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.]
Re: VIDEO
[... and if she says nothing none of them, including her, are going to be any closer to knowing anything. No choice at all, when she thinks of it that way. She swallows her suspicion in favor of holding on to her skepticism.]
[It's with a sharp pang in her gut that she realizes, of all the stupid things to feel in this moment, that she wishes Eleanor were here.]
The kind that can be mistaken for a god by someone desperate enough to worship it. An eight-headed thing that can suck away the life of a whole world before it's satisfied. It feeds on conflict and leaves desireless husks in its wake.
If I'm here, ... - it's somewhere else. [There's an obviously unnatural emphasis she puts on the pronoun, a hesitation before she insists on it to herself.]
[Her eyes are hard; glittering little fistfuls of amber rage.] If it's here I need to know. Its name is Innominat. You're one of these "universal peacekeepers" people keep on about; have you ever heard anyone mention a name like that, or a thing like that, before?
Re: VIDEO
Re: VIDEO
You're asking me to put a lot of trust in your confidence. Is that how you Legionnaires always try to put people at ease?
If it doesn't work out that way, either most of humanity is about to be mercilessly wiped off the face of the planet I came from, or another planet in this universe I've been brought to will suffer the same fate.
[Velvet sighs and shrugs. A smile creeps across her face as a thought occurs to her: she's had worse nightmares.] Not much I can do about either one right away, is there?
Re: VIDEO
Re: VIDEO
I'm curious. Forgive me. Would you say you have more control over him than you do that dragon of yours?
Re: VIDEO
Re: VIDEO
Heh. Maybe you're right. Innominat's a big deal in his own world, but he doesn't belong here any more than I do, is that it?