure;
Still in the wall-flower's fragrance dwell;
And hover round the slight blue bell,
My own darling flower.
Smile upon the little daisy still,
The buttercup's bright goblet fill
With all thy former power.
And love, grown faint and fretful,
For ever hang thy dreamy spell
Round mountain star and heather bell,
And do not pass away
From wicked frost, or smothering snow,
And whisper when the wild winds blow,
Or rippling waters play.
With lips but half regretful
Is the past, then, so all divine?
Or Memory, is the glory thine,
That haloes thus the past?
Not all divine; its pangs of grief,
(Although, perchance, their stay be brief,)
Are bitter while they last.
Sighs, and with eyes forgetful,
Nor is the glory all thine own,
For on our earliest joys alone
That holy light is cast.
With such a ray, no spell of thine
Can make our later pleasures shine,
When our sorrows fade at last.
Weeps that no loves endure.
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