the lord of calamity. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crowskinovercoat) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thelegion2017-02-27 08:14 pm
crowskinovercoat) wrote in thelegion2017-02-27 08:14 pm
Entry tags:
VIDEO; two ways of causing a scene
1: like your grandmother discovering snapchat for the first time only worse
[For starters: this is not a live broadcast. It's a video file dumped onto Legion World's "public" server from whatever default settings it is that would allow omnicoms to do that and sent, accidentally, to everyone.]
[That it's accidental is instantly clear from the part where it is a video clip that starts aimed at the fascinating sight of the top of someone's head. All that is visible is black hair and the wooden slats of a roof above said hair. The other obvious clue, though -]
Tch. I don't have the first clue how to use this. [She speaks soft, and low, but her voice is rough. It's the sort of voice that sounds exhausted from screaming before you ever hear a word spoken above a murmur.] You! ... what is it called? "Everything window"? Om-nee-kom? [She pronounces the word so hesitantly and carefully even the translator can't disguise that she mangles the precise consonance of the word. The feed shakes, obviously because whoever's holding it is manhandling it to get a closer look - at least, if the sudden closeup of a single wide golden eye is any indication.]
[Now the video clip is pointed, out of focus, at her chin.] You can tell me things? Like a searching spell. [Her mouth downturns in a sharp snarl.] What powers your magic? [The screen gets a shaky look at her face - and then at the rustic, old wood of a table - as she turns it this way and that, getting a good look at it.] Nothing great, I expect. It's always the same with people who think they know what's best for everyone ...
Doesn't matter. I have to use what tools I've got, it's not like it's my problem anyway - and you. You're a tool for searching things. That's what I need.
[She goes silent for a time. Trying to think of a net wide enough, with holes small enough, that she might be able to use a program she doesn't even know how to use in the first place to learn anything about.] I want you to tell me everything you know about dragons. Dragons that can suck the life out of planets.
[There's another shakycam pause.] Eh ... how do I actually make it do that ... "send all"?
[CLICK. The video clip ends.]
/////
2: it's like dirty laundry, except actually the exact opposite
[Not long after that last video missive, however, HEY LOOK IT'S A LIVE FEED THIS TIME IT'S THE MAGIC OF FUTURE SKYPE AT WORK and also the magic of someone who comes from a setting where computers, even magical computers, to say nothing of magical handheld communication devices, are at least a few thousand years in her future, messing around what-does-this-app-do style with her magic mirror tool.]
Still nothing ...? I suppose that's to be expected.
[A deep sigh, and then a loud clunk as she sets the omnicom down on what looks like a shelf, propped up against the siding.] I'll leave it on just in case. [She thinks shutting down the screen will turn it off, isn't that cute?]
[And she finally steps away from an unshaking omnicom long enough to give anyone a good look at her - and she's a sight. If it's not the hair she's let grow so long that if not for the loose tie of old gauze near the base it would be sweeping the ground, it's the tattered assembly of haphazardly belted- and pinned- and poorly-stitched-together rags she's mistaken for "clothing" - the threadbare nature of her kit only exposed further once she swings the oversized but equally ragged greatcoat on her shoulders off them and tosses it across a wooden beam just out of frame. On her right arm rests a dented, silvery gauntlet of some kind, which she slowly unbelts and lets drop on the shelf out of view beneath the omnicom with a rattle and clank that suggests something quite heavier than it looked on her wrist. A bandage wraps the entire length of her left; she does not remove the bandage.]
[She does a slow pivot, taking in the cabin. Her boots tink and clomp against the hardwood floor.]
... just like I remember it. I suppose I should be proud of myself. [But there's something unsettled and wild in her expression; it hadn't sunk in, what she was making for herself, until she was standing inside it, realizing it was really real. She's no longer sure whose capacity for handling what she asked for she's actually putting to the test anymore.]
[She shakes her head.] A good home needs a good cleaning, even if it's a temporary one. I'd better get started.
[And, after grabbing a broom tucked away in the corner - right where she remembers she'd always leave it - unless anyone interrupts her, because of some awkward reason, I don't know, like having turned her omnicom's webcam equivalent on while she does it - she's going to do just that.]
[For starters: this is not a live broadcast. It's a video file dumped onto Legion World's "public" server from whatever default settings it is that would allow omnicoms to do that and sent, accidentally, to everyone.]
[That it's accidental is instantly clear from the part where it is a video clip that starts aimed at the fascinating sight of the top of someone's head. All that is visible is black hair and the wooden slats of a roof above said hair. The other obvious clue, though -]
Tch. I don't have the first clue how to use this. [She speaks soft, and low, but her voice is rough. It's the sort of voice that sounds exhausted from screaming before you ever hear a word spoken above a murmur.] You! ... what is it called? "Everything window"? Om-nee-kom? [She pronounces the word so hesitantly and carefully even the translator can't disguise that she mangles the precise consonance of the word. The feed shakes, obviously because whoever's holding it is manhandling it to get a closer look - at least, if the sudden closeup of a single wide golden eye is any indication.]
[Now the video clip is pointed, out of focus, at her chin.] You can tell me things? Like a searching spell. [Her mouth downturns in a sharp snarl.] What powers your magic? [The screen gets a shaky look at her face - and then at the rustic, old wood of a table - as she turns it this way and that, getting a good look at it.] Nothing great, I expect. It's always the same with people who think they know what's best for everyone ...
Doesn't matter. I have to use what tools I've got, it's not like it's my problem anyway - and you. You're a tool for searching things. That's what I need.
[She goes silent for a time. Trying to think of a net wide enough, with holes small enough, that she might be able to use a program she doesn't even know how to use in the first place to learn anything about.] I want you to tell me everything you know about dragons. Dragons that can suck the life out of planets.
[There's another shakycam pause.] Eh ... how do I actually make it do that ... "send all"?
[CLICK. The video clip ends.]
/////
2: it's like dirty laundry, except actually the exact opposite
[Not long after that last video missive, however, HEY LOOK IT'S A LIVE FEED THIS TIME IT'S THE MAGIC OF FUTURE SKYPE AT WORK and also the magic of someone who comes from a setting where computers, even magical computers, to say nothing of magical handheld communication devices, are at least a few thousand years in her future, messing around what-does-this-app-do style with her magic mirror tool.]
Still nothing ...? I suppose that's to be expected.
[A deep sigh, and then a loud clunk as she sets the omnicom down on what looks like a shelf, propped up against the siding.] I'll leave it on just in case. [She thinks shutting down the screen will turn it off, isn't that cute?]
[And she finally steps away from an unshaking omnicom long enough to give anyone a good look at her - and she's a sight. If it's not the hair she's let grow so long that if not for the loose tie of old gauze near the base it would be sweeping the ground, it's the tattered assembly of haphazardly belted- and pinned- and poorly-stitched-together rags she's mistaken for "clothing" - the threadbare nature of her kit only exposed further once she swings the oversized but equally ragged greatcoat on her shoulders off them and tosses it across a wooden beam just out of frame. On her right arm rests a dented, silvery gauntlet of some kind, which she slowly unbelts and lets drop on the shelf out of view beneath the omnicom with a rattle and clank that suggests something quite heavier than it looked on her wrist. A bandage wraps the entire length of her left; she does not remove the bandage.]
[She does a slow pivot, taking in the cabin. Her boots tink and clomp against the hardwood floor.]
... just like I remember it. I suppose I should be proud of myself. [But there's something unsettled and wild in her expression; it hadn't sunk in, what she was making for herself, until she was standing inside it, realizing it was really real. She's no longer sure whose capacity for handling what she asked for she's actually putting to the test anymore.]
[She shakes her head.] A good home needs a good cleaning, even if it's a temporary one. I'd better get started.
[And, after grabbing a broom tucked away in the corner - right where she remembers she'd always leave it - unless anyone interrupts her, because of some awkward reason, I don't know, like having turned her omnicom's webcam equivalent on while she does it - she's going to do just that.]
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i answered your question about the dragon didnt i